Chapter 3

“I ain’t climbing that tree, you crazy bitch!”

Zhari prodded McGregor with her bayonet, and he jumped, grasping his butt.

“I’ll stick you, you know I will. Now get up that tree and find out which direction the control center is in. It’s the only way.”

“You aren’t gonna stick me, you’d be screwed out here on your own, your leg is busted.”

She jabbed again, and he dodged it, dancing around behind the gnarled trunk of the massive tree. He rested his hands on the moist, green moss that coated its surface and peeked around at Zhari.

“If I have to come and get you this is going to get ugly, McGregor.”

“I’d like to see you try, peg leg.”

She growled in frustration, the sound making McGregor’s hair stand on end.

“You’ll have to come back to the cave eventually, I have all the food. When you get within arm’s reach of me ... oh I am gonna have some fun with you. You’ll wish that you’d fallen out of this fucking tree.”

McGregor considered his options. He wanted badly to defy Zhari on principle alone, but she was right, better to just get it over with. She sounded serious, almost gleeful at the prospect.

He stepped out from behind the trunk and Zhari aimed her XMR at him, throwing a bundle of vines that they had collected at his feet with her free hand.

“Get going.”

“Fine, fine. When I write my autobiography, I’m gonna make you the villain of the story.”

He picked up the vines and coiled them over his shoulder, then heaved himself up onto a low hanging branch. Zhari kept her rifle trained on him the whole way as he climbed.

The alien trees had thick branches made from flexible wood, he didn’t feel as if they would break under his weight, but they were covered in slippery moss. Everything on this God-forsaken planet was wet. He knotted the vines around his waist and tied the other ends around the branches as he passed them, cutting the line with a bayonet when he reached a new branch. At least this way he would have some security if he slipped and fell, assuming that the vines wouldn’t just snap under the stress.

Eventually, the ill-tempered Borealan disappeared below the leaves as he entered the canopy proper. He pushed past thick foliage as he struggled higher, at least here there was always a handhold in reach, and the risk of falling was diminished.

It took him a long time to climb the massive tree, it must have been two hundred feet high at least. The plants on EE-4 battled each other for access to the sunlight, growing ever higher and spreading their wide branches ever further in an attempt to capture as much energy as possible. McGregor’s muscles burned. Sure he had completed the obstacle courses in boot camp, and he had stayed in shape as part of his Navy routine, but this was grueling work. After some time he finally broke through into the sunlight, shielding his eyes as the sudden brightness forced them closed. He waited a few moments as they adjusted the glare, then he surveyed the landscape, blinking away tears.

Greenery extended as far as he could see in every direction. It was a sea of leaves, the wind blowing them gently like waves on the ocean. A few mammoth trees protruded further than the others as if they were islands seen from a distance, topped with forest. He breathed in lungfuls of fresh air, the oppressive heat of the jungle was lifted by the cool breeze, and he savored the relief. He shielded his eyes with his hand as he scanned, looking for a sign of artificial structures, anything that might stand out. Behind him were the massive pillars of rock, three of them protruding oddly from the treeline, hundreds of feet tall. They were also green at their peaks, some lucky seeds carried by the winds had found their way up to that privileged position, escaping the mad scramble for space that went on below.

Then he saw it. A metallic reflection, its glare standing out against the uniform landscape. It must be protruding from the canopy, a radar dish or some kind of antenna for sure. That had to the target. If the pillars were to the East, then this structure must be North West. He was right in his guess that they had strayed further North or South than they had realized. It looked to be about twenty miles away.

He hesitated, should he tell Zhari or just lie that he hadn’t seen anything? Would she just send him up again until she got the result she expected? Most likely, she was tenacious and stubborn. She might also know that he was lying and that prospect frightened him.

He resigned himself to telling her and began to climb back down the tree. There was still time to convince her of the folly of attacking the control center with just the two of them. With any luck, she would see sense before she got the both of them killed.

Zhari wanted to pace below the tree, but her broken leg prevented it. She seethed, her face was red, and she was shaking. A combination of anger and arousal was threatening to push her over the edge. She had never encountered such blatant insubordination before, there wasn’t even a word for it in the Borealan dialect. The closest approximation to the English word was rogue, a Borealan who went insane and separated itself from the pack, living alone like some kind of hermit.

The plucky human danced just out of her reach, taunting her, defying her. McGregor was inviting a terrible retribution that she could not deliver lest she injure or kill him. Worse, her loins ached and burned. She yearned to slip her fingers beneath her waistband and relieve herself, but he was always near, hovering around her and demanding conversation and entertainment at all hours of the day. Perhaps she could make the excuse of going to the bathroom, but she didn’t want to be exposed in the jungle on her own for that long just in case a Betelgeusian patrol should find her while she was vulnerable and distracted. It was an impossible situation, and this loathsome human pushed her to the very limits of her endurance. The heat and the humidity weren’t doing her any favors either. Unacceptably base and intrusive thoughts swirled in her brain, her body trying to calculate how best to obtain what it desired despite her conscious objections. It was driving her crazy. Her body, like the impudent little human, was in open rebellion.

She heard rustling leaves, and McGregor climbed into view. She watched him as he made his way down, hopping gingerly from branch to branch like a clumsy monkey until he eventually dropped down onto the jungle floor with a wet squelch, his boots sinking into the mud.

“You miss me, boss?”

“Did you see anything?” she snapped, wiping sweat from her brow.

“Yeah, I saw it alright. There’s a metal structure protruding from the jungle canopy about twenty miles North West of us, just about where I said it would be.”

“Good, perfect. We can start making our way there when my break has healed. In another day or two, I should be able to walk without the crutch.”

McGregor examined her face curiously, concern in his eyes.

“You alright boss? You look sick. You sure you don’t have an infection or something?”

“I’m fine, it’s nothing.”

McGregor took a step closer to her, and before she could protest, he reached up on the tips of his toes and pressed the back of his hand against her cheek. His skin was cool on her face, and his touch was gentle, a surge of lust twisting her insides into a knot as she shivered involuntarily.

“You feel really warm, you might have a fever. Do we have antibiotics in the medkit?”

Zhari grabbed McGregor’s wrist, squeezing it painfully, and threw him back. He stumbled a short distance, then came to rest against the tree.

“D-Don’t touch me! Filthy creature,” she snapped.

He stared at her, alarmed by her strange behavior. She was always pissy, but this was different, he had never seen her behave like this before.

“What the hell is your problem?” he asked, shooting her an angry look. “I show concern for your health, and you freak out on me?”

He rubbed his wrist, damn, she had a grip like a vice.

“J-Just stay out of my personal space. Borealans ... I don’t like humans touching me.”

“Oh, so it’s like a race thing? We sure have a lot to learn from the enlightened Borealans! Next time I’m in a wreck maybe I’ll think twice before pulling one of you big orange fucks out of the fire.”

She leaned on her crutch and dragged her free hand down her face in an expression of exasperation, she looked as exhausted as he was, on edge.

“McGregor, just ... don’t.”

He was angry, and he was tired of her shitty attitude. She had no right to complain when she was holding him here against his will, ransoming food to force his compliance, food she could not even have retrieved from the crashed landing craft without his help. Even her damned splint had been his idea.

He spread his arms in a gesture of defiance and advanced towards her, Zhari taking a step back. Her crutch caught on a root, and she almost fell, but she steadied herself.

“You know what, shoot me. Do it. I don’t care anymore. Fucking shoot me.”

He kept walking forwards, and Zhari took another step back.

“You aren’t going to do it, are you? You’re all bluster.”

She raised a hand, almost imploring, and gestured for him to back off. She looked pained, sick.

“McGregor, I’m telling you now, stop this. You don’t ... I can’t...”

He felt a pang of regret in his belly. She was beside herself, maybe she really was sick? Was some unknown tropical virus altering her behavior? She had rejected his innocent attempt to take her temperature, what else could he do for her? He dropped his arms to his sides and stood still, watching her tremble.

“I don’t get you, Zhari. I just don’t get you.”

She turned her back on him and hobbled back through the undergrowth, making her way to the cave. He let her go, figuring he would give her a few minutes to cool down, then join her and try to reason with her again. As much as he disliked her plan and hated her bossy attitude, he felt as if he might go crazy if he were left alone in this jungle. He couldn’t just turn himself in, the Betelgeusians did not take prisoners. Zhari’s incomprehensible behavior was making this whole ordeal more difficult than it needed to be and he resented her for that, but at the same time, he couldn’t stand to see the usually proud creature diminished in this way. Her fierce pride was all that she had left out here.

Zhari stumbled through the brush, twigs and vines impeding her progress. She wanted to get back to the cave. The cool, damp space might help her regain control over herself. If her leg had not been broken and she could move with her usual speed and grace, she would have taken McGregor right there beneath the branches of the tree. Only the pain that flared in her swollen ankle had brought her back to her senses in time to prevent that.

Her mind roiled with guilt and arousal. She wanted him, it wasn’t right, but she did. Every atom in her body ached for it despite the taboo. Was she no better than Raz had been? A deviant xenophile enslaved by her most base desires? The conflict threatened to tear her in half. She reached the cave entrance and pushed past the vine curtain, dropping to sit against the wall and discarding her crutch on the ground. She tried to meditate, to get her breathing under control, to slow the flutter in her heart. But the heat that flared in her loins would not abate.

McGregor walked up to the curtain of vines. He reached his hand out hesitantly and pushed them aside, sticking his head through to look around. Zhari was hunched against the far wall, his eyes hadn’t adapted to the low light yet, and he couldn’t see what she was doing. He stepped through gingerly and approached her. She was turned away from him. He placed his hand on her shoulder gently, careful not to startle her.

“Hey Zhari, are you-”

Her hand reached over her shoulder and closed around his wrist, the Borealan turning her head to look back at him. She leered at him with her reflective eyes, like two burning points of light that shone in the darkness. It frightened him, and he tried to pull away, but her grip tightened to become painful.

“Zhari, what are you doing? Let me-”

She stood up, looming over his shorter frame, and turned to face him. She looked insane, her eyes were wide, and her face was beet red. She was sweating, and he could swear that a string of saliva had escaped the corner of her mouth.

“I-I’ve been thinking about it,” she stammered, rolling her eyes up and down his body as if she was sizing up a meal. Her gaze made him recoil, was she going to eat him? She was panting, he could feel her warm breath on his face.

“It’s not so bad if I only do it once, n-nobody will know.”

“What are you talking about? Have you gone crazy? Let me go!”

She lifted him off the ground by his wrist, one-handed, alarmingly strong. He kicked his feet impotently, but all he could do was hang there. Her bicep bulged under the strain, and she gave him that disturbing, predatory look again. McGregor began to panic.

“Zhari listen to me, we can talk about this okay? Just put me down, and we’ll talk about it, yeah?”

It didn’t seem like she was even listening to him. She was lost in her own head, talking to herself, and his shoulder was beginning to hurt from supporting his weight.

“You deserve this really, don’t you? You made me do it.”

McGregor’s blood ran cold, did she intend to kill him?

“Listen Zhari, I’ll behave, okay? I’ll do whatever you want from now on!”

With her free hand, she brought her shiny, black claws up to his torso. They tore through his flight suit, the fabric falling away in tattered strips to expose his naked chest. Zhari bit her lower lip as her eyes wandered over his body, her lids drooping and her gaze becoming sultry.

“Not even one scar. Such clear, smooth skin.”

She swallowed noisily and ran her padded fingertips over his heart, careful not to cut him with her curved claws. It was beating like a drum, his fear and confusion vibrating up through her hand.

“It’s a service, really. You’ve never been disciplined the way that you should be. I think you want me to do it, that’s why you provoke me, that’s why you taunt me.”

He had no idea what was going on now, what was she talking about? He struggled in vain as the joint in his shoulder throbbed painfully.

“Zhari!” he pleaded, trying to make eye contact in order to get her attention. “You’re hurting me.”

“If you were a Borealan, I’d cut you down to the bone for your insubordination. I’d scar you deep, and every time you saw the mark, you’d remember who gave it to you and why. Then you’d understand your place. Every scar on my body is a lesson learned, and you are ... uneducated.”

She brought him close to her and leaned down to press her face into the nape of his neck. Her fluffy, orange hair tickled his nose, and she dragged her rough tongue across his skin. The warm, wet sensation startled McGregor and sent an involuntary shiver down his spine. Jesus, she really was going to eat him!

She closed her eyes and let loose a drawn-out sigh, savoring his taste.

“You’re always provoking me, teasing me, you humans. I wanted to stay away, I wanted to be good, but now I see that you need us. You need us to teach you. I’m not a deviant after all, I just want a semblance of order.”

He had heard enough of her rambling. His fight or flight reflex kicked in, and he swung his body, punching her in the face with all of his strength. He didn’t have much leverage, but the shot connected and she dropped him in surprise as she brought a hand up to her cheek. He fell to the ground and turned to run, but she tripped him with a powerful swipe from her long tail. McGregor fell on his face, skidding in the wet dirt.

“You can’t help yourself,” she crooned, advancing behind him. “Let me teach you.”

McGregor scrambled, trying to get up off the ground and escape through the vine curtain. Zhari crouched and pressed her knee into the small of his back, the pain from her broken leg seemingly forgotten. It sent a jolt of agony up his spine, and he yelped, clawing up handfuls of soil.

“I won’t let you go, you’re mine now.”

She flipped him over and lowered herself onto him, straddling him. She bound his hands together and held them above his head with her dexterous tail. He struggled ardently, but he couldn’t break free. She was too big, too strong, too heavy. She held her face in her hands and stared down at him, a strange adoration in her eyes.

“I’ve wanted this for so long, but I told myself that it was wrong, I suppressed my desires, and it got worse and worse. Then Raz whispered those perverse, wonderful ... no. Those vile, horrible things into my ear. I couldn’t stop thinking about it, about the things that she told me she had done.”

McGregor began to understand, an immense heat radiating from her groin as it pressed into him. Was she really going to do this? Had his disobedience really provoked this reaction from her or had she always been a ticking time bomb ready to explode under her own repressed lust for the humans she deemed so inferior?

“You humans try to make Borealans live the way you do, follow your rules, behave the way you behave. But now I think you need to learn how to behave like a Borealan, you need to understand how to submit. We’re bigger than you, stronger, better. But you don’t respect us.”

“Fuck you!”

He spat at her, and it hit her on the cheek. Zhari wiped it away with the back of her hand, smiling down at him.

“You see? You don’t know how to behave, even when you’re completely overpowered. I have to break you in.”

McGregor struggled and fought, but he couldn’t get loose. Her huge thighs were clamped around his waist, and his hands were trapped by her flexible tail, but not his legs. He kicked out sideways and jammed his knee into Zhari’s bruised, swollen shin. She inhaled sharply and squeezed her eyes shut, freezing up completely for a few seconds.

He had expected her to release him or to shift her weight so he could wriggle loose, but instead, her eyes opened slowly to gaze at him with a kind of lascivious fervor. Her ragged breathing became more regular, her blush making her face practically glow in the gloom of the cave.

She wet her lips with her tongue and leaned down towards his face. He shied away, expecting some form of retribution, but instead, he felt her sharp teeth press into his neck. Zhari applied a gentle pressure, just enough to prick his skin, her hot breath tickling him. She brought her head a little higher and whispered softly into his ear.

“It doesn’t have to hurt, it can be a reward too.”

She sucked his earlobe into her warm mouth and chewed it gently. McGregor gasped and squirmed, trying to escape the sensation, but he was trapped. She licked his ear wetly then pulled back, eyeing his bare chest and considering her next move.

McGregor’s body was confused, he wanted to fight, he was angry and afraid. Yet he felt his energy leaving him as his growing erection pressed into her crotch, warm and inviting through the thin, clinging fabric of her shorts.

Zhari dragged her claws across his chest, leaving red welts that didn’t quite break the skin. He twisted and bucked, the conflicting stimuli sending his nervous system into overdrive.

“You’ll start to understand soon,” she breathed heavily, her hand crawling up her body to knead one of her sizable breasts through her sweat-stained tank top. She rocked her head back and rolled her hips, McGregor wincing under the pressure. She must weigh half a ton. Right now most of that weight was on her legs and not on him, but she could easily have crushed him if she had been so inclined.

“Not to say that I won’t hurt you. I will, because you deserve it.”

He didn’t know what to do. His mind was failing him, and his body was bewildered, unable to decide if it should be aroused or in pain. He didn’t know how she would react anymore, she was off the rails, unpredictable. He had to find a weakness and fast. She had seemed insecure about her attraction to humans, it conflicted with her sense of smug Borealan superiority. Maybe he could rub some salt into that wound? Would it shame her enough to bring her to her senses?

“So, it’s true what they say, all Borealans are xenophiles! I didn’t believe it, but now I can see it for myself.”

“No, no you’re wrong.” She leaned down to eye level, so that her face was adjacent to his. “I’m not attracted to you, I just needed to ... humans understand the power dynamic. You use it in your military, you obey your superiors like a Borealan obeys an Alpha. When you need to be efficient, strong and reliable, you behave like a Borealan.”

He opened his mouth to argue, but she covered it with her furry hand, her claws digging into his cheeks painfully.

“When you’re off duty you become unruly, provocative. You think the rules don’t apply to you anymore, but they do. All of you, taunting me, begging for a scar to teach you your place. Defenseless and weak but protected by your loathsome rules and regulations. It defies the natural order, you dangle meat in front of me, but you won’t let me taste it!”

She brought her fangs down and sunk them into his shoulder. McGregor groaned in pain, the sound muffled by her palm. The bite was hard, and her incisors punctured his skin, a trickle of crimson blood leaking past her soft lips. He felt her rough tongue rake over the fresh wound as she tasted it, drawing more out. She shuddered on top of him, pressing her groin into him, the pressure maintaining his confused erection. She raised her head, her lips red with his blood, and she licked it away gleefully.

“Ah ... human blood. Sweet, sticky.”

Her juices were soaking through her shorts, McGregor could feel the damp fabric pressing against his shaft. There was no going back now, no stopping this. She had tasted his blood, and he was powerless to resist her.

She pressed her puffy lips against his, forcing her long tongue past them. McGregor tasted his own blood in her mouth, the metallic tang prickling his taste buds. Her rough organ roved in his head, her kiss deep and desperate, wanton in its urgency. Her tongue was impossibly long, at least a foot of winding, prehensile muscle. It was wet with her viscous saliva, rough on the top like that of a cat.

It went on for too long, her larger lung capacity meant that he ran out of breath long before she did and he began to struggle as he started to suffocate. He felt her steely thighs close more tightly around him, and her hands came to his cheeks, cradling his head and keeping it in place. She was enjoying herself.

He closed his teeth on her tongue as he started to see stars dance before his eyes, his peripheral vision darkening, trying to make her pull away. She flinched and released him with a wet smack, a strand of saliva linking their lips. He breathed deeply, sucking in lungfuls of air.

Zhari held her tongue in her fingers, nursing the bite.

“That hurt. A Borealan knows when they’ve been beaten, but you just keep fighting, don’t you?”

She lightly traced the line of his clavicle with her hooked claws, making him flinch and writhe beneath her bulk.

“I should cut you for that, but humans are so ... fragile and soft...”

She bit her lip again as she gazed at his chest, as if trying to suppress some intrusive thought.

“What would hurt me would wound you. A pity, you’re so fresh, unspoiled. Maybe if I was careful...”

He shook his head, wide-eyed.

“Are you scared of me?” she asked, the edges of her mouth curling into a sadistic smile. His brow furrowed, it was surely some kind of test, but he wouldn’t let her break him. He had come this far, what were a few more bites and cuts in order to maintain his pride?

“No.”

She beamed and leaned down again, nibbling his ear with her pointed incisors.

“You should be.”

Zhari was on fire. Her loins burned and throbbed, blood pooled, engorging them. She couldn’t think straight, her brain was boiling in her skull, and her erect nipples rubbed uncomfortably against the rough fabric of her tank top. McGregor writhed underneath her, she could feel his erection pressing against her crotch. She knew that he had wanted this, he was enjoying it, his complaints were drowned out by the beating of his heart and the pulsing of his member. She could hear his nectarous blood gushing through his veins. Was he being coy? Did humans secretly crave subjugation and the rule of order, but for some cultural reason could not admit to it? She would force honesty from his lips. She would make him admit it, beg for it, yes...

She would induct him into her pack, then he would have to follow her orders. He would understand, and he would behave, then the mission could be completed.

Because that’s what this was all about, the mission, not her own gratification. She couldn’t scar him, she couldn’t rake her claws through his supple, pale flesh. It would pull apart like boiled meat, and he would die. The only option left was the sexual one, and it wasn’t her idea, she wasn’t a pervert like Raz. This was a last resort. He had brought this on himself. If he had respected the chain of command and had followed orders, she wouldn’t have to do this to him. It was either this or summary execution for dereliction of duty. This was lenient really, it was compassionate. She was doing him a favor. If she happened to get some relief from it, why shouldn’t she? Didn’t she deserve some compensation, a reward for tolerating these little gremlins all throughout her training?

She felt a fluttering sensation rising in her belly as she remembered something that Raz had whispered in her ear. Zhari’s face had burned as she had tried to think of something else besides the debauchery, the immoral self-indulgence of her mentor. She had said that humans had smooth, agile tongues, perfect for...

No, it was strategic. Such a base, filthy act would humiliate him, and maybe that would break his spirit.

Besides, he was enjoying this, the little deviant.

There was a strange look in Zhari’s eyes. Her face burned hotter, her hands trembling as she took his hair in her fists and shuffled up his body, pressing her moist shorts into his face. His wrists were still bound above his head, her sinewy tail gripping them like a snake as she fumbled with her clothes. Was she trying to take her shorts off? She would have to stand up, and he could make a break for it while her weight was off him. She pulled down the zipper, revealing a tuft of orange fluff on her mound that tickled his nose. It exuded a familiar smell, one that threatened to ensnare his senses. He turned his head away, trying to resist his growing arousal. The zipper did not go low enough to expose her fully, however, she hadn’t thought this through.

She huffed in frustration and stood up, releasing his hands from their bondage.

Was she letting him go? Surely not, but he saw his chance, and he was going to take it. He scrambled to get up, but he felt her furry tail snake its way around his neck instead. He brought his hands up to pull it away, but she increased the pressure, choking him. He fell back to the ground, struggling against the appendage. She lifted one leg and then the other, slipping her shorts off. Putting her weight on her broken leg didn’t seem to bother her. If it did, she didn’t show it.

She dropped the sodden garment on the ground and bent down, grabbing his wrists in her hands and pinning them against the soil. She uncurled her tail from his neck, and he gasped, coughing as he caught his breath. She rested her knees on his arms and wrapped his face in her silky thighs, pressing her mound down against his mouth, trapping him beneath her. She took handfuls of his hair in her fists and tugged, pulling him closer.

“Use your tongue. Don’t bite me, or I’ll make you regret it,” she panted. She looked down at him over her protruding chest, two breasts that were each the size of his head rising and falling with every breath, barely contained by the thin fabric of her tank top.

She was glistening, beyond arousal. Her puffy, pink lips oozed juices down her thighs and onto his chin. The musky smell overwhelmed him, strong, but not unpleasant. He struggled, but there was no way that he could lift her off him, he had no leverage. She was kneeling uncomfortably on his arms, pinning them to the ground. He looked up at her past the tuft of orange fur on her mound, watching as beads of sweat rolled slowly down her toned belly, her rock hard abdominal muscles flexing as she breathed.

“Come on...” she complained, almost imploring. She didn’t sound like an Alpha in command of her underling, she sounded needy and impatient. McGregor wondered how much control over herself she really had. She tugged his hair, painfully this time.

“Don’t make me ask you again.”

He complied, pressing his lips against hers. They were almost painfully hot, slippery with her excitement, fat strands of it falling to his red cheeks. She shuddered, tensing up as he pushed his tongue past her opening into a tunnel of textured, tight flesh. She tasted of salt and metal. The Borealan squeezed his head between her soft thighs, hard muscles rippling beneath the fat, and he licked rhythmically. She strained to control her hips, trying not to grind into his face and smother him, but unable to keep still. She brought a finger to her mouth and bit it, screwing her eyes shut.