Chapter 11: Pack Activities

“Thanks, Noza. I appreciate the help,” Jules said as he walked beside the giant male at the front of the pack. His strides were so long that Jules had to practically power walk to keep up with him. He was still somewhat wary of the giant creature, his sheer mass alone made him intimidating, even if he seemed friendly enough. Zuki was being guided along behind them, two of the pack members still supporting her weight as she stumbled and chatted incessantly.

“It is our duty,” the Alpha replied.

“So,” Jules began, trying to find a topic of conversation that might break the ice. “Based on what Ash tells me, you’ve been serving alongside the UNN for a long time?”

“Nearly seven years now,” he said in that deep, gravelly voice.

“So, you must have signed up about the time Elysia joined the Coalition?”

“That’s right.”

“You must have been a soldier beforehand, right? Most of the Borealans that you see around the station are, uh ... less mature than you are.”

“The young are usually more eager to enter into service. They see it as a way to prove themselves, a trial by fire. The older generations are more skeptical. My home territory is seeing a period of unprecedented peace, there are none who stand against Elysia. Those who come of age have little opportunity for practice besides harmless dominance bouts. Leaving the planet, and participating in the Coalition’s campaigns is the only way that many will see real combat and have a chance to wet their claws.”

“How about you?” Jules asked, jogging for a moment to catch up with him.

“War has become ... a habit for me,” he mumbled as he stared into the gloom. “Peace does not suit me. When I realized that there were no territories on Borealis that could threaten Elysia after our pact with the Coalition was made, I signed up to become an auxiliary.”

“Most humans want to retire after a certain point,” Jules continued, “they get a pension and go live out the rest of their days on some peaceful colony.”

“Borealans were not made to wither and fade as you do,” he grumbled. “Putting down one’s rifle does not change one from a soldier to a baker or a farmer. My place is on the battlefield.”

“So, are you between battles right now?”

“The carrier that I serve on was damaged in an engagement, it is being refitted in drydock.”

“I see, you have some shore leave then.”

“Three months,” he growled, “I might have gone stir crazy was it not for Ash.”

Jules didn’t press him for more details, he wasn’t sure if the Borealan would get offended, or if he would give him far more information than he actually wanted. Instead, they chatted about Araxie for a little while as they walked along the curving deck. The grizzled old soldier wasn’t interested in the diplomatic side of things, but Jules could shed a lot of light on the territory itself and what he had found there. He was careful not to reveal too much, like how the Araxie villages were hidden, and what methods the Araxie used in combat. In the unlikely event that the council rejected his proposal for some reason, he didn’t want to open the territory up for invasion by its neighbors.

According to Noza, there was a period of Borealan history in which the scattered desert tribes that inhabited the wastelands had banded together to fight for control over the lakes. When the fighting was over, and the dust had settled, the territories as they exist today had come into existence. Shortly after this period, the Elysians and other territories such as the Rask had sent scouting parties and teams of explorers out to survey neighboring lakes, Araxie among them. Just as Yuta had said, those who survived returned with tales of ghosts striking from the shadows. Araxie had been deemed either too dangerous or too difficult to explore and so it had faded into myth, somewhat of a Bermuda Triangle in Borealan culture. Noza did not seem to know that the Rask had recently been launching raids, and Jules did not see a reason to tell him at this juncture. It was another potential security issue that he didn’t want to risk exposing.

Jules found it interesting how the warrior talked of the deserts like a human might talk of oceans. On Earth, it was massive stretches of water that separated the continents. In the age of exploration, sailors would have braved storms and scurvy to sail them for months on end in hope of new discoveries and untold riches. On Borealis, it was the deserts between the territories that had to be traversed. Noza talked of massive caravans that trekked across the inhospitable seas of dunes between the solitary oases of greenery and water, seeking out new trade routes, and making contact with new lakes.

Jules wanted to know more about the Rask, and Noza told him stories of desert bandits, the pirates of these sandy oceans who made their living raiding caravans and poorly defended nations. Until someone qualified interviewed the Rask prisoner back in Araxie, and a real investigation was launched, it was difficult to say whether the Rask Matriarch was aware of the clandestine actions of her people. But the more he learned about them, the less likely it seemed that they had abandoned their age-old profession with the simple signing of a treaty.

“This is our place,” Jules said as they arrived at the door to the apartment, fishing in his pocket for the key card. He swiped it, and the door slid open, Noza entering first. He appraised the open-plan room, then waved his packmates in, Zuki still strung between them.

“There’s a bed in the back room,” Jules began, “you can just-”

The two Elysians ignored him, depositing Zuki unceremoniously onto the massive couch, the frame creaking under her weight. She giggled, seeming to enjoy being thrown around, mumbling to herself as she slowly drifted off to sleep and lay still.

“I guess she can sleep on the couch,” Jules added.

“If that will be all, then we shall head back,” Noza said.

“Thanks for the help Noza, I hope that I’ll see you around the station,” Jules replied as he offered him a tiny hand. Noza cocked his head, perhaps not used to shaking hands with a human, but he accepted the gesture and enclosed it in his furry mitten.

“Take good care of your friend,” he rumbled, then he turned to the door. He snapped his fingers, and his two companions fell in line, one of them closing the door behind him. Jules found himself alone with the passed out alien, her chest slowly rising and falling as she slept off her drunkenness. She looked so peaceful in her sweater, and he was pleased that he had been able to show her a good time. She had really been coming out of her shell since she had arrived on the station, her confidence was growing. There was nothing like a new environment to give a person a fresh start.

It looked like he would be sleeping in the bed tonight, or rather this morning, as he was on Araxie time. He gingerly removed Zuki’s sunglasses, setting them on the coffee table beside the helmet, then closed the blinds on the windows before heading off to the bathroom to brush his teeth. He didn’t want her to be woken up when the sunlamps turned back on.

After freshening up, he was ready for bed, opening the large door that separated the bedroom from the rest of the apartment. Even the bed was massive, it was the size of a large dining table, strewn with thick sheets and large pillows. After kicking off his shoes and pants, he climbed up onto it, realizing that it was nearly as hard as one too. It was firm and unyielding, it would have to be, considering how heavy the aliens were. He felt like a toddler climbing into his parents’ bed as he wrapped the heavy sheets around himself, staring at the dark ceiling.

As he closed his eyes, images of Zuki’s smiling face flashed in his mind, the playing card held against her forehead. He saw her glistening, chiseled body moving as she struggled to get the sweater over her head in the confines of the changing booth, as if he was standing before her again. He tossed and turned, trying to stave off the intrusive thoughts that were bombarding him, eventually settling into a troubled sleep.

Jules woke from a dream in which he couldn’t breathe, as if a heavy weight was crushing his chest. He blinked his eyes groggily, still half asleep as he ran his fingers through the imitation fur of the sheets. It felt like he was being pressed down into the mattress, but they were made for Borealans, after all. Wait a minute, the sheets hadn’t been imitation fur...

He looked down to see Zuki’s round ears. Her head was resting on his chest, and her arm was draped around his midsection. He could feel the warmth of her breath through the thin fabric of his shirt. She was breathing slow and heavy, clearly fast asleep. He had no idea what time it was, perhaps it was day, but Zuki must have crept from the couch to the bed in a drunken stupor at some point. As clumsy as she was, she really could be stealthy when she wanted to be.

Despite her weight, she wasn’t crushing him, she was merely sinking him deep into the mattress beside her. He had been absent-mindedly stroking her furry head in his sleep, running his fingers through her silky hair like she was a pet dog.

He tried to wriggle free of her, attempting to move her arm without disturbing her. She grumbled in her sleep, her brow furrowing, and he had to stifle a yelp of surprise as she pressed the tips of her claws into his side and pulled him closer. Apparently, she wasn’t going to be moving any time soon.

That blackberry scent reached his nose again, and he began to relax. Her round, fuzzy ears twitched as she slept, perhaps she was dreaming about something. Jules reached a hand down and prodded one of them, watching it flick. Amused, he trapped it between his thumb and forefinger, rubbing it softly. Beneath the fuzzy fur was a silky membrane, Zuki slowly wriggling as he massaged it, loosing a contented sigh that sent more warm air washing across his chest.

She had pulled back the covers, but she was warm, still clad in her knitted turtleneck sweater. He stroked her ear for a few minutes longer, watching as she shifted and murmured, then he began to run his fingers through her hair. It was so strange to him that they had hair as well as fur. Zuki’s was cropped fairly short in a kind of messy pixie cut. It was silkier than human hair, more closely resembling fur. As his fingers brushed her scalp, she hugged him more tightly. She was probably still wasted, she had no idea where she was or what was going on.

Her hair too was slightly wet, almost like she had left the shower some time ago, and it had nearly dried. It couldn’t be the humidity, perhaps it was some kind of natural oil, or maybe sweat to help her shed excess heat in the roasting jungles of her home territory? Either way, he liked the way that it felt.

Jules roamed lower, rubbing the back of her neck, finding the thin fur there just as damp. It so closely resembled skin when it was wet, so pleasant to the touch...

Zuki’s reflective, green eyes opened for a brief second, her long lashes fluttering. Jules pulled his hand away in a momentary panic, worried that he had crossed a line. Zuki seemed to have no clue that he was even there, mumbling something about fries and then shifting her weight in the bed. The springs creaked as she pushed her wet nose into the nape of his neck, her breath tickling his skin. She wrapped her arm around his chest and tugged him closer, pressing his shoulder into her bosom, Jules feeling her flesh yield beneath her sweater.

He didn’t know what to do. His skin was tingling, like his senses had been kicked into overdrive, and he was hyperaware of wherever her velvet coat was brushing against his skin. She nuzzled, perhaps dreaming that she was sharing a bed with one of her own kind, her fuzzy tail coiling around his nearest leg possessively like a furry snake.

He wasn’t sure if he would be able to wake her if he tried, and escape was clearly impossible. Instead, he closed his eyes, listening to the rhythm of her deep breathing and the pulsing of her massive heart as he let her body heat permeate him. There were worst places to sleep, he thought to himself, resting his hand on top of hers.

The next time that Jules opened his eyes, he was met with a pair of green orbs peering back at him. He sat up with a start, Zuki pulling away as her round pupils shrank back down to feline slits. She was still lying beside him on the bed, propped up on her elbow.

“Were you ... watching me sleep?” he mumbled as he rubbed his eyes.

“Is that bad?” she asked.

“Well ... we don’t usually invade other people’s personal space. I’m surprised you’re still here, I figured you would have left when you woke up.”

“Why?” she asked, cocking her head at him.

“You came in here drunk last night, I assumed that you didn’t know where you were.”

“I knew where I was,” she replied cheerfully. “Oh ... you don’t look happy. Do humans not sleep together as Araxie packs do?”

So that was it, Araxie packs all slept together in a heap, and he had told her that the two of them were a pack. In her mind, he might as well have left the door open in invitation. It wasn’t as if her motives weren’t honorable, it was just a ... cultural misunderstanding.

“It’s alright,” he said, trying to reassure her. “Do you not have a hangover? You were really putting them away last night.”

“Putting them away?” she asked curiously.

“I mean that you were drinking a lot. You out-drank that whole pack of Elysians. That Noza guy was pretty nice, he and his friends carried you back here. You don’t have a headache then?”

“Nope,” she said with a shake of her head.

“Okay then,” Jules mumbled. “Fuck, what time is it? This nocturnal schedule of yours is fucking with my sleep pattern.”

“Nighttime,” she replied.

“Very helpful,” he grumbled, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed and hopping to the floor.

“What are we going to do today?” Zuki asked, following behind him as he made his way out of the bedroom and into the kitchen.

“Damn it,” he complained, looking over the empty cupboards and the derelict fridge. “The first thing we need to do is go get some coffee and some cereal at least, or I’m not going to survive this. Let me just get a shower, and I’ll go out and pick up some food. There must be a general store or something around here that’s open late.”

“Shower?” she repeated.

“I need to bathe,” he clarified.

“Oh, me too. I was going to ask you about that. Is there a spring or a lake somewhere that I can wash in?”

“On a space station?” he asked, giving her a sarcastic look. “That’s what the shower is for. Come on, I’ll show you.”

He led her into the bathroom, which was cramped for a Borealan, Zuki bumping into him with her wide hip as they jostled for space. It was downright king-sized by Jules’ standards, however. There was a toilet and a sink in one corner, along with a shower cubicle in the other. The floor was tiled, and there was a grate in the middle where excess water could drain away.

“This glass box here is the shower,” he said as he opened the sliding door and stepped inside. He detached the showerhead on its flexible tube and began to type at a waterproof touch panel that was mounted beneath it. “The water comes out of here, and then you use this panel to control the flow and temperature. Let’s say that you wanted a slow flow of water at ... thirty degrees Celsius, you just change the sliders here, and then...”

Zuki’s eyes widened as a stream of water began to flow from the metallic showerhead, Jules interrupting the jets as he ran his hand beneath it.

“Water comes out of there?” she asked in disbelief. “Where does it come from?”

“I guess you guys don’t have indoor plumbing? There are giant tanks in the station that purify the water, and then it’s pumped through pipes in the walls until it ends up here. What you use will drain away, and then it will be purified again for later use. When you take a shower, just try not to waste too much of it, or the bill will be astronomical.”

She reached for the showerhead, and he passed it to her, Zuki taking it by the handle and turning it over as she examined it. She tapped at it, her claw clicking against the metal, the alien smiling as she ran the jets over her furry hand. She accidentally angled it towards Jules, spraying him in the face and soaking his shirt.

“S-Sorry,” she began, but he raised a hand to silence her as he spat out a mouthful of warm water.

“It’s alright, I was going to take a shower anyway...”

Jules finished drying his hair with a towel, buttoning up his shirt and slipping on a pair of shoes. It was so liberating to be able to wear loafers once again, rather than the boots that the UNN had supplied him with. When he stepped out into the apartment, sliding an arm into the sleeve of his jacket, Zuki was once again flipping through articles as she sat on the couch before the large monitor. She seemed to fill every free moment with research, she was quite the student. Once she had learned the basics of how the Coalition functioned, then he might be able to start teaching her more advanced laws and regulations to further her goal of becoming a real diplomat.

“Do you want to come with me and pick out some food?” he asked.

“No, I’ll bathe while you’re away,” she replied with a shake of her head. “Can you bring more fries back?”

“I’ll bring you more fries,” he laughed, closing the door behind him on his way out.

Jules set his shopping bags down on the step outside the door to the apartment as he rummaged in his pocket for his key card, swiping it across the sensor. He stooped to retrieve his bags, the door opening automatically, a wave of humidity washing over him as he stepped over the threshold. Immediately, he began to sweat. It was like being back in the jungle again, the entire apartment had been transformed into a sauna.

“Zuki!?” he shouted, searching for her through the thick haze of steam. “What did you do?”

He could hear the loud sound of water impacting tile, so he made his way towards the bathroom. The door was ajar, and when he leaned inside, he saw Zuki sitting in the shower cubicle beneath a stream of water. It was so hot that it created an obscuring haze around her. She had removed her new clothes, clad only in her leather shorts and her vest, which were apparently waterproof. She opened her eyes when she noticed him, smiling happily, blinking through the sheets of water as they cascaded over her head. She was soaked to the bone, relaxing in the heat.

“You’re back!”

“Zuki, what are you doing? I thought I told you not to waste water?”

“I-I’m not wasting it,” she stammered, confused by his reaction. “If you turn the red bar all the way up, it makes steam. Isn’t it nice? The air isn’t so cold and dry anymore.”

Jules ran his fingers through his now damp hair, sighing in exasperation. There was no point in being angry with her if she didn’t understand what she had done wrong. Looks like he’d be trying to pass off the water bill as a business expense too...

“Alright, let’s turn off the water now, I brought back food.”

“Fries?” she asked, her ears pricking up.

“Yes, I got fries.”

She climbed to her feet excitedly, slipping a little on the wet tiles before finding her balance. She tapped at the touch panel with a padded finger, and the flow from the showerhead slowly abated, Zuki stepping out of the cubicle as droplets of water rained from her sodden fur.

“I’ll get you a towel,” Jules said, “just wait here and-”

She suddenly shook herself violently like a wet dog. The shiver passed from her head to the tip of her tail in a wave, sending hot water spraying around the room. Fortunately, Jules was able to take cover behind the door, avoiding the worst of it. He peeked out from his refuge, frowning at her.

“Sorry,” she said with a grimace, “do humans not like water?”

“It’s not that we don’t like water, but we generally don’t like getting our clothes wet, no. Stay here while I get you a towel, I’m not having you walking around the apartment while you’re wet.”

“Give me a minute to change,” she said, moving towards the door. She slowly closed it in his face, almost apologetically, and then he heard a click. She must have locked it this time, she had figured out how that worked. By ‘change’ she probably meant that she had to reapply her bandages. His curiosity was getting the better of him, he would have to ask her what they were concealing eventually. Whatever it was, she seemed self-conscious about it.

He went to fetch a towel, then waited by the door until she emerged once more. Apparently, the Araxie hadn’t invented towels, they just shook themselves to get dry. That might not be an issue in an extremely humid jungle, but was not acceptable in an apartment. After a quick demonstration, she got the gist of it, drying herself off as the humidity that lingered in the air slowly faded away. Once the shower was turned off, the vents that cycled oxygen into the building got rid of any excess moisture pretty quickly, returning the atmosphere to its usual state.

There was a problem, however. She was so large, and she had so much fur that a single towel wasn’t going to get the job done, it was quickly rendered too damp to be of any use. Jules considered just throwing their limited supply of towels at her until it was done, but then a better idea occurred to him. Zuki watched curiously as he rummaged through a drawer beneath the sink, searching through the combs and toothpaste that had been provided.

“Most hotels usually have one,” he mumbled, closing the first drawer and opening a second. “If I can just ... here we are!”

He withdrew a blow dryer, brandishing it like a gun.

“What’s that?” Zuki asked warily.

“Don’t worry, it’s just a blow dryer. It’s a little noisy, so don’t be afraid, alright? Kneel down here, and I’ll dry you off.”

He plugged the cable into the wall, the Araxie kneeling to put herself at about chest height to him, and then he hit the activation switch. It began to blow a stream of hot air, Zuki’s initial apprehension melting away as he played it across her head.

“It’s so warm!” she giggled, her eyelids fluttering as he dried her face.

“Hold still, I need to dry your hair,” he said as he delved his fingers into the damp strands. She shivered contentedly, leaning closer to him as he combed it, swaying slightly as if he was putting her under a trance. Her eyes were closed, her round ears twitching at his touch, her breathing growing deeper and more relaxed.

“That feels nice, when you stroke my hair,” she mumbled.

“What?” Jules asked, having difficulty hearing her over the din. He switched off the blow dryer for a moment as he waited for her to repeat herself.

“I like it when you stroke my head,” she said, opening her green eyes for a moment and batting her lashes at him. “You have no claws, it feels ... nice.”

“Oh, do the claws get in the way when Borealans do that?”

She nodded, her now puffy hairdo bouncing with the motion. He remembered stroking her soft ears when she had crept into bed with him the day before. Did she remembered it too, or had she been too drunk at the time? He decided not to comment on it, moving down to her neck and shoulders, keeping his hands above the boundary of her bandages. He asked her to stand once her arms were done, Zuki turning slowly on the spot as he dried her midsection, keeping his hands to himself now as he relied on the blow dryer to do the work. As much as he would have liked to run his fingers across her soaking, muscular belly, it was hardly appropriate.

“Uh, you should probably take those off,” he said as he gestured to her leather shorts and her vest. “Just hang them up to dry on the rack over there, and put on the clothes that you bought yesterday. I’ll go fetch them for you. You understand how to use the blow dryer, right? Just hit this button here when you want to turn it on and off. Do your, er ... do under your shorts, and I’ll go ... I’ll get your clothes.”

Jules made a hasty exit, hearing the blow dryer turn on again as he retrieved her clothes where she had discarded them on the couch, bundling them up in his arms. When he arrived back at the bathroom door, he opened it a crack, pushing them through. After a moment, he felt her take them from his hand.

She spent another minute getting dressed, then finally stepped out. Her exposed fur was as puffy as could be, considering how short and fine it was, and he had to stifle a laugh. The festive turtleneck was the cherry on top.

“What?” she asked, cocking her head at him.

“You look as fuzzy as your sweater,” he chuckled.

Jules recovered his shopping bags and deposited them on the kitchen table with some difficulty due to its height, upending them, and spilling their contents across its imitation wood surface.

“What’s all this?” Zuki marveled, her eyes shining as she looked over the packets of food.

“Those bags of frozen fries are for you, and the rest is food. I don’t think we can get away with eating out for every meal, so I picked up some stuff that we can cook at home. As an experienced bachelor, I know my way around a kitchen.”

“What is a bachelor?” she asked, “I thought you were a diplomat?”

“Never mind,” he mumbled, quickly changing the subject. “I also brought the ingredients to bake a cake, I figured it was something fun that you could participate in.” Without burning the place down or creating any electrical hazards, he neglected to add. “Before you ask, I realize that you probably don’t know what a cake is, but you’ll find out soon enough.”

He had Zuki help him put everything away, he actually couldn’t reach some of the higher cupboards and the freezer at the top of the Borealan-scale refrigerator. She seemed pleased to be of use, and it reminded him that she saw their relationship very differently than he did. To him, they were just friends sharing an apartment, there was nothing unusual about that. He had lived with plenty of roommates before. But to Zuki, they were a pack, and he was her Alpha. He didn’t fully understand the dynamics of Araxie social groups, but their pack structure at least seemed less stringent than those of the Equatorials, she was not as submissive as Noza’s packmates had been towards him, and she didn’t seem to expect a great deal of instruction. Still, he wondered if there would be any other surprises along the lines of her expecting to share a bed with him. Maybe he shouldn’t have been so frivolous with his declaration that they were a two-man pack, but as long as Zuki was happy, there was little reason to complain.

“Now, I’m going to make some coffee and cook us up some breakfast,” Jules said. “Then, we’re going to bake a cake.”

“First comes the ingredients,” Jules said, pausing to fasten his apron before spreading the bags and packets out across the table. “Put this on,” he added, throwing a balled-up apron to Zuki. She fumbled with it for a moment, then pulled it over her head. It was human-sized, barely large enough to cover her chest, and she couldn’t fasten it around her torso.

“Oh, right ... guess I didn’t account for your size,” he said. “Actually, your leather clothes should be mostly dry by now, go put those back on. This could get messy, and we don’t want to get your new clothes dirty.”

She did as he asked, returning a short time later clad in her leather pants and her vest, the apron discarded. She moved over to the table, her eyes darting eagerly between the different items.

“What are all of these pouches for?” she asked, leaning closer to sniff at a bag of powdered sugar.

“First thing’s first, I need you to warm the oven up. See that white box with the glass door built into the counter over there? Go turn the rightmost knob to one hundred and ninety degrees. Good job, now fetch me two of those pans from the cupboard above it, the round metal bowls.”

Jules pulled up a chair to stand on so that he could reach more easily as Zuki trotted back over to him with two baking pans, setting them down on the table beside him. He felt a little ridiculous, but it made things simpler.

So far, his hunch had been right. Baking a cake was the perfect activity for Zuki. He was trying to simulate how he thought a pack might behave, involving its members, instructing them in the task at hand. It was a little different from a pack of Araxie hunting an animal or fighting a skirmish, but the principle was the same. Everyone had a job to do, and they looked to their Alpha for leadership.

“Alright. Next, I want you to butter the pans,” he said as he passed her a stick of butter. Zuki sniffed at it, seeming to enjoy the scent, and then she began to peel away the wrapping. “Don’t lick it,” he chided, Zuki pausing with her pink tongue an inch away from it. “Cut off a piece and use it to coat the interior of the pans, we want to make them slippery.”

She discarded the wrapper and took the stick of butter in her fist, squeezing it to test its softness. Before Jules could complain, she began to paint the inside of the nearest pan, like she was drawing with an oversized crayon. Whatever, it would get the job done.