“Nope,” Jason enunciated as they stepped off the Whisker’s cargo ramp, bracing himself against the biting Gurathu chill. “No bars.”

Three weeks spent in space made him appreciate being on-planet all the more. If he thought being cooped up in the Crucible had been bad, living in the close confines of the Whisker was infinitely worse. It wasn’t intolerable or anything, but after the first week, he’d definitely been feeling more than a little stir crazy. Something Assisse had warned him might happen while he was acclimatizing to ship life.

Sure things had gotten a little better ever since Kernathu had realized he actually had uses beyond standing around looking pretty, but even that could only go so far.

Point was, he was glad to breathe some air that hadn’t been breathed, farted out and then recycled a good dozen times before it reached him.

“What do you mean, ‘no bars’?” Rocket whined as she gripped his arm, getting glares from everyone else as she not-so-subtly buried the appendage in her fairly modest – by Shil’vati standards – cleavage.

Jason rolled his eyes, but didn’t bother retracting the offending limb. Complicated comparisons between the shuttle pilot and Raisha aside, it wasn’t as if he disliked the sensation. Hell, he’d damn near given in to her flirting a good half-dozen times during the patrol.

He hadn’t though.

Even if he knew Raisha expected him to seek out other women, it still felt… odd to his human sensibilities. He knew he’d shake them eventually, as his libido or his rationality got the better of him, but for now, he was going without.

Much to Rocket’s disappointment.

“I mean, I’m not heading to a bar,” Jason said simply, well aware that he had half the crew’s eyes on him. And he was reasonably sure it was only half because Tisi, Kernathu, Cerilla and Assisse had hung back to complain about the B-Crew’s poor maintenance of the Whisker, lest Kernathu – and him, he supposed – return to find several key tasks forgotten when they returned in three weeks.

He and the crew wouldn’t be off for the entirety of those three weeks, because even a crew-in-port had jobs to do, but three weeks in space mandated extra-leave on the return. Which Rocket and the others wanted to celebrate by immediately hitting up the nearest bar.

“It’s a… tradition,” Rocket said, tugging ineffectually on his arm.

“No, it’s not,” Glider said, as they stepped across the car park and towards the public transit terminal. “Don’t lie to the human because you’re trying to get lucky.”

Rocket looked positively affronted, at being caught in her lie or sold out by her fellow pilot, Jason couldn’t say. A mixture of both in all likelihood. She turned her eyes plaintively on him, clearly now trying an emotional appeal where a logical one failed.

“Nope,” Jason shot her down instantly. “My last three bar visits went poorly. The first time got me conscripted into the military - after I got into a drunken fist fight with an off-duty marine. The second… some stuff with the Interior happened. And the third, I ended up puking Red-Grain all over some Shil’vati businesswoman’s apartment.”

And it had been a very nice and no doubt very expensive apartment. He’d cleaned it up as best he could, using what he could find, but in the end had decided that discretion was the better part of valor and skipped out before his evening’s host had awoken from last night’s ‘engagement’.

He’d consoled himself with the fact that if he hadn’t, he would have been late for his appointment with Raisha and her family, but he still felt pretty shitty about the whole thing. For a number of different reasons. Not least of all his complete lack of self-control the moment a drop of alcohol entered his system and the aforementioned hang-up about ‘cheating’ on his girlfriend.

A girlfriend who was who knows how many lightyears away right now. One he still needed to find a way to send a message to, given that his location was technically ‘classified’, which meant no mail, in or out. One final fuck-you from whoever had stranded him here.

“Come on, nothing like that’ll happen this time,” Rocket continued. “We’ll be with you.”

“Thanks, but no thanks,” Jason said, finally extracting his arm from the cozy embrace it had been in. “I’m just not interested.”

Rocket looked like she was about to try again, but Scales interrupted her.

“Just leave it you dolt,” the shivering lizard woman said. The grey skinned alien was wrapped up in so many coats she looked like she was a walking fabric cocoon. Yet even through the scarf wrapped tightly around her face, Jason could see that the faintly aristocratic woman was miserable and shivering. “Leave him alone and go to the transit terminal to get our bus! Preferably before I freeze my tail off.”

Rocket looked momentarily offended, but after a glance at Scales thunderous expression, quickly jogged off to do exactly that.

“Thanks Scales,” Jason said.

The woman gave him what might have been a shrug under her coat covering. “Rocket’s a good girl, but can be a bit headstrong. Sometimes you’ve got to be firm to get her to stop badgering you.” The woman sneezed. “Plus, I wasn’t lying. I really do want to get to the Pink Boy and out of this cold as fast as possible.” She eyed him up and down. “Though it is a shame, you aren’t coming.”

Behind her, Glider said nothing, determinedly staring off into the middle distance, but the way her long ears dipped slightly suggest that she might have felt the same.

I didn’t know they could move, Jason mused as he watched them twitch in the cold air. The ship’s pilot noticed him looking, and seemed to shrink in on herself.

Rapidly averting his gaze from what he knew was a sore topic for the woman, he focused on the crunching of snow beneath his feet as he shifted about in an attempt to keep blood flowing to his extremities. The bodysuits they wore were pretty fantastic insulators, even though they couldn't completely keep out the planet’s natural chill.

Glancing over, he saw Rocket was gingerly tapping away at the Transport Terminal’s screen, which would summon an automated self-driving bus over to them for a tiny fee. As he watched the short pilot shivering in the cold, he momentarily considered joining them on their trip to the bar. Not just because it would be the sociable thing to do, but because it would get him out of the cold faster than waiting for the next bus to arrive.

As he watched a large vehicle pull out from a nearby squat structure and begin rumbling down the road towards them, he considered what else he’d be doing tonight if he didn’t get on that bus?

Hanging out at the barracks? Reading old tech manuals, he decided.

By his old standards that wasn’t a bad way to spend a day, but after the last three weeks, he wanted to be out and do something. It just so happened to be that said thing wasn’t getting drunk in a bar.

And invariably sleep with some Shil’vati because of my horrific lack of self-control, he grumbled internally.

“I am heading out on a hunting trip.”

He nearly jumped out of his skin at the sound of the voice behind him. Yaro stood there, completely nonplussed by his reaction. Calming his beating his heart, he tried not to glare at the Rakiri. For such big creatures, they sure could move quietly. Though he had yet to figure out if that was a Rakiri thing or a Yaro thing.

“You hunt?” he asked.

Yaro nodded. “All Rakiri hunt.”

Coming from anyone else he might have taken that response as sarcastic. Coming from Yaro it was just a statement of fact. He was pretty sure he could ask her what color the sky was, and she’d respond with all seriousness that it was blue. Then she’d probably ask if he needed medical aid, but that was neither here nor there.

Point was, his interest was piqued. He hadn’t been hunting in… well, it had been a while.

“…Would it be ok if I joined you?”

“I would not have mentioned it if I did not intend to offer,” the alien said. “It reflects well on you that you have accepted. Rakiri consider the art of the hunt to be of utmost importance. The notion that many sapients go their entire lives without ever eating something they have slain with their own claws is… odd to us.”

Even as he nodded, he couldn’t help but notice that Rocket had returned while they were talking, and now looked a little queasy. Which was all kinds of odd to him, given that he knew for a fact that her shuttle had a laser pod slung under the nose. Yet somehow the notion of hunting had the woman looking ill.

Weird.

“Well, I’d love to come with,” Jason said, turning his attention back to Yaro. “It’s been too long since I’ve engaged in the ‘art of the hunt’.”

Truth be told, he also wanted to get to know Yaro a bit more. Despite the fact that they’d spent three weeks on the same ship, they hadn’t really spoken. If they were together, he was usually with someone else, and the soft-spoken alien seemed more content to let her purple colleagues speak than do so herself.

“Be careful. Don’t get him eaten by anything,” Glider instructed as the bus arrived.

Jason resisted the urge to roll his eyes. He didn’t need a babysitter.

It wasn’t worth arguing about though. It was just the classic Shil’vati thing where the male needed ‘protection’. Sure, he knew it wasn’t founded in maliciousness or even conscious thought really, but it was annoying as hell.

Yaro glanced over his shoulder. “If he is accustomed to hunting, I’m sure our new pack-mate is capable of taking care of himself, but I will endeavor to ensure his safety regardless.”

In that moment, he could have hugged the big werewolf-catwoman – and not just because it was freezing outside, and her fur coat looked plush and warm as hell.

Spirits buoyed, he nearly missed it as the Rakiri suddenly turned around and started silently walking back toward the car park.

Glancing at Glider for an explanation, she just shrugged. “She’ll do that. It’s a Rakiri thing. Hello and goodbye aren’t big things for them.” She cocked her head slightly, sending her ears to jiggling. “It’s why I told her to look out for you. The captain went hunting with her once and nearly got lost a half-dozen times because Yaro kept silently wandering off.”

Mentally apologizing to Glider for his earlier thoughts, he made a mental note to keep a close eye on his guide lest he end up lost and alone on an alien ice-planet. He gave the pilot a quick goodbye before jogging after the Rakiri.

“So how are we getting… wherever we’re going?” he asked as he pulled up beside her.

“There is an area on the outskirts of the colony that my family owns the hunting rights to.” Yaro said without preamble. “As for how, my car of course.”

The pair stepped once more onto a car-park filled with vehicles that wouldn’t have looked too out of place on Earth. Sure, they were a bit more rugged-looking than your average motor vehicle, but aside from that, all the basic components were the same. Cab, doors, wheels. A few beats bigger than average, but that was only to be expected given the relative species size difference.

He didn’t know why that surprised him though. Thinking about it, he’d half been expecting Yaro to be riding around on some kind of beast of burden. Which made no sense when he gave it more than a moment’s thought. It was obvious that the Rakiri were an advanced race. Yet, he kept looking at them and equating the fur, fangs, and facepaint, and assuming they were… cruder.

Apparently, just like the Shil’vati, he had his own preconceptions to work through.

Fortunately, Yaro hadn’t noticed his surprise. Or if she had, had chosen not to comment on it. Which from what he’d seen of her, would be totally in keeping with her personality. While the crew oft slung jabs at each other, much like a group of human guys might, Yaro never responded in kind. She simply laughed along.

Moving to stand next to a squat grey vehicle that was fairly encrusted with ice, she pulled out a pair of keys.

“Shall we?”

“This is it?” Jason asked as he stared out into the forest around them. He was pretty sure the correct term was taiga, but that didn’t quite convey the sheer mass of gnarled looking trees before him. “I have to admit, I didn’t expect it would all be so… flush.”

“Spots like this exist,” Yaro said as she moved around to the back of her car. “Plants and animals alike flourish under the protective gaze of the mountains around them, warmed by the blood of the earth beneath them.”

Jason just nodded mentally translating that to mountainous windbreak and geothermal vents. As he did, his attention shifted to where the Rakiri was popping open the trunk of her car.

“Huh,” he mused as Yaro pulled out a long rifle. “I have to admit, part of me was worried you were expecting me to hunt barehanded.”

It was a silly thing to think in retrospect, but throughout the mostly silent trip over here, his mind had kept going back to Yaro’s earlier comment about using ‘her own claws’. Certainly, just looking at the massive cat-like woman, he could well believe that she was capable of hunting without tools.

She glanced at him as she looped the weapon’s strap across her shoulder. “You won’t?”

The alien’s voice was a mixture of disbelief and disappointment.

Jason stared back at her. “Uh, no?”

Yaro’s ears flipped back against her head in a surprisingly dog-like motion. “Oh- I apologize. I had thought-” She shook her head. “Never mind.”

She reached into the trunk, pulling out another weapon of the same make as her own. Jason took it, and now that it was in his hands, was surprised to see that it wasn’t a laser weapon.

“A coil-gun?” he asked, shifting the gun about to look at the loading mechanism. “Bolt-action too.”

Not a bad way to make an essentially silent gun. The thing was fairly large and cumbersome in his hands, but he figured he could still use it. At least, provided the thing didn’t fire at ridiculous speeds. Which he doubted, given that doing so would defeat the purpose of making a silent weapon.

“Sub-sonic munition?” he asked.

“Yes,” Yaro said, sounding utterly unsurprised by the question. Which was a nice change of pace from the way most Shil’vati reacted to him knowing things ‘beyond his station’.

It was also nice to know that he wouldn’t be breaking his shoulder if he attempted to fire this thing. Most people assumed – if they ever gave the topic any thought - that because a rail or coil gun lacked an explosive gunpowder element, the thing would be recoilless. What they were forgetting was that every action had an equal and opposite reaction. When a coilgun propelled an object forward, the force involved in doing so would try and force the weapon system backward.

Fortunately, given the relatively small size and low speed of the object in this case, said recoil would be negligible.

“Shil’vati may enjoy laser-weaponry, but such weapons have a tendency to ruin the meat,” Yaro explained as Jason checked the breach and sights.

By spreading it evenly over a three-square meter area, I imagine, he thought.

“A higher beam power would avoid the explosive vaporization problem,” he pointed out as Yaro handed him a bandoleer.

The small strap left him stumped for a moment, before he realized it was supposed to go around his thigh. An odd choice, but he supposed that must have been how the Rakiri did it. Still, the thing was large enough that he could comfortably fit it around his waist like a belt, after he’d unspooled it a bit.

“Certainly, but at the cost of stopping power,” Yaro said, glancing curiously at where he strapped his bandoleer, but choosing not to comment on it. “Something that can be of value should the hunter find themselves hunted.”

That comment sent a shiver down his spine. He wasn’t unfamiliar with the notion of animals fighting back. After all, whenever you went on the hunt, you were entering the food-chain - and man’s position as apex-predator on that chain was relative. No, the reason he was worried was because Yaro just implied that they might encounter something that would give a Rakiri trouble. Given that he’d put pretty good odds on a Rakiri coming out on top against a grizzly, that didn’t exactly bode well for his own chances should something get the drop on him.

“You know, you haven’t exactly mentioned what it is we’ll be hunting out here,” Jason said with forced casualness.

To be fair, just like the gun thing, he probably should have asked on the ride over, but to be honest, he’d been enjoying the comfortable silence between them. After spending nearly three weeks surrounded by Shil’vati who happened to keep ‘bumping into him’ at all hours of the day, a little time spent in relative silence was a thing to be savored.

“Mostly just Wetora and Goobraks. Small marsupials and birds respectively.”

Jason let out a sigh of relief he didn’t know he’d been holding, ignoring the way Yaro cocked her head at him. Evidently, there was nothing that required ‘stopping power’ around here. Yaro had probably been referring to something on the Rakiri homeworld.

Still, it never hurt to confirm that fact.

“So, nothing dangerous out here?” he confirmed.

Yaro shook her head. “Wetora can become aggressive when cornered. Though given their small size, that hardly makes them dangerous. Should an attack occur, the greatest blow would be to the hunter’s pride. No, both of our prey today are herbivores by nature, subsisting on the roots of the hardy plants that call this region home.” She cocked her head. “Though neither are opposed to scavenging from the fallen bodies of the other, should the opportunity arise.”

He could see that. They were probably like deer who, despite being herbivores, would still eat meat if the opportunity arose. A bit of a disturbing image to be sure, but few animals in nature would pass up the opportunity for a free meal, even if it was outside of their usual diet.

He was just about to ask about some other characteristics of the animals, when he realized that Yaro was already walking towards the woods, the massive alien moving with silent steps totally at odds with her size.

“Going to have to get used to that,” he mumbled as he followed after her, attempting to keep his footsteps light like his father had taught him.