Chapter 3: Crimson Guard

“Ambassador, you must get up, we have much to do.”

Dennis sat up, rubbing his eyes. It must be morning, though it was impossible to tell because of the lack of windows. It played havoc with his internal clock.

“Yes, I’m on my way Xhe, give me a moment...”

He hopped out of bed, the familiar pressure of the harsh gravity clamping down on him. Just pulling on his pants was a workout. His suits might be bland compared to local fashions, but damn it, they were his. He couldn’t represent Earth and her colonies in a Hawaiian shirt, as much as he would have liked to wear one in this crippling heat.

After a few minutes, he stumbled out of his bedroom and into the hallway, buttoning up his jacket as he pushed the door closed behind him. Xhe was waiting in the hall. She was clad in a revealing, blue dress made from a light, almost transparent material that clung to her figure. She looked good. Standing beside her were two towering Borealans, one male and one female. They wore what looked like suits of medieval armor, albeit somewhat lighter and better suited to the hot weather, the style of the metal plates archaic and impractical. UNN troops wore their body armor in tactical black, but these were cherry red, patterned with golden accents on the ceramic plates and golden embroidery in the fabric that they wore beneath. There were reliefs of the chest pieces depicting more heroic scenes of battle and hunting, giving Dennis the impression that these outfits were more for ceremonial purposes than for combat. They wore iridescent fur capes about their shoulders that were attached to their pauldrons with golden badges, somewhat smaller and less impressive than the flowing garment worn by the Patriarch. This was the first time that Dennis had seen a Borealan wear a full-faced helmet. They peered at him through the hollow visors that allowed them to see, their eyes seeming to glow as they reflected the light. Amusingly, their furry ears protruded from slots in the top of the helmets.

“Do we have company today, Xhe?” he asked.

“These are two of the Patriarch’s Royal Guards, they will be accompanying us to a lakeside fishing village where I am hoping you will be able to explore Borealan culture ... unmolested.”

“Is it dangerous?” he asked warily, eyeing the imposing guards. Their ears pivoted and tracked him, he had no idea whether they even spoke English.

“Not unduly, but after yesterday’s incident, I contacted my Lord Patriarch and requested some security. This way, even if you should leave my sight, you will not leave theirs.”

Dennis was uncomfortable, that sounded more like a threat than a reassurance. But on the other hand, he was excited to see more of the planet, and he was eager to get underway.

“Well, let’s go!” he exclaimed as he strode past the guards and made for the door. The Borealans turned to follow him, their armor clanking as they moved.

Xhe led them back through the towering, white spire and onto the stone landing pad that Dennis had first arrived on. A shuttle was waiting for them there, it looked like an old model. This must be one of the Patriarch’s maligned purchases. They piled in, Dennis noting that there was a Borealan pilot behind the controls wearing something analogous to a flight suit. He had no pilot’s helmet, however, and thus no HUD. He must be flying by eye. Dennis fastened his seatbelt extra tightly as the shuttle’s engines sputtered into life and lifted off in a cloud of dust.

They soared over the sandstone city, its ever impressive architecture wavering in the heat, the white glare of the spire dwindling into the distance as they crossed over the lake. The blue, shimmering surface stretched as far as the eye could see, more of an ocean than a lake by his measure. It was these precious oases that life clung to in the desert that the ancient tribes of Borealis had fought so hard over. Dennis could imagine the wandering desert tribes who had been driven to battle over the lush, welcoming forests and jungles, nomads warring for their right to stake their claim on the fertile land. He wondered if all of the Borealans now lived in the territories that the Patriarch had described or if some still wandered the wastes, outcast and unwilling to integrate into the larger societies.

He noticed that the guards were armed now, they sported the long-barreled, bayoneted XMR variants that had become popular among Borealan service members. The modular rifles were produced by the UNN and could be modified for use by any humanoid species regardless of their size. He had heard stories of Borealan soldiers using these weapons as spears as much as they actually fired them.

He leaned over to Xhe who was sat next to him, whispering, unsure if the guards were fluent in English.

“So how does this arrangement work? Will they obey your orders? Are you their Alpha?”

“You needn’t whisper,” she replied. “They are under orders to be here, they do not care what you think.”

He glanced at the guards, their expressions hidden behind their helmets. They fiddled with their weapons, cleaning and loading mechanically. Seeing that he wasn’t satisfied with her answer, Xhe elaborated.

“You must have realized it by now, but we must use parallel social structures in order for a complex society to function. If we didn’t, Borealis would still be tribal, with the most powerful making all of the decisions regardless of their qualifications. The Patriarch might rule us, but he doesn’t do so alone. He appoints trusted advisors to help him govern. He still makes the final decision, but he will take into account the educated opinions of his council in matters of economy, war or politics. Borealan society is governed from the top down, two individuals who might otherwise fight for dominance will cooperate when the order comes from a higher ranked member of the social structure. In this manner, a more dominant individual can even be ordered to follow the instructions of a less dominant subordinate, as long as the order to do so came from his superior.”

Dennis nodded, it made sense. He hadn’t thought about it before now, but it was the only way that such a rigid society would be able to get anything done without descending into infighting.

“So these guards will obey you because the Patriarch told them to?”

“Yes. Even though the Patriarch is not here, he gave them orders to defer to me. Thus, I carry the authority of the Patriarch until I relieve them of their duties, or they are given new orders.”

“How does that work in a professional setting?” Dennis asked. “Let’s say a large group of Borealans is building a dam or a bridge, how do they organize?”

Xhe thought for a moment, her clawed finger tapping her chin.

“In that case, an overseer would be appointed either by the Patriarch or the minister in charge of that infrastructure. The overseer would carry that authority until the completion of the project.”

“It sounds needlessly complicated,” Dennis scoffed.

“To you, perhaps. But from our perspective human society is incredibly chaotic and inconsistent. This way everyone knows their role, everyone has a place.”

Dennis looked out of the window thoughtfully as the lake raced past beneath them, he could see the far shore coming into view. It seemed that the Elysian population ringed the entire lake, making use of all available space. Some areas were more populated than others, although they were not officially distinct cities. The whole area was simply known as Elysia.

The shuttle began to descend, and Dennis saw their destination on the far bank of the lake, a small cluster of wooden buildings with piers extending a short distance into the water. A few had skiffs moored to them, bobbing gently in the water.

The craft circled as the pilot searched for a suitable landing site, then came down a short distance away from the small village in a clearing near the jungle. This area was not paved with stone, it seemed that the Borealans who lived here had to manually cut back the encroaching plants. Dennis could make out stumps and pruned bushes at the edge of the treeline. He felt the landing gear absorb the impact as they hit the ground, the Borealan pilot bringing her down a little harder than Dennis was used to, dust and dirt blowing up in a cloud around the shuttle. Locals crowded the border of the village, craning their necks curiously to get a look at the newcomers. Some of them might never have seen a shuttle before, and they would certainly have never seen a human. He felt a twinge of apprehension, but the presence of the Royal Guards reassured him.

The landing ramp descended, and the guards unfastened themselves from their seats, hefting their XMRs and waiting for Xhe’s signal. She waved them forward, and they thundered down the ramp, taking up position to the left and right of the shuttle. Upon seeing the crimson-clad soldiers, the rapidly growing crowd appeared to mutter amongst themselves, perhaps recognizing their uniform. If he had been close enough to hear what they were saying, Dennis would not have understood them.

Xhe glided down the ramp, surprisingly elegant in her blue dress, Dennis trailing along behind her. Upon seeing him the crowd became more animated, jostling to get a look at the strange alien and his regal escort. Xhe marched towards them, and the guards followed her, Dennis struggling to keep up with her loping strides. As they neared the village, Dennis got a better look at the crowd. They were less elaborately dressed than the Borealans that he had seen in the city, their clothing was more spartan and functional, their jewelry was made from shells and beads rather than gold and gems. He noticed that almost all of these villagers had similar coloring and patterns, were they a distinct ethnic group? A tribe that Taka Elysiedde had assimilated?

For the first time he saw young Borealans, children, or rather kittens. They were the size of large toddlers, chubby little creatures with large paws and oversized eyes, their bodies covered in a layer of fluffy fur. Borealans must lose the majority of their fur as they matured as all of the adults that he had encountered thus far were furless besides for their forearms, their lower legs and their feet. Perhaps the young needed it for insulation? Did Borealis even have winters? Everything seemed so arid. The little kittens hid between the legs of their parents, peeking out at him warily.

Xhe came to a stop before the crowd and began to address them in the Borealan dialect, gesturing towards Dennis occasionally. He stood straight, trying to make a good impression without understanding what was being said.

Whatever they had been told seemed to satisfy them. Some dispersed, going back to their business, while others crowded closer to examine Dennis. Their round, furry ears tracked him like radar dishes, their feline pupils dilated into dark circles. He realized that he didn’t even know how to say hello in Borealan, could he even pronounce the words? The language seemed to be all spitting and hissing.

An especially fat kitten stuck out its fluffy head from between two adults, staring at him with large, amber eyes. Its prehensile tail was curled around the leg of its parent for reassurance. He waved at it, and it inched forward, eyeing him warily. Nobody protested as it crept closer, sneaking a sniff of his pants leg. It tugged at the fabric with stubby, clawed fingers. Xhe reached down and gripped it by the scruff of the neck, lifting it off the floor and placing it a short distance away. It hesitated for a moment, then shook itself like a dog, waddling back over to the waiting arms of its caretaker. Like many young mammals, these did not seem to be fragile creatures.

“What did you say to them?” he asked Xhe.

“That you are the Ambassador to a Coalition ally, and that you are touring Elysia with the full authority of my Lord Patriarch.”

She made him sound so important. He had been here for a week now, and he hadn’t really done anything yet besides eat, sleep and antagonize women in bars. He wondered when the Patriarch would request his presence and the political maneuvering would begin.

“Can you translate something for me?” he asked, and Xhe nodded. “Tell them that I appreciate their hospitality and that I’m looking forward to learning about their culture and way of life.”

Xhe relayed the information, but the crowd did not have a strong reaction. They were more interested in his strange appearance than why he was here or what he wanted from them, and why shouldn’t they be? This was the first time that any of them had ever seen an alien.

“What interests you?” Xhe asked.

“What do you mean?”

“What aspect of their culture are you interested in learning about?”

Dennis thought for a moment, considering.

“In my book, I read about bare-handed fishing. Do they do that here?”

“Probably, this area is very ... rustic.”

“Maybe I’ll just wander around a bit first, would that be okay?”

“We have authority here,” Xhe replied, “they will not protest.”

That wasn’t really what he had asked her, but whatever. He wandered into the village proper, the guards hovering close to him as the small crowd parted to make way. The buildings here were distinct from the sturdy masonry of the capital, they were built from lumber, using the stout trunks of the gnarled trees to prop up the structures like pillars on a Greek temple. The almost wholly intact logs bore the load, while the spaces between were filled in with closely connected planks. No windows here either...

“Xhe, why do none of your buildings have windows?”

“Large windows would be a structural weakness,” she said as she walked along beside him, her floaty dress blowing on the breeze that rolled in from the lake. “The high gravity here means that buildings must be low and strong. They would also interfere with insulation.”

“Insulation? But it’s so hot.”

“Insulation prevents heat transfer, it keeps the heat out in the summer and keeps the heat inside in the winter.”

“You have winters here, then?”

Xhe stopped and looked at him, an expression of surprise on her feline face.

“Nobody told you about winters on Borealis?”

“No ... should they have?”

“Twice per month for a period of about three days, Borealis is sent into the shadow of an eclipse as the secondary yellow star passes in front of the white primary. The temperature drops below freezing, as what heat the atmosphere can retain is lost to space. It becomes dark, the only source of light being the secondary, far dimmer star. The lakes freeze and most of the local fauna either hibernates or retreats underground. Our ancestors would huddle deep inside caves for warmth, but in the modern era, dwellings are designed to resist the weather. The people retreat inside and enter a state of reduced metabolic activity in response to the drop in temperature.”

“That’s ... unusual!” Dennis replied. Yet another damned obstacle. This planet was a nightmare, Earth was a paradise in comparison, and he was beginning to miss it more and more. “That explains why your trees look so out of place, they must be evergreen, adapted to survive the cold.”

“Correct, our flora is very hardy. Some plants die off, releasing spores as part of their life cycle in order to grow again when the sun returns, but the larger trees and shrubs endure the winter.”

“And this all happens in the space of one month?”

“From the sixteenth to the eighteenth day of Borealis’ thirty-four day month, and from the thirty-third to the first of the following month, yes.”

“How did life even evolve in such a harsh and variable environment?”

“A tough planet will produce tough life. We have a saying here, roughly translated from Borealan it means the strict mother raises disciplined children. Traditionally, Borealans credit their strength and endurance to the planet. It has often been worshiped as a mother deity in ancient religions.”

“So when is the next cold period?” Dennis asked, not really wanting to know the answer.

“Soon, a few days.” She noticed his concerned expression and waved her furry hand dismissively. “Don’t worry, you’ll be perfectly safe. Our buildings are very well insulated. Don’t expect to be doing much during those days though. As I said, in response to extreme cold Borealans go into a low metabolic state.”

“You’ll have to show me an orbital model of what that looks like some time Xhe, it’s hard to picture.”

“We are used to it. For us this is normal.”

They walked along a dirt path towards the center of the village as Dennis digested this new information. Perhaps the chaos of the environment that the Borealans lived in contributed to their desire to form strict social hierarchies. After all, prolonged arguments and bickering pretty much anywhere on the planet might result in you dying of exposure in the desert or freezing in an eclipse. Coupled with the harsh gravity and the limited living space, no wonder Borealans were such renowned frontline troops. Life before the comforts of technology must have been harsh here. In a way, Xhe’s adage about strict parenting was correct, this planet would have selected only the hardiest Borealans to survive and reproduce.

The village formed a rough crescent around the lakefront with the piers in the center, protruding out into the water. Wooden boats, their decks littered with nets and traps were moored here and fishing lines dangled unattended into the clear lake. Pebbles smoothed by the water crunched under Dennis’ shoes as he neared the shore, peering out over the great expanse. Somewhere on the other side was the city, he didn’t know how far away it was, but it was completely out of view.

He crouched, searching for a flat pebble. He found one that was suitable and picked it up, weighing it in his hand. He threw it, skipping it along the surface of the lake. It bounced four times then sank under the water.

He felt a tug at his pants leg, looking down to see the fat kitten peering up at him expectantly. He turned to Xhe, but she didn’t come to retrieve the little creature this time. Dennis lowered his hand and scratched the juvenile Borealan’s head, it was fluffy and soft. To think that this squat little creature was running around in 1.3Gs, totally carefree.

“What’s up little guy?” he asked. The kitten might not speak the local dialect yet, and it certainly didn’t know any English, but it responded to his voice. It tugged again, its already sharp claws hooked into the fabric of his suit. “You like the stones?”

Dennis crouched, finding another smooth, flat pebble. He showed it to the kitten, who examined it with surprising care. Dennis then raised his arm and flung the pebble, flicking his wrist to put a spin on it. The rock bounced twice on the calm surface of the lake, then a third time, before finally sinking to the bottom. The little Borealan watched with wide eyes, then crouched, rummaging for another pebble and foisting it into Dennis’ hands.

“You want me to do it again?” he laughed. “Alright, watch this.”

Xhe watched as Dennis interacted with the little orange kitten. He was trying to teach it a game in which pebbles were thrown at an angle so that they might skip along the surface of the water. A simple game, unknown to her. Something about his futile attempts to play with the kitten, for it was far too young to perform any kind of complex actions, was endearing to her. She had come to resent him for the trouble that he caused her and for his inability to follow basic instructions. Yet seeing his genuine desire to explore the land and connect with its people, undiluted by any preconceptions of caste or social class, warmed her heart. Borealans went where they were ordered to go but this human went where he willed, he was as free as one could be on Borealis.

Eventually, the kitten became bored and toddled off into the village. Dennis walked along the shoreline, watching the moored boats bob on the water. He could hear the Royal Guards trailing a short distance behind him, their heavy paws crunching on the pebble beach. He made his way back up to the village and stopped before an especially large building, admiring its carved features. The logs that held it up were engraved with scenes of fishermen casting nets and hoisting large creatures that looked like sharks, similar to what he had seen being chopped up for sale in the market. There were whittled figureheads above the heavy wooden doors, busts of Borealans, perhaps people of importance or family members. Everything that these people built, they built to last. Who knows how long these structures had stood here, enduring the weather and the harsh winds blowing in from the lake.

It was hard to believe that these people, who still lived in wooden houses and fished for their livelihood, belonged to a race that now owned starships and participated in interstellar wars.

“You may enter if you like.” Xhe surprised him, she was standing next to him, watching him admire the woodwork. “It is the Alpha’s dwelling, but we rank higher.”

“I wouldn’t want to intrude,” Dennis replied.

“It would not be an intrusion. You are too considerate, Ambassador. One rarely takes into account the feelings or opinions of a subordinate, they obey, or they are punished.”

“Well, that might be how you do things, but not me.” He walked away from the building, examining the other structures. “I saw fish in the city market, how do they transport their goods?”

“By boat.” Xhe replied. “They sail across the lake and sell their cargo to vendors at the port. There are many such villages in the less developed regions of Elysia. There are hunting villages inside the jungle also.”

“Hunting villages?” Dennis asked, perking up at that. “What do they hunt?”

“Various kinds of local fauna, the majority of species on Borealis live in the green bands. We hunt them for meat and furs.”

Dennis stared into space, remembering the pearlescent cape that the Patriarch had worn. He would like to see what animal that hide had come from.

“Can we visit one?”

Xhe looked apprehensive, perhaps annoyed that he was creating more work for her.

“Not today, no. Maybe another day, if I can arrange an escort. The jungles are not safe for a human.”

“Well, what is there to see in this village? I want to experience the local culture. How about the fishing?”

Xhe called to the villagers who had been milling around, observing them from a safe distance. Were they perhaps afraid of the guards? A group of them walked towards Dennis and Xhe, and she addressed them for a minute in the local tongue. When she was done, they moved towards the beach, wading into the lake.

“Did you just order them to demonstrate bare-handed fishing, Xhe?”

“Yes, is there a problem?”

Dennis didn’t reply, he felt bad watching them as the water reached their waists, they were being ordered around for his amusement as if they were jesters in some medieval court. But it was not his place to judge, this was the way of things here and upsetting the balance would do them no favors.

Surprisingly they took to the water ardently, floating and splashing, their simple clothing seemingly designed to be worn in the water as well as on land. They were powerful swimmers, their reflective eyes peeking out from beneath hoods of wet hair when they floated on the surface, disappearing beneath the water with powerful strokes of their legs and tails. Xhe commented as Dennis watched them frolic.

“Borealans like water, most enjoy swimming and bathing. There are bathhouses and swimming pools in the city, but wherever you go on Borealis that is populated, a lake or a spring will be nearby. Life here revolves around water.”

One of the larger males surfaced explosively, gripping a struggling fish in his hooked claws. It was not dissimilar to the ones that Dennis had eaten, an armored carapace protected its back and head, and it had more flapping fins than he felt it should possess. It writhed its long, scaly body, trying to break free of the Borealan’s grip.

“This is how we fish, traditionally. Of course, in the modern era, commercial fishing must be done with nets and trawlers in order to capture a large enough quantity to sell. But this practice lives on, both as a sport and as a way for more remote communities such as this one to supplement their diet.”

Two more Borealans surfaced holding fish of varying sizes. One female struggled in the shallows, dragging something large onto the beach. It writhed and twisted, splashing and frothing in the water so as to obscure it from view. There was a touch of pink to the foam that indicated blood, and the woman heaved, her claws embedded in whatever it was that she had caught. The villagers crowded around, making vocalizations that sounded like cheering or yowling, but none stepped forward to help her. It seemed that she had to do this on her own.

She pulled the struggling beast from the water, it was one of the shark creatures from the market that Dennis had seen being prepared for sale, grey-skinned with half a dozen waving flippers. She beached it with one last grunt, unhooking her claws from its flesh, the deep wounds in its blubbery meat oozing crimson blood. It attempted to swim, its six-foot long body undulating and its wide, toothless mouth gasping rhythmically as its tail dug into the smooth pebbles.

“That is a good catch.” Xhe said, appraising the creature as it wriggled. “Perhaps we should ask them to prepare it for you, would you like to eat it?”

“Sure, if it wouldn’t inconvenience them.”

Xhe waved dismissively as if to indicate that she didn’t care, and neither should he.

The crowd cheered enthusiastically as the female who had dragged the beast ashore pounded a clenched fist against her prominent abdominal muscles, barking what might have been a victory cry. Dennis watched as more of the Borealans left the water, discarding their fish into a pile near the shark. There was no point asking Xhe what it was called, he wouldn’t be able to pronounce it.

Xhe spoke to the fishermen, and they chatted amongst themselves, nodding and gesturing to their catch. After a moment, two of the males hefted the now limp and lifeless shark, carrying it back to the village while the smaller fish were piled into a large wicker basket.

“What did you say to them?” Dennis asked, watching as one of the aliens carried away the brimming basket of fish.

“I told them that the Ambassador, honored guest of the Lord Patriarch, wishes them to prepare the fish in whatever way they deem appropriate so that he might sample the local flavors.”

Dennis nodded. Something about the way that Xhe treated these people rubbed him the wrong way. She wasn’t being abusive, they seemed happy to obey her, but the way that she lorded over them and ordered them around gave him a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach. These were simple fishermen who were obviously far below the means of those who lived in the city. Borealan society respected strength and achievement, but what of the lower rungs of society? What of the poor and the weak? If Xhe was to be believed, they had a place in the power structure, and they obeyed willingly. But to Dennis’ human eyes, it didn’t seem as if they had much of a choice in the matter. In such a harsh environment and on a planet that had only recently been contacted, perhaps issues of social mobility were not a priority.

Dennis watched the suns set as he sat on the beach, the pebbles cool beneath his hands. The giant shark had been skewered and was being slowly spit-roasted over a crackling fire by an older Borealan with greying hair. The rest of the villagers milled about nearby, the low murmur of unintelligible alien speech floating over the calm water. A handful of kittens prodded the fire with long sticks, mesmerized both by the dancing, orange flames and by the slowly turning shark. Xhe and the guards were standing some distance away, seemingly at ease. The cool air blowing in from the lake alleviated the heat somewhat and ruffled his hair, even the high gravity couldn’t ruin the moment. He looked to the sky, bright pinpoints of light visible against the velvet darkness. The constellations were strange and alien, he didn’t recognize any of them, and the lack of a moon stood out to him. One light was especially bright and occupied a space low on the horizon, it must be the secondary yellow star in the binary system.

He wondered what Xhe might say if she saw Earth’s moon, massive and prominent in the night sky. The more he learned about the galaxy, the more he realized how unusual it was to have a satellite so large and close, craters and plains visible with the naked eye.

Xhe called to him, the food was ready. He rose to his feet, his stomach rumbling as the smell of the roasted fish wafted over to him. He made his way up the beach, the pebbles crunching under his shoes, and sidled up to Xhe. The old Borealan with the salt and pepper hair pulled a chunk of meat from the flank of the animal, now supple and pliant. The soft, white flesh pulled away from the cartilage, and he skewered it on a long, metal fork. He handed it to Dennis, who had to compensate as he took the metal prong, it was heavy than he had anticipated. He sank his teeth into the meat, it was surprisingly firm and chewy, more like a steak than a fish fillet. It had a pungent odor, but the taste was pleasant.