Chapter 4: Safehouse

Hades was always stationary in the sky, acting as their guide, but the same could not be said of the sun. The system’s star was starting to drop below the horizon as the moon progressed through its orbit, and the temperature along with it. It had been cold enough in direct sunlight, but Boyd’s suit was showing that it was dropping a couple of degrees every hour. Worse – without the sun to supplement the supply of kinetic energy that was keeping his batteries charged, his photovoltaic cells were dead weight. His battery was gradually starting to drain, the heating elements in his suit’s lining ramping up to counteract the plummeting temperature, expending energy faster than he could replenish it. He was in serious trouble, but he wasn’t about to tell Lorza that.

Paradoxically, the Polar seemed to be doing better than he was. She was evolved for conditions like these – her layer of seal-like blubber and her thick coat of fur trapping enough heat that she could tolerate this freezing cold without so much as a jacket. While her weight made her look out of shape, she was proving surprisingly athletic. Perhaps it was the muscle that was required to haul all of that weight around or her larger lung capacity. While Boyd had to struggle through the deep snow, her wide paws spread her mass across its surface, almost like a camel walking on sand.

“We need to make camp for the night,” he said, making his way up the slope of another drift. “Find some shelter – get a few hours of sleep. We won’t make it far if we exhaust ourselves.”

“It feels as though it is getting colder,” Lorza replied, the chill wind whipping at her hair. “We should find a cave or build a shelter from snow. We need to trap as much of our body heat as we can.”

“What, like an igloo?” Boyd asked.

“I do not know this word, igloo, but an ice cave would suffice. Judging by the terrain, there should be ice caves here – either meltwater cutting through glaciers or wind carving hollows in the snow.”

“How the hell do you know that?” he scoffed, turning to look back at her.

She gave him a sideways glance as she scaled the slope beside him, far more agile in the snow than he was, despite their difference in weight.

“I am a cartographer, remember?” she replied as she came to a stop beside him. She certainly wasn’t doing it out of kindness, but her bulk acted as a windbreak, giving him a few moments of reprieve from the frigid gale. “It is my job to know these things. I am also a Polar, and my people learn survival skills at a young age. They are passed down from generation to generation, enabling us to be self-sufficient when the need arises. We can all hunt, build shelters, and whatever else we need to survive the tundra. On our homeworld, not knowing how to fish on an ice flow or how to find shelter in a cave could be a death sentence.”

“You can tell me your life story once we find somewhere to hole up,” Boyd grumbled, impatience giving his tone a little more bite than he might have intended. At this point, every second they wasted brought him another step closer to running out of battery power and dying of exposure. “Let’s split up and search the area. Don’t wander outside of shouting distance, you hear?”

“Better than you do,” she sneered, heading off into the snow. He had offended her, but Boyd had no interest in learning about the finer points of Polar culture, nor did he feel any desire to know her any better than he already did. They were allies of circumstance, and once they were out of this predicament, he’d have no further use for her.

They searched for a little while before Lorza finally found a cave. As relieved as he was to have a place to take shelter, the Polar’s smirk almost made him want to brave the cold. Calling it a cave might have been overly generous. It was little more than a narrow hole in the snow, exposing a tunnel of blue ice that extended down into the gloom. Boyd made his way closer, but Lorza hesitated, sizing up the opening.

“It is small,” she complained. “I am not sure I can fit.”

“Well, make an effort,” he replied as he peered into the tunnel’s mouth. The way that the light bounced off its icy walls almost made it look like they were glowing. “I’m a little wary of native animals after ... y’know ... so let’s exercise some caution. Last thing I want to do is disturb some kind of hibernating space bear or something.”

Boyd turned sideways, slipping into the narrow gap. His boots began to slide on the icy slope, and he reached out to grab the walls in a futile attempt to slow himself, picking up speed. Images of cold, dark water flashed before his mind’s eye, but he quickly emerged into a comparatively spacious chamber. He activated the flashlight that was built into his suit’s wrist, sweeping it around the dome, the beam making the walls of jagged ice glitter. It was a shallow cave with no branching tunnels – only one way in and out.

“It’s safe!” he yelled, his voice echoing back up the passage. “You can come down!”

Boyd waited a few moments, then heard something akin to scrabbling claws, turning the beam of his flashlight back towards the opening. Lorza had plugged the crack with her bulk like a cork in a wine bottle, blotting out the light from outside, her black talons raking against the ice as she struggled to free herself.

“Maybe a little rationing is going to do you good,” he chuckled, watching her brace her hands against the edges of the gap as she tried to push herself the rest of the way through. She snarled in response, but she was stuck fast and couldn’t do anything about his taunting. It looked like the width of her hips was what had landed her in trouble – they were wider than his shoulders – her chest swinging within the confines of her coveralls as she wriggled. It was like watching someone try to force a marshmallow through a coin slot.

Lorza growled with the effort as she gave one last heave, finally freeing herself, the waning sunlight spilling in behind her as she slid down the short slope on her face. Boyd couldn’t stifle his laughter as she rose to her feet, crouching a little under the seven-foot ceiling, brushing some of the white powder off her clothes. His chuckling was cut short as she shook herself like a wet dog, dislodging the ice and snow from her fur, spraying him with slush in the process. Now, it was her turn to laugh as he wiped his visor with the back of his glove, plucking a white hair from the half-melted slurry.

“Could you not have done that outside?” he grumbled.

She ignored his comment as she walked past him, planting a furry hand on his mask to push him out of her way, dropping her heavy backpack on the floor. She knelt to fish inside it as Boyd silently fumed, the Polar withdrawing a massive roll of black fabric, finding a relatively level area of the floor where she could lay it out. The sleeping bag was large enough that it spanned almost the entire length of their little cave, and wide enough to accommodate her, lined with soft padding that looked like it would provide a great deal of insulation. Boyd was immediately jealous – she hadn’t even tried to find him a sleeping bag in the wreck, so he’d be spending the night on the ice. Lorza slipped inside the bag and quickly zipped herself up, turning away from him to face the wall.

Boyd lay down on the hard, freezing floor, rolling around as he attempted to find a comfortable position. He tried using his backpack as a pillow, but it was lumpy and inconvenient, so he settled on sitting upright with his back against one of the walls. After making sure that Lorza wasn’t watching him, he turned on his display, his heart skipping a beat when he saw how little battery he had left. Against his every instinct, he turned the heating element down just enough to keep himself above the brink of hypothermia, immediately starting to shiver. He wrapped his arms around himself in a bid to ward off the cold, but it was a futile gesture.

His contusions and fractures still throbbed beneath the numbing haze of the anesthetic. He’d have to give himself another injection before long – it wasn’t intended to last a week, only a few hours at most. His breathing was still regular, so it seemed to be doing its job for the time being, but it was a ticking time bomb along with his dwindling battery. As hungry as he was, his exhaustion was a more pressing concern, and he allowed it to carry him off into a troubled sleep.

Boyd was roused by the sound of an alarm beeping in his ears. He opened his eyes groggily, glancing down at the display on his wrist, an orange warning symbol lighting up the icy walls as it blinked at him aggressively. It was the low battery warning – his suit was nearly out of juice. The cold was already creeping in, making his limbs so stiff that he could barely move, and he started to shiver violently. There was no choice but to shut off the heating element. It was drawing too much power, and who knew how long he’d last without the rebreather? The suit provided next to no insulation without it, and the sub-zero temperatures quickly began to sap away his warmth, stabbing at him like a thousand tiny knives. If he didn’t find a source of heat quickly, he’d go into hypothermia, and there was only one option that he could think of.

He crawled across the frigid cave floor, each movement like trying to drag himself through molasses, his extremities so cold now that he could barely feel them. Once he had reached the sleeping bag, he woke up Lorza with a nudge, the Polar rolling over to look at him as she grumbled to herself.

“L-Lorza,” he began, his teeth chattering as he spoke. “I need your sleeping bag. My suit ran out of power – I’m freezing.” As much as he loathed to ask her for help, he wouldn’t survive the night without it. “Come on, you’re furry – let me have the bag!”

Only now did he notice that she, too, was shivering. Even within her padded cocoon, and with all that fat and fur, she was faring little better than he was. Her blue eyes were open, reflecting the light from his display – she was wide awake.

“You cannot have it,” she replied, wrapping the sleeping bag more tightly around herself. “It is too cold, even for me.”

“I won’t last the night!” Boyd snarled, reaching towards the ceramic blade that was concealed in his boot. “Get out of that bag before I-”

Before he could even finish his threat, one of her massive, furry hands shot out from within the confines of the insulated fabric. Her powerful fingers closed around his forearm, her grip like iron, Boyd trying to pull away reflexively. Even without the cold sapping his strength, he wouldn’t have been able to break loose.

“We will not survive on our own,” she said, those icy eyes locking onto his. “Our only chance to see the sunrise is to combine our body heat.”

“I am not getting in that fucking sleeping bag with you, you ... overgrown housecat!” Boyd exclaimed, trying to yank his arm back as she began to drag him closer. It was futile – she was too strong – the Polar zipping open the bag with her other hand like a beast opening its maw to swallow him whole. “Let me go, you fat fuck!”

Lorza ignored him, wrapping a hand around his rebreather to muffle his protests, manhandling him into the sleeping bag. Boyd wasn’t used to being overpowered like this – made helpless – his fury and indignation counting for nothing as he was buried in the plush material. The Polar placed him upside-down relative to her, grabbing his ankles in a single fist to stop him from kicking her in the face.

“Stop struggling, malish,” she snarled. “Unless you would prefer to freeze to death, this is the only option!”

As little as he wanted to admit it, she was right. The warm confines of the sleeping bag were already starting to calm his shivering, the heat that her massive body put out radiating through him, the numbness in his fingers and toes receding. In this position, his face was pressing against her thighs, her cushiony flesh spilling around his head through her coveralls.

“Keep trying to kick me, and I shall squeeze your head until you pass out,” she growled. That got his attention, and he slowed his struggling, finally giving in. There was an odd scent seeping in through his rebreather with each breath – a distinctly non-human odor, partially masked by soaps and perfumes. It might not have been entirely unpleasant had he not been in such a foul mood.

“You smell terrible,” he grumbled, his voice muffled by her enormous thighs. “When was the last time you took a bath?”

“Consider that my nose is many times more sensitive than yours,” she replied. “We have both been trekking through the snow all day, and you hardly smell like you just stepped out of a banya yourself. Now, keep quiet and go to sleep.”

“Yeah, being unconscious is probably the best option for me right now,” he complained. She pressed her thighs a little more tightly around his head, Boyd stiffening as he felt steely muscle rise up from beneath the thick layer of blubber. She was probably just teasing him, but he wasn’t about to test her resolve. Besides, her plan was working. For the first time since he had woken up on this accursed moon, he felt that the cold was being driven away rather than being kept temporarily at bay. Lorza was like a giant space heater, and when combined with his own body heat, the sleeping bag was actually reaching a comfortable temperature.

“You can turn upright if you promise to behave,” the Polar said. This close together, he could feel her powerful voice resonating in his very bones. He felt her release his ankles, so he began to shift around inside the sleeping bag, turning right-side up. While it was spacious by human standards, there wasn’t a lot of room to spare while sharing it with Lorza, the two jerking away from one another reflexively as his struggling caused him to make unwanted contact. He accidentally elbowed her in the stomach, feeling it sink a good three or four inches into her paunch, her protruding bust knocking against his head as he surfaced. The pair grumbled as they shifted their weight around, but it was impossible to stay separated – there just wasn’t room. Begrudgingly, Boyd settled in, trying to ignore the tufts of white fur that were spilling out of her collar to brush against his mask.

Her chest was unavoidable if he wanted to get his head above the fabric, and he found his eyes level with her throat, the considerable weight of her bust spilling over and around his upper torso like it was making a deliberate attempt to consume him. Every subtle movement set her flesh wobbling like a plate of jello – he could feel them rise and fall gently with each breath that she took. Her breasts looked large enough on her massive frame, but from a human perspective, they were big enough to fill the seat of an average car.

“Will you make some goddamned room,” he grumbled, attempting to push her away. His hand merely sank deep into the cushiony fat, her soft blubber engulfing it up to the wrist. He quickly drew away in embarrassment, rolling over to put his back to her, glad that his rebreather was concealing his reddening cheeks. He felt a wave of relief as she rolled over as well, turning to face away from him, the more intimate areas of her anatomy finally out of his reach.

“Stop wriggling like a fussy kitten,” she complained, breaking a silence that was quickly becoming uncomfortable. “You are keeping me awake.”

“It’s not my fault that you’re fat enough to fill this thing like a sausage casing,” he muttered in reply. “It looked large enough for ten people before you squeezed into it.”

“It is my sleeping bag,” she replied, Boyd kicking away her fuzzy tail with his boot as it brushed against him. “Once again, I suffer for my hospitality.”

Her comment stung, but as much as he wanted to make an equally cutting remark, she might actually put him out in the cold if he pressed the issue any further. After a few minutes, her breathing became deep and regular, letting him know that she had fallen asleep. It had been a good call. Between the two of them, the sleeping bag was almost cozy, and he was no longer in danger of imminent death. He could still feel Lorza’s ass resting against the backs of his legs, like he was sitting atop a beanbag made of fat, but he ignored the distraction and tried to get some rest. Her tail would flick back and forth occasionally, like a dog that was having a dream, but he was too tired to pay it much mind.

Boyd was awoken by movement, Lorza jostling him as she struggled her way out of the sleeping bag. He felt a flood of frigid air as she opened the zipper, and when he turned to complain, all he got was a faceful of her fluffy tail. He hastily reactivated the heating element in his suit, confident that his remaining battery charge would last until they got up and moving again. A little sunlight and some walking would have his power reserves back at a more stable level, but whether he could charge up enough to last a night without sharing a bed with Lorza again was another question.

Before he could climb out, the Polar lifted the sleeping bag effortlessly with him still inside it, shaking it to dislodge him. He landed on the cold, hard floor, cursing as she began to roll up the bedding.

“God damn it,” he snapped, climbing to his feet. “How about a fucking wake-up call next time, you animal?”

“As I said – my sleeping bag,” she replied as she returned it to her pack. “You should be thanking me for saving your life again.”

“Starting to wish you’d left me at the spaceport,” he muttered, rubbing his bruised elbow through his suit. He was beat up enough already.

“We need to eat before we set off again,” she continued, ignoring his comment as she opened one of the pouches on her pack. “We must keep up our strength.”

“Hold on,” Boyd warned, gesturing for her to put down the MRE that she was preparing to open. “Remember what we talked about back at the crash site? We have six MREs – that’s half of one each per day until we reach the refinery. Fifteen hundred k-cal. Half of that is mine, so gimme my share before you start pigging out.”

“Let me explain something to you, since you ignored me last time,” she said as she waved the plastic packet at him. “You are a human, I am a Polar. Follow me so far?”

“Get to the point,” he sighed, crossing his arms. “Every second you waste complaining is a second of battery life I don’t have.”

“Humans need two thousand calories per day, but Polars need ten thousand,” she continued. “Fifteen hundred is easy for you, but half of this MRE is only a sixth of the food I would need to maintain my weight.”

“You act like that’s a bad thing,” he muttered.

“I am supposed to look like this!” she snarled. “I want a larger share. I did the math last night. If I eat twenty-five hundred calories per day, and you eat five hundred, we are both eating one-quarter of our daily requirement. It is fairer than a fifty-fifty split and suits our different needs better.”

“Oh, I see how it is,” Boyd chuckled as he began to pace back and forth across the cave floor. “So you get to eat seventy-five percent of the food, and I get the leftovers? Fuck you, that’s what I think. In what universe is fifty-fifty not fair?”

“Jones, or whatever your real name is,” she began with a more dour tone. “I will begin shedding weight, and when that happens, I will become colder and weaker by the day. I have no fancy suit,” she added with a gesture of her clawed hand. “If you starve me in this way, I may never make it to the refinery.”

“In case you missed my subtle remarks up to this point, you are fat,” Boyd replied. “Are you seriously telling me you’ll die after a week of eating fifteen k-cal a day?”

“In these conditions? Maybe,” she replied solemnly.

“We already agreed on fifty-fifty,” Boyd protested.

“You agreed. You ignored me when I tried to argue!”

Balling his fists, Boyd marched over to his pack, fishing out the MREs that Lorza had stowed in it. He did the same with her pack, then laid out the six rations on the icy floor. He split them down the middle, sliding three of them over to her and moving the other three over to his side of the cave.

“There,” he declared, pointing to each pile in turn. “Three for me, three for you. Do whatever the hell you want with your share – eat them all in one sitting if you want to, I don’t fucking care.”

“You hear my words, but you do not listen,” she growled. “Perhaps I will make a meal of you when I run out of food instead.”

“We have enough problems to deal with right now without threatening to murder each other over scraps of food,” Boyd shot back. Lorza held her tongue, collecting up her share of the rations and stowing them in her bag, save for one MRE that she began to open with her claw. He could tell that this wasn’t the end of the discussion, but neither one of them had slept especially well or eaten for more than a day, and they very literally lacked the energy for prolonged arguments.

Boyd squirreled his MREs away, then began to open one too, tearing into the plastic wrapper. These weren’t the UNN rations that he was used to – they were some kind of civilian variant with Russian markings, which raised some questions about their quality. It would be a bad idea to try to reseal anything that he opened, but in this environment, the leftovers would practically be refrigerated anyway. He pulled his hood back for the first time in over a day and felt the cold air sting his cheeks, his skin already starting to flush red in response. Better not take too long – he was in as much danger of losing his nose to frostbite as he was running out of oxygen.

Inside were several smaller nondescript packets and cans, likely separated into courses and snacks. His first instinct was to ask Lorza what was written on their labels, but after the interaction they’d just had, he didn’t want to admit that he needed her help. She watched him, pausing what she was doing, her furry ears turning in his direction as he chose one of the cans at random. He picked up a fiddly can opener that was included in the ration pack, starting to cut into the circular container. After popping it open, he was met with some kind of off-white substance that gave off a milky smell when he gave it a sniff. Using a plastic spoon, he stirred it experimentally, his brow furrowing.

“You realize that is condensed milk?” Lorza asked skeptically.

“I know that,” he replied, hesitating as he brought the spoon to his mouth.

“Have you ever had it before?”

“No,” he grumbled.

“You are just going to eat that out of the can?” she chuckled.

“Yes!” he snapped, swallowing the substance pointedly. It was sickly sweet, and he failed to suppress a grimace, the Polar giving him a knowing smirk. Another spoonful of the syrupy substance was the last thing he wanted, but he’d already opened it, and he wasn’t about to waste the precious calories.

Lorza seemed very amused by his plight, chuckling to herself as she unfolded a portable stove that had been collapsed into a flat sheet of metal. She broke what looked like a hexamine tablet from its blister, then set it beneath the little stove, lighting it with one of the stormproof matches that were included in the kit. Even sitting on the ice, it ignited into a flickering flame, its light dancing off the cave walls. She selected a long, flat can next, and pulled open the tab with a hooked claw to reveal some kind of processed meat. Everything was miniature to her, and he marveled at the care she took to manipulate the tools with her giant fingers, like she was playing with toys intended for children. A scent akin to cooking pork soon began to waft over to him, Boyd’s stomach growling as he struggled to keep down his cloyingly sweet snack. He just kept telling himself that it represented sugar, fats, and carbohydrates.

One thing that he could read on the can was that it represented about ninety calories, so following Lorza’s example, he set up his own stove and began to cook one of the meat dishes. Mouth watering, he dug into the block of meat and vegetables with his spoon, the freezing environment causing wisps of steam to rise from its warm surface. It was bad – tasted like dog food – but in that moment, it might as well have been the best meal he had ever eaten. He could practically feel his lethargy leaving him with each bite.

Stopping just short of licking the empty can, he tossed it aside, then stowed what remained of the MRE back in his pack with the rest. As much as he wanted to sit there and eat the entire thing, he had to be conservative if his share was going to last. Fifteen hundred calories a day, separated into two meals – that was all he could afford.

Unbeknownst to Lorza, he had another trick up his sleeve. His first aid kit contained a supply of nutrient pills – dietary supplements that would help keep an agent active and alert in scenarios where they had no access to food. They were only intended to be used in emergencies, and they had a tendency to destroy one’s kidneys if taken too frequently or for too long, but they would help keep him moving. He had no idea if the Polar could even process them, or if a supplement designed for humans would be of any use to her at all, but he wasn’t about to give up what might be his last lifeline in a crisis. The mission above all.

When they were done with their breakfast – insubstantial though it was – they packed up their gear and prepared to set off. Boyd pulled his hood back down over his face and positioned the rebreather over his mouth, a breath of warm, oxygenated air filling his lungs. It had only been off for maybe half an hour, and he was already starting to feel a little lightheaded.

“Is your fancy suit working again?” Lorza asked, adjusting the straps of her heavy pack. “You do not need me to hold you in my big strong arms and keep you warm again as I did last night?”

“I remember you forcing me to join you against my will,” Boyd muttered, checking his display. “But, yes, it’s working. After a little sunshine and exercise, I should be back up to a respectable battery level.”

“Those things cannot be cheap,” she mused, her eyes following the outline of one of the trailing cables that ran down his torso. “I am surprised that you were able to afford something like that on a miner’s salary, mister Jones.”

“Let’s just go,” he sighed, gesturing to the cave entrance. Light from the rising sun was spilling through the narrow gap now, making the slope of ice that led up to it shine like a mirror.

Lorza took the lead, using her sharp claws for purchase on the slippery surface, Boyd’s boots sliding as he made his way up behind her. He suddenly felt her fuzzy tail bat him in the face, and he brushed it away, glancing up at her angrily to see her sizing up the narrow gap in the ice.

“Oh, this should be good,” he chuckled.

Lorza gave him a sour look over her shoulder, then hooked her clawed fingers around the edges of the crack, preparing to pull herself through. The cave was plunged into darkness as she plugged the gap with her bulk, Boyd flicking on his flashlight to watch her struggle, laughing at her plight. Just like the day before, she was stuck fast, her hips too wide to make it through.

“Come on, you can do it!” he shouted as her claws scrabbled against the ice. “You somehow managed to get that ass in here, so you can get it back out!”

She struggled for a couple more minutes, Boyd’s laughter faltering as he realized that she really was stuck – and so was he. If she was blocking the cave entrance, he had no way to get out. He might even run out of air for his mask to filter in the enclosed space. Lorza stopped her wriggling to catch her breath, and after a moment, he heard a muffled voice from the other side of the entrance.

“I am stuck!” she panted. “You will have to push me!”

Boyd took a step back to appraise the obstacle, shining the beam of his flashlight across her rear. Her butt was wide enough to completely clog a hole that he had simply walked through with a few inches of clearance between his shoulders and the ice, and it was probably about as heavy as he was, the outlines of her round cheeks clearly visible as they strained against the blue coveralls. Each time she kicked or wriggled, a ripple spread through her fat like a wave, making him wonder how they maintained such a distinct shape. He remembered having her thighs around his head the night before, and feeling muscle like coils of steel cable rising up from beneath the soft layer of flesh and fur. Maybe there was more brawn packed into those cheeks than it might appear. He was amused to see the little hole that had been cut into her coveralls at the base of the spine, letting her long, fuzzy tail poke through.

He wouldn’t be able to push her on this slippery ice, but he might be able to give her a good shove. Boyd took a few steps back – he would have rolled up his sleeves if he’d still been wearing his disguise – then began to run up the incline. He slammed his shoulder into one of her cheeks like he was breaching a door, sinking deep into her fat, the impact making her butt wobble. It was springier than he had been anticipating, sending him rocking back like he had just tried to tackle an exercise ball, and he reached for a handhold to save from falling down the slope. The only one in range was Lorza’s tail, his fist closing around the fluffy appendage. It felt like a thick rope made of bone and muscle, albeit far thinner than her explosion of fur made it look.