The Autumn War Vol. 01: Invasion

"It's full of kid's toys," he admitted, keeping his voice low. "You don't need to see that shit right now."

"I do not shy away from the realities of war," she replied. "This city is a graveyard. Hundreds of thousands met their end here, males and children included."

She made her way into the vestibule, Bluejay stepping aside to let her through. When she emerged into the main dome, she saw what had rattled Fletcher so. A flock with one or more children had indeed lived here. The colorful shapes and patterns on the faded carpet were still visible, mushrooms sprouting near the base of the wall, where it was damp and shadowy. There was some musty furniture, a few seats and a dining table occupying most of the space, the shelves on the curving walls lined with old keepsakes and inactive photo projectors. There were dusty old toys strewn about the floor, as though a child had been playing with them before the alarm had been raised, and had been forced to abandon them in a hurry. As Xipa glanced into the adjoining kitchen dome, she saw that there were still dishes on the counter filled with desiccated meals. Whatever had happened in this city had happened fast.

The bedroom had been spared much of the damp, and there were relatively few mushrooms growing on the room-spanning mattress. She noted that there was an incubator placed against the far wall, a large, transparent box with a nest of blankets and pillows inside it. She walked up to it, wiping some of the dust from the glass, seeing that the interior had been left remarkably untouched by the elements.

"What is that?" Fletcher asked, Xipa turning her head to see him standing in the arched doorway behind her.

"It's an incubator," she said solemnly. "When Valbaran babies are born, they have trouble regulating their body temperature on their own, so they sleep beneath heat lamps until they're a few months older. It means that this flock was caring for an infant."

She anticipated some jibe about egg-laying or fish tanks, but Fletcher remained respectfully silent.

"We don't have to stay here," he finally said. "We can find somewhere else."

"This has been my reality for thirty rotations," she replied, keeping her voice level despite the flare of emotion that was making her headdress flush purple. "It does not disturb me. Come, we can eat a meal at a table for a change."

***

As strange as it felt to eat a meal in someone else's home, having everyone save for Gustave eating around the same table helped to reinforce the idea that their disparate group was a team. Once again, Fletcher shared his MRE with her, sliding a stack of food packets over to her side of the table. He made the excuse that he didn't need all of those calories with his prosthetic limbs, but she found it odd that such a seasoned warrior would burden himself with more supplies than he needed. As sharp as his tongue was, she was beginning to realize that he cared more for those under his command than he wanted to admit.

She watched him as he thrust a cup of rehydrated fluid in front of Bluejay, insisting that the alien try it, laughing at his displeasure as he spat the brown liquid out of his proboscis like a straw.

The last time they had spoken privately, Fletcher had told her of how he had burned all of his bridges, that he had pushed away all of the people who were close to him. Maybe that was the source of his abrasive attitude - an attempt to keep the team at arm's length lest they get too close. Was that the same reason she had condemned herself to a life of solitude for all this time? She had told herself that she was being strong, that it was a sign of her commitment to her cause, but maybe she was more like the Earth'nay than she cared to admit. Just as he had fled towards battle, perhaps she had fled towards grand projects that would let her avoid confronting her past.

What was she supposed to do about that, though? Fletcher had told her that it was too late for him, but that she had yet to cross a line from which there would be no return. What was that line? How would she know when she reached it - that she hadn't crossed it long ago?

Somehow, having a glimmer of insight into the inner workings of her mind was worse than being ignorant - to know that there was a problem but to have no idea how to fix it. It was not a conundrum that could be solved with space stations or fleets.

"How are you liking the chicken salad?" Fletcher asked, snapping her out of her stupor. Her feathers flashed a surprised yellow, and she blinked back at him.

"G-good," she replied hastily. "It tastes like grilled Gue'tra meat. That's my favorite dish."

"Yet another thing to add to the ever-growing list of things that taste like chicken," he chuckled.

When they were done eating, they spread out into the dwelling's rooms to sleep. Fletcher and Ruza set up their sleeping bags in the bedroom while Bluejay remained in the main dome. Xipa didn't want to have to look at the incubator - even the company of the insect would be more tolerable - so she laid out her sleeping bag far away from him on the circular floor. The cushions on the chairs weren't in too bad shape, so she stacked them behind her head, using them as pillows. Before long, she could hear Ruza snoring, but she found herself able to do little other than stare at the patches of damp on the domed ceiling.

As she rolled onto her side restlessly, she saw that Bluejay wasn't asleep yet either. The insect was sitting on the floor on the other side of the dining table, having no need for a sleeping bag. He had cleared away the toys that were strewn across the carpet to make room for himself, sweeping them into a pile, which he was now examining. As she watched, he reached for one of them, lifting it up to examine it. She had seen toys like this before - soft dolls in the shape of Valbara'nay that were often stitched together from scrap fabric by fathers for their newborns. It was a tradition that had seen a resurgence on the colony, where such commercial products were not yet available in abundance, and importing them from the homeworld incurred an extra cost.

His eyes lingered on it, his furry antennae reaching out to touch gently against its stuffed snout. She waited to see what he would do next, her blood starting to boil. Seeing him there, holding a toy whose owner had probably died at the hands of his kin, was a form of desecration. Slowly, he reached for his rig, opening one of the pouches quietly so as not to wake the others.

"What are you doing?" Xipa hissed, the sudden sound startling Bluejay. He quickly dropped the doll as though embarrassed at being caught. "Why are you taking that? Put it back where you found it."

"I..." he hesitated, glancing down at the fallen toy again. "I didn't mean anything by it."

"What do you think you're doing?" she repeated, glaring at him from across the room. "That belongs to the people who lived here. It's not yours to take."

"I just..." Bluejay trailed off again, then seemed to find his confidence, his drooping antennae standing erect. "You have a personal stake in this fight," he began. "You knew this world back when it was a thriving colony, when cities like this one were full of life, full of families. I don't have that connection. I just wanted to remind myself that this is what it's really about," he continued, picking up the doll again. "All the things that I think are important, all my reasons for coming here, they're all secondary to making this a place where children can play again. And if there really are people holed up here, people who need our help, then we're their only chance. That's more important than my hive's reputation - than just looking good to appease the Coalition. Maybe I can look at this doll if I ever lose that perspective."

Xipa was taken aback by his earnestness, by the emotion in his eyes as he stared at the rag toy. This was not a performance for her benefit. She had caught him in the act, taken him by surprise, and his cheerful mask had slipped for a moment. The monster that she had expected to find lurking beneath it wasn't there...

"I like kids," he added with a weak chuckle. "One of my jobs back on Jarilo was guarding the playgrounds, keeping watch in case a knife-tooth tried to hop the fence and grab a snack. I'd just be sat up in a tree watching them run around and play for hours. It was a lot more fun than minding the chickens."

"You guarded children?" Xipa asked, cocking her head at him.

"There are daycares and schools in the settlement near my hive," he explained. "The frontier colony life keeps people busy, and they need someone to mind their kids while they work."

"And, the Earth'nay parents leave their offspring in the care of insects?" she added skeptically. "They put that much trust in you, after everything that they have seen?"

"The people on Jarilo have little choice but to work together," he replied. "They don't have the luxury of turning down our help when we offer it. It might be born more of necessity than willingness at first, sure, but they warm up to us over time. They realize that we're not playing some long con, and that we genuinely do want to help the colony thrive. What's good for them is good for us. The rising tide lifts all boats, as my father says."

"These children...they do not fear you?" Xipa asked.

"That's one of the things I like about them," he replied with a smile. "They're too young to be scared of me."

"What of your own children?" she continued. "Do...do your kind have them? I don't know how you reproduce."

"In a way. Jarilans are kept in brood chambers while they're in their larval form, and they only leave when they mature into their adult phase. They're cuter than you'd think," he added, noticing Xipa grimace at the thought. "They have these big, curious eyes that dart about all over the place. They kind of look like a swaddled baby, just...meatier. Anyway, I'll just...yeah."

He set the doll back down on the pile, then began to lie down, but Xipa raised a hand to stop him.

"Wait," she began, Bluejay blinking back at her in surprise. "Take the doll."

He smiled at her - a genuine one this time. She could see it in his eyes. He reached for the toy again, stowing it in one of the pockets on his rig, then settled in to sleep.

CHAPTER 17: DATE NIGHT

"I can't feel my fuckin' cock," Hernandez groaned, walking with a limp as he followed Evan down the corridor. "I'm more beat up than you are right now, and you actually got your ass kicked."

"You fucked a Borealan, what did you expect?" Evan replied. "She must weigh three times what you do. What was it like, anyway?"

"You'd think they wouldn't be as tight as a Valbaran on account of their size, but those kegels, man. She could probably turn my fuckin' fingers to bone dust."

"Too much information, Hernandez," Evan sighed.

"What can I tell you that isn't obvious?" he continued, pausing to take a breather. Evan stopped beside him, leaning against the bulkhead, the pair waiting until an engineer in a yellow uniform had passed them by. "She's tall, she's strong, body like a goddamned gym rat. Tits the size of my head, abs like steel, the whole package," he added with an exaggerated chef's kiss. "She could probably pick a lock with that tongue of hers."

"Do you even have a type, or are you just willing to fuck anything that has a pulse?" Evan chided. "I'm not seeing a pattern."

"Hey, I'm at the buffet table here," he replied with a grin. "Not my fault alien babes keep fallin' into my lap. I see an opportunity, I take it. Why are you suddenly so interested in what I do with my dick, anyway?"

"What's it like?" Evan asked, his tone becoming more serious. "Being with an alien, I mean."

"In what way?" Hernandez replied, cocking a suspicious eyebrow at him.

"Okay, so their bodies are different from yours, right?" Evan continued as Hernandez nodded along. "I assume you have to find out if you're actually compatible before you...take things further. Then what? How do you get with someone who's so...different? Where do you even start?"

"Why the sudden interest?" Hernandez asked, narrowing his eyes. "I've been givin' girls from here to Fort Hamilton a taste of Earth's finest for years, and you ain't never asked me that. When I asked Garcia what you were doin' when me and Tatzi were breakin' down cultural barriers last night, he told me you'd gone off on your own with Jade."

"Jade's my friend," Evan replied, feeling his cheeks start to warm. "Why wouldn't I hang out with her?"

"Uh-huh," Hernandez said skeptically. "You never did tell me why you and Foster got into a punch-up. Somethin' had to have set him off. My guess is he caught you two havin' a little soirée together."

"That's-"

"You're as good at lyin' as I am at turnin' down alien pussy, Evan," Hernandez chuckled. "If you want my advice, here it is; don't overthink things."

"Don't overthink things," Evan repeated without really understanding. "What do you mean?"

"I mean that you think too much, and you'll sabotage yourself if you let your noggin do the walkin'. Think of it this way," he continued, putting a reassuring hand on Evan's shoulder. "Either Jade already knows what equipment you're packin', or she's in the same boat you are. She's not gonna expect you to know the ins and outs of...whatever the fuck Jarilans have between their legs. I doubt you could even look that shit up on the intranet."

"Oh fuck," Evan whispered, his eyes widening. "Do you think she's looked up human anatomy?"

"I'm sayin' it doesn't matter," Hernandez continued. "If you both want this, you'll find a way to make it work together. Remember, it takes two to tango."

"I'm not even sure if it's going to happen yet," he sighed, sagging back against the wall. "She kissed me, then she asked me to date her. Maybe I'm jumping the gun, but there's something about her that just...gets in my head. I didn't even know that I could be attracted to someone like her. A few days ago, I would have balked at the idea, but the more I think about her..."

"She's part human, right?" Hernandez replied with a shrug. "Maybe that has somethin' to do with it. I'm just happy you've finally met someone that you like. I was startin' to think you were asexual or somethin'."

"I actually feel a little better," Evan marveled, standing up straight again. "Who knew you'd actually give me good advice?"

***

"So, what did you have in mind for our date?" Jade asked, holding Evan's hand tightly in hers as they made their way down the Omaha's winding hallways. She seemed undeterred by their encounter with Foster the night before, and even though Evan feared that some of his crewmates might react negatively to seeing them together, her confidence was infectious.

"I thought we could go out for a meal," he replied. "Well, assault carriers aren't exactly known for their fine dining experience, so I hope you won't mind if we pretend the mess hall is a fancy restaurant."

"I'm willing to suspend my disbelief," she said with a smile.

"I was able to appropriate a few MREs," Evan added, raising the shopping bag that he was carrying. "I figured it might be fun for you to try out a few different dishes, considering that you only eat honey."

"You...do realize that I can't eat solid food, right?" Jade asked. "I'm pretty sure I've told you that before."

"I know," he replied cryptically, Jade choosing not to press him further.

They arrived at the mess hall, functionally identical to the one where Evan and his friends had been briefed back on the Spratley before their first deployment. It was one of the largest rooms on the ship, the tables that had been recessed into the floor now folded out, surrounded by chairs of varying sizes that could accommodate the different Coalition species. They were occupied by only a couple of hundred people, which was pretty light for a carrier of this size, probably because so many of the crew members were deployed. The scent of cooking food wafted over from the glass counter at the far end of the room, but Evan had packed his own lunch, so he led Jade over to a secluded table at the opposite end of the hall.

He swung the bag up onto its surface, Jade cocking her head curiously when she heard a heavier thunk than she had been anticipating. They slid into opposite seats, Evan starting to stack the loose MRE packets in a pile, reading off the contents as he went. He'd tried to get as many varied dishes as possible, because he had no real idea of what Jade would like. She ate honey and enjoyed sweet drinks, but there were few main courses that matched that description. Still, he'd been able to get a little creative.

"I still don't know what you're planning," she said, crossing both pairs of arms as she leaned back in her chair. Evan reached into the bag again, Jade's eyes widening as he set another item on the table. "Is that-"

"A cordless blender," he said proudly.

"Two questions," she continued, raising two fleshy fingers. "Where and how?"

"It wasn't actually that hard to find," he replied, plucking one of the packets from the pile. "An engineer who likes margaritas let me borrow it in exchange for three days of my alcohol ration. Now you can try whatever you want, as long as it can blend."

"Okay," she said, leaning forward to rest her upper elbows on the table. "I admit it - that's a pretty good idea."

"What do you want to try first?" he asked, waving a packet at her. "I'd ask you what kind of food you like, but since you've never eaten before..."

"Got anything sweet?" she said, glancing over at the stack.

"How about this?" he continued, checking the label on another meal. "This one is chicken chunks in a sweet and sour sauce. That's pretty close to honey, I think."

"Let's give it a whirl," she said with a smile.

"I get it," he chuckled dryly. "Whirl, because it's a blender, right? Oh, should we cook it first? You won't burn your...uh...tube-thing, will you?"

"It's called a proboscis," she reminded him, then shook her head. "No, I won't burn myself. It's meant to be cooked, right?"

She watched curiously as he opened a flameless ration heater, filling it with water from a canteen, then inserted the packet. He folded it closed, then leaned it against another MRE to keep it relatively upright.

"No wonder they designed us to only eat honey," she mused as she watched the steam rise from the pouch. "You guys have to carry around all of this extra gear just to keep yourselves fed. You need all these varieties of food, but we only need a liquid diet. I could probably fit days of rations into the space that just one of your MREs takes up."

"Technically, humans could subsist on a lot less food," he explained. "They could give us a nutrient loaf that would take up a fraction of the space and keep us healthy enough to fight. That's not really the point, though. Humans need novelty. They'd get bored if they had to eat the same thing for every meal. That's something they do to prisoners as a punishment. Rations are as much about morale as nutrition."

"I hope you're not about to expand my horizons too much," Jade said, her face plates arranging into a convincing smirk. "Am I going to have to carry around a blender everywhere I go from now on?"

"I'm not sure MRE chicken will have that effect," he chuckled. "If you ever make it to Earth, maybe you can go to a real gourmet place and try some five-star food. I don't think the chef would appreciate you blending their meals, though."

It didn't take long for the food to cook, Evan lifting it out of the pouch tentatively, careful not to scald his fingers. He removed the lid from the blender, tilting it so that he could glance inside.