Black Velvet

Jules found himself standing before one of the curtains of vines that concealed the village from outside view. This one looked just as dense and as impenetrable as the others had. Zuki was not interested in the vines, however. She pointed to one of the trees that the great curtain was strung between.

"Up there," she said.

"Up in the tree? Is that where the guards are?"

She nodded, Jules walking up to the base and placing his hand against the rough trunk. There were claw marks all over it, the damned thing looked like a giant scratching post. Lots of Araxie had obviously climbed up and down it over the years.

"How do we get up there?" Jules asked, "are they going to throw us a rope ladder or something?"

"How do you mean?" she asked, looking confused. It suddenly dawned on her, her furry ears twitching with surprise. "Oh! You don't have claws, you can't climb trees. I didn't consider that..." She thought for a moment, looking up into the branches. "Maybe I can carry you up there."

"Don't trouble yourself," Jules replied, "we can just go interview somebody else. I'm sure the village is full of people who we could talk to. Besides," he added as he gestured to her vest, "I wouldn't want you to exacerbate your injury."

"Injury?" she asked, cocking her head.

"Yeah...your chest. I couldn't help but notice."

"Oh...don't worry about that. I'm fine."

Before he had time to protest, she bundled him up in her arms, his stomach lurching as she crouched on her long legs and propelled herself into the air. He felt like a joey in its mother's pouch, the alien leaping at least ten feet straight up. There was a sound like creaking wood as she plunged her sharp claws deep into the bark, latching on as she held him in one arm and gripped the tree with the other. She began to clamber upwards, buffeting him as he clung to her furry forearm for dear life, the ground below already so far away that slipping from her grasp would guarantee a swift death.

Her coat was as wet as it looked, the fine, velvety fur damp with moisture. It really was incredibly soft and smooth, almost as if she was wearing a bodysuit made from tight-fitting silk. He could feel her muscles moving beneath it as she scaled the trunk.

They arrived in the branches, and she deposited him on a wooden platform, pulling herself up and landing beside him with a thud that shook the floor. It was like a treehouse, there were wooden boards that made up a flat surface, ringing the trunk and supported by the branches. It had been invisible from the ground, he would never have guessed that there was anything up here. There were a few chairs scattered about, as well as a few wooden chests that must contain weapons or supplies. It was spartan, but it was indeed a guard post.

There was an Araxie wearing a ghillie suit sitting on a chair that faced out into the jungle beyond the village, and he turned to look back at them, his green eyes flashing.

"I thought that was you, Zuki. Even the dead could hear you coming."

Jules ignored his strange comment, pulling out his tablet computer, the blue glow lighting up his face in the darkness.

"My name is Lambert," Jules explained, "I wondered if I might have a few moments of your time?"

"Snuff out that light," the guard snapped, "do you think I'm posted here because I enjoy the view? If there are any Rask out there, it will give us away!"

"Oh, sorry," Jules said as he hastily switched off the screen and returned it to his pocket. "What is it that you're doing up here, exactly?"

"The Patriarch has tasked me with watching the jungle for signs of the enemy. There are two dozen guard posts like this one scattered around the perimeter of the village. Should the Rask find us here, then we would be the first line of defense." He nodded to a large crossbow that was hanging from an iron nail that had been driven into the tree trunk, ready to be used at a moment's notice. "Zuki, why have you brought this human here?"

"I..." she hesitated for a moment, then seemed to muster her courage. "The Patriarch has tasked me with being liaison to the human. He wishes to tour the village and get to know our people better."

"What is liaison?" the guard asked skeptically.

"It is a human word that means trusted guide and confidante," she replied proudly, the guard raising an eyebrow. Jules didn't correct her, choosing to let her have her moment instead.

"I just wanted to ask you a few questions," Jules added, the guard turning his green eyes towards him. "I'm doing a survey, if you will."

"If it does not require me to abandon my watch, then ask away," the guard said as he turned his back on the pair and resumed his vigil. Jules didn't have his list of questions on hand without his tablet, but he remembered what he had wanted to ask the Araxie soldiers well enough. He went through the usual list of questions, asking about what the guard's opinion of the Coalition was, how he felt about an alien embassy in Araxie territory, and what he thought about an influx of new technology. Most of his responses were rather neutral, but when it came to military matters, one of his round ears swiveled backwards so that he could listen to Jules more closely.

"Mutual defense pact?" he asked, keeping his eyes on the jungle. "What is that?"

"It means that if someone decided to attack you, like the Rask, then we would be bound by our agreement to intercede."

"This, I like the sound of. You would send soldiers?"

"We would send soldiers, a carrier with a support fleet, supplies, and weapons. If someone were to attack Araxie, it would be as though they had attacked us as well."

"But if you also made this pact with the Rask, then who would you send aid to?"

"We wouldn't support the aggressor, if that's what you're asking," Jules replied. "Besides, if the Rask government truly is sanctioning these attacks against your territory, then they're breaking the terms of the agreement that they made with us. When your Patriarch showed me the captive that you took from one of the battles, and the store of weapons that you captured, I assured him that I would see to it that my people investigate the incident. If we find that the Rask have been engaging in clandestine operations that violate the law, then they will be heavily sanctioned, likely expelled from the Coalition."

"My job is to protect the village," he said, turning to look back over his shoulder at Jules for a moment. "If the Coalition can make that job easier, then I see no reason to object. Every day our enemies grow stronger, and I fear that soon, we may be unable to hold them back. The Patriarch is right to seek help from your Coalition, I just hope that he is putting his trust in the right place..."

That seemed like their cue to leave, Jules clearing his throat after a few moments of silence.

"Thank you for your time," he said, "we'll leave you to your work."

He turned and walked back towards the edge of the platform, suddenly remembering that he couldn't get back down without Zuki's help. He gripped a nearby branch for support and leaned over the edge, his head spinning as he gazed down into the darkness. The ground was so far away that he could scarcely make it out.

"Let me assist you," Zuki said. He opened his mouth to protest but quickly shut it tight as she scooped him off his feet. He stifled an alarmed yell, the sound escaping his throat as more of a terrified grunt as she stepped off the edge into the void. She gripped the rim of the platform with one hand as she fell and swung herself towards the trunk, digging into the bark with her claws and sliding down towards the ground like a fireman descending a pole.

She landed heavily in the fallen leaves and twigs below, absorbing the impact with her massive, spring-like legs. Jules realized that he was clinging to her like a baby monkey, quickly loosening his hold as she lowered him towards the forest floor. He brushed himself off, trying to conceal his embarrassment, wiping away the moisture from her shiny fur that was dampening the pants of his suit.

"If you could warn me next time you do something like that, I would appreciate it," he muttered.

"Of course, sorry," she replied sheepishly.

"So, where to next?"

"Are you not hungry, Mister Jules? We could get something to eat at the great hall, and ask more questions of the people there at the same time."

Of course, Borealans needed to eat frequently, and in absurd quantities. They had been walking around the village for all of what passed for morning here. Truth be told, he was starting to get a little peckish.

"Alright then," he replied, Zuki's eyes lighting up. "We'll need to head back to the house where I'm staying and pick up an MRE though, Sergeant Simmons told me that I shouldn't eat the food here."

"Oh, if you think that's best," she replied. "Come, I know the way."

"And it's just Jules," he corrected. "If we're going to be working together closely, then you can drop the honorific."

"Does that make us...friends?" she asked expectantly.

"Sure, why not. I don't see why we can't be friends."

That seemed to please her, and there was a distinct spring in her step as she led him back into the village.

***

Jules clambered up onto the Borealan-sized bench beside Zuki, setting his MRE down on the table, the sounds of innumerable conversations in a language that he didn't speak echoing through the hollowed-out interior of the giant log. It was no less impressive than upon the first viewing. The way that everything was hewn from the same enormous hunk of wood, the scents of cooking meat, and the bustle of aliens as they drank and feasted. It was like something straight out of the medieval period. Replace the exotic meats with mutton chops, the strange drinks with mugs of frothing mead, and it might have been mistaken for some kind of ancient tavern.

He opened up his MRE packet and spilled its contents out onto the table, sifting through them and turning them right side up so that he could read the labels. He arranged them into a three-course meal, setting his main course of beef ravioli in a meat sauce to cook using the flameless ration heater, starting on a packet of biscuits. He spread a little container of jam on them with a plastic knife, Zuki watching him curiously.

"Is that all you're going to eat?"

"This is enough food to feed a human for a whole day," he said, gesturing to the scattered plastic packets.

"Well...I suppose you are rather small."

"What are you having?"

She leaned forward, looking up and down the length of the table. It seemed to be a kind of buffet, as far as Jules could tell. The Araxie would leave their seats to walk up and down it, selecting chunks of meat and other food items at their leisure. Some simply ate what was within reach, perhaps too pressed for time or too lazy to assemble a wider selection. The meat itself was on large earthen dishes, but the aliens ate their portions directly off the table. It must be varnished or treated with something that stopped the juices from the food from soaking into the wood. It was a rather messy affair overall.

"I don't know..." Zuki mumbled, chewing her claw indecisively. She seemed worried, glancing around the table at the other Araxie. Now that he thought about it, she had chosen a seat for them that was fairly out of the way. There were no other aliens sitting beside or across from them, the other patrons were all eating in tightly-knit groups. Were they packs, maybe? Groups of friends? Where was Zuki's pack? All of the Borealans were intensely social creatures, that was his understanding, but Zuki had been alone so far. She wasn't the only one, of course. The guard on watch in the tree had been by himself too, probably because his job required it. Jules wasn't sure about his clumsy companion, however.

She came to a decision and rose to her feet, bumping him with her wide hip as she passed by and turning to apologize profusely. He waved her off, the Araxie heading down the table towards one of the mounds of meat, the other felines who crossed her path giving her a wide berth. She really was uncoordinated, and everyone seemed to be well aware of it. She spilled drinks, bumped into people, tripped over her own feet, and stepped on tails. It certainly wasn't behavior that he had come to expect from the Araxie, the rest of her people were so impressively stealthy and graceful.

Zuki leaned across the table as she reached for what looked like a very large rack of ribs. The aliens who were sitting at the bench in front of her parted, leaning away from her warily as if she was a bomb that could go off at any moment. True to form, the hunk of meat slipped out of her fingers, bouncing on the wooden surface and splashing a nearby Araxie with flecks of juice. Rather than snapping at her, he merely rolled his eyes and began to clean himself with his tongue as she apologized profusely, as if her clumsiness was merely expected.

The bandages, her apparent lack of a pack...could she be the survivor of a Rask raid, and could she have sustained some kind of lasting injury that impaired her coordination? It was certainly possible. Then again, she might just be a complete ditz, and her bandages could be unrelated. He would never know unless he asked.

Zuki returned to her seat beside him, the rack of ribs shaking the table as she set it down. She wasted no time, digging her claws into it and bringing it to her mouth, her sharp teeth scraping on the bone as she tore off mouthfuls of barbecued meat. Jules eyed his steaming packet of ravioli, feeling a twinge of disappointment. What he wouldn't give to exchange the MRE for a juicy piece of alien steak, but it was safer to do as Simmons asked. He plunged his plastic fork into the packet and speared a piece of beef and pasta, chewing it as Zuki ate noisily.

"What do you keep in all those pockets?" Jules asked, gesturing to her vest with his fork. She paused her chewing, her cheeks full of meat, then swallowed as she looked down at her clothes.

"Lots of things, don't humans have pockets?"

"Of course we do, but I've noticed that all of the Araxie seem to carry a lot of gear around with them in their day to day lives, and I wondered why."

"Many tasks take us far from home," she explained over another mouthful of meat, "it's easier to just keep everything that we need with us. Hunting, gathering fruits and berries, going on patrol. Is it not the same for you? What if you needed to start a fire, or find your way if you were lost? What if you needed to catch food in an emergency?"

"If I was going camping or hiking or something, I suppose I'd bring all of those things, but I wouldn't carry them around with me every day."

"Let's say I wanted some seasoning for this meat," Zuki began, reaching into one of the many pouches on her vest. She retrieved what looked like a glass test tube with a cork in one end, popping it open and sprinkling a white powder onto her meal. "I always have it with me, if I'm at the great hall or out in the jungle."

"Is that salt?" Jules laughed, "you carry a salt shaker around with you?"

"Why wouldn't I?" she asked, stowing the vial.

"What else have you got in there?"

She rummaged in one of the pockets again, this time pulling out a strange tool like the one that the Patriarch had used to light the candles.

"Firestarter," she said, striking the two rods together to produce a spark. She returned the tool to its pocket and fished out a small bundle of wire that was threaded through a metal hook. "Fishing line," she added. Next, she brought out a small, serrated knife that was stowed in a leather holster. After that came a roll of cloth that looked like bandages, she even had a small sewing kit stowed in one of her pouches for repairing tears and patching up her clothes on the go.

"Why on earth would you need all of this on your person?" Jules chuckled, marveling at her repertoire of odd tools and supplies. "Why not just go home and get what you need?"

"Because I don't know when I might need it, or where I'll be at the time."

"I mean, I can see how it would come in handy, but it seems excessive to me. If my clothes tear, then I go to a tailor, or I'd go home and repair it if I knew how to sew. Same for fishing, if I want to go fishing then I'll go home and get my rod, I don't need to keep it on me at all times."

"If I was on a long hunt or a patrol that took me miles from the village, I wouldn't be able to see a tailor or return to fetch a fishing line," she said as she took another wet bite of her meal and paused to chew for a moment. "An Araxie should be prepared at all times."

"Do you go on many hunts far from the village?"

"Well...not me personally," she replied a little sheepishly. "I'm a little too...loud to be a hunter. I'm not very good at fishing either, I usually drop the line, or my footsteps alert the fish. They don't like me going on patrol, they say I'll alert the enemy. I don't leave the village much at all, really."

"What kind of work do you normally do when you're not serving as my trusted liaison?" he asked, her ears pricking up at that.

"They give me lots of jobs to do around the village," she replied, taking another bite. She didn't elaborate, which led Jules to assume that they were just bouncing her from job to job in an attempt to find something that she was good at, or maybe just to get her out of their hair for a while.

"Is stealth really that big of a deal for the Araxie?" he asked, stirring his ravioli with his fork.

"H-how could it not be?" Zuki stammered, "everyone wants to prove their worth by becoming a great hunter or a soldier. Providing for their pack, protecting the territory, the sheer feats of athleticism and cunning." She leaned an elbow on the table and rested her face in one of her furry palms, staring into space wistfully as she gnawed the meat from one of the pale bones. "I wish I could be like that, leaping from tree to tree as silent as a whisper, bringing down prey before they're ever aware that I'm there. Every pack would want me to join them, none of the males would overlook me..."

Jules was surprised, he had expected there to be cultural differences between the different varieties of Borealans, but the Araxie seemed to have a society where one's value was based entirely on their ability to go unseen. It made sense, in a way. Stealth was a viable hunting strategy. They had probably selected for those traits during their evolution, and in a primitive society like this one, a person's value to the tribe was likely measured by how much meat they brought home. Their survival also seemed to depend on staying hidden and using guerrilla tactics to ward off their technologically superior enemies. It was easy to see how Zuki didn't live up to those ideals.

"There must be ways for you to make yourself useful that don't require you to be a hunter," he said, snapping her out of her daydream. She blinked at him, setting down her meal and pawing at it half-heartedly as she considered.

"There are lots of other jobs that are important. Preparing the meat, being a guard, making tools and clothes. I'm not especially good at any of those things. I'm not very good with my hands," she said as she flexed her thick fingers, each one tipped with a sharp claw.

"From what I know about Elysians and Rask," Jules continued as he fished another piece of ravioli out of the sauce, "they form packs based on who is the strongest and toughest. Is that not the case for Araxie?"

"That sounds rather barbaric," she chuckled, "I suppose it suits their demeanor. Here, the Alpha of a pack is the most well-liked, the most skilled and charismatic. They're usually divided along the lines of their professions. The most successful hunting pack is led by Roza, for example. Everyone likes him, he's the most skilled tracker in the village. Then the soldiers are led by Lozka, she's the best shot with a crossbow, and she's killed more Rask than anyone. She's so agile, and she's practically invisible when she wants to be. I bet she could take her pick of any male in the village."