Black Velvet

"One simply aims for the neck," Bozka replied, "there are many joints in the armor where weak points are exposed. Many do not have helmets such as yours, and our bolts can punch through Rask-forged plate armor."

"Yeah, those helmets are fucking expensive," Velez chuckled.

"These compound bows don't fuck around," Edwards added, "wouldn't surprise me if these things could fire a bolt at three or four hundred feet per second. You can hunt big game with them, no reason you couldn't use them in war. If it'll kill a moose, it'll probably kill a mad cat."

The Patriarch reached into a large quiver that was resting against one of the tables and withdrew a long arrow. Rather than an arrowhead at one end, it had what looked like a little bundle of cloth.

"This is what we use for sparring," Bozka said, brandishing the odd arrow. "It will not kill, but...it might hurt somewhat."

"Soft-tipped arrows?" Simmons asked, examining it more closely. He reached out and squashed the tip between his fingers. "Works for me. So, your guys can use these arrows, and we'll use the laser sights on our XMRs. There's no way to make a railgun fire slow enough that it won't be lethal, but if your guys see a green laser pointer on them, it means they have to play dead."

The Patriarch grinned, exposing his sharp teeth, Simmons returning the smile.

"This, I like," Bozka said. "Proving ourselves through combat rather than inspections. No offense, Mister Lambert."

"None taken," Jules replied.

***

The pack of Araxie stood in an orderly row, their features concealed beneath the hoods of their ghillie suits. All that Jules could make out were their green eyes, seeming to glow as they reflected the light. They wielded their massive crossbows, along with all manner of other weapons and tools that were strapped to their rigs and belts. They looked formidable, and for the first time, Jules began to wonder if the Marines would be able to come out on top in their little game. Maybe technology wasn't everything, this was their home turf, and they looked as disciplined as any UNN soldier.

"Any questions about the rules?" Simmons asked. "You can use any tool in your arsenal as long as it's non-lethal. If you're going to use blades, tap your target with the hilt, keep the cutting edge angled away. We don't want any accidents in the heat of the moment."

Bozka relayed the instructions in their own language to ensure that they understood, the aliens replying in unison with a guttural grunt of affirmation. They certainly behaved like soldiers, perhaps finding a place for them would be easier than Jules had first assumed.

The Marines were in full combat gear, their black armor plating layered over their Navy-blue suits, and their helmets secured with the visors down. Their XMRs were unloaded, but they still looked dangerous, the magnetic rings that lined the barrels glinting in the low light. Velez aimed his rifle at the nearest Araxie and switched on his laser sight, a glittering, green beam extending from a blocky device that was attached beneath the barrel to paint a bright target on the alien's chest.

"That means you're out," he said.

"And what of the Elysian?" Bozka asked, gesturing to Yuta. "She cannot use her powder rifle."

"She can use one of the Borealan-sized XMRs that you captured from the Rask," Simmons said, "one of them probably has a laser sight. It's this device here, see?"

"I will send for one," Bozka said, giving an order to one of the Araxie who then strode off into the village.

"We'll go out into the jungle first," Simmons continued, "then your guys will have to hunt us down. It'll give us a good idea of what they can do in a fight. Mister Lambert, you need to stay here. Even if we're using strictly non-lethal methods, there's still a danger that you could be injured."

"Of course," Jules replied, "I wasn't expecting to be conscripted. Though I wasn't quite sure, since you had me wear the armor," he added as he gestured to the heavy plating that he was wearing over his clothes. "It is a shame that I won't be able to see the Araxie's performance for myself, but I'll just have to rely on your report, Sergeant Simmons."

"Oh, but you can," the Marine said with a grin. "Why do you think I asked you to bring your armor with you?"

Simmons stepped forward and unclipped the helmet that was hanging from Jules' belt, securing it over his head and dropping the visor.

"In-picture squad view," the Sergeant said.

"Excuse me?"

"If we link all of the helmets up together over an ad-hoc wireless network, you'll be able to see a window that shows the view from each of our helmet cams. You can even switch between them and set one to full-screen mode. It's the same tech used for the in-picture sights on the XMRs. As long as you're within a certain range, it should work well, although there might be some interference from the jungle considering how dense it is. We just have to get you linked up..." He took Jules' wrist and began to navigate the menus, grumbling as he became frustrated. "Damned twenty character codes..." He brought up his own wrist display and began to type at it with a gloved finger. "You ever try to connect to a wireless network at a spaceport? I bet you have, you look like the business lounge type to me. Imagine that, but with military-grade encryption. There we go!"

A new symbol appeared on Jules' HUD, a little connectivity icon blinking up in the right corner.

"Welcome to the squad," Simmons said. "You can switch views through the menu here."

He tapped at the touch screen, and then three windows appeared, each one showing a different view from one of the Marines. They were tagged with the numbers that he had seen when he had been messing with the settings the first time. One of the views expanded as Simmons swiped, and Jules was amused to see himself, the view from Simmons' helmet making him feel as if he had just switched places with him.

"You got it?" Simmons asked.

"Yeah, this is great," Jules chuckled. "You think they'll notice if I just put this helmet in my suitcase and take it home with me?"

"Probably," Simmons laughed, "these things cost an arm and a leg."

By the time they were done setting up the helmet, the Araxie that Bozka had dispatched had returned with one of the recovered XMRs. She passed it to Yuta, who removed the magazine and looked the weapon over.

"Filthy Rask, it's not hard to keep these guns clean," she grumbled as she picked grains of sand out of the joints between the plastic housing with her claw. It did indeed have an under-barrel laser sight, and so it looked like they were good to go. "Someone must watch over my charge while I am gone," Yuta added, looking pointedly at Jules.

"I will see to his safety," Bozka replied.

"Right, let's get moving," Simmons said. The Marines followed behind him as he set off towards the nearest exit. "Give us a good half-hour's head start, then send your guys in after us."

***

Simmons parted the leaves of the waist-high ferns as he slowly advanced through the undergrowth, Edwards and Velez flanking him on the left and right. He raised a hand to his helmet, cycling through view modes using the physical controls.

"Nothing on the thermals," he said, his voice coming through with a crackle of static. He turned up the microphones, the onboard computer filtering out the louder sounds of jungle wildlife, enhancing the quieter footsteps and the rustling of the leaves. He switched back to night vision mode, casting the forest in shades of ghostly green.

Jules was seeing the world from the Marine's perspective, it was like watching someone play a videogame, the tension was palpable. It had been about fifteen minutes since the Araxie had left the village in pursuit of the squad, and the mock attack could come from any direction with no warning.

The view panned over to Yuta, who was aiming her XMR at the trees, her round ears swiveling independently of one another. She looked in Simmons' direction and shook her head, indicating that she hadn't seen anything.

Jules swiped over to Velez, the view from his camera expanding to fill the visor. Jules could see the tattoos on his forearms as he waved his weapon around, searching for their opponents.

The thermal cameras had revealed the hidden Araxie during their first encounter, and Jules wasn't sure if the aliens understood the technology. As requested, he hadn't revealed the details of how he had spotted the scouts, and he doubted that anyone else had either. How would the Araxie counter what was essentially a superpower that negated their most valuable asset, their stealth?

"Keep your eyes on the canopy," Edwards whispered, "that's where they'll be coming from."

"Hang on, picking something up," Simmons said. Jules quickly switched back to his view, watching as the Marine knelt close to the ground. "Disturbed soil, residual heat, something living came through here recently. Yuta, any ideas?"

The Elysian strode over to him, Simmons looking up as she crouched beside him on her digitigrade legs and pawed at the ground.

"These are Borealan footprints, for sure. The Araxie came through here, the tracks are fresh."

"Good, then they must have gone past us. We might be able to get the drop on them."

"It could be a trap," Velez warned, "keep your eyes open."

"Spread out in a line formation, ten-foot spacing," Simmons ordered as he rose to his feet and shouldered his rifle. "Make sure your tagging is on so you don't lose track of each other."

"What about Yuta?" Velez asked.

"I can smell you from half a mile away, and that goes double for you, Velez. I'll know where you are."

Edwards suppressed a laugh as they spread out, moving cautiously through the jungle, stepping over exposed roots and maneuvering around the thick trunks. The going was tough. In some places, the undergrowth was so dense that the Marines had to find another way around the obstruction. They couldn't even see each other besides for the identifying numbers that floated above their heads in a shade of vibrant blue.

There was a sudden yell as Edwards' window turned into a blur of motion, Jules quickly switching over to it.

"What's going on?" Simmons demanded. "Edwards? Report!"

His view was still blurred and erratic, the sound of rustling clothing and creaking branches joining his heavy breathing as he struggled and fought against something. When Jules could finally make out a clear picture, Edwards was upside-down and surrounded by leaves. Had he dropped his helmet? No, he was still looking around, there was some kind of mesh encasing him.

"I got caught in a fucking net," he said, grunting as he struggled to free himself. "I'm up in a tree!"

The other Marines began to pivot, switching between view modes as they checked the trees around them for movement. Infrared, night vision, they couldn't make out anything.

"I got something!" Velez shouted, then he cursed under his breath. "Ignore last, fucking birds..."

"There's no way they have eyes on us from any significant distance," Simmons said, "there are no clear lines of sight in this soup. If they can get a clear shot at us, then we'll see them on the thermals too."

On Velez's view, a red blob peeked out from behind one of the trunks, high in the branches of one of the trees. Against the blue and black hues of the jungle, it stood out like a sore thumb, Velez swinging his rifle towards it. There was a loud thud as one of the soft-tipped bolts impacted nearby, the Marine throwing himself into the cover of some raised roots as he strobed his laser at the figure.

"They're taking potshots at me, don't know if I hit 'em!"

Simmons was under fire now, too. Even without the benefit of invisibility, the Araxie were incredibly stealthy. They stayed out of sight until an opportunity presented itself, only visible in infrared, which in Jules' opinion made the gunfight incredibly disorienting. He couldn't make out the usual details that he could in full light or in the night vision mode, it was all colored blobs.

"Movement!" Velez shouted, sweeping his rifle across the canopy as an Araxie darted out from behind the cover of a tree trunk. Jules could see the colored handprints where it had gripped the wood, slowly fading into cooler shades as it moved away. It left footprints too, its body heat smearing the branches like its feet were soaked in orange paint. The laser swiped across its midsection, a volley that would have cut the fleeing figure in two if this was a real combat situation. "Got one!"

Simmons was still pinned, the bolts impacting the roots that he was hiding behind with alarming force. It was a good job that the Marines had armor on, it would have been like getting hit with a riot control bean bag otherwise.

He tapped at his helmet, enabling the in-picture scope function, the view from his XMR's sights appearing on his HUD in a window. He slammed his shoulder against the roots, lifting his rifle over his head, aiming over the cover while keeping his body concealed. There were two of the Araxie in his sights, their body heat giving them away as they lurked in the dense leaves, their ghillie suits making them all but invisible to the naked eye. A laser pointer appeared on the chest of one, then the head of the other, the two Araxie ceasing their attack and lowering their crossbows.

"I got two of 'em," Simmons said, "there should be three left."

Velez was now taking cover behind a tree, glancing around erratically as he searched for targets. His view jerked suddenly, Velez yelling in surprise and apparently pain as his hand shot to his neck, and he let his rifle hang from its sling.

"Fuck! I got shot in the neck, I'm out." One of the Araxie had scored a good hit on him, just like with the Rask, they knew to aim for the joints between the armor. "God damn, that hurts like a motherfucker."

Simmons emerged from cover, making his way over to his squadmate, guided by the glowing tag on his HUD. He must be moving to take out the Araxie that had shot Velez. He jogged, keeping his weapon shouldered, turning his head this way and that as he cycled view modes. Thermal was great for firing, but not for navigating the dense jungle.

He paused at the base of a tree to catch his breath, and then his microphones picked something up. It would have been inaudible to human ears, but not to the sensitive equipment, the scraping of claws on wood immediately alerting him. Simmons turned to face the trunk and aimed up into the branches. One of the Araxie had been slowly creeping down the tree towards him, hanging upside-down as it used its claws to grip the bark. It would have plucked him off the ground and taken him out if he hadn't heard it. He flashed the laser at its face, the alien dropping to the forest floor with far less noise than something so heavy should have made.

"Got you," Simmons said, turning and making his way towards Velez again as his assailant sat down and grumbled to themselves. After a moment, he arrived at his location, the tattooed Marine sitting idly at the foot of a tree with his XMR resting across his lap.

"Which way did it come from?" Simmons asked, looking down the sight of his gun as he searched the trees.

"Can't tell you, Sarge. I'm dead," he replied as Simmons looked back to see him run his thumb across his throat and stick his tongue out dramatically.

There was a sudden commotion as something large and heavy smashed through the undergrowth to their right, snapping branches and kicking up dirt, Simmons turning to watch as Yuta emerged from between the trees. She toppled head over heels, wrestling with what looked like a bush. No, that was an Araxie. It must have tried to sneak up on her, and she had denied them their easy kill. They were fighting like two alley cats, wrestling and rolling around, screeching and hissing angrily. The Araxie leapt to their feet and threw off their cloak, exposing their shining, black fur. It was a male, and he crouched low, flexing his claws as his green eyes fixed on Yuta.

The muscular Elysian had taken a defensive posture, ready to grapple as the two faced off. Jules wasn't even there, but he could feel the power that they radiated, the weight. It was like watching two angry Siberian tigers settling a dispute. He was a little worried for them, the aliens played rough, and Yuta was apparently accustomed to violence. Hopefully, she didn't get carried away and cut her opponent to ribbons.

The Araxie leapt at her, but it was a feint. He dug his clawed paws into the dirt, rapidly changing direction. Despite his weight, he was so light on his feet, almost like he was floating above the ground without even making contact with it. His flexible, sinewy body weaved through the jungle like a snake, the bulkier Elysian struggling to keep up. He got behind her and pounced onto her back, closing an arm around her throat as if to choke her into submission.

Yuta was having none of it, bellowing as she reached behind her back and gripped her assailant by the scruff of the neck, using her superior strength to drag him over her shoulders and slam him to the ground with a monumental thud. She pinned him with her weight, straddling him as he rolled onto his back and tried to get up, pressing her fuzzy forearm into his neck. He gripped her arm, but she was too strong, his claws leaving red welts in her exposed skin as he struggled.

The Araxie slowly relaxed as he realized that he couldn't escape her, Yuta's pale skin dripping with sweat, her ample chest heaving as she glared down at him with her amber eyes. Her gaze lingered a little too long, her thighs tightening around his writhing body, the Borealan wetting her pink lips with her long tongue.

"That's enough, Yuta," Simmons said, his words snapping her out of it. "He's out for the count."

She hesitated for a moment, almost as if she was considering ignoring the order, and then she released the Araxie and stood over him. She extended a hand, and he took it, her bicep bulging from beneath her damp skin as she pulled him upright. The Araxie rubbed his throat, but he seemed otherwise unharmed.

Yuta yowled suddenly as a well-aimed bolt hit her in the back of the head, bouncing off her skull like a foam dart. She spun around and snarled angrily at the forest, her assassin out of sight.

Now it was just Simmons and the last Araxie, the walking dead retreating out of the line of fire, Yuta rubbing the back of her head with a scowl on her face as the dark-furred male tried not to laugh at her. It was more than his life was worth.

Through Simmons' helmet cam, Jules could see the residual heat left over from where the Araxie had sniped Yuta, the imprints of their hands and feet fading into a duller shade of orange. It made a trail, Simmons following it with his rifle at the ready as he moved deeper into the trees. He checked the ground every so often, searching for disturbed soil or residual heat, wary of more nets and traps.

The attack could come from any angle, and Simmons didn't have eyes in the back of his head, but at least the rapidly fading heat trail gave him some idea of what direction his quarry might have fled in. There was a sudden rustle of leaves as an explosion of reds and oranges drew Simmons' attention, but it was just birds, the mass of heat signatures breaking up into smaller blobs as the animals dispersed into the air.

Although he had only allowed himself to become distracted for a scant moment, his opponent took full advantage, the sound of snapping twigs and rustling undergrowth alerting Simmons that something large was racing towards him from behind. The alien was too fast. By the time he had swung his XMR around and brought it to bear, the hilt of an Araxie blade was pressing against his belly. Simmons raised his hands, admitting defeat as the alien drew back and sheathed its knife. That thing was the size of a sword, if this had been a real fight, Simmons' guts would be all over the forest floor right now.