Black Velvet

The creature seemed taken aback, and Jules couldn't help but feel that he had gained the upper hand over the situation. The initial fear and tension had been diffused, and now the alien was just standing there looking rather foolish and unprepared.

"I...take you back to village," the alien said. He noted that its voice was low, almost like it was whispering. "Patriarch of Araxie request you, we take. Come."

The rest of the Araxie began to descend from the trees all around the clearing, each one of them dressed in similar garb. They flooded down from the canopy with the same silent grace, sliding down the gnarled trunks and using their claws for purchase. It looked as if an army of shrubs were launching an attack. Jules looked around, trying to conceal his alarm. There had been even more of them hidden in the trees than he had first assumed. The aliens were so quiet, stealthy. If the Marines or the Ranger had mistakenly fired on them...

Simmons led the others out from between the raised roots, the Marines slinging their rucksacks over their shoulders, Edwards pausing to collect their lantern. Rather than folding it up and stowing it in his pack, he held it by the handle and used it to light their way in the darkness, perhaps not fully trusting the motives of these Araxie. Jules could sympathize, their ways were certainly strange, but not so strange as to be out of place or unexpected on this alien planet.

The stranger led them through the jungle, his comrades boxing them in on all sides. Jules wasn't quite sure whether they were being escorted or guarded. The aliens seemed to blend into the scenery if he lost track of them for even a moment, the camouflaged specters vanishing into the background like characters in a magic eye puzzle. No wonder the Rask had described them as ghosts, they were nigh invisible when they wanted to be. If it hadn't been for the thermal cameras on the helmets, the party would never have figured out that they were being observed until the Araxie had chosen to reveal themselves.

In a way, it was a form of diplomacy. Observe and study, wait for the most opportune moment to make contact for maximum impact. Awe, intimidate, take the lead in the negotiations. Thanks to the helmets, now Jules was in control. The aliens had been exposed before they were ready to play their hand, and it had thrown a spanner in the works.

The Araxie dodged and weaved through the jungle, their feet scarcely seeming to touch the ground. This was their domain, and it was hard for him to keep up. Yuta was similarly accustomed to traversing these environments, and the Marines fared a little better, but they had to stop after a while to let Jules catch his breath. He leaned against a tree and took a long draw from one of the canteens, Simmons foisting more sugary sports drinks on him, along with more of the strange honey. Jules wasn't a fitness buff, but it was probably full of sugars and electrolytes, things that would keep him hydrated and energized.

As he drank from the bottle of unnaturally blue liquid, he took the opportunity to examine the Araxie more closely. The one who had first descended from the trees was nearby, lurking just beyond the glow that was cast by the lantern like a vampire afraid of the sunlight. It was definitely a Borealan. He could make out a furry, black tail protruding from the cloak, and beneath the leafy hem were a pair of paw-like feet. They were clawed, identical to those of Yuta save for the darker coloration of its coat.

"They're like ghillie suits," Velez volunteered, startling Jules as he leaned in to whisper from behind.

"Ghillie suits?" Jules replied, wiping his mouth with the back of his sleeve before fastening the cap.

"Yeah, they're camouflaged suits used by snipers and scouts, designed to make you blend into the environment. They're covered in strips of cloth or replica foliage, breaks up your silhouette, makes you look like you're just part of the scenery. Can't hide them from the thermal sensors on the helmets though," he said as he tapped his visor with a gloved finger. "I wonder what kind of weapons they use, I don't see any rifles..."

Jules glanced over at the nearest alien, its green eyes reflecting the light as they peered back at him, making them seem to glow in the gloom. The ghillie suits, as Velez had called them, were certainly intricate. There were pieces of dyed fabric woven into the mesh to give the appearance of leaves, and there were even some real pieces of foliage that looked like they had been sourced from the local environment.

Simmons slid in from the side, taking a seat beside the pair as he glanced between them conspiratorially, taking his sports drink back from Jules and stowing it in his pack.

"Where are they leading us, Velez?" he whispered. "Do you still have a connection to the GPS satellites?"

"Affirmative, Sarge. They're leading us pretty far from the original coordinates, and they're swerving all over the place, I've been keeping track. If I had to guess, I'd say that they're trying to make us lose our bearings, but I don't think they know that we have global positioning."

"Either they don't want us to be able to find our way back, or they're really anal about keeping the location of their village a secret," Simmons mused. "We can call a dropship down right on top of us if we need to, but they don't have to know that right now. Let's keep our lips sealed for the time being, don't give them any unsolicited information about our tech or our capabilities, we've already seen how our thermal optics caught them off-guard. We might need to get out of here in a hurry, so having them think we're lost and helpless works to our advantage. You too, Mister Lambert. Don't show them so much as a tablet computer or a watch if you can avoid it."

"Understood," Jules said with a nod. As uncertain as their situation was, things were starting to become rather exciting. "There's something else that's bothering me, Sergeant Simmons," he continued. "These Borealans speak English, or at least some of them do, albeit in a somewhat limited capacity. How did they learn the language while being completely isolated from outside influences?"

"There's a lot that doesn't make sense here," Simmons muttered under his breath. "Perhaps when we reach our destination, we'll finally get some answers. In any case, keep up the good work Mister Lambert, that was a good call you made back there."

Jules nodded, pride welling in his chest. Simmons moved over to where Edwards and Yuta were sitting, the three talking in hushed voices as he relayed the plan. So, all Jules had to do now was play dumb? That should be easy enough, he didn't know half of the technological capabilities of the equipment that the Marines used himself, and so there was little danger of him blowing their cover.

After a few more minutes, Simmons ordered them to move out, and the ghillie suited Araxie led them off into the darkness of the jungle once more.

***

They trudged through the dense undergrowth for what felt like hours, Jules' joints aching as though he had been carrying around a rucksack full of bricks. All he wanted to do was get under a stream of cool water and wash off the layer of sweat that clung to him, but he doubted very much that the Araxie had any shower cubicles on hand.

Suddenly, the lead Araxie stopped them, its cloak rustling as it extended an arm and gestured for them to halt. Its limb was covered in black fur, and even the pads on its clawed fingers were jet black, in contrast to Yuta's pink.

"From here, you must walk in my footprints," it warned. "The same steps."

The Marines exchanged glances, then tightened their formation, following in a line behind the alien as it led them forwards. Yuta was at the rear, just behind Jules, he could feel her eyes on his back. She had been watching him like a hawk the whole way, like she didn't want to be more than a few feet away from him lest he need her to pull him out of some proverbial fire.

The Araxie took a winding path over what looked like relatively clear terrain, there were fewer trees here, and there was a carpet of dense ferns covering the ground. Jules' first instinct would have been to walk straight across, but he didn't take the ominous warning lightly, tracing Edwards' footsteps as the Marine marched ahead of him. To their left and right, the other Araxie were taking similarly circuitous routes, seemingly committed to memory.

"Feels like I'm walking across a minefield," Edwards muttered, glancing back over his shoulder at Jules. "My guess is traps, we must be getting close to their HQ. These guys really don't like uninvited guests..."

Jules glanced about the meadow warily, trying to spot anything that might give away a tripwire or a pitfall. What kind of traps would the Araxie make?

"There," Yuta hissed, pointing with a clawed finger. "The soil has been disturbed."

He followed her finger and looked to where she was pointing, but it took him a minute to spot what she was referring to. There did indeed seem to be some misplaced soil, a few of the black specks clinging to the tops of the fronds of the ferns were it didn't belong. She had eyes like a damned eagle, he would never have noticed if she hadn't pointed it out, certainly not without the light from the lantern. The Araxie had dug a pit somewhere nearby, perhaps they had filled it with sharpened sticks to impale the unwary, or maybe they would simply rely on gravity to do the job. Considering the higher gravity on Borealis and the sheer weight of the Borealans, a fall like that could do them some serious damage, regardless of how dense their bones were.

He lurched suddenly as something lifted him off the ground. When he got his bearings, he saw a pair of fuzzy arms cradling him like an oversized baby, and he looked up to see Yuta's face peering down at him.

"W-what are you doing?" he stammered. He struggled, but she was inhumanly strong, keeping a tight grip on him. After a moment, he felt her pointed claws press into him through his clothes, and he tensed up. It was a clear warning to stop his fidgeting.

"It is dangerous," she replied tersely, "and you are clumsy."

"I'm perfectly capable of walking on my own," he protested, but she ignored his complaints.

"I was ordered by my Patriarch to keep the humans safe. You are the most vulnerable and the least experienced human. If you should stumble and fall into a trap, I would be disgraced before my Alpha and my Alpha's Alpha. I would lose standing."

Edwards stifled a laugh as he looked back over his shoulder at the pair, then he turned his attention back to the path, careful not to deviate from the trail. It was no use arguing with the Ranger, and so Jules swallowed his pride, taking advantage of his newfound elevation to observe the movements of the nearby Araxie. They were coordinated, moving as a cohesive group despite how spread out some of them were. It was hard to see much beyond the limits of the light cast by the lantern, the long shadows dancing as it waved back and forth in Edwards' hand, but he could make them out a lot more easily when he switched his helmet to infrared.

The Araxie at the head of their group came to a stop before a wall of tangled vines and creepers. It looked like the growth had spread between the trunks of two large trees, and the undergrowth here was even denser than usual, to the point that it appeared quite impassable. The wall extended all the way into the canopy, and it didn't look like there was a way around. The jungle to either side of this natural barrier was too dense for even a small human to squeeze past.

As Jules watched, the lead alien reached out with one of its furred hands, parting the vines like a curtain. Jules caught a scant glimpse of what lay beyond before the creature vanished inside, and the vines fell back into place behind it, melding into the background as though it had never been there at all. He used his helmet to peer through the darkness at the rest of the Araxie, seeing that they too were vanishing into their own respective curtains of vines that were spaced out around the forest. It played tricks on the eye, one second they were there, and then they weren't. Even knowing that these secret entrances were here, they were so well camouflaged, and they blended so expertly with the scenery that Jules doubted whether he would be able to locate them a second time. In combination with the traps, stumbling across this location would be practically impossible.

Yuta set her ward down on the ground, moving to the front of the small procession of humans.

"Stay behind me," she said, reaching out to pull back the curtain. It took some effort, Jules could see that the weight of it surprised her, which indicated that it was probably woven from real vines and plants rather than being some kind of elaborate facade. She poked her head through, looked around for a moment, then gestured for the humans to enter as she held it open for them.

They emerged into an open space that was perhaps the size of a football field, but more rounded in shape, the night sky visible above them in places where the canopy was thinnest. The thick trunks of the ancient trees that encircled the clearing looked as large and as strong as the buttresses of any fortress, curtains of vines, and other smaller plants bridging the gaps between them where they weren't so densely packed so as to be impassable. The jungle enclosed them on all sides, like a natural wall that kept the clearing out of view and protected from the outside world.

The interior wasn't completely clear of trees, however. It was like the difference between the unchecked growth of a wild forest, and a carefully tended orchard. The stout trunks were spaced out in a way that seemed artificial, likely planted and tended by the Araxie.

That wasn't all. Built around the bases of the gigantic trees were clusters of buildings, nestled between their roots. At first glance, they almost reminded Jules of beaver dams or maybe bird nests, but this was yet another facade. They were far more sophisticated than they first appeared, dome-shaped, with rounded roofs that were strewn with leaves and other concealing plant matter sourced from the forest that served to disguise their true nature. They were built from sturdy wood, squat, but clearly very structurally sound. There were no windows, only a solitary door on each dwelling. The structures appeared to be about the right size to accommodate several people of Borealan stature.

From the air, this would have looked like any other patch of forest. It was no wonder that the satellites hadn't seen anything out of the ordinary. It was as if they had draped a gigantic ghillie suit over their entire village.

"Guess we found their base of operations," Simmons muttered.

"Coordinates locked," Velez whispered, "one button press and I can broadcast its location to Command."

"Do it," Simmons said with a nod, "let them know our new coordinates."

Jules couldn't help but feel a little guilty after overhearing the exchange, but it wasn't as if the Araxie had laid out the red carpet for them. Trust had to go both ways, and the Araxie had shown them nothing but suspicion thus far.

"How big do you reckon those trees are?" Edwards asked.

"That's got to be at least a couple of hundred feet tall," Jules replied as he craned his neck to look up at the canopy. "Maybe fifty feet around the trunk."

"Their tech level looks low," Edwards continued as they proceeded deeper into the village, turning his head to take in the strange scenery. "All wooden huts, no electricity that I can see, no comms gear."

"It resembles one of the more remote Ranger outposts from deep inside the Elysian jungles," Yuta said, "but we are still members of the Elysian territory. We still trade in goods and technology, the hunting posts are just too far from the city to benefit from many of its amenities. This is even more remote, more isolated."

The Araxie that had escorted them fanned out now, perhaps returning to their posts or maybe their homes, leaving only one alien to lead them onwards. There was nobody else in view, no villagers peeking out from the doorways of their wooden huts, not one person going about their daily business. Were they hiding?

Jules activated the trusty heat sensor on his visor and looked around the village, searching for clues as to the whereabouts of its inhabitants. The first thing that stood out to him was that many of the wooden dwellings had heat sources inside them that looked like fires. The aliens must use them for cooking, because there was no way that anyone needed to warm themselves in this stifling, soupy hellscape. He hadn't seen any plumes of smoke, which would undoubtedly give the location of the village away, so that meant that they must have a method to make smokeless fire. Jules was no outdoorsman, but such a thing was likely possible with the right fuel and the proper conditions.

There was nobody moving around inside the houses, nobody tending the fires that he could see. The structures in the village were cold and deserted. Were they out hunting, maybe?

He felt Edwards nudge him with his elbow, and Jules turned his head to see the Marine pointing at the treetops. Jules looked up to see a mass of heat signatures nestled within the canopy. The Araxie had all fled to the branches like cats escaping a dog. There were dozens of them up there, maybe hundreds, peering down warily at the intruders from a safe height.

Their guide led them deeper into the trees towards what felt like the center of the village, until a far larger structure came into view. This one was constructed all the way around the base of one of the trees, ringing it and extending a short distance up its trunk. There were two guards posted at the door, these ones also clad in a camouflaged cape that obscured their features, long spears clasped in their hands. The weapons were maybe twelve feet long, enormous by human standards, and they were tipped with wicked spearheads that seemed to be made from metal.

"Hang on," Velez muttered as they approached the building's large door. "Look at those spears..."

"What about them?" Edwards asked.

"Don't you recognize the tips? Those are the bayonets used on XMRs, the ones configured for use by Borealans."

"Holy shit, you're right," Edwards hissed under his breath. "What the fuck are they doing with those? I thought they had no contact with the outside world? How did they get their hands on UNN weaponry?"

"I have a feeling we're about to meet the head honcho," Simmons interjected. "When we get inside, let Mister Lambert do the talking. That's what he's here for."

They all nodded their understanding, Jules along with them.

Their cloaked guide opened the door with a creak, and they stepped through into a dingy room. Jules took his helmet off and stowed it under his arm, wanting to make a good first impression when they were introduced to the Araxie leader. Diplomacy could not be conducted from behind an opaque visor.

The structure was large even by Borealan standards, the ceiling perhaps twenty feet above their heads, the wooden support beams and rafters that anchored it to the gnarled trunk of the tree shrouded in darkness. There was a gentle slope to it, perhaps designed to let rain and moisture run off the roof, and there wasn't a window in sight.

Calling it dimly lit would be an understatement. The only light came from hanging lanterns that were suspended from the ceiling on lengths of knotted rope. They resembled the thuribles that you might find in a church, but instead of burning incense, these seemed to house candles. They did such a poor job of illuminating the room that it almost seemed pointless. Their flickering glow cast dancing shadows on the wooden walls, and as Jules' eyes adjusted to the darkness, he was finally able to make out some more detail.