Chapter 3: Big Game

Over the next few hours Ursi worked out what furniture they would need for the longhouse, walking through the space with a tablet computer and entering in the data, converting Borealan measurements to centimeters and being sure to note any special requirements. Dennis returned to the Navarin and used the computer to look up information on the animal species that inhabited the Siberian taiga. It looked as if wild game was plentiful, there were large moose, of ideal size for a Borealan to dine on, species of wild deer and sheep, and even large predators such as black bears and the newly reintroduced Siberian tigers. He wasn’t sure if Borealans would eat those, but they would surely prize the pelts. The two pilots hovered over his shoulder, increasingly bored and agitated, resentful of being grounded for so many days.

After a while Ursi pushed through the automatic doors to the cockpit, crouching as her head brushed the ceiling, bringing Dennis the tablet with all of the necessary data for the things she required. He put the request through, and the Russians were more than eager to help, insisting that they could 3D print the furniture and deliver it that very afternoon. Ursi was surprised, but pleased. Dennis transferred the data on the local species to her tablet, then followed her back out of the Navarin and down the ramp, into the snow.

“If the Russians keep their word, we can hunt right now, any meat we catch will keep in the snow until the work surfaces we require to prepare it arrive.”

“What are you going to hunt?”

Ursi looked out over the snowy landscape, past the longhouse, with three trails of smoke slowly rising from its roof. The Borealans were moving the rest of the crates inside, and chopping more firewood with their giant axes.

“It is hard to say, having never hunted any of these species before. At this point you know more about them than I do. What do you suggest?”

She handed him the tablet and he reached up to take it, swiping past the list of local fauna.

“Well ... moose are the largest, they have the most meat. That said, they’re solitary animals, might be hard to find one. Deer live in herds, but they’re very fast and quite lean. Wild sheep might be your best bet, I can even advise on how to best prepare mutton.”

She cocked her head at him.

“Oh, that’s sheep meat,” he added. He handed the tablet back to her and she examined the entry on sheep. She couldn’t actually read English very well yet, Dennis had been attempting to teach her.

“Their coats are made of fluff? Could be useful to us.”

“Yep, that’s called wool, humans have used it as a material to make clothing for thousands of years.”

“Can you read this?” Ursi asked, showing him the entry on her screen and pointing with her black claw.

“It says ... they live in large herds, that’s good, looks like you’ll find them in the more mountainous regions, it’s quite a trek but I’m sure your people can handle it.”

“I will take a small party, this is new prey, there may be unforeseen complications. Stay here, and meet the Russians when they bring the furniture. Have the Borealans who remained take it inside the longhouse.”

“Got it, how long do you think it will take?”

Ursi shrugged, a human mannerism she had amusingly picked up from Dennis.

“I cannot say, it is not uncommon for a hunt to take several days, and we do not know this land well, nor the prey that we track. We will take enough provisions to last us maybe three days, after that, if we have not succeeded, we will return and request advice from local humans.”

Dennis nodded.

“Hurry back, ok? Watch out for predators, see, here...”

He gestured for the tablet and she handed it to him, then scrolled to the predators section.

“Black bear, and Siberian tiger.” He pointed to the animals, and her eyes lingered on the tiger.

“It looks ... like me.”

“It’s a big cat species, similar to your evolutionary ancestors. It’s an apex predator, skilled in ambush tactics, very big, very strong. Even a Borealan shouldn’t take any chances, if you meet one, kill it on sight. Bears aren’t too bad, they’ll mostly just run away unless their young are nearby. Just be careful, remember, this is an alien planet.”

“You don’t need to remind me.”

Ursi retrieved traditional Borealan rifles and ammunition from one of the wooden crates that had been moved inside the longhouse, of the same kind Dennis had seen the Rangers use when he attended a hunt on Borealis. Long, large bore rifles that used black powder projectiles. It reminded him that although weapons and technology were being shipped en masse to Borealis, very few of them actually found their way out of Elysia. She took five of her pack members with her, setting off towards the distant mountains, laden with heavy backpacks that contained their supplies and equipment.

They marched through the snow, passing between the tall, straight trunks of the coniferous trees that made up the Siberian forests. The ground was uneven, dark rocks protruding from the snow, steep hills and inclines making the way treacherous, but to a Borealan in low gravity, the going was easy. Ursi led the pack, hopping deftly over the terrain, her rifle oddly light in her hands. The handling would be a little different, she would need to compensate. She swiveled her ears, keeping alert for any unfamiliar sounds that Earth animals might make. The smells were strange, alien, her nose would not be of much use in its untrained state.

They had been walking for most of the day, and the sun was getting low in the sky when one the pack members spied movement on a hillside, maybe a quarter mile away. He called Ursi over, crouching in the deep snow, trying to keep a low profile lest their prey spot him. They had no way to know how far or how well these animals could see. There was something moving on the hillside, something very large, it had four long legs, which supported a bulky, furry body, and there appeared to be branches growing from its head that split into prongs. It was hard to tell just how large it was due to the distance, but Ursi wasn’t too interested in getting closer, not while it was alive, at least.

She rummaged for her tablet in her pack, and turned it on, scrolling through the list of animals trying to find a match. There, that was it.

“M-moose...” She mouthed, struggling with the pronunciation of the alien text.

“Good to eat?” Her scout hissed under his breath, the Polar dialect rolling off his tongue.

“Yes, I want to make the kill.”

He bowed his head as the rest of the pack crawled up a short distance behind them, keeping low and observing the strange alien creature.

Ursi shouldered her rifle, rising to her knees get a better view. The animal was just wandering along the side of the hill, it didn’t seem to be grazing, or doing much of anything at all. Where could it be going in this wasteland?

She dialed her telescopic scope, adjusting for range and bullet drop. The gravity was lower here, so the bullet should travel further, with less of a curve. She wasn’t sure by exactly how much, she would have to eyeball it. She tapped her scout with her fluffy tail, getting his attention.

“Prepare a follow up, if I miss, take the shot.”

He nodded and lay prone, resting his rifle in the snowdrift. It took him a moment to prepare, tweaking the range on the sight and shifting his weight.

“I am ready, my Queen.”

Ursi fired, the impact rocking her shoulder back. The chemically propelled round flew from the barrel, the crack ringing out and echoing across the valley. The massive slug hit the moose below the shoulder, where she assumed the lungs would be, and it seemed that she was correct. The great animal lurched, staggering for a moment as it tried to flee, red blood poured from its mouth and nose, and then it fell, rolling a short distance down the hill. The pack whooped and yipped their praises, running forward to inspect the alien. They covered the distance quickly, leaping and bounding, reveling in the floaty gravity, then came to a stop around the felled animal.

Ursi prodded it with the butt of her rifle, it was indeed dead. What did such a massive animal eat out in this wilderness? What could sustain it? She would have to ask Dennis to read her more of the text when she returned with her prize.

“How do we carry it back?” One of the pack members asked, tugging at the horns experimentally, rolling the creature’s giant head limply on its long neck.

“Try lifting it,” Ursi replied. He hooked his claws under the animal and heaved, and was indeed able to lift it. It was awkward to carry, but not prohibitively heavy, and so two of the Borealans elected to drag it along between them. It was a good kill, but not enough to feed the pack, and so they continued on in search of the ‘sheep’ Dennis had told Ursi about. They definitely sounded more portable than this moose creature, though the smell of its blood pleased her.

Dennis stood in the center of the longhouse as the Borealans finished bringing in the furniture. The Russians had dropped it off by cargo shuttle, dozens of massive chairs, tables and assorted effects. The pilots had seemed quite frightened by the Borealans, despite Dennis’ attempts to reassure them that they were quite tame and harmless in his limited Russian. They wouldn’t stop muttering ‘tigr’ under their breath, it required no translation. When all of the plastic furniture had been discarded in the snow, the shuttle had left, hurrying back in the direction it had come.

He appraised the new furnishings that now decorated the space, the gaudy, brightly colored plastic in shades of yellows and blues clashing horribly with the rustic, traditional timber design of the building. It would eventually be replaced, but for now it would provide the seating and work spaces they needed to get the fledgling colony off the ground.

Now the Borealans could sit on stools, and lie down on bed frames, they could store equipment and objects on shelving units and tables. The longhouse was finally livable, and Dennis had added one last item to the list that Ursi had given him, a communications suite, not dissimilar to the one he had taken to Borealis, along with the solar panels and portable battery required to power it. All they needed now was a steady supply of food, and the Navarin could finally leave.

The Borealan diet consisted mostly of meat, with a smattering of cereals and gourds here and there. Based on his time on the homeworld, he knew from experience that there was nothing they ate that he could not, but he might need to ship in some dietary supplements if he intended to live with them indefinitely. Hell, a bottle of barbecue sauce would go a long way to making their diet not just palatable, but downright tasty. The aliens favored savory, oily meats, unlike humans they had no sweet tooth and their condiments consisted of their favorite oil, refined from meats, fish or plants carried around in little spray bottles.

There was no sign of Ursi yet, she must still be hunting, and so as the Borealans broke open some more of their crates that had been scattered around the longhouse, retrieving mattresses and blankets for use on their new beds, Dennis elected to return to his cabin on the Navarin to sleep.

Dennis lowered the heavy axe he was using to chop firewood, and shielded his eyes from the sun, looking out over the snow at the advancing figures. Ursi’s hunting party was returning, they were carrying what looked like a whole damned herd of sheep, and one gigantic moose. He lay the axe down against the log pile and waded through the snow to meet her. Ursi was carrying two sheep, one over each arm, and a third was strapped to her pack. The other five Borealans were each carrying two or three more, and two were dragging a moose carcass between them. Dennis couldn’t believe the size of the thing. He had never seen one up close before, it looked to be about seven feet tall at the shoulder, and had to weigh at least fifteen hundred pounds.

“The victorious hunter returns!”

Ursi smiled at him, adjusting one of the dead sheep on her shoulder, its head hanging limply from its neck.

“Did the Russians deliver the furniture?”

“Yes, it’s all set up and ready to go, the longhouse is fully operational.”

“Good, we can start preparing the meat right away.”

Dennis trailed after them as they entered the longhouse through the main door, and after a moment of searching for a suitable surface, piled their prizes on some of the tall, Borealan sized tables. The pack members who had remained behind crowded around on all sides, getting a look at the strange, alien animals they would be dining on.

Ursi and a few of her people got to work immediately, retrieving massive, sharp knives from storage and beginning to gut the animals. She had Dennis hold her tablet and stand nearby, giving instructions concerning the anatomy of the creatures and how best to prepare them for cooking. The smell was foul, and a couple of unlucky Borealans were tasked with attempting to carry out the masses of gelatinous, stinking guts and dumping them outside, their white fur stained crimson. They were meticulous, keeping the tongues, the hearts, livers and kidneys, and even piling some of the thicker bones in order to make use of the marrow. They diced most of the organs, forming them into patties, then bagged them and packed them in snow for later use.