Chapter 5: Threat Condition

Boyd awoke to find the sleeping bag empty. Lorza could be quiet when she wanted to be – she must have woken up before he had and crawled out without rousing him. Perhaps she was finally coming around after their conversation the night prior. The scent of food already filled the little chamber, and he could see the flickering of a hexamine tablet reflecting off the walls. She must be cooking breakfast.

“I hope it’s not a whole MRE this time,” he said, yawning as he struggled out from beneath the heavy fabric. He climbed to his feet, then stretched, checking his display briefly. There was a little battery left – enough to keep him going while he charged it. “We should-”

Boyd paused as he glanced over at Lorza, finding her hunched on the far side of the room, leaning over her stove. His heart skipped a beat when he noticed the piles of wrappers and empty cans that surrounded her. His eyes darted over to where he had left his supplies after emptying his pack the night before, seeing that his two remaining MREs were conspicuously absent.

“What ... what did you do?” he asked, taking a wary step closer. “Lorza?”

“I told you that I needed more food,” she replied, the sound of a plastic spoon scraping the bottom of a can carrying over to him. “You put both our lives at risk by refusing to share it fairly – you left me no choice.”

“Oh, no,” he hissed as he shook his head in disbelief. “You didn’t...”

“I explained the situation – that I need five times the calories that you do – but you refused to listen. If my choice is to steal or to collapse in the snow, then I shall steal.”

“You fucking idiot!” Boyd snapped, reaching down to pick up an empty can of beef stew. He hurled it at her, the container bouncing off the back of her head. “We still have four days left! Four days of trekking through rough terrain! There was enough food there to keep us both fed, and you just ate it all in one sitting!”

“Nine thousand calories,” she replied, climbing to her feet. “Almost a day’s ration for me.”

Boyd was seeing red, adrenaline flooding his veins, the sight of the fat glutton just standing there among the torn packets and discarded cans filling him with rage. He lunged across the little dugout, driving a fist into her belly. It sank like he was punching a training dummy, leaving Lorza unfazed, the towering feline rocking forward to slam her substantial weight into him. It was like being hit by a sumo wrestler, and he was sent flying away from her, skidding on his back for a good couple of feet.

“Try that again, and you will get the claws,” she snarled.

“Take my head off, and you’ll never make it to the refinery,” he replied as he staggered to his feet. “You’ll freeze to death out here or starve without me.”

“And you will not last a night without me,” she replied, planting her hands on her wide hips. “My actions ensure your survival as much as mine.”

“Bullshit,” he snapped, pointing an accusing finger at her. “You can’t even go two days without gorging yourself. That’s what this is about. You’ve fucked us – that’s what you’ve done. I have half a mind to leave you here to die.”

“I would not even be here if not for you!” she bellowed, the power of her voice giving him pause. It was like being roared at by an angry lion. “All of my friends are dead because of you! You brought down my ship, you killed my crew, and now you starve me. The only question I ask is whether ignorance or malice motivates you! Here!” she added, tossing a handful of protein bars onto the icy floor. “I saved you what little I could spare, though the courtesy is more than you deserve.”

He glared at her for a moment, then stooped to gather the morsels of food, stowing them in the pockets of his suit.

“If you expect me to thank you-”

“It is done,” she said, interrupting him. “We have no choice but to move forward. You need me, and I need you. All I have done is buy us more time. We will see if it was enough.”

As much as he wanted to throw another punch, she was right. What she had done could not be undone, and it didn’t change how dependent they were on each other. Without the coordinates that he carried, she would die, and the same was true of him if she wasn’t there to keep him warm.

“This matter isn’t settled,” he said, glaring at her through his visor. “The only reason I’m not ringing you over the fucking coals right now is because we have to move. Get your shit,” he added, storming over to his flattened pack. “I’m leaving in five, whether you’re ready or not.”

They packed up their gear and made a swift exit through the narrow tunnel that led back out onto the tundra. Boyd found himself stuck behind Lorza’s enormous rear as she crawled along ahead of him, her cheeks swaying back and forth, her long tail trailing after her. He cursed as his pack got caught on a jutting piece of ice, pausing to adjust the straps. What was the point of even lugging the thing around now that there were no MREs left? When were they going to need toothpaste or foam grenades?

The Polar climbed out of the trench, the morning sunlight flooding in behind her. He hauled himself out after her, seeing her standing there on the snow, stretching her long arms above her head as she exposed her sharp teeth in a yawn.

Boyd searched the sky for Hades, then brought up his display, turning in the direction of the refinery.

“This way,” he said, setting off into the snow. “I trust that you can keep up despite having a belly full of my food?”

“I prefer you when you are asleep,” she replied, trudging along behind him. “It is the only time you are not insulting me or throwing childish tantrums.”

“Keep it up, you tub of lard, and I’ll show you a tantrum.”

“Thank you for proving my point,” she replied as he crested a snowdrift. “I feel the best course of action is to walk you until you are too exhausted to misbehave, like an unruly kitten.”

“One of these days, I’m going to strangle you in your sleep,” he muttered under his breath. It wasn’t enough to escape her finely-tuned hearing, it seemed, the alien raising a hand to her mouth as she stifled a chuckle.

“I would love to see you try.”

“Let’s just keep moving,” he continued, stumbling as he navigated the slope. “The faster we walk, the sooner I can be rid of you. I’m counting down the seconds.”

“I am sure you will agree that we have to find ways to amuse ourselves,” she said as she descended behind him, still chuckling to herself. “Can you not handle a little teasing? You certainly seem to lay it on thick when you joke about my weight.”

“Who says I’m joking?” he replied, turning to scowl at her over his shoulder. “May I remind you that you just wiped out the last of our rations? It’s going to be a hungrier, more difficult march now, all because you couldn’t stick to the plan. In a day, you’ll be just as hungry as you were this morning, and there will be nothing for you to eat.”

“My actions were not gluttony but careful calculation,” she replied. “You will see that soon enough.”

His statement wasn’t entirely true. There would be something left to eat – him. Could he take her if he really needed to? She didn’t know all of his suit’s capabilities, but he wasn’t sure that he could generate enough charge to shock someone of her size. There was the ceramic knife in his boot, but unless he went for the jugular, it wouldn’t even penetrate her fat. For now, they needed one another, but would that be enough to keep her hunger at bay?

They trudged through the snow for the better part of a day, Boyd eating one of the protein bars that Lorza had so graciously spared him as his only meal. At this rate, he would have to start using the emergency pills in his medkit. They were packed with nutrients, minerals, and enough stimulants to get a dead man up and marching. Still, the prospect wasn’t an attractive one. They could damage his kidneys, and if Lorza saw him eating them, she would be furious with him for hiding them.

As they crossed another patch of exposed ice, the wind began to howl, flakes of fresh snow starting to fill the air. It quickly became difficult to see, the airborne powder hammering the pair, piling up so quickly that it was reaching Boyd’s knees in mere minutes.

“Blizzard!” Lorza shouted, even her powerful voice almost drowned out by the roar of the storm. She was trailing behind him, struggling against the wind as though it was a physical barrier that was holding her back. “We need to take shelter, or we shall both be frozen solid before long!”

“I saw some weird geography ahead of us,” Boyd replied, raising an arm in a futile attempt to shield himself from the wind. He was already dripping – the heating element in his suit melting the snowflakes that settled on it. “Maybe we can find somewhere to hole up until it passes!”

The glacial terrain slowly came into view through the swirling snow ahead of them, great chunks of ice that had been shifted around and smashed together by natural forces jutting up into the sky like small mountains. They had been dusted with a thick layer of snow, glazed like a cake, but the blue glow of exposed ice led them towards an opening. It was a crevasse – a crack created by ice sheets pulling apart – leading deep below the surface. Boyd had no idea how deep it went or what lay at the bottom, but it might be the only chance they had.

He began to descend, Lorza following behind him, the howling wind fading as they ventured inside. The rough walls gave them plenty of handholds, and the gentle slope was easy enough to navigate, the great walls of ice rising up to either side of them like the cliffs of a canyon. He feared that they might reach a bottleneck or a squeeze that Lorza couldn’t pass through, but it never came. After a short while, the walls met over their heads, forming a kind of tunnel more than a crack. They eventually emerged into a chamber, the ceiling rising high above their heads, the walls so smooth and strange that they almost seemed to be sculpted. There was blue light filtering through – just enough to see by.

“A gallery,” Lorza mused, glancing around as she stepped inside after him. Her eyes reflected the glow, as blue as the ice itself. “Flowing water carved these channels. I wonder how close we are to the ocean?”

Boyd looked down at the ice beneath his feet warily, seeing nothing but darkness.

“You reckon that thing is still following us?” he asked. “Haven’t seen head nor tail of it for a couple of days.”

“Who can say?” she replied, tossing her pack onto the floor. “I know nothing of this moon or its ecology. It may not need to eat again for a year, or it may have developed a taste for mammals.”

Her shoulder-length, grey hair was matted with ice from the storm, as was all of the exposed fur where it wasn’t covered by her clothes. Her face, hands, feet, and her bushy tail were all soaked through. She looked downright miserable. Boyd shielded himself reflexively as she tried to shake some of it off with little effect, then she began to use her claws, scraping at the frozen slush.

“Ouch!” she hissed, one of her talons catching on a clump of matted fur.

“Should have brought a comb instead of toothpaste,” Boyd muttered, the Polar giving him a scowl.

“My people usually groom ourselves impeccably,” she replied, wincing as her claws got caught in her hair again. “A tangled, wet coat is as much a danger to our lives as to our social status. Ugh, my clothes are soaked,” she grumbled as she tugged at her coveralls. “This will not do.”

She began to slide down the zipper on the front of the garment, an explosion of white fur bursting forth as the weight of her breasts spread it open. Boyd averted his eyes in embarrassment, staring intently at the far wall as she began to shuffle out of her coveralls. How did she even cram that much fur into the thing? She was like a walking shag rug.

“What the hell are you doing?” he muttered.

“I need to bathe,” she explained, Boyd hearing the sound of her damp clothes hitting the floor. “If I cannot get clean and dry, I will not be able to insulate myself from the cold.”

“Can you not do that further down the tunnel where I don’t have to see it?” he complained.

“Do I offend your delicate sensibilities, Boyd?” she replied with a chuckle. “My apologies, but I must have missed the changing room on the way down here. If it upsets you, perhaps you should go back down the tunnel. Humans are so prudish.”

“It’s called having shame,” he shot back. “Maybe you should look into it sometime.”

Even with his back to her, he could still see her reflection in the ice, distorted like a funhouse mirror. He couldn’t make out much detail, but she seemed to be curled over like a cat – remarkably flexible for someone of her size.

“Are you ... licking yourself?” he asked. “That’s disgusting!”

“I am sorry, is there a banya to go with your imaginary dressing room?” she snapped. “Do you see any water that is not infested with monsters? I must bathe, whether you find it palatable or not. If it bothers you so, go fetch me enough melted snow for a bath.”

“There isn’t enough snow on the whole moon,” he muttered.

“Maybe enough for yourself, then,” she added. “When was the last time you bathed? Not since the crash, and even some time before that, I would wager. Your nose is far duller than mine. I can pick up hormones and pheromones that you are not even aware you secrete. I can even pick up traces of the deodorant that you put on a few days ago. Citrus – a poor choice,” she mused. “Lavender would suit you far better.”

“At least I don’t wash myself with my tongue,” he grumbled, keeping his back to her as he took a seat on the cold ice.

“Back home, I would have all kinds of soaps and perfumes,” she sighed as she paused her licking to reminisce. “My fur would be as white as snow, as fragrant as a flower, and so soft that even you might be tempted to run your fingers through it.”

“That’ll be the day,” he scoffed.

“The facilities aboard the Zemchug were not exactly designed for my kind, but I made do. Until you brought her down, of course.”

She almost sounded as sore about her fur as she was about her ship. Whenever he commented on her hygiene, she was quick to bring up her people’s cultural disposition towards cleanliness as a retort. Maybe being stranded with matted fur and no shampoo was starting to get to her.

“I’ll take your word for it,” he said.

“What do you know?” she demanded, interrupting her licking to glare at him. “Your kind do not even have fur – you look like the patch of naked skin left over when a healer shaves a wound.”

“Do you get fleas?” he chuckled, enjoying having her on the back foot for once.

“No, actually,” she replied as she turned up her nose at him. “Earth parasites cannot drink from Borealans. Our blood pressure is too high – it kills them. You are more likely to be infested with parasites than any Polar.”

“You are a parasite,” he replied.

She laughed at that – it was a bad comeback – so he stayed silent for a while as she finished cleaning herself. Before long, she called to him, Boyd resisting the urge to turn his head.

“Come, I need your hands.”

“What are you talking about?” he asked.

“The fur on my back is matted, and I cannot reach it with my tongue. I need your help to clean it.” He began to complain, but she cut him off. “Just listen for a moment, Boyd. Matted fur tangles into knots. They grow tighter and tighter, more and more painful, until they eventually tear the hair from one’s very skin. Do not subject me to that discomfort on top of everything else that I must endure.”

“Fine,” he sighed, making a show of his reluctance as he rose to his feet.

“I will protect my modesty if it disturbs you so,” she added.

By the time he had turned around, she had lifted her coveralls and was holding them over her chest like a towel. She was facing away from him, and for the first time, he got a look at her without her clothes. The full figure that he had only glimpsed until now was laid bare, her dense fur doing little to conceal her curves. Her torso was wider than any human’s, as befitted her stature, but it tapered gently into a perfect hourglass. It wasn’t thin, by any means, but the way that it was accentuated by her flared hips made it seem that way. He was taken aback for a moment – expecting to find formless fat, not this...

Rather than rolls of flesh, he found subtle creases around her waist, each one hinting at her softness. So much of her weight seemed to cling to her round cheeks, just firm enough to maintain their shape, spreading subtly where they met the ice like a melting peach. He had felt her rump through her clothes when she had been stuck in the cave, but seeing it now, it was probably large enough to fill an average-sized couch. Her long tail trailed across the floor, free of ice and slurry now, as fluffy as he had ever seen it.

As he approached, her ears swiveled back to face him, moving independently even as she kept her gaze on the wall ahead. She was tall enough that her head was level with his chest, even sitting.

“So ... what do you want me to do?” he asked as he examined her furry back. Her white coat covered her from head to toe, only broken up by the slate-colored hair that fell down the back of her neck and the coffee stain rings that patterned it. It looked like camouflage, something akin to a snow leopard. The tips of her round ears were black, as was the end of her bushy tail. He had to stand over the appendage with a foot to either side of it to get close enough to reach her.

“You see where the fur is tangled?” she asked.

“I see where you somehow licked your own shoulders,” he muttered. “I don’t want to know how you accomplished that.”

“Prehensile tongue,” she explained.

“You gonna start coughing up furballs now?”

“Stop fretting,” she chided, making him flinch as she whipped him with her tail. “Between my shoulders, and down the middle of my back. Use your fingers to comb the fur straight. You have no claws, but those dull digits should suffice.”

He shrugged, doing as she asked, running his fingers through her coat as he would someone’s hair. It was denser than it had looked, softer, and he better understood how it helped to insulate her body heat now.

“You have warm hands,” she sighed, leaning into him.

“It’s the suit,” he replied. “The circuits that run throughout its lining can be overcharged to produce heat.”

She grunted in displeasure when he found a knot, Boyd relenting.

“What do I do?” he asked.

“Work it out,” she replied.

“What does that mean? I’ve been many things, but a dog groomer wasn’t one of them.”

“Just comb until it comes loose,” she explained, one of her ears flicking in irritation. “If that doesn’t work, cut it out. Yes, I have seen the knife that you hide in your boot,” she added as she glanced back at him over her shoulder.

He drew the knife and began to cut away one of the more stubborn mats. Her comment carried an implicit threat – that hiding things from her was harder than he had assumed. He would have to be extra careful not to be seen taking his pills. Slowly, he made his way down her back, doing his best to work out all of the tangles, combing her silky fur straight. If he was going to do it, he might as well do it properly.

“Thank you, Boyd,” she sighed as he neared the small of her back. “I mean it. The first thing I will do when I get back to civilization is sit in a warm banya for a whole day. Siberia is cold, to be sure, but this is something else.”

“So, what’s the story with the Polars and Siberia?” he asked.

“Are you taking an interest in my personal life, Boyd?” she cooed.

“Just making conversation. Gotta pass the time somehow while we wait out this blizzard.”

She seemed to relax a little, as though the prospect of a conversation that wasn’t just an exchange of insults was appealing to her.

“Conditions in my home territory were worsening for a variety of reasons,” she began. “The land was not as harsh as this cursed moon, but it made Siberia look like a paradise in comparison. Our civilization was formed from disparate settlements and the trading posts that connected them. It was very primitive by your standards, and even by the standards of some of the other territories like Elysia. Our population numbered little more than fifty or sixty thousand at its peak. The climate on Borealis is harsh, volatile,” she continued as he moved down towards the base of her tail. “The other territories have large lakes surrounded by jungle bands – like giant oases – that shield them from the elements by creating a microclimate within their borders. All else is desert, be it scorched or frozen.”

“You’d been surviving there for millions of years, presumably,” Boyd said. “What changed?”

“There was no single catalyst,” she replied. “The planet goes through cycles that last tens of thousands of years, according to your researchers. Once, jungles covered most of the surface, and the climate was far wetter and cooler than it is today. As the planet grew warmer and dryer, the jungles receded, until only small islands of greenery remained. The same process impacted our territory. With less rain, the poles can become as dry as deserts. The taiga receded, and with it, the animals that we relied on for food.”

“It got so cold that even you couldn’t live there?” Boyd mused.

“There was also the threat of the Equatorials. For generations, they lacked the ability to cross the frozen mountains and enter our territory. Their kind do not fare well in the cold – it makes them lethargic. In this new era, they have access to environment suits and ships that can cross the mountain ranges in minutes. Had they any imperial ambitions, we would not be able to stop them.”

“I guess that’s kind of our fault,” Boyd added. “We upset the balance of power by arming the territories that agreed to join the Coalition.”

“You merely accelerated a process that was already happening,” Lorza replied with a shrug. “Had you not come when you did, there likely would have been no Polars left to conquer by the time the Elysians developed the technology to bridge the mountains.”

“Sounds like you’re enjoying Siberia, though.”

“It is bountiful in comparison. Warm, overflowing with abundance, and with far friendlier neighbors. The Federation allowed us to found our own republic there. The environment was too harsh for humans, and they seem happy to have someone exploiting the land. We have our own laws, our own language, and our own customs – though we are still subjects of the Federation.”

Boyd wasn’t so sure that their motives were entirely charitable. While Russia was a member of the UN, they had a tendency to act on their own, taking on projects and ventures independently. The Federation had established several Russian-speaking colonies in the early phases of humanity’s expansion that flew in the face of the UN’s message of unity, and while there were no laws prohibiting it, they remained a somewhat archaic throwback to a time when the species was bogged down by internal conflicts. Some in UNNI suspected that the Polar colony was Russia’s attempt to create a home-grown Borealan army that could be fielded independently of the UNN’s auxiliaries. Perhaps this was his chance to learn a little more.

“So, what’s the catch?” he asked as he used his knife to dislodge another knot. “Surely they didn’t give you all that land with no strings attached?”

“They seemed eager to make us into soldiers,” she replied, confirming his suspicions. “We are not great warriors like our hot-blooded cousins. When conditions are ideal, we tend to occupy ourselves with social matters and leisure – warfare was never a part of our history. Many Polars serve the UNN and the Federation, but most are doctors and scientists. I fear that we may have disappointed our hosts,” she added with a chuckle. “How about you?” she asked. “Where do you call home?”

Boyd hesitated, unsure if he should tell her the truth or concoct another convenient lie. The saying that she had relayed to him earlier came to mind – a liar should have a good memory, and he felt as if his capacities were diminished in this blistering cold. There wasn’t really any harm in telling her the truth now.

“Utah,” he replied. “It’s hot and dry, the polar opposite of this godforsaken moon – if you’ll forgive the expression.”

“Why did you leave?” she asked, her ears tracking him attentively.

That was a question he was increasingly asking himself. He realized that she was probing him for information, much in the same way that he was probing her, perhaps expecting him to let slip something important due to their newfound familiarity. I left Utah to become a spy was not something he was going to tell her, however.

“I left in search of adventure,” he replied. “Looks like I found it.” It was a vague reply, though not necessarily untruthful. He decided to move the conversation along so as not to give her too much time to think about it. “How about you? Why did you leave Siberia?”

She narrowed her eyes at him. His dodge hadn’t gone unnoticed, but to acknowledge it would also be admitting her intent, so she let it slide. She was more socially adept than he had given her credit for. He would have to tread carefully.

“Before the colony ship took us away, I had never been into space before, and I had never seen my homeworld from orbit. You probably cannot imagine what it was like – your people have been spacefaring for centuries – but to us, it was like a giant hand had reached down from the sky to pluck us from the ground. Everything that I had ever known dwindled until I could cover it with a single pad,” she said, raising a thumb as if to demonstrate. “The whole Galaxy was suddenly open to us, and our world became so much grander than just a longhouse in the snow. I wanted to see more of it.”

“Maybe I do know what that feels like,” Boyd insisted. “There’s a first time for everyone – even me. I still remember the first time I saw Earth from orbit, my first superlight jump, the first time I set foot on another world. Those things stick with you – especially the jumps,” he added with a dry chuckle.

“It made all of my prior concerns feel ... trivial, temporary,” Lorza continued as Boyd nodded his head in agreement. “My biggest concern the day before had been finding enough firewood, and the next, I was jumping across lightyears of space on a vessel that had better living conditions than my own village.”

“What did you fly out on?” Boyd asked, tackling another knot near the base of her tail. “Was it one of the old colonial vessels from the expansion period? A liner with a pool and catering, and all that?”

“A liner,” she replied. “For someone who had spent their life living in buildings made from wood and heated by fire pits, it was inconceivable. There was more food than any one of us could eat in a single sitting, a heated pool a short walk from my cabin, and the temperature could be controlled with a button press. Imagine spending your whole life struggling to find enough to eat and fighting to stay warm, then finding yourself in such an environment. We might as well have died and gone to paradise.”

“Sounds like you discovered the buffet table,” Boyd mused.

“When we arrived at our destination, well ... let us say that Earth is a poor name for such a planet. This conjures images of soil and dirt, but it is as blue as the sky. My people would have chosen a more fitting title.”

“What does Borealis mean, then?” he asked.

“That is the name that your people gave my planet,” she replied. “You named it after our star system, which you also named. In our language, the name roughly translates to the great mother or the all-mother. In our culture, the planet takes on the qualities of a strict parent. She brings us into the world through her love, but she also teaches her children hard lessons, and her discipline helps them grow strong and hardy.”

“I guess you’d have to be to survive in a place like that,” Boyd said as he finished his work. He took a step back, then stowed his knife in his boot. “Better?”

“Much,” she replied, trying to look over her shoulder. “I think my clothes should be dry enough to put back on, if you would like to avert your eyes.”

“Don’t need to tell me twice,” he said, turning his back to her.

“About the food,” she began, but he cut her off.

“It’s like you said – it’s done. No point griping about it now.”

“I would not have done it if I thought I had any other choice – I just want you to know that.”

“Whatever,” he muttered, turning around to see that she was clothed again. She was just fastening her zipper, reaching up to adjust her breasts as she struggled to close it over them, the tufts of fur around her collar slowly vanishing beneath the fabric. When she was done, she reached down to adjust the fit around her waist, then glanced up at the ceiling. Boyd followed her gaze, seeing dots of colorful light dancing across the ice above them.