Splashdown

McGregor squatted over his drawing and scratched his chin pensively.

"I reckon that the control center must be a couple of dozen miles North North West of us."

"Can you be sure of that?" Zhari asked, returning the gel container to the medkit.

"Nope, but that's my best guess, boss."

Zhari looked thoughtful, the wheels in her head were turning.

"Humans evolved from tree-climbing apes, right?"

"No no no. Don't even think about it. Those trees are hundreds of feet tall, I can't climb those."

"Very well..."

If the human could not, or perhaps would not climb the trees, she would have to think of something else. Scouting was going to be difficult, the human pilot was not trained in guerrilla warfare, he would not know how to move silently and remain concealed. It would probably have to wait until she was healed. For now, she was tired, and they should sleep.

***

McGregor was bored, and his back ached from sleeping on the hard cave floor. He picked up small pebbles from the ground and tossed them at the opposite wall, trying to bounce them off the stone and land them as close together as possible. Zhari's round, furry ears flicked with irritation at the sound. Her eyes were closed, she seemed to be meditating, maybe something to do with healing or managing the pain. He didn't know, and he didn't especially care either.

"Will you find a less irritating game to play?" she chided.

He stopped throwing the stones and sat cross-legged, frowning at her.

"Well talk to me then, make conversation, I'm bored!"

"We have nothing of interest to talk about," she replied dismissively, never opening her eyes. "You're like a kitten that needs to be constantly entertained."

"Sure we do, I want to figure out why you have a huge stick up your ass."

"A stick up my ass?" she queried. "Is that some kind of metaphor?"

"Yeah, it means that you're inflexible and bad-tempered."

Zhari shook her head slowly, her eyes still closed.

"McGregor, is there some specific reaction you want from me? Why must you continue to provoke me?"

He tossed another rock at the wall, and it bounced with a loud click that echoed through the cave, Zhari's round ears twitching as she opened her eyes to glare at him.

"I don't know," McGregor replied with a shrug. "Humans tend to become uncooperative when you hold them hostage at gunpoint."

She let out a long, drawn-out sigh, and composed herself.

"Okay, fine. What do you want to talk about?"

"Tell me about the Pinwheel, what was it like? I've heard stories, but they don't send Navy pilots there for training. Is it true that all Borealans working with the UNN have to complete the program?"

Zhari leaned back against the cold wall, her eyes glazed over as she reminisced about her training on the space station.

"Yes, all Borealans who want to fight for the Coalition have to go. There aren't many of us, only a few isolated packs here and there. We're mostly used as elite shock troops in ground offensives and boarding actions. Human society is very alien, it can be jarring, and it takes a while to learn how to interact with humans. In my culture we have a strict social hierarchy, those higher on the ladder assert their dominance over those who are ranked lower. Humans recognize the benefits of this system, you employ it in your military, and yet you somehow separate your social system from it. It's a bizarre duality, contradictory. You think you understand how it works in one setting and then it changes completely in another."

"Interesting..." McGregor replied. "So what you're saying is that the entirety of Borealan society works like a military, with ranks and leaders?"

"Essentially, yes. Those lower in the social order must defer to their superiors, and challenges are usually met with violence. If you can overcome your superior, then by definition they are not your superior."

McGregor allowed his eyes to wander down to Zhari's belly. Her exposed midriff was covered in healed scars, discoloration and knitted tissue crisscrossed over her defined abdominal muscles and trailed below her waistline. They were faded and not disfiguring, but the evidence of violence was all over her body. Her muscled arms were equally scarred, a Coalition tattoo on her bulging bicep had a split down the middle where a claw must have torn through several layers of skin, destroying all of the ink.

"I can see that," he quipped. "No wonder you have to heal fast if that's the kind of damage you're subjected to."

She followed his gaze and ran a clawed hand across her tight belly.

"I suppose from a human perspective we are tough and we heal fast, yes."

"So is that why you don't like humans? Cultural differences?"

Zhari considered for a moment, shifting her broken leg to alleviate her discomfort.

"It's not really that simple. The problem is that every human interaction is...provocative."

McGregor cocked his head, confused.

"How so?"

"Humans insult each other as a joke, play fighting is considered affectionate. If you try to ignore them, they will reason that you are consenting and only increase their antagonism. Yet Borealans who lash out or attempt to assert their social position are reprimanded severely. I have seen humans launch unprovoked, mock attacks against one another for no reason, then after a short scuffle both parties laugh and reconcile. They have a compulsion to inject unwelcome humor into every situation. In Borealan society, even prolonged eye contact can be construed as a challenge."

McGregor nodded his head, scratching his chin as he thought about it.

"I guess that's true, there's a lot of banter, especially in the military."

"Every interaction with a human is an exercise in self-control and tolerance, it becomes exhausting. And that, McGregor, is why I have a stick up my ass."

"You said there was one Borealan who liked humans though, your instructor. What was her deal?"

Zhari looked away, and to McGregor's bemusement, her face began to redden. He scrutinized her as she started to speak again, her cheeks flushed pink with what might have been embarrassment.

"Her name was Raz, she was the daughter of Patriarch Elysiedde, he's a big deal on Borealis. She was the Alpha of all Borealans on the station while I trained there, a kind of Matriarch if you will. She had a...human companion. I forget his name, but they worked together to train recruits and to bridge the cultural gap between the two species. There were Krell on the station too, but those cold-blooded lizards never start fights."

"What was so unusual about this Raz person?" McGregor asked. His interest was peaked, he sensed that juicy gossip was on the menu.

"She liked humans, those who she confided in would tell you that she liked them a little too much. I did well on the Pinwheel, I graduated top of my class, but I encountered difficulties with human social interaction that prevented me from progressing in the program. One day Raz took me aside and told me the story of how she had come to be the station Alpha. It was..."

Zhari hesitated, shifting uncomfortably.

"You can't stop there!" McGregor complained, "you have to finish the story."

"It was perverse. She had fraternized with her human companion, and in doing so, they had reached some kind of understanding."

McGregor's jaw dropped.

"You mean a human and a Borealan had sex?" He began to laugh, not only at the implication but at Zhari's palpable discomfort.

"More, they were a mated pair, they lived together."

McGregor slapped his knee, choking back laughter.

"No way, I don't believe it. I didn't know that a human and a Borealan were even compatible!"

"It's true, apparently. She praised humans for...well, she enjoyed their company. She suggested that I might do the same in order to better understand them."

McGregor grinned mischievously.

"And did you take her advice?"

"Of course not! It's perverse," she snapped. "Raz was a deviant, I don't want you thinking Borealans commonly behave like that. We mate all year round, and we do it recreationally too, but xenophilia is not something that we deem socially acceptable."

"So what did you say to her?"

"I nodded and declined politely. She was my Alpha, after all, I couldn't voice my objection. But I worked hard to complete the program after that, and I got off the station as quickly as I could."

McGregor stared into space, trying to imagine the mechanics of a Borealan and a human going at it. He couldn't deny that they were certainly attractive, they looked similar enough to humans. Same figures, same basic features, and they were always in great shape. But they had two feet over the average human, how would that work?

"Anyway...the station itself was an impressive feat of engineering..."

***

Zhari went on to describe the Pinwheel to the curious human, the torus-shaped station with its central control hub linked by spokes, the impeccably decorated interior that mimicked a terrestrial planet with gardens and trees and a painted sky. He listened and nodded, but his mind seemed to be elsewhere. Had she made a mistake by telling him about Raz? What if this human too was a xenophile?

Truth be told, her final conversation with the instructor had rattled her. Raz had described humans as voracious, unpredictable lovers, unable to physically resist the advances of a Borealan due to their small stature. Zhari had taken lovers before, mostly some of the less subservient males in her youth who had attempted to challenge her position and lost. All Borealans were inflamed by the fresh blood of a defeated challenger, it ensured that dominant genes were passed on and improved the stock of the whole pack as a result. Humans were defenseless, they had no claws or teeth, their flesh was soft and pliant. Despite their obvious shortcomings they were constantly provoking and inciting in the way a cocky suitor might, it was confusing. Infuriating. It fueled her primal urge to sink her sharp teeth into their supple flesh, to taste their blood and to fuck them until they understood their place.

She had more self-control than Raz however, the daughter of a Patriarch was accustomed to getting everything that she wanted. Not Zhari, she was a career soldier, hardened by a lifetime of combat. She had enough discipline to bury these feelings and keep her focus on the mission. But Raz had planted a seed in her mind, a seed which now germinated, planting its insidious roots deep into every corner of her brain.

CHAPTER 3: BOILING POINT

"I ain't climbing that tree, you crazy bitch!"

Zhari prodded McGregor with her bayonet, and he jumped, grasping his butt.

"I'll stick you, you know I will. Now get up that tree and find out which direction the control center is in. It's the only way."

"You aren't gonna stick me, you'd be screwed out here on your own, your leg is busted."

She jabbed again, and he dodged it, dancing around behind the gnarled trunk of the massive tree. He rested his hands on the moist, green moss that coated its surface and peeked around at Zhari.

"If I have to come and get you this is going to get ugly, McGregor."

"I'd like to see you try, peg leg."

She growled in frustration, the sound making McGregor's hair stand on end.

"You'll have to come back to the cave eventually, I have all the food. When you get within arm's reach of me...oh I am gonna have some fun with you. You'll wish that you'd fallen out of this fucking tree."

McGregor considered his options. He wanted badly to defy Zhari on principle alone, but she was right, better to just get it over with. She sounded serious, almost gleeful at the prospect.

He stepped out from behind the trunk and Zhari aimed her XMR at him, throwing a bundle of vines that they had collected at his feet with her free hand.

"Get going."

"Fine, fine. When I write my autobiography, I'm gonna make you the villain of the story."

He picked up the vines and coiled them over his shoulder, then heaved himself up onto a low hanging branch. Zhari kept her rifle trained on him the whole way as he climbed.

The alien trees had thick branches made from flexible wood, he didn't feel as if they would break under his weight, but they were covered in slippery moss. Everything on this God-forsaken planet was wet. He knotted the vines around his waist and tied the other ends around the branches as he passed them, cutting the line with a bayonet when he reached a new branch. At least this way he would have some security if he slipped and fell, assuming that the vines wouldn't just snap under the stress.

Eventually, the ill-tempered Borealan disappeared below the leaves as he entered the canopy proper. He pushed past thick foliage as he struggled higher, at least here there was always a handhold in reach, and the risk of falling was diminished.

It took him a long time to climb the massive tree, it must have been two hundred feet high at least. The plants on EE-4 battled each other for access to the sunlight, growing ever higher and spreading their wide branches ever further in an attempt to capture as much energy as possible. McGregor's muscles burned. Sure he had completed the obstacle courses in boot camp, and he had stayed in shape as part of his Navy routine, but this was grueling work. After some time he finally broke through into the sunlight, shielding his eyes as the sudden brightness forced them closed. He waited a few moments as they adjusted the glare, then he surveyed the landscape, blinking away tears.

Greenery extended as far as he could see in every direction. It was a sea of leaves, the wind blowing them gently like waves on the ocean. A few mammoth trees protruded further than the others as if they were islands seen from a distance, topped with forest. He breathed in lungfuls of fresh air, the oppressive heat of the jungle was lifted by the cool breeze, and he savored the relief. He shielded his eyes with his hand as he scanned, looking for a sign of artificial structures, anything that might stand out. Behind him were the massive pillars of rock, three of them protruding oddly from the treeline, hundreds of feet tall. They were also green at their peaks, some lucky seeds carried by the winds had found their way up to that privileged position, escaping the mad scramble for space that went on below.

Then he saw it. A metallic reflection, its glare standing out against the uniform landscape. It must be protruding from the canopy, a radar dish or some kind of antenna for sure. That had to the target. If the pillars were to the East, then this structure must be North West. He was right in his guess that they had strayed further North or South than they had realized. It looked to be about twenty miles away.

He hesitated, should he tell Zhari or just lie that he hadn't seen anything? Would she just send him up again until she got the result she expected? Most likely, she was tenacious and stubborn. She might also know that he was lying and that prospect frightened him.

He resigned himself to telling her and began to climb back down the tree. There was still time to convince her of the folly of attacking the control center with just the two of them. With any luck, she would see sense before she got the both of them killed.

***

Zhari wanted to pace below the tree, but her broken leg prevented it. She seethed, her face was red, and she was shaking. A combination of anger and arousal was threatening to push her over the edge. She had never encountered such blatant insubordination before, there wasn't even a word for it in the Borealan dialect. The closest approximation to the English word was rogue, a Borealan who went insane and separated itself from the pack, living alone like some kind of hermit.

The plucky human danced just out of her reach, taunting her, defying her. McGregor was inviting a terrible retribution that she could not deliver lest she injure or kill him. Worse, her loins ached and burned. She yearned to slip her fingers beneath her waistband and relieve herself, but he was always near, hovering around her and demanding conversation and entertainment at all hours of the day. Perhaps she could make the excuse of going to the bathroom, but she didn't want to be exposed in the jungle on her own for that long just in case a Betelgeusian patrol should find her while she was vulnerable and distracted. It was an impossible situation, and this loathsome human pushed her to the very limits of her endurance. The heat and the humidity weren't doing her any favors either. Unacceptably base and intrusive thoughts swirled in her brain, her body trying to calculate how best to obtain what it desired despite her conscious objections. It was driving her crazy. Her body, like the impudent little human, was in open rebellion.

She heard rustling leaves, and McGregor climbed into view. She watched him as he made his way down, hopping gingerly from branch to branch like a clumsy monkey until he eventually dropped down onto the jungle floor with a wet squelch, his boots sinking into the mud.

"You miss me, boss?"

"Did you see anything?" she snapped, wiping sweat from her brow.

"Yeah, I saw it alright. There's a metal structure protruding from the jungle canopy about twenty miles North West of us, just about where I said it would be."

"Good, perfect. We can start making our way there when my break has healed. In another day or two, I should be able to walk without the crutch."

McGregor examined her face curiously, concern in his eyes.

"You alright boss? You look sick. You sure you don't have an infection or something?"

"I'm fine, it's nothing."

McGregor took a step closer to her, and before she could protest, he reached up on the tips of his toes and pressed the back of his hand against her cheek. His skin was cool on her face, and his touch was gentle, a surge of lust twisting her insides into a knot as she shivered involuntarily.

"You feel really warm, you might have a fever. Do we have antibiotics in the medkit?"

Zhari grabbed McGregor's wrist, squeezing it painfully, and threw him back. He stumbled a short distance, then came to rest against the tree.

"D-Don't touch me! Filthy creature," she snapped.

He stared at her, alarmed by her strange behavior. She was always pissy, but this was different, he had never seen her behave like this before.

"What the hell is your problem?" he asked, shooting her an angry look. "I show concern for your health, and you freak out on me?"

He rubbed his wrist, damn, she had a grip like a vice.

"J-Just stay out of my personal space. Borealans...I don't like humans touching me."

"Oh, so it's like a race thing? We sure have a lot to learn from the enlightened Borealans! Next time I'm in a wreck maybe I'll think twice before pulling one of you big orange fucks out of the fire."

She leaned on her crutch and dragged her free hand down her face in an expression of exasperation, she looked as exhausted as he was, on edge.

"McGregor, just...don't."

He was angry, and he was tired of her shitty attitude. She had no right to complain when she was holding him here against his will, ransoming food to force his compliance, food she could not even have retrieved from the crashed landing craft without his help. Even her damned splint had been his idea.

He spread his arms in a gesture of defiance and advanced towards her, Zhari taking a step back. Her crutch caught on a root, and she almost fell, but she steadied herself.

"You know what, shoot me. Do it. I don't care anymore. Fucking shoot me."

He kept walking forwards, and Zhari took another step back.

"You aren't going to do it, are you? You're all bluster."

She raised a hand, almost imploring, and gestured for him to back off. She looked pained, sick.

"McGregor, I'm telling you now, stop this. You don't...I can't..."