The Autumn War Vol. 04: Succession

"What job did you do?" she pressed.

"I...uh," he trailed off, trying to think of something that sounded more impressive than babysitting. "I mostly just minded the colony's children and kept the livestock safe from predators," he admitted. "There are native species that'll hop the fences and drag off little kids and chickens."

"You hesitate as though it embarrasses you," she giggled. "I've seen you leap from a dropship to save a child."

"Anyone with wings would have done that," he replied with a wave of his hand, but his attempt to downplay his heroics clearly wasn't having the intended effect.

"In Valbara'nay culture, males who are good with children are highly valued," she explained. She paused to take another drink, Bluejay feeling his belly swim again as she locked eyes with him. Her irises were a striking violet, like the wings of the butterflies that Walker used to show him on his tablet. "In Kerguela'nay culture, men who can handle themselves are doubly valued. The division of labor is a lot broader here than it is on the homeworld. We can't have our boys sitting idle and preening their feathers when there's work to be done."

"I can imagine," he said. "Do you think influence from the homeworld will change your culture over time?"

"Settlers will bring their culture and values with them - that's unavoidable," she replied. "That said, we will continue to teach our children how to survive, no matter how comfortable our society becomes. The Elders taught us about the civilization that existed here before the collapse," she continued, taking a longer draw from her cup. "Their values always seemed too optimistic to me. We Kerguela'nay know that all of this," she said, gesturing to their surroundings. "Society, civilization - it can all be taken away as quickly as the pull of a trigger. The Coalition and the Consensus can't keep us safe. Only we can do that."

"That sentiment isn't as rare as you might imagine," Bluejay continued as he leaned back into the cushions with his drink in hand. "Most UNN colonies have extensive PDF forces - planetary defense - and they get more capable and better equipped on more remote worlds where the Coalition might not be able to deploy as quickly. You don't have to rely on the Coalition completely."

"You got me talking about work again," she chuckled. "Tell me about this dad. He is your father?"

"Not in the usual sense," Bluejay began, considering how best to explain the situation to someone from a species that reproduced in pairs. "My father donated his genetic material to my mother - the Queen. From that material, she engineered the Jarilans. My dad's name is Walker, he was taken prisoner by the hive, and he helped to negotiate their surrender. Now, he's a naturalist who wanders around in the Jarilan forests cataloging native species, and he shows up in the colony to resupply and to name the latest batch of Jarilans on occasion. He didn't raise me in the conventional sense - not when there are thousands of children all competing for his time - but he recognized my aptitude for shooting and helped train me. That's probably why I'm here."

"But you still respect him a great deal?" Miqi asked.

"Yeah, he's practically a mythical figure now," Bluejay chuckled. "He fathered a new species."

"What do you do for fun when you're not working?" Miqi continued.

"I haven't ever really had that much free time," he replied.

"You know what your problem is?" she added, reaching out to pick up one of the hoses from the hookah. She took a long drag, the liquid inside the vessel bubbling, then exhaled a cloud of smoke that smelled strongly of berries. "You need to learn to relax. You are high strung."

"Okay, I see what you did there," he replied. "Is that why I'm here - to learn to relax?"

"Even my people know that there must be balance between work and relaxation," she continued, taking another puff from her hose. She pursed her scaly lips and did something strange with her tongue, Bluejay watching a neat little ring of smoke sail across the table towards him. It broke against his face, coating his antennae in that fruity scent again. "One cannot run forever. They must eventually rest, even if it might appear to stall their progress. Why do you think we built this lounge?"

"I have a hard time imagining you taking it easy," Bluejay said, raising a brow plate skeptically. "I've seen you beat Bugs to death with a hammer on multiple occasions."

"Then, I shall say that I take my relaxation time just as seriously."

"Work hard, play hard," Bluejay mused.

"I like that phrase," she chuckled, another wave of pink passing through her feathers. "Do you like your drink? How is it?"

"Good," he replied with a nod.

"Here," she added, presenting her hose to him. "Have a smoke. There is no better way to unwind after a difficult assignment."

"I'm afraid that I'll have to abstain," he replied, waving her off. "Spiracles," he explained apologetically. "I don't actually have lungs, so I can't partake, but I appreciate the offer."

She sat back in her seat, pondering the hose for a few moments, but her disappointment was short-lived. Bluejay watched as she inhaled a deep lungful, setting the hookah bubbling, holding her breath. She rose to her feet, leaning across the table until she was close enough that his antennae could brush her face, then exhaled. The smoke poured from her lips, filling his side of the booth in a swirling haze. He could taste the fumes as they washed over him, the fruity aroma joined by a more intimate scent, something distinctly of Miqi. All he could do was peer back at her as she lifted the hose again, taking a long, slow drag as though savoring its taste. Once again, he felt his belly flutter, her unflinching gaze locked onto him. She sent another puff of smoke his way, seeming to delight in the way that it made him blink his eyes.

"Breathe it in," she whispered, waiting expectantly.

He did as she asked, his torso expanding subtly as he took in a breath, letting Miqi's fragrant offering seep into his hemolymph. He had no idea if his biology was even compatible with whatever psychoactive compounds were present in the smoke, but the sheer intimacy of the situation set his heart throbbing. If he was part human, and it worked on humans, then maybe...

"What's it supposed to feel like?" he asked, still captivated by those striking pupils.

"Mellow, one of the Earth'nay called it," she replied. "You're always so tense, Bluejay. You're so focused on work that it can be hard to find an excuse to get you alone."

"We've been alone plenty," he chuckled. "We just spent two days alone in the wilderness together."

"Not alone," she replied, sending another warm cloud of smoke his way. "My flock were there, too."

"I thought that didn't matter to Valbarans?"

"It does if you don't have consensus," she explained.

Miqi wasn't exactly being coy, and Bluejay was starting to build a picture of what was happening here. She liked him a lot more than her flock did, and maybe she liked him in ways that her flock didn't find acceptable. It was rare for one member of a flock to dissent in such a way, but Miqi had spent more time with him than they had, and they had a different relationship. He knew from experience that it wasn't enough to just be told about Jarilans by a third party - people warmed to him much faster when they actually interacted with him, when they discovered who he was for themselves. It was his actions that had won Miqi over, and those personal experiences were hard to relay to her flock.

"Don't neglect your drink," she added, gesturing to the glass in his hand with her scaly snout.

With a start, he realized that she was hitting on him. This whole date was about getting him away from her flockmates, loosening him up, getting him buzzed to lower his inhibitions. But to what end? He'd never...was he even compatible with a Valbaran?

Fletcher and Xipa couldn't hide their affection for one another from someone with such keen antennae, and although he would never say as much in polite company, they might as well be smearing pheromones on each other like finger paints. If a human and a Valbaran were compatible, and Drones were made to interact with humans, then maybe...

He was suddenly reminded of his first time interacting with a human other than his father - how uncertain he had been, how thirsty for validation. There was the creature that he had been hatched to serve, to impress, and the idea had made him painfully conscious of his own shortcomings. His attitude towards humans had evolved since, especially during his time on Kerguela, but he felt a little of that old insecurity rear its head again. What was he supposed to do? What if he said or did something wrong? What if Miqi found him wanting in some way? The urge to treat courtship the same way that he treated the other aspects of his life was strong - to excel in his assignments, to make himself useful to others. Yet, he knew that romance was not a zero-sum game. There were no winners or losers.

Maybe he was overthinking it. Maybe Miqi knew him better than he had realized...

As if to illustrate that point, she blew another smoke ring into his face, jolting him back to the present.

"You're still tense. Let the vices do their work."

He nodded, sliding his proboscis back into his drink obediently, feeling the cool liquid slide down into his stomach. He'd hoped that it might drown the butterflies, but he could still feel them churning, creating a tickling sensation that wasn't altogether unpleasant. It got stronger when he looked at Miqi - when she met his gaze. His thorax rose and fell gently as he took in the fragrant smoke that had filled their booth, watching as Miqi brought the end of the hose to her lips again, drawing on it in a way that came across more than a little suggestive.

Attraction was a strange, novel concept to him. Betelgeusians did not need to feel attraction. They needed no motivation to breed other than the order to do so. When a male Drone inseminated his Queen, it was not done out of love or desire, but a purely biological drive. Jarilans were part human, however. They were made from humans, engineered to live and work with humans, and humans were social mammals who experienced things like friendship and love. Walker had taught him how to hit a target with an XMR and how to spot disturbed undergrowth that might betray the enemy, but he had never taught him how to deal with these situations. Maybe he couldn't. There was no precedent for this, no instruction manual, so he would have to forge his own path.

Romance between humans and Jarilans wasn't new by any means. It was present at all levels of society on Jarilo, between all castes, from Ambassadors to Workers. Bluejay was equipped for the task, he knew that much, but he had never really considered what might happen if he met someone who wanted him in that way. His life had been short, packed with training and, later, work. He'd never had much time to consider the possibilities.

He took another long sip from his cup, savoring the tangy taste, trying not to look too much like he was examining Miqi from across the table. There was attraction between humans and Jarilans, and between humans and Valbarans, so why not Valbarans and Jarilans? He respected Miqi, he considered her a firm friend, but was there more there? The tightness in his chest, the butterflies that swarmed in his belly when he looked at her under these soft, warm lounge lights - was that what Fletcher felt when he looked at Xipa? If only he'd had a little warning - if only he hadn't been so hopelessly clueless - he might have taken the time to ask Fletcher for his advice.

"You've never done this before, have you?" Miqi chuckled as she blew another wavy smoke ring towards the ceiling. It wasn't an accusation, rather, she seemed to revel in the idea. She leaned back into her cushions, crossing her long legs, one of her clawed feet bouncing idly in the air.

"No," he admitted, nursing his drink. "I didn't exactly train for this."

"You can't really train for it," she replied, shifting positions suddenly. She leaned her elbows on the table, resting her lower jaw in her hands, peering at him as her feathers rippled with amorous pink. She was wearing a loose-fitting tunic, the beginnings of her cleavage visible beneath the low-cut collar, shrouded in just enough shadow to be tantalizing. "Sometimes, you just have to experience something for yourself - rely on intuition rather than try to plan everything out."

"I never thought I'd hear a Valbaran say that," he chuckled, the humor diffusing some of the tension that had been building up inside him. "Aren't you guys all about planning every moment of every day? In fact, I'm pretty sure you've been planning this for days."

"That's why you should listen to me when I tell you to follow your instincts," she added with a grin.

"Listen, I don't even know what kind of instincts I have," he protested as he set his glass back down on the table. "I'm a hybrid - I probably have some jumbled blend of instincts from both sides of the proverbial family, like a big tangle of Christmas lights."

She cocked her head at him, not understanding the expression, but something about her curiosity just made him laugh. Perhaps the herb was finally starting to get to him.

"Then, you will have to make your own way," she said with the feather equivalent of a shrug. "Let me ask you this - do you trust your Queen? Aren't they supposed to be living computers?"

"She tends not to make mistakes," he conceded. Her point was obvious enough. The Queen probably wouldn't leave these things to chance. There was purpose in every allele, every chromosome, every strand of his DNA. He had been manufactured with careful and deliberate purpose.

"Do you like me?" Miqi cooed, cutting straight to the point. She leaned back again, reclining on the pillows, giving him a better view as though presenting herself to him. There was no ambiguity about her intentions now, and he felt emboldened to really take her in, letting his eyes wander across her figure without reservation for the first time. Her tunic was loose, but the way that it hung off her narrow shoulders revealed the subtle outline of her chest, his eyes drawn to the perfect hourglass created by her pinched waist and the flare of her hips.

Valbarans were bottom-heavy creatures, and Miqi's hips were broader than her shoulders, her thighs so thick and packed with muscle that they rivaled the girth of her torso. She was wearing a pair of what would best be described as bike shorts - some kind of elastic fabric akin to spandex that clung to her, leaving nothing to the imagination. He could see the dimples that her muscles carved into her skin, the black material transitioning into the emerald green of her hide just above her knees, her lustrous scales shining beneath the lounge's soft lights as though glistening with moisture.

Maybe it was the alcohol, or maybe the herb was having some sedating effect, but he found that his brain had stopped spinning in circles. Instead, his attention was solely focused on Miqi, his racing thoughts quietened.

"Yeah," he mumbled, not sure what else to say. He couldn't really articulate it, but something about those curves stirred him.

Miqi smiled, a flush of pink filling her headdress. She sprang back to a sitting position, using her long, prehensile tail to grip the hem of one of the nearby curtains, pulling it closed to seal off their little booth from the rest of the lounge. It blocked some of the light as a side effect, what still made it through taking on a crimson hue as it was filtered through the red fabric. They were shielded from prying eyes now.

She climbed onto the low table, crawling across it on her hands and knees, pushing the hookah aside. The collar of her loose tunic was at eye level now, giving him scant glimpses of her swaying bosom. Miqi came to a stop beside his glass, kneeling there as she leaned down towards him, taking his face in her hands. He could feel her testing the texture of his carapace, perhaps not expecting it to be quite so yielding - more like soft plastic than the armored shells of the Drones that she was used to handling. Her fine scales were surprisingly soft, so smooth as to be almost imperceptible, her touch sending a pleasant shiver rolling through him.

"Can you feel me?" she asked, perhaps unsure of whether his carapace even had nerve endings.

"Yes," he replied, prompting her to draw closer.

Her scaly snout brushed against the base of his horn, where a human's nose would have been, Miqi nuzzling affectionately. Humans kissed with their mouths, but Valbarans had snouts, which made them hard to interlock in the same way. Was this how they did it? Bluejay wasn't sure how to reciprocate, so he leaned into her awkward embrace, letting his antennae brush against her face. He could get so much information from human and Jarilan pheromones, but Miqi was harder to read. She was truly alien to him, and her body used different chemical signals to communicate, ones that he had no way of assigning to any particular emotion. Instead, he relied on his eyes, the vibrant pinks of her feathers giving him clues as to what she was feeling.

After a few moments, she slid into his side of the booth. He drew all four of his hands inward, afraid to touch her, but she didn't give him much of a choice as she lowered herself into his lap. Her weight pressed down on his codpiece as she straddled him, planting a knee to either side of his hips, her tail trailing between his legs beneath the table. She weighed fifty, maybe sixty pounds tops, just enough to sink him into the nest of cushions. She leaned him back, resting her hands against the dividing wall behind him, rubbing her scaly snout against his face insistently. She was making out with him, like the human couples he had seen in the bars back on Jarilo.

"You're more like our boys than you realize," she chuckled wryly. "You don't have to be afraid. You can touch me. I want you to..."

She leaned back, reaching for one of his upper hands, guiding it closer to her. She lifted the hem of her tunic just enough to expose her midriff, sliding his palm against her scales. Bluejay's eyes widened as he felt her satin-smooth hide against his fleshy fingers, her underside covered with a mosaic of fine, beige scales. He could feel the two rows of toned muscle beneath her skin, sculpted by a lifetime of hard living, tensing at his touch to become as firm as stone. She let his fingertips wander between the channels that they carved into her otherwise flat stomach, watching him with those violet eyes, wetting her lips with her tongue as her feathers flashed amorous pinks and covetous reds.

Emboldened, Bluejay brought the rest of his arms to bear. He slid his lower hands up her thighs, finding them just as smooth and as muscular as her belly, tracing their contours with his questing fingertips. He reached the elastic hems of her tight-fitting shorts, feeling the way that they cut into her soft flesh, sliding his fingers beneath them. There was an irresistible layer of fat that clung to her thighs, making them even fuller and softer than they had first appeared, their texture begging him to probe deeper. Hard muscle rose to meet his digits, creating a delightful contrast.

His fourth hand snuck around behind her, groping one of her pert cheeks through her clothes, gliding on the smooth fabric. Her ass was packed with brawn, the rubbery tissue resisting him, more butter-soft flesh spilling between his fingers when he tried to grab a handful. Miqi was nothing like the soft, delicate creatures that he had overheard humans describe when they talked about their females, nor did she have the exaggerated physique of a Borealan. She was velvet-soft in some places and as hard as his carapace in others, Bluejay's heartbeat accelerating as he explored her.