A Soldier For All Seasons Ch. 23

When they woke, the blizzard had subsided a little. Nate's stomach rumbled, his throat so dry it felt like a tunnel of knives. Lunar on the other hand was perky — she looked like she'd stayed at a five-star hotel. She shook her head as Nate stuffed some fresh snow in his mouth.

"I feel fine, team leader, but I think we may need to find a crate for your own arrival." Lunar peered at him in concern. Nate wiped the slush away from his mouth.

"Crate might have some clothing too." Nate thought, examining Lunar. She'd wrapped up in the remnants of her parachute canopy, tying it to some fallen fir branches and a little strip of his wolf pelt.

It would work, but not for long, not in this cold.

Thankfully, they saw a ship drop a crate after a few minutes walk. The crate's attached flare lit a bright orange trail high up into the sky, signifying its location for miles around.

In the day, the tundra was transformed, the snowflakes glowing orange as they fell in front of the rising sun. Once they settled, they formed a blanket of glittering white.

And yet that sun also slowly snow into slush and Nate couldn't help but grimace as he slipped again. At least he could see where they were going.

Past the fir trees that dripped as they thawed, down a craggy rock that might have killed them in the night's heavy snow, barely visible as it was.

And there was the crate, lying innocently in the middle of a valley, striped red and orange, a metallic shipping crate emblazoned with the number twelve. Innocent but for the single track of footsteps that led to it.

"What do you think?" Lunar asked.

"Even it is a trap, I don't think we can afford to care."

"If someone got there first, they would have ransacked it all already," She frowned.

"Sure. But footsteps lead you to and from. Unless they were really careful, there's only one set going there."

"Which means..." Lunar wrinkled her nose.

"Someone's either in that crate or hiding behind it." Nate confirmed as he moved towards it.

The crate looked undisturbed — Nate wasn't fooled. He nodded to Lunar and together they rolled it over.

Someone yelped inside and the crate's side burst open.

It was a wild woman, naked but for a winter puffer coat, screaming, wielding and swinging a crowbar. Chocolate was smeared around her mouth, her eyes wild with madness, her skin tinged blue.

"Whoa! Easy—" Nate started.

"I'll fucking smash your head in, back the fuck off! Give me everything—"

"We don't have—"

"Your wolf coat, don't fucking fuck with me!" She yelled.

Nate held both hands up placatingly. He half-recognized her as a member of the Plasma Patrol. "Listen, there are two of us and you've had a rough night. Why don't you fire your flare up? You can be in a bed—"

"Oh, sure, why don't I just bend over and let you fuck me too, asshole!" She leapt towards him and swung, missing by a mile.

"We don't want to hurt you—" Nate tried again.

She swung again but she was too lethargic, still suffering with hypothermia. Nate caught the crowbar and Lunar caught her neck in a tight grip that she held until the woman passed out.

Nate shook his head as he fired her flare up and then set about stripping her coat.

"Foolish woman." Lunar declared. "She should have submitted to your might like I did."

Nate snorted — Lunar seemed to have mentally reconciled their...lapse in judgment with an elevated view of his own skills.

"Any food?" Nate said hopefully as Lunar checked the rest of the crate.

"Some wheat crackers, but the madness-afflicted woman seems to have consumed everything else."

Nate tossed her the puffer coat. She tossed him the crackers.

"You're not hungry?" He raised an eyebrow.

"Not in the slightest." Lunar shrugged. "It is curious."

Nate hid his face guiltily as he bit the crackers.

"Uh, we'd best get moving. I think if we keep moving up the ridge, we are roughly moving north — it's not as easy without the star to guide us."

"As you wish," Lunar pulled the coat on and cuddled in it. "This coat will provide us a more comfortable surface should you wish to bed me again tonight, Kyrios."

Nate paused, scanned her face, looking for any sign of mocking. She seemed sincere.

"Yes, well, let's get going."

###

Up the ridge, their steps were slow and lumbering, the steep incline never-ending. The bright sun disappeared behind those dark clouds and never reappeared, blue sky bruising over.

The snow started falling once more, heavy enough to hide the view of peaks afar. It covered the old snow — now they were unable to see if they were following old trails. Sometimes they spotted crate-flares far in the distance. Once they even heard a painful scream.

But never close enough to change their course — the snow was too slow for them to do anything else but follow the path up to the ridge.

Nate took Lunar's hand as she pulled it up the ridge, the steep incline having turned to a unwalkable rockface. Climbable at least, though Nate would have preferred gloves. His cut hands left little blood prints in the snow, but Lunar bounded forward and upward, unaffected.

"We do climbing races like this on my home world," She confided. "Timed, of course. I had a streak of eight victories at one point. Have you not done something similar?"

Nate just gasped for breath — he rather felt like he would be doing better if he hadn't spent a good part of the night pounding her sweet pussy.

At the ridge's top, a view spoiled by the heavy fog and snowfall, a vista reduced to shadowy peaks.

But below, inset into the mountain, a little cropping, blowing smoke into the air. A fire — a camp that had sprung up around a crate.

Nate knelt down to take a closer look. "Is that a whole team?"

"I do not recognize them." Lunar said.

The figures took shape, laughter carried by the wind up to them.

They weren't just camping.

"It is an veritable orgy!" Lunar laughed, head suddenly on his shoulder. "It looks like I was not the only one to submit to a greater warrior."

Nate blinked. "Do you think that's what this is?"

"Certainly! In exchange for a greater chance of victory, they have given themselves away." Her hand sidled down to his hip. "But they have found only mediocre males, whereas I—"

The unmistakable feeling of a gun barrel pressed into his spine. Lunar gasped.

A strange voice laughed deeply. "Easy now, no sudden moves. We don't want to interrupt their fun now, do we?"

Nate turned slowly. The man held a black pistol.

*Not a blaster — that's a bullet-bull. Probably nine in the mag, one in the barrel.* Isabelle told him.

"Really?" Nate blew out an exasperated breath. "You got a gun? That's not fair."

The man shrugged. He was red-haired, the color bright against the snow, freckles and scars dusting his face. He looked well-built — smart, too — he took a few steps back to ensure they didn't launch themselves at him. "Crate luck, you're right. It's not fair."

He had a partner, a mousy looking man with a nasty smile, thumping a baseball bat in his hand. The man patted them down, taking his time with Lunar, who growled at him. "Fuck, they have nothing except their crowbar." His colleague complained as he took it.

"Crowbar's not nothing. That coat's not nothing." The ginger man said calmly. "We'll take that wolf skin, take their flares too — those flares will make it real easy to fight the wolves."

Nate frowned. "Listen, we're all playing the game. But if you take our coats and our flares, you've as good as killed us."

The ginger man laughed and his partner laughed with him. "Oh, don't worry, grandpa. You're coming with us. Meat is the most precious resource we can get."

Nate shook his hands, trying to rid himself of the quivering that took over his muscles, his stomach rolling uncomfortably. What did they mean by that?

Lunar took his hand as they were gestured forward, down the ridge once more — her grip strong, smile heartening.

"We'll be fine. You'll get us out of here." She whispered as they clambered down heavily, towards the camp.

Towards the laughter, towards the orgy, towards that brazen fire, the sight and smell uncaring to whoever saw them. How many strong were they?

The camp took shape.

Crate luck, indeed.

Tents, lighters — one of them was puffing on a cigarette. How many crates had they taken? They could have taken a bunch — they numbered five men and three women, not counting the troublesome duo that pushed Nate and Lunar forward. One of the girls was being taken at both ends next to the fireplace, gagging and moaning as she was taken roughly. Another was on her knees, little reddish-gold gems embedded into her black braids, gems that matched her skin — she made overly enthusiastic moans as she blew one of the guys as he sat on a tree stump. The last was part of the main crew — she was carrying a pirate's cutlass, of all things, glaring at them as they trudged into the camp.

They had meat spinning above the fire, rotating slowly. Nate felt his mouth water.

"Fresh meat!" The ginger man crowed.

"Sexy meat, damn, look at that Amazon woman. Damn girl, I love the classics and you are straight out of mythology." The man being blew laughed, pulling his girl's head further onto his shaft. He was lamppost tall and almost as thin, one of those men who had so many different ethnicities in him that he would have caught a second glance even if it wasn't for his height.

Russet brown skin with alarmingly bright blue eyes below a huge shock of copper hair — law enforcement would never struggle to track him down. Nate had seen him in the Judge camps but never thought of him as yet another oddity. He'd never done anything exemplary in skirmishes, in duels.

"Wouldn't mind a turn with that." Another grunted as he spit-roasted a blonde — he was more fat than muscle but probably packed a punch all the same.

"We're not rapists, Finley." The giant tutted. Nate pegged him as the leader.

"Alright, Bless." Bless? Was that his name or slang?

His eyes scanned the camp quickly — they were in danger. These people weren't playing the rules — and if the drones weren't in play, there was nothing to stop them from breaking them.

The fire crackled, spat, the meat above blackening as it roasted.

*Nate, visual analysis indicates...*

He coughed, suddenly sick, the smell infiltrating his nostrils, down his throat, making him gag. "But you are cannibals." He coughed out. It was a human leg. Someone's leg being charred.

The camp turned silent. The big man pushed off his girl, sending her crashing to the dirt and approached Nate. He pulled an axe out of the dirt — an ice climbing axe, sharp and dirty. Already, blood dried on it.

Nate's mouth dried, his heart unsteady.

The man knelt down, gripped his chin, turned him left and then right. His eyes trailed down his body, lingered on his cock. "Ag man, how do you think with that thing?"

Nate said nothing.

The man snorted. "Don't worry, I'm no moffie. Just never seen a man bigger than me — maybe he should be the leader, whadya think, bra?"

His men laughed.

Nate said nothing. He could not even pretend to ingratiate himself with a cannibal, those that respected nothing. There were cultures that didn't respect life...but to disrespect death?

"I see you're a proper skelm, huh." He smiled. "I don't like it either, but you don't understand and when you don't understand, you burn with hatred." He sat with cross legs and snapped his fingers to call for his girl. She scampered up and lowered her head, but instead he cuddled her, stroking her hair as he stared into Nate's eyes. He buried his axe back into the dirt.

"You can call me Blessing. My parents did, one last time fuck you, but I grew to like it." He stroked some hair behind his girl's ear and kissed her lobe. She bit her lip, not happy but not fearful either. "Did you know, toppie, that when we all blasted off Earth, all those centuries ago, that some of us remained?"

Nate did know. He'd heard the stories.

Blessing chortled. "I see you have. The planet was fucked but there was still land left, still farmers to farm. My family were put in camps, us saffas. We were slaves, paid a few credits to pretend we were workers, not enough to live, not enough to eat. There was no economy — my people were slaves again, like we were fucking cotton-pickers."

The man's hands roamed over his girl's body. "My choty goty." He said affectionately. His head snapped up. "Do you know what you eat when you have nothing to eat? Do you know that desperation, when your stomach hurts, when your body gnaws at itself, when your belly gets so swollen you look as fat as fucking Finley."

Finley laughed then choked it down as nobody laughed with him.

"I know there's no reason, the Fed—"

"Fuck you!" Blessing growled. His girl flinched. "There's every reason! My own mother lopped her arm off to feed us. She chose from her own fucking sons to see who made it and who didn't. Where was your Federation then? Where, huh?!"

He squeezed his girl's breast so hard she cried out. He bit his lip, drawing blood, rubbed soft circles into her skin. "Forgive me, Thandiwe." He murmured. "Brother, I made a promise to become the most powerful in the galaxy," Blessing said, eyes wide, tinged with madness. And then the madness was gone. A trick of the light? Was that just what he wanted to see, to believe this man was a savage?

"All so I can make it happen — I'm gonna make those who didn't pay, pay. Repa-fucking-rations, reparations for those who don't know what happened in those camps. You wouldn't last a day, moegoe."

"These people you're eating, they had—"

"Win at any cost, that's what Rivero said." He smiled, his fingers dipping to part his girl's labia. "This is us winning. I didn't want to do it, but what's the alternative? You seen any drones rescuing people? You seen any flares going up, any medical drones? This is what she wanted. Winners aren't born. I could have been eaten like my brother. My mother did eenie-meenie-fucking-mo to decide who went in the fokkin' soup!"

"No, toppie. Winners are made." He inserted a rough finger into his girl. "And this is what Rivero is making. Me." He shook his head, deflated. He wiped his hand on his girl's hair and left for the tent, leaving her sprawled in the dirt. "Think about it, bra — these are the single moments in your life where you choose whether you wanna be simple chow or a shark."

He poked his head out of the tent. "Don't strip 'em, I want him able to think." Blessing scanned his camp. "Eat up, boys. We depart in an hour — we're not catching any more fish."

Nate was left breathless as the camp slowly resumed, though the party atmosphere seemed forced. The woman with the cutlass bounced her blade in her hand, watching him. The poor girl in front of him stood up, dusted herself off and got dressed again — she wore oversized shorts that she'd tightened with stripped tree bark and a t-shirt that was entirely blood-stained. Nate could imagine whose t-shirt that was.

Finley came and tied him and Lunar up — real rope tying their hands behind their back. "How many crates did you take?" Nate grimaced.

The huge man laughed. "Too many crates to chase after, too far away. But even a big ice plain's got a few choke points...now sit tight and shut the fuck up — if you don't piss of the boss anymore, maybe you won't get salt and peppered, huh?"

He ignored Thandiwe as she wiped her eyes, ignored Lunar when she wriggled next to the girl. He needed a plan before they became dinner. They'd probably get taken to the next camping point, but if they had no food left...it would be him, not Lunar. Lunar might be in for a worse fate, eventually.

Nate shook his head. He wouldn't let that happen. His wolf pelt still had his rock-knife embedded in the side — he could feel it rubbing against his back.

Splayed fingers couldn't reach it. His ropes were tight with little give - Finlay knew what he was doing.

The meat was being handed around — Thandiwe took it with hungry hands, not meeting his eyes.

Something howled in the distance, a mighty bellow that unsettled the snow. It felt like the whole tundra was shaking, every peak cascading snow, an avalanche in miniature.

The faux-pirate laughed at the look on his face. "We're not the only monsters in this frozen hill — don't you cry about it. Something has been howling since we landed, it ain't gonna bother us if we don't bother it."

Nate wiggled his hands, managing to shift the rope a little higher up his back. He fell back in the snow, the dark beginning to creep in. Were they really going to move in the night-time?

He asked the question out loud.

It was Bless' girl who answered him, her long braids rustling in the breeze. "We've got fire and wood. The fire attracts the wolves..." She wiped her lips of the flesh. "It's not like we want to eat...this. Wolves don't go far." She whispered.

The fire might attract more than wolves, he thought, but he had more pressing problems. A finger on his sharp rock but it was still inset in his pelt, firmly embedded.

As they packed up the camp, as they were wrestled and pushed forward, his finger stayed on that rock — it mocked him, mocked their impending death. Blessing led the way, torch held high as they tramped down the ridge, a light in the growing darkness.

He too followed the North star but Nate noticed he looked more for his surroundings. For wolves or people? It was all prey to him.

Lunar was muttering to Thandiwe behind him. The dark girl was unrestrained but Nate had long dismissed her — she was firmly attached to her choices. "I don't want to die and I can't go home a failure," She admitted. "I know how it looks but he's not a bad man. They've left us here to die. He's our only hope."

Nate stared to the stars. Why were there no drones? Rivero was a maniac but she wasn't trying to make psychopaths — kicking Xavier out had proven that.

"Does he hurt you?" Lunar asked somberly.

Thandiwe shook her head. "He doesn't do anything I ain't done before. So what if he wants to use my mouth?" She shivered. "As long as he don't eat me, I'll do whatever he wants." Her tone turned self-deprecating. "Just hope he doesn't want my ass."

"To eat?!" Lunar gasped.

Thandiwe sniffed away tears and giggled. "Ore mi, really?" She leaned in closer. "To fuck!"

The Mediator's breath caught. "Men want that?"

Nate heard Thandiwe's voice tremble a little, even though she laughed. "Powerful always want anything they can take," She whispered. "Any way to humilate you. To cum on your face, use your tits, your ass. They'll go so far down your throat just to hear you choking. They just want you to beg — never forget, sister. Men are practically a different race, all of them."

"I see, I see." Lunar said — Nate looked back to see her shaking her head slowly, disbelievingly. She caught his eye and went red.

At the bottom of the ridge, the tundra flattened, snow becoming ice.

"Is this alright, boss?" Finley shouted from behind.

"It's fine," Blessing waved him off, gesturing with his axe. "This glacier is probably millenia old, it's not lake ice."

That was true enough, Nate thought, but it didn't make it easier to walk on and soon they were hopping between spots of snow to avoid the slippery ice, like children playing in the playground.

The ice glimmered, a vast crystal ballroom made smooth by the harsh winds, overshadowed by the flaunting sky, bands of misty green, a spilled paint bucket over the black night. The aurora.