Chapter 10: Night Life

The station certainly wasn’t deserted by any means, but they could at least walk without having to weave through the crowds. The usual bustle of tourists had been replaced with engineers and personnel who were on night shifts. Weary travelers headed in the direction of the residences or the hangars to catch their next flight, while other people who had cause to be awake when the majority of the population were fast asleep went about their business. That also meant that the noise level was lowered, all the better for Zuki.

They were headed back in the direction of the tourist quarter when she froze in her tracks, her eyes fixed on a pack of dusky-skinned, blonde-haired Borealans wearing UNN jumpsuits who were coming in the opposite direction. Before Jules could comment, he suddenly felt his feet leave the deck, Zuki whisking him up in her arms and barreling towards the cover of a cluster of trees in a nearby planter. Something blotted out the light, and Jules realized that she had wrapped her camouflaged cloak around the both of them, cocooning them as she hugged him tight against her body.

Her leather vest was pressed up against his chest, and she had a furry hand on the back of his head, pushing his face into the nape of her neck. Her coat was silky and somewhat damp against his cheeks, so fine that it almost felt like skin, her rapid heartbeat pumping in his ear as she breathed warm air in his hair. He could feel the heat that her body radiated, and her scent was ... oddly alluring, hotboxing him in the tight confines of their impromptu disguise. She smelled like blackberries, some component of whatever she used to treat her fur when she bathed, masking an underlying feminine scent that reminded him of exertion. A sudden wave of embarrassment overcame him, and he tried to pull away, but she had too tight of a hold on him.

“Uh ... Zuki?” he mumbled into her shoulder, struggling to keep his hands away from her bosom as she squashed him against her. Whatever the reason for the bandages on her chest, she didn’t seem to be in any discomfort. “What gives?”

“Quiet,” she hissed, “there are Rask on this station!”

“Yeah, I know,” he replied, his voice muffled. “They’re just auxiliaries, they won’t hurt you.”

“But...”

“I know you’re afraid of the Rask, but this is neutral ground. If they tried to attack you here, the MPs would be on them so fast they wouldn’t know what hit them.”

She hesitated, then seemed to relax a little, pulling back the cloak and releasing him from her hold. He stood and straightened his clothes, pushing through the leaves of a small bush and stepping off the raised planter. The pack of Rask were staring at them in confusion. From their perspective, a human and a Borealan had just darted across the walkway and transformed into a shrub. Zuki watched from her hiding spot warily, her head peeking out from beneath the ghillie suit.

“She’s new here,” Jules said, laughing nervously. They looked him up and down, then continued on their way, one of them peering back over her shoulder with a scowl on her face. If they recognized Zuki as an Araxie, then they didn’t show it in any way, and Rask weren’t afraid of confrontation.

Zuki crept out from behind the bush once they were suitably far away, flinging her cloak back over her shoulders.

“You don’t have to be afraid of them,” Jules said, “they’ve undergone their integration training if they’re walking around on the station. They’re our allies.”

“That doesn’t change what they did,” she grumbled.

“But those Rask in particular didn’t do it, they might not have any idea of what’s going on in Araxie. We have to assume that they’re innocent until we find evidence to prove otherwise.”

“If you say so,” she muttered.

“Come on, let’s keep going.”

After walking for a few more minutes, he noticed that she was shivering a little, and she had wrapped the cloak tighter about her shoulders.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, “are you cold?”

“It’s so cold and dry here,” she grumbled, hiding beneath her leafy cowl.

“Ah, I suppose your home territory was unusually hot and humid by our standards. Wearing such sparse clothes can’t be helping, shall we get you something warmer?”

“Is winter coming? Will the people here be sleeping until the suns return?”

“Well, there are no seasons on the station,” he explained. “It’s a controlled environment.”

“What does that mean?” she asked, glancing about as if the answer might be in the air around her.

“We decide the temperature, the humidity, the air pressure. It’s not going to get any warmer than this. The sunlamps will come back on in the morning, but that’s about it. I’m sure there are clothing stores that cater to aliens on the station, let’s go see if we can find you a jacket or something.”

The great sunlamps that were embedded in the ceiling had been dimmed enough to mimic a city street at nightfall, but as the pair cleared the residential quarter and entered the tourist quarter, the walkway was bathed in colorful neon. The stores here were adorned with glowing signs and decorations designed to draw the eye of pedestrians, animated graphics, and holograms dancing in store windows. It looked like a Christmas celebration, Zuki’s green eyes sparkling as she gazed about in wonder.

“Is it too bright for you?” Jules asked, “perhaps we should have brought the helmet after all.”

Zuki didn’t even seem to be listening to him, there were too many sights to see, her head on a swivel as she tried to take it all in at once. Her feline eyes reflected the neon glow, making them glitter, her furry ears moving independently of one another as she listened to the strange sounds coming from all directions.

The street here was a little more populated, but it was still less crowded than during the day. He had to keep in mind that time zones across Coalition space were a jumbled mess and that spacelag between star systems could be extreme. There were even tidally locked planets that didn’t have a day and night cycle at all. Still, he was surprised to see that there was somewhat of a nightlife on the station.

Zuki veered off and planted her wet nose against a nearby window pane, looking past the glass at a three-dimensional hologram of a dancing, cartoon cow. Jules wasn’t sure what it was advertising, but Zuki was enthralled.

“What is that?” she asked breathlessly.

“It’s a cartoon, like an exaggerated drawing. There’s nothing that really looks like that.” She was getting a little distracted, and so he took her by the hand and guided her along. “Alright, we’re looking for a clothing store, one that sells Borealan stuff. I’ve seen them wearing casual clothes, there must be something...”

After walking through perhaps half of the tourist quarter, the afterimages of the neon signs and flashing advertisements burned into his retinas, Jules finally spotted what they were searching for. There was a brightly-lit sign above one of the stores advertising clothing on one side, and then something in a Borealan script that he couldn’t read on the other. He led Zuki through the door, this one large enough that she didn’t have to duck, and they emerged into a room packed with aisles full of clothes. It looked like any department store that you might find on Earth or one of the more cosmopolitan colonies, but smaller, as everything had to be crammed into the station’s limited space. In contrast with its limited floor space, many of the furnishings inside were scaled up to Borealan proportions, it gave the place a very odd and mismatched feel.

“Alright, this looks promising,” he said as he led her down one of the isles. “What have we got here? Krell ponchos, hats, human-sized jackets ... here we go.” They stopped before a rack of larger garments that seemed suitable for Zuki.

“What’s your style Zuki?” he asked, “I think this blue sweater is your color.”

“But my color is black,” she replied, gesturing to her furry body.

“I know, it’s just an expression. How about we get you this knitted turtleneck?” he asked as he reached up and took the long sleeve in his hand. “This looks pretty warm, and then you can wear your vest over the top of it so that you still have access to all of your ... stuff. Pick out a color, and you can go try it on, see if it fits.”

She scrutinized the sweaters for a moment, then pointed to a green one.

“That one’s a little ... festive,” he mumbled, “but if that’s what you want...” He pulled it off the rack and handed it to her, then guided her over to one of the changing booths. They too were around eight feet tall, this store had clearly been built with the aliens in mind. “See if that fits you, I’ll wait outside. No, close the door so that people can’t see you.”

She closed the door to the booth, the hinges squeaking, and Jules heard her begin to shuffle. After a moment, he heard a bump, and then the door slowly began to swing open. She must have knocked her elbow against it or something. Zuki’s vest was lying on a bench in front of her, and her back was to him, the sweater pulled halfway on. Her arms were most of the way into the sleeves, but it looked like she couldn’t locate the hole for her head, struggling with the garment. She must not have known how to lock the door.

As he reached forwards to push it closed again, his curiosity got the better of him, his eyes drawn to her exposed body. Much of her torso was on display. The silky fur that covered her was so fine and thin that he could even make out the indent of her spine, along with the dimples on her lower back that were peeking out above her belt. Every detail was visible, the wet sheen of her coat catching the light, making her shine beautifully as she twisted and wriggled. He could see her from the front, too, watching her reflection through the full-length mirror. The subtle outlines of her abdominal muscles shifted beneath her dark, glossy exterior, flexing as she attempted to free herself from the turtleneck.

Her upper back and chest were bandaged tightly with something analogous to white cotton that contrasted with her black fur, and for the first time, the mounds of her breasts were visible. They were smaller than Yuta’s had been, but the Equatorials were more heavily built than the lithe Araxie, so that was to be expected. Zuki’s were still as large as his head, even if they were being compacted by the tight bands of fabric.

Something else caught his eye, a sliver of pink, and he noticed that there was a hint of a scar visible beneath the bandages on her abdomen. It was just peeking out where the bandages met the top of her six-pack.

Could it be evidence of some kind of injury as he had first suspected? If he could convince her to see a doctor on the station, they might be able to help her, but she seemed so cagey about it.

Zuki finally succeeded in pulling the sweater over her head, her face popping out from beneath the collar like a jack in the box. Her eyes met his through the mirror, she seemed curious rather than angry or embarrassed, and he reached behind the open door to point to the lock.

“You, uh ... need to lock it,” he explained. “Just push the little bar through the rings to stop it from swinging open.”

She crouched down to examine the lock, unconcerned about Jules seeing her in a partially undressed state, playing with it for a moment and making it click.

“Oh, I get it!” she finally replied as she closed the door and locked it. When she reemerged, she was wearing the leather vest over the garment, as Jules had suggested. While it was a little baggy, it seemed to fit her pretty well. Araxie were slimmer and had a somewhat smaller build than the muscular Equatorials or the chubby Polars. He understood why she had gone with green now, it very nearly matched her camouflaged cloak, but not quite. Even on the station, she was still trying to be stealthy.

“How does it feel?” he asked, “is it comfortable?”

“It’s warm, fuzzy,” she replied. Her ears swiveled as the narrow slits of her feline pupils widened, Jules following her gaze, turning to see a member of staff approaching from behind him. She was a fellow human, perhaps a foot shorter than Jules, with blonde hair and a name tag on her shirt.

“Can I help you find anything?” she asked.

“We were just looking for clothes that will fit my friend here,” Jules replied, pointing a thumb over his shoulder at Zuki.

“We have the widest selection of alien clothes on the station, what were you looking for in particular? We have some leather jackets in stock if you’re looking for something from the homeworld, they’re handmade.”

“I think we’re good for jackets, thanks. Do you have any pants for Borealans? Something for cool weather, maybe?”

“Let’s see what we can find,” she replied, Zuki following behind them as the woman weaved between the aisles. There was a crash, and Jules spun around to see Zuki hastily straightening a revolving display of sunglasses that she had bumped into. He noticed that there were larger pairs up at the top, and while he couldn’t figure out why anyone would need to buy sunglasses on a climate-controlled space station, they would be an ideal alternative to Zuki’s helmet.

“Oh, good find,” he said as he walked over and reached up to select a pair that looked like they might fit her. “Try these on.”

She looked at them curiously, not knowing what to do with them, and he had her lean down so that he could place them on her face. Her round ears were too high on her skull to support them, so they were designed with a strap that secured them about her head.

“Oh! It’s dark, like the helmet,” she said as she stood up and looked around.

“Yeah, except that they don’t weigh five pounds, and they also don’t cost more than I make in a year if you break them.”

The store employee guided them over to the trousers, waiting patiently as they examined the wares. There were jeans and overalls, as well as flowing, gossamer skirts that reminded Jules of a sari. Perhaps those were of Borealan origin as well as the jackets.

“That’s a lovely cloak you’re wearing,” the woman said, “is it made out of leaves?”

“Those are just pieces of fabric made to look like leaves,” Zuki explained, “it’s for hiding from our enemies.”

“Is that so?” the woman mused, tapping a finger against her chin. “You know, I think we might have something more suited to your tastes in the back. Wait here a moment...”

She hurried off into a back room of the store, and after a few moments, she emerged with a large pair of pants bundled in her arms. Zuki’s eyes lit up at the sight, they were patterned with forest camouflage in shades of green and tan, like you might expect a soldier to wear. They weren’t military surplus, they were clearly sweatpants that had been colored that way for show, but the Araxie had already fallen in love with them.

“These will break up my silhouette!” she exclaimed, reaching down gingerly and taking them from the woman. She seemed more conscious of her strength and her weight in this low gravity after having broken the plate, she was being very gentle. “Thank you, clothing lady!”

“Happy to help,” the woman chuckled.

Jules followed Zuki back over to the changing booths and waited as she tried them on, and when she emerged again, she was sporting a complete outfit. The pants were a little baggy, but she seemed to like them. She had transferred her belts to the loops on the waistband to prevent them from slipping down. He was amused to see that there was a small hole at the back where her tail pushed through, which also served to hold them up. She didn’t have her leather shorts in hand, so she must be wearing them beneath it.

They passed by the register so that Jules could pay for the clothes, thanking the employee again for her help, then they walked back out into the street.

“Better?” Jules asked, looking up at Zuki.

“Yes.”

“All the coolest people wear sunglasses indoors,” he said with a grin. “Let’s go find some food. You want something to drink, too? You guys had alcohol back in your territory, right?”

“Alcohol? Like at the great hall?” she asked.

“Do Araxie only drink in the great hall? I guess you could consider a cafeteria or a bar the equivalent of a great hall, yeah. Places where people meet to socialize and eat. The restaurants are probably closed by now, but I’m sure we can find something.”

They wandered through the tourist quarter for a while, just people-watching and searching for a place to get some food. Jules had rarely had the time to explore the station during his prior visits. He had always been occupied with UN business, and he had never been out for very long after the sunlamps were dimmed, as the day and night cycle on the station was synced with that of Earth.

There weren’t very many aliens here, perhaps they were either asleep because they were on duty, or maybe they preferred to stay in the military quarter where they had their own bars and recreational facilities. There were a few Borealans, however. He could see a chubby Polar wearing civilian clothes who was standing head and shoulders above everyone else, as well as a solitary pack of what looked like Elysians who were in uniform. The humans that surrounded them were all dressed in casual attire, a few of them wearing more revealing outfits, which might suggest that they were headed to some manner of nightclub.

The station’s illusion of normalcy was even more convincing at night. With the neon signs bleaching the white hull material in shades of blue and green, it really did feel like you were walking around in a trendy district of a terrestrial city.

They followed one group of people to some kind of club, there was a surly looking Borealan at the door who must be acting as a bouncer, and he gave them the stink eye as they neared. Perhaps two-piece suits and ugly sweaters weren’t considered part of the dress code for clubbing. The music was far too loud for Zuki anyway, so they moved on.

The Araxie certainly wasn’t complaining, even the most mundane of things were a novelty to her, every shop window a new dimension of wonder and excitement. By the time they found a suitable place to eat, they were near the end of the tourist quarter, and they had been exploring and chatting for maybe an hour.

It was somewhere between a pub and a restaurant. The signs on the sculpted exterior advertised drinks, but they seemed to serve food too, and there was no loud music or flashing strobe lights to disturb Zuki. As they entered through the door, this one also large enough for a Borealan or a Krell, the scent of smoke hit them like a wall. The air was thick with a grey haze, adding to the dinginess of the place, and what music was playing was calm and unobtrusive. It wasn’t exactly a dive bar, the station was far too clean and well maintained for such things, but it certainly lacked the artificial veneer of the other places that they had visited.

The walls were covered in plastic panels painted and textured to resemble wood, as shipping real wood all the way out here would have cost an arm and a leg. There were various pictures hanging up, mostly framed paintings of UNN vessels and battle scenes, along with a few elaborate flags covered in emblems and seals. The lights on the ceiling fans that were creating vortexes in the swirling smoke were dim, making them more pleasant for Zuki’s sensitive eyes, their yellow glow casting the room into deep shadow. There was a bar at one end of the fairly cramped space, similarly made from imitation wood, and the rest was occupied with round tables. Most were human-sized, but a few of them were larger, the chairs that surrounded them reinforced to hold more weight. The padding on them was scuffed and worn, the stuffing protruding through the faded leather in places, as if claws had torn holes in the material.

There was a pack of Borealans surrounding one of the tables, the largest and meanest of them swilling some kind of alcoholic beverage from a glass as he puffed on an e-cigar, watching as the strangers entered. They had variations of red and brown hair, with skin that ranged from pale to tan, which meant that they were probably Elysians. Jules got the impression that they were off-duty, as they wore a combination of their blue UNN jumpsuits and more casual clothes, like worn leather jackets that looked as if they had been through hell and back. They looked hand-made, the sleeves adorned with various Navy patches. The pub was mostly empty save for the pack and a handful of scattered humans.

He walked up to the counter where the bartender was waiting, looking over the various taps with their colorful logos. The man had the air of someone who had previously been in very good shape, but age had taken its toll on him, leaving him a little soft around the middle. Judging by his cropped hair and the tattoos that were peeking out from beneath his rolled-up sleeves, he was likely an ex-Marine. If he was the owner of the establishment, that would go some way to explaining the decor. There was a door behind him and to his left from which enticing smells emanated, that must be the kitchen.

“Hey, do you guys serve food?” Jules asked. “Can me and my friend here get a table?”

The bartender nodded, leaning beneath the bar to retrieve a pair of laminated menus and handing them to him.

“I’ll send the waitress over to take your order in a few minutes.”

Jules waved Zuki over to one of the larger tables, and she sat down as he switched out his Borealan-sized chair for a smaller one. The legs scraped on the floor, disturbing the pack of aliens, their round ears twitching in irritation. The tables were spaced fairly close together, so sitting further away from them wasn’t an option. Jules’ seat ended up being a little too low for him to comfortably reach the table, but it was serviceable enough. There was some muted laughter from their neighbors, they seemed to find it amusing.

“Alright,” he said, clapping his hands together. “I am famished, there’s nothing quite as hearty as pub food. Let’s see what’s on the menu.”

Zuki held up her laminated card, frowning at it.

“I don’t know what any of these mean,” she said.

“Don’t worry, I’ll read them out to you. They do steak and fries, burgers, onion rings. Fish and chips, prawn cocktail, you can get pies. Oh, Yorkshire puddings, you don’t see those very often.” She looked at him in confusion, cocking her head. “Uh ... right. This is all meaningless to you, isn’t it? Alright, let’s start with the basics. You like meat, right?”

“Yes,” she replied, nodding enthusiastically.

“Do you prefer meat over fish?”

She nodded again.

“You’ve already tried beef, so let’s try some pork pies maybe. Fries are like root vegetables that are cooked in oil and salted, you like salty food, so you’ll probably like those. Steak sauce is pretty salty, maybe you can use that as a condiment.” He moved on to the drinks menu, poring over the different beers and lagers that were in stock. There was a wide selection, lots of craft stuff. What had Velez said about Borealan drinks? They were weak, that was it, so he should probably refrain from giving Zuki any spirits. “If you don’t like sweet stuff, I know that ale is pretty bitter, we’ll see if you like that. Four percent alcohol should be fine.”