The Cold Wind (Ch 18 - 20)
#11 of The Cold Wind 1
Chapter Eighteen
Moving swiftly, Two-Talon returned to the shuttle and laid the injured Vanguard on the table in the mess, before stripping the tattered uniform off the unconscious body. Running his talons lightly over the body he gently skirted the two worst wounds and closed his eyes, concentrating hard. Opening his eyes a couple of minutes later he reached for his proper medical kit and pulled out several items from it and laid them next to the injured Vanguard. It was going to be a close thing. The Vanguard (he was unsure of the rank, or class because the remains of the uniform were unfamiliar to him) had lost a lot of blood. From his initial inspection, there only appeared to be minor internal injuries. Other than the two, deep surface wounds, the only other problems were several minor cuts and bruises. With deft talons, he cut away the dead, burned skin and flesh, packing the wounds with fleshgel before applying a large patch of artificial skin which melted and adhered to the wounds, sealing them from further blood-loss. The fleshgel would be used by the body to replace missing tissue and blood-vessels over the next few days - assuming he had intervened in time. There wasn't much he could do about the blood-loss for the moment, however. Now that the worst injuries had been seen to, Two-Talon began to deal with the minor damage. Closing his eyes again, he ran his talons over the injuries with a light touch and concentrated hard. The nerve tendrils from his fingers sank into the site of the injuries and a reassuring tingle indicated that the body beneath him was reacting and repairing the damage, albeit sluggishly.Several minutes later he retracted his tendrils and got to his feet. Sighing with satisfaction at the knowledge that he'd done the best he could, he opened a nearby locker and grabbed a blanket to cover the unconscious body. There wasn't much remaining for him to do but wait for the humans to return. Rocking back onto his haunches he studied the face of his patient. The Vanguard appeared to be a few years younger than himself. A rather impressive scar marred the scales on one side of the snout and the tusk on that side had been sheared off approximately half-way along its length. They were, however, old injuries. Despite the scarring, the young Vanguard was still quite attractive. Shaking his head, Two-Talon chided himself; it had not been that long since he had lost Tusker and, given what lay ahead, he would do well to avoid any potential future emotional entanglements. During the examination, he had discovered quite a few other scars and signs of bones that had been broken but not properly set. The youth had lived a rough life, by the looks of things. His quiet contemplations were interrupted by an alarm sounding from the cockpit. Grudgingly he got to his feet to investigate the source. When he reached the cockpit he noticed the proximity detection system had picked up another vessel inbound to their position at high rate of speed. Peering out through the viewport he saw what appeared to be a Vanguard fast-attack frigate streak past. With a growing sense of unease he watched while it slowed down and turned back to face in their direction. His unease quickly turned to fear when the weapons-lock alarm flashed up above the console with its baleful, blinking yellow holographic icon. He frantically initiated the singularity generator power-up sequence and leaped to disengage the docking mechanism when he was knocked off his feet. His head bounced hard off the deck when the shuttle was hammered by a massive explosion. Staggering to his feet, head pounding and groggy, he realized the shuttle was still in one piece although smoke jetting from some fractured and shorting power conduits indicated the vessel had suffered substantial damage. The fact that he was still alive most likely meant that the frigate had opened fire on the wreck they were docked to. Only by the guiding hand of the Revered Ancestors had they not noticed the much smaller shuttle docked to the side. Huge sections of the already badly damaged battleship disintegrated when the fast-attack frigate's particle-beam cannon and missiles slammed into the superstructure. Fountains of escaping atmosphere and debris vented explosively into space when previously air-tight sections depressurized in the hard vacuum. The frigate pack-leader was obviously under orders that there were to be absolutely no chance of survivors and was running an effective mop-up campaign. With a shriek of rending metal and a massive jolt that again threw him to the deck, the shuttle was violently shunted sideways, ragged sections of the other ship's docking port still attached to the airlock when the smaller vessel was ripped off the battleship by another, much larger explosion. Clinging desperately to the control console for support while the battered shuttle tumbled away from the scene of devastation, Two-Talon watched through the viewport with sick fascination while the battleship broke up under the assault seemingly in slow motion, large sections twisting apart in an orgy of destruction when it was wracked by secondary internal explosions.
* * *
Tainui was surprised; Heaven wasn't supposed to hurt. Heaven also wasn't supposed to have demons in it. Great big demons with dripping fangs, hissing and growling while they poked and prodded him with sharp claws. It was damned painful and annoying! He vaguely wondered where it had hidden its pitchfork... Perhaps this wasn't heaven after all. Maybe it was hell. He didn't think he'd been that much of a filthy, heathen sinner, but with the religious fundies moving the goal-posts every five minutes you never could tell... Before the blackness closed in on him again, he thought he saw a familiar - and rather attractive - face hovering over him. Smiling, he decided that if hell had angels then it wasn't such bad a place after all...
* * *
"Bond-mate yours recovers. Recovery required. Follow! Request assistance repair vessel," Two-Talon reached over and gently pulled a rather battered and disheveled Andrej away from his unconscious bond-mate. "Repair vessel itself incapable," The Vanguard medic huffed with amusement at his own joke. After pulling off some piloting that even an experienced warrior would be proud of, Two-Talon had managed to catch the two humans in the open airlock while they struggled and tumbled in the vacuum, away from the exploding wreck. He would have boasted about his piloting skills if they had been in any sort of conscious state when he dragged their bodies into the main cabin. The darker of the two humans - the one calling himself Tainui - had been quite severely injured, aside from the usual damage sustained by being exposed to hard vacuum. It appeared to be mostly deep cuts and several broken bones from impacts with large chunks of shredded metal debris. With his limited knowledge of human physiology, Two-Talon had struggled to keep the human alive and in fact Tainui had technically been dead for a short period of time. His guesswork had paid off and small electrical shocks administered to the injured human's single small heart had brought him back to life.Strange creatures, these humans!He was still somewhat surprised that his healing abilities worked with the humans and, indeed, appeared to do so more effectively than with a Vanguard. It was, however, fortunate for them that it did. After setting the breaks and sealing the cuts, Two-Talon spent several hours working to fix the other damage. If you're going to do a job, might as well do it properly... Andrej had only sustained superficial injuries. A lot of burst blood vessels and some severe bruising from being exposed to hard vacuum for about a minute. All of which had been quickly dealt with by his healing ability, although the human did an awful lot of writhing around complaining that he was being tickled, whatever that was. He would have to remember to look it up in the language database, later. Several of the control consoles were still flashing holographic alarms at them when Two-Talon and Andrej entered the cockpit. There was nothing critical demanding immediate attention, however. "So, what needs fixing first?" Andrej blinked at the bewildering array of blue and yellow symbols seemingly floating in mid-air above the control panel, many of which were blinking as if demanding attention. He realized they probably indicated problems with the shuttle's systems. Two-Talon pointed at one of the symbols. "Emergency power vessel operating. Repair main power system. This one attempt repair," he tapped himself on the chest while plucking one of the many small cylinders vaguely resembling a small fire extinguisher off a nearby bulkhead with one of his rear arms. "Escaping atmosphere damage seal. Location here, here, here," he thrust the cylinder at Andrej while bringing up a schematic of the shuttle on a heads-up display on the viewport with another one of his hands. Andrej had noticed that the Vanguard usually kept the two slightly larger, stronger rear arms tucked close to his sides so it was still a little unsettling to see the large reptilian alien waving all four of them around like some sort of scary Egyptian god gone wrong... Returning his attention to the schematic, there were small blinking blue squares in several locations which he assumed meant hull breaches, if his interpretation of what the translation disk had said was correct. Guessing that the cylinder contained some sort of spray-adhesive goop designed for precisely this kind of emergency, he trudged back toward the hibernation room where one of the indicators suggested there was a problem. Once there, he hunted around for signs of a hull-breach. Several wall-panels had been knocked loose in the battle, exposing conduits and wiring underneath. Some of the wiring had shorted out, sheared off by the sharp edges of the panels when they tore loose, sending a slight haze of burnt insulation smoke into the air. He noticed that the smoke near one of the bulkheads was drifting towards one of these exposed sections. Moving closer, he could hear a shrill squeal almost at the limits of his hearing - he'd located one of the breaches. Hefting the cylinder he pointed the business end at the gap in the panelling and pressed the trigger sending a bright blue glob of sealant jetting against the jumble of pipes and wiring. Weird stuff Andrej thought to himself when it spread out and crawled in an almost alive manner all over the site, soon disappearing from view. However, it appeared to do the job when the shriek of escaping air quickly dwindled away to nothing. Before returning to the cockpit he paid a quick visit to Tainui again to check up on him. He ran a hand gently across the artificial skin covering some of the worst injuries; there would be some impressive scars once he recovered, but the main thing was that he would recover. Back in the cockpit, he checked the schematic to see where he had to go next. After tracking down and fixing a larger tear near the engineering section hatch, he entered the mess area where the Vanguard they had located was recovering. Two-Talon had said the injured Vanguard would probably remain unconscious for quite some time while his body recovered from the trauma it had suffered. Turning his attention to tracking down the last breach, a slight stirring of air indicated this last one was behind some food-storage lockers near the hatch. He frowned at the thought of having to unpack the boxes to get at the breach; there were a lot of them. He and Tainui had stocked up on quite a bit of food before leaving the Earth in addition to what the Vanguard had apparently stolen previously, knowing they wouldn't be returning for some time, if at all.
Chapter Nineteen
Hunts-In-Grass opened his eyes slowly and surreptitiously glanced around. Wherever it was, it didn't look like the Sirius-Defender. The last thing he remembered was the fierce but short-lived battle, after they had been boarded by the Original Home invaders. Badly wounded by a shock-lance discharge, he'd been left for dead by the warrior he'd been fighting. Why she had departed without laying in the killing blow, he wasn't certain. He also a dimly recalled an attack by some strange little alien creature. Now, that was worrying because he wasn't aware of any other alien cultures within range of New Home. There had been some rumors of a primitive, non-space faring alien race from a planetary system on the far side of the dust cloud that was several light years in diameter. However, given the rumor first surfaced several generations ago, they were probably extinct by now if they had existed at all. Closing his eyes again he lay back and tried to sort out the jumbled series of events in his mind. The Original Home attack had occurred without warning. They only had a few hours notification of the fleet appearing out of sub-space and by that time it was too late. Their minimal orbital defenses had quickly fallen and it was left to the small defense force to do as much damage as they could before fleeing. Unfortunately the attacking fleet outnumbered them and having superior, more modern vessels, outgunned them as well. There were no survivors of the short lived battles. The attackers hadn't even spared the massive orbital habitats; the gigantic hollowed-out asteroids had been mercilessly smashed into dust and ionized plasma by wave upon wave of fusion bombs. So the fact that he now found himself alive, alone and seemingly unguarded, was a bit of a shock. Suddenly aware of noises behind him, Hunts-In-Grass cautiously sat up and looked around for the source. His eyes locked onto one of the strange looking aliens, who was busy emptying out a storage locker near a hatch. It had its back to him. Remembering the brief encounter on the Sirius-Defender, he quietly flexed his arms and slipped off the table and onto his feet in silence; this movement made his head swim for a moment so he clutched onto the table for a few moments until the brief dizzy spell passed. Still completely oblivious, the alien finished emptying the storage locker and began spraying the insides with a breach-sealant cylinder. Steadying himself and splaying out his talons in readiness to completely disembowel the defenseless looking alien, he crept up behind it and was about to strike when he felt a twinge. Hesitating, he looked down and noticed the patches of artificial skin covering large swathes of skin on his abdomen. Narrowing his eyes he silently took stock of the other fading injuries he had, all of which had been expertly fixed up. Confused he looked up and studied the alien more closely. If these aliens wanted to terminate him they could have just left him to die. Why go to the bother of healing him? Silently backing off a bit he took a new look at his surroundings. It was a little battered and worn, but the vessel he was in definitely appeared to be of Vanguard origin not of alien construction. Curiouser and curiouser. It wasn't normal Vanguard behavior to have slaves or prisoners doing any kind of critical work; they couldn't be trusted not to try sabotage. If they weren't required for interrogation, enemy combatants were summarily executed, not used for forced labour. Aliens generally also fell under the category of enemy combatants. In his military training they had learned about many alien species but this type was completely foreign to him; they were like nothing he had ever observed before. At that moment the alien turned around and saw him crouching there in a combat readiness stance. It jumped backwards in alarmed surprise, dropping the sealant canister as it stumbled over the boxes littering the decking in its haste to put as much distance between them as possible. Hissing menacingly, Hunts-In-Grass raised all four of his arms and splayed out the talons on each of his hands. Moving its mouth, the alien made all sorts of strange noises at him and edged toward the door while holding its arms up in an obviously defensive manner. Raising the volume of its voice, it called out to someone he couldn't see. It wasn't long before he heard heavy footsteps approaching from another section of the vessel. "Hrrr, what is wrong now?" Hunts-In-Grass's ears perked up when he heard the voice - a Vanguard! So, the Original Home attackers had captured him! Backing away, he came up against a bulkhead. There was nowhere remaining for him to run; he was now trapped. The newcomer who appeared, filling up the only escape route from the room, was definitely Vanguard - a solidly built warrior from Original Home judging by the uniform. He was in deep rank-beast shit now_._ The alien ducked in behind the newcomer and pointed at him, babbling in its incomprehensible language. The Vanguard appraised him carefully before speaking. "Hrrr, you have recovered sooner than I expected." The newcomer didn't advance any further and, with a small amount of cautious optimism, Hunts-In-Grass noticed he didn't have any visible weapons. The only thing he carried appeared to be a battered looking datapad which confused him a little. Warriors never went anywhere without at least one weapon accompanying them, even if it were only a combat blade. He cringed when the Vanguard stepped forward, but when he noticed his reaction the Vanguard quickly halted and crouched down into a relaxed posture instead. "You should not fear me. If I am not mistaken you are a warrior, hrrr? I am a medic. I am unarmed, as you can observe," he said, stowing the datapad in a pocket and raising his empty hands in a non-threatening manner. Suddenly feeling extremely weak and tired, Hunts-In-Grass slid to the decking and wrapped his tail around himself protectively. The medic, if indeed that's what he was, was dressed like an Original Home warrior. And his voice was that of an Original Home Vanguard or had come from one of the other colonies at least. The stranger certainly had the build of a warrior - he was a massive towering beast of a Vanguard. "Where am I, hrrr? You must be with those Original Home vermin who attacked us. And just what is that thing?" Nodding towards the strange little alien peering at him from behind the medic. "The others! Were there any other survivors, hrrr?" The medic appeared to hesitate uncertainly; not something a warrior would ever do when faced with a potentially dangerous situation.
"You are on my vessel and were the only survivor we located before your attackers returned to finish off what they began. Your loss is unfortunate and for that I am sorry." Gently encouraging the alien out from behind him, he put a rear arm around its shoulders. "And this thing is a 'human'. One of two who agreed to accompany me on this journey. They are the ones who discovered you and alerted me to your presence. Do not be concerned about them for they are quite friendly and harmless. I have more questions, as probably do you. However that can wait until you are feeling more recovered."
Releasing the diminutive alien, he lumbered slowly forward and stood in front of him. He offered both of his rear arms in a friendly gesture of assistance. Swallowing his pride and suspicion for the moment, Hunts-In-Grass accepted and let the medic draw him to his unsteady feet and back to the table. Hunting around, the medic located some food packets and a water canister which he handed to Hunts-In-Grass. "Take these. You have lost a lot of blood. This will help you to recover faster. I have further repairs to perform however I will check in on you once they are completed." He walked to the doorway before stopping and turning around again, looking suddenly nervous. "This planetary system. What is its designation, hrrr?" The human alien had meanwhile picked up the Breach-Sealant cylinder and made itself scarce. Hunts-In-Grass watched it squeeze past the medic and disappear down the corridor, before regarding him with a suspicious look. "New Home." Sighing, the medic closed his eyes and leaned against a bulkhead suddenly looking extremely weary. "Hrrr, I was afraid you would communicate that. To have traveled such a distance and sacrificed so much, for nothing! Ancestors forgive me... Eat, rest. We shall discuss more later." Hunts-In-Grass waited until the medic had departed then ravenously tucked into the food and drink, only stopping when he could hardly keep his eyes open anymore from his own weariness. There were so many questions he required answers to, not the least of which was why the medic gave such a strange response when he answered about their location. However, those questions would have to wait. Nothing was stirring when Hunts-In-Grass next awoke in the darkened mess. Slipping off the table he did some tentative stretches and ran his forward hands over his body to check things out. Other than a few sore bits and tender spots he felt considerably better than the last time he was awake. Padding quietly through the rooms and corridors of the vessel, he eventually emerged in the cockpit and froze when he saw the medic motionless at the controls. Sounds of deep breathing soon reassured him that the medic was dozing and unaware of his presence. Over the next few minutes he took a silent tour of the shuttle which, while more modern than he was used to was at least still familiar. He spent several minutes in the hibernation chamber studying the humans. Both of the strange little aliens were asleep in each other's arms on one of the hibernation couches. A breeding pair or perhaps bond-mates? Yet more questions for another time. Returning to the cockpit he approached one of the control consoles and did several quick checks. The vessel was a cargo shuttle that was registered to the Victorious-Hunting, an old refitted cargo vessel which had been destroyed several years back. No information was available as to how it had been destroyed, only that the shuttle's computer systems had lost contact with the Victorious-Hunting's transponder. The Victorious-Hunting was registered to the Original Home military exploration section. Most recently, it had been docked to his battleship, the Sirius-Defender. Plot thickens he thought to himself. According to the shuttle's sensor readings, the Sirius-Defender had been badly damaged before the shuttle had docked with it and then later destroyed by an Original Home fast-attack frigate. So that section of the medic's story checked out, at least. Other than those two strange human aliens, the medic was the only other crew-member.Taking care not to wake him he stopped by the dozing medic and looked him over carefully. Each of his forward hands bore two wickedly long and sharp talons, the other talons on those hands more resembled stubby fingers with large pads. All consistent with a healer or medic. The rear arms were more powerful and suited to grunt work and they were actually more massively muscled than most of the warrior's he knew - or had known, he thought with a twinge of sadness. Hrrr, so he had been communicating the truth about that as well. Studying the medic's face he was surprised to see that he was not too much older than himself. Not too bad looking either, he had to admit. Other parts of his anatomy also agreed with this observation as his cock began to swell in its sheath. Almost with a mind of its own, one of his fore hands crept down and began to gently stroke, encouragingly. It was not long before his member jutted out, proud and fully erect, already oozing strings of pre-cum which dripped to the deck in long, ropy strands. Although it wasn't exactly the best time or place to engage in such risky behavior, Hunts-In-Grass was still young and, more often than not, not in complete control of his raging hormones. Quite what drove him to masturbate in front of a lightly dozing potential enemy he wasn't sure, but it was an illicit thrill which sent his hearts-rate sky-rocketing. Stroking the length of his cock a bit faster, he closed his eyes in pleasure. When he felt another hand suddenly grip the base of his cock he froze in horror. Snapping open his eyes he saw the medic staring back at him with a peculiarly intense expression on his face and one of his rear hands squeezing Hunts-In-Grass's throbbing member. "I... I hrrr, was... I..." Two-Talon purred reassuringly at the panicked youth, before resuming his stroking with a slightly tighter grip, never letting his gaze drop. Releasing his breath in a rush, Hunts-In-Grass relaxed slightly and let the medic continue, the feelings building rapidly towards the inevitable climax. Two-Talon began gently stroked the sensitive skin under Hunts-In-Grass' jaw as he jacked the young warrior's dripping cock. He knew the best spots to stimulate for extra pleasure when rutting. It wasn't just healing knowledge he had learned during his medical training... "SssssssssssssssARRRGH!" Pent up for quite some time he blasted impressive jets of hot lizard juice all over Two-Talon's hand, arm, thigh and shoulder, surprising them both with the ferocity and volume. Panting to catch his breath he surveyed the damage and ineffectually tried wiping off the worst of the mess off before the medic startled him yet again. With a delicious thrill, he watched as the medic scooped up gobs of his cum and licked his talons clean of it. Noticing that the medic was also sporting an impressive bulge in his skinsuit, he decided to return the favor and reached out an arm before the medic stopped him and took a few steps back, turning his back on the disappointed and confused warrior. "Hrrr? Did... Did I do something incorrectly?" Hunts-In-Grass stammered. "No," the medic's voice was subdued and quiet as he stared at the starry vista outside the viewport. Two-Talon silently cursed himself for his moment of weakness. "It is nothing you have done. I apologize, I should not have done that to you." Hunts-In-Grass studied the suddenly taciturn medic thoughtfully. This was not exactly how he had expected events to turn out. Life could be complicated sometimes.
Chapter Twenty
Andrej stalked the bridge agitatedly, pausing every now and again to stare out at the stars wheeling slowly past the viewport. He was worried about Tainui and he was concerned about the abrupt change in behavior of Two-Talon ever since the Vanguard survivor they'd rescued had recovered. Then there was the mind-numbing boredom from having very little to do. Again, he cursed himself for not bringing a guitar with him... He'd long since gotten tired of the unchanging view of the stars and was aching to see something different. Collecting his datapad from where it lay on the control console, he sighed and made his way quietly into the hibernation chamber to check on Tainui for the umpteenth time. The new Vanguard was currently asleep on the couch next to that of Two-Talon. Since he had been up and about he'd very rarely left Two-Talon's side. They had all taken to using the hibernation couches as beds since they were considerably more comfortable than sleeping on the deck. Sitting on the edge of Tainui's couch, he stroked his lover's forehead gently. Suddenly sitting bolt upright and giving Andrej the fright of his life, Tainui gasped and looked around in a panic before seeing Andrej and relaxing a little, his eyes still darting nervously around. "It's okay, Tai! Relax, every thing's okay. We're safe now." He reached out and laid a reassuring hand on Tainui's chest. "What...what happened? The last thing I remember is, uh... Actually, not much," he stammered, looking around at the surroundings that were at once both alien and familiar to him. "You were knocked around pretty bad, but Two-Talon managed to fix you up. He said you might not remember much though. How are you feeling?" Tainui shook his head and looked blearily at Andrej who smiled timidly back. "I was worried about you, man." "Thanks. I was worried about me, too. How long have I been out?" Andrej hesitated slightly, but figured that the Maori was made of sterner stuff. "Two days." "Two? Shit. That must have been_some_ party. Did you get the number of the bus that ran me over? Bro, is there something to drink around here?" He took the proffered water canister from Andrej and slugged most of it down before handing it back. As he did so, he noticed a large gray patch on his arm and poked at it tentatively, giving Andrej a questioning look. "Vanguard artificial skin. You've got a few patches on you, but your real skin will eventually grow under it and it will flake off. Two-Talon changed some of the stuff he had so it would work on humans, but didn't have time to match the skin-color." "Huh. Nifty." Swinging his legs around off the edge of the couch he slid to the ground and slowly stood upright, swaying slightly. Andrej steadied him while he got accustomed to walking around again. There were several of the gray patches on various parts of his body, including a large one running from his ribcage to just above his groin. "Oh man, what happened to me? No - wait. I don't wanna know," Tainui lightly ran a hand over the gray patches and shivered. "That story could have had a sad ending. Where are my clothes?" Andrej smiled at him and passed over some new jeans and a t-shirt. "Your old ones were pretty messed up and had to be thrown away. At the rate you're going through clothes, there aren't going to be many left soon. Although I have no objection to you wandering around naked, if you want." "I wouldn't want Mr. Lizard to feel inadequate." "Funny man! Don't think that's likely to be a problem. He's been acting kinda strange since the other one recovered anyway." He watched the Maori slip into his clothes with a slight feeling of disappointment. Hiding that body away was such a shame... Tainui finished getting dressed and pulled Andrej into a bear-hug, concealing the haunted look in his eyes. "Since when has Mr. Lizard not acted strange, you silly bugger! He's an alien! By definition, they're strange." "Well, stranger than usual. I don't know. He's been moody and a little distracted. I get the impression he didn't expect to find trouble here. I think what he did find has disappointed him more than he cares to let on." Tainui shrugged, seemingly unconcerned. "We didn't expect to find trouble here either." He quickly changed the subject. "Hey, let's go get some grub. I'm so hungry I could eat the arse out of a dead horse." Laughing Andrej broke free from Tainui's embrace. "Although that sounds absolutely delicious, I'm pretty sure I didn't pack any dead horse-arse before we came on this trip. Although I reckon Two-Talon could hunt you down something similar if you're that bent on it!" He playfully slapped the Maori on the ass before he lead the way from the room. "Come on, then. Let's get to the mess before you fade away to nothing." The two Vanguard entered the mess sometime later, with Two-Talon leading the way. It was easy to tell them apart as Two-Talon was more heavily built than the other one and his fine scales were a darker grey in color. He rummaged around in one of the storage lockers until he located what he was after and joined them at the table. The other Vanguard reluctantly joined them at the table after first waiting respectfully for the medic. "So. Isn't anyone gonna introduce me to the new guy?" Tainui grumbled, crossing his arms over his chest and doing his best to look unimpressed at the rest of them. "Hrrr, this one's designation 'Hunts-In-Grass'," the newcomer rumbled, snapping his jaw shut with a loud «crack!» making both Tainui and Andrej jump. Two-Talon narrowed his eyes slightly at the young warrior. While he doubted the humans had any real understanding of Vanguard body-language what the warrior had just done was extremely rude. The jaw snapping gesture had many different meanings depending on the context where it was used and how loudly, or strongly it was done. Temporarily deactivating his translation disk he growled at the youth. "They may be mere insignificant aliens to you, however, you will act toward them with the same respect with which you act toward me. Is that understood?" Snapping his jaw shut much more softly this time, Hunts-In-Grass looked suitably abashed. "Understood. Forgive me, I intended no disrespect toward you, hrrr. I am confused, however. We have always been taught that aliens are beneath our contempt. I fail to understand what it is that these...creatures have done that you treat them so well. Indeed, that you suffer their continued existence, hrrr?" "You have a lot to learn, young warrior. In time I suspect you will come to observe the same potential in them that I do. Do not let their diminutive size or relative physical weakness deceive you." He relented slightly, dropping the stern tone in his voice. "I understand you may consider that a difficult request. However if nothing else I would appreciate if you would humor me, hrrr?" "Very well. For you, I will do as you request." "That is all I ask." Reactivating his translation disk, Two-Talon passed a couple of the food packages to the warrior. Watching with great interest while the two aliens broke open the packages and consumed the contents, the boys soon forgot about their own meal. Although it resembled more of a struggle than a meal for the two Vanguard; the 'food' appeared to be some sort of dried meat that was tough and chewy, proving to be quite a battle, even for the sharp Vanguard teeth. "Man, I think I've lost my appetite," Andrej put down a half-eaten sandwich and continued to watch with morbid curiosity. "What kind of meat is that, anyway?" "Rank meat," Two-Talon replied around a mouthful of the leathery stuff. Andrej wrinkled his nose with disgust. "I know it's rank, but what sort of animal is... err, was it?" "Meat animal designation rank-beast. Large. Six legs. Enjoyable hunting." Tainui put down the water canister he was holding and stared at Two-Talon with a raised eyebrow. "You sound almost normal, mate. You been reading a dictionary, or something?" Andrej looked away from the train-wreck-in-progress of the aliens' lunch and stared listlessly at his half-eaten sandwich. "While you were recovering I did some work with their translation system." He caught Tainui's cheeky grin and gave him the finger. "Hey, gimme a break! I was bored, alright? It's not perfect, but is set to auto-update from our conversations," Andrej explained while Two-Talon struggled with a particularly recalcitrant bit of lunch, not in much of a position to answer Tainui's question. He pointed to the small, translucent black translation disks hanging like earrings from each of the aliens' ears. "We'll never be able to speak their language properly and they'll never be able to speak anything recognizably human. So we'll always need those translation thingies to talk to each other." "Ah, right. Anyone ever tell you how clever you are?" Reaching over he mussed Andrej's hair playfully, causing the boy to blush and grin like an idiot. Andrej enjoyed it when Tainui touched him in such a familiar, affectionate manner. Most of the touching he had been used to up until that point was from frenzied teenaged girls trying to rip his clothes off during his concerts. Having finished eating, Hunts-In-Grass extended a long, black, forked tongue from his mouth and proceeded to lick up and down the length of the fangs and tusks at the front of his snout. He alternated his unblinking gaze between the two boys while he observed their interaction and Tainui got the distinct impression the creature was carefully appraising them while it cleaned its teeth. Apparently happy with the state of his teeth, Hunts-In-Grass hunkered back and rested against his tail while continuing to stare at Tainui and occasionally flicking his gaze to Andrej. After another couple of minutes of awkward silence Tainui couldn't stand it any longer. "What," he asked the warrior pointedly, "exactly is your problem? If you've got something to say, spit it out already." Focusing his attention on the darker colored human again, Hunts-In-Grass leaned forward, not breaking eye-contact. "This one investigates. This one questions. You rut, however incapable reproduce spawnlings. Some Vanguard bond-mates incapable, unwilling reproduce," Hunts-In-Grass shot Two-Talon a quick glance before continuing. "Normal behavior amongst your species?" Andrej spluttered, almost choking on the water he was drinking and blushed again while Tainui looked at the alien, surprised. "You're gay? Uh, I mean...well, no." He stopped and then glared at Hunts-In-Grass. "Hang on! How do you know we've had sex? We've hardly touched each other since you came along." "Hrrr, this one observe recordings," he pointed at a small black box on the ceiling of the room next to one of the light-panels. Both the boys had noticed the fittings before, but not taken any notice of them. "Also recording you captured. Informative, this one discovered." Andrej - used to intense media attention and speculation from his 'old life' - burst out laughing, drawing a curious look from both of the creatures. Tainui wasn't quite so amused however. He puffed out his chest and slammed his fists on the table, startling both Vanguard. "That's an invasion of privacy! You should have told us we were being recorded!" He pointed an accusing finger at Two-Talon who just stared back at him, his expression impossible to read on his craggy features. Getting no satisfaction from the Vanguard, he glowered at Andrej. "And I don't know what you're laughing about, he's seen us...you know!" "Don't be so grumpy, Tai. Just think how popular our porn would be on Earth. I'd imagine there would be lots of disappointed girls though. Anyway, it's not surprising that we were being recorded, back on that Vanguard mothership when we were first abducted." Grumbling something Andrej couldn't quite make out, Tainui crossed his arms and sulked. Andrej got up and kissed his brooding Maori lover on the forehead before heading towards the cockpit. "Sounds like the translation database needs some more work on it," he called out. "Could do with a hand when you're finished there?" Having successfully beaten his lunch into submission, Two-Talon tossed the empty food packages into the nearby recycler and rested all four of his arms on the table in front of him, slightly unsettled at the recent tone of conversation. He knew it was time to have to have a long, awkward talk with the warrior. Reaching a talon over to Hunts-In-Grass he powered off the translation disk hanging from his ear and did the same with his own. This was not really a conversation he felt like sharing with the humans. The Tainui human appeared to get the hint and got up to follow his companion from the room. With a sigh he reached out and clasped one of Hunts-In-Grass's forward forearms. The warrior looked at him expectantly. "Regarding the events of last night. I feel a requirement to apologize to you for that. I should never -" "Do you not like me, hrrr?" Hunts-In-Grass interrupted him. "Incorrect. It is not that. There is another situation that I require time to come to terms with properly," he struggled to keep the emotion from his voice. "Hrrr, I understand you completely. I am not attractive," Hunts-In-Grass pulled his arm from Two-Talon's grip and stood up from the table while self-consciously rubbing the broken tusk and the scar on his muzzle beside it. "I am well aware of this. Were our situations reversed I would not pursue me, either." Shoulders slumped, he was turning to depart when Two-Talon jumped to his feet and prevented him from leaving, grabbing him hard with all four of his hands. With his talons digging slightly into the warrior's shoulders, he roared at him angrily. "Desist! Listen and understand, warrior! The desire I have for you is tearing me apart!" Hunts-In-Grass stared wide-eyed into Two-Talon's eyes, mere centimeters from his own. "Then... then what prevents you, hrrr? I would welcome your attentions." " I...I cannot." Defeated, Two-Talon closed his eyes to block out the hurt look on the youth's face while releasing his shoulders and hunkering back down onto his haunches. "Please...stay. I will attempt to explain." Hunts-In-Grass hesitated momentarily before hunkering down beside the medic, quietly waiting for him to continue. "Relating this will not be easy, so please bear with me. For you, these events occurred over five years ago. However it has only been a number of weeks for me. His name is...his name was Tusker. He was a headstrong young warrior not too much older than yourself. He was strong, loyal and loving. We had been bonded together for eleven years and they were good years, although we had our disagreements and fights like most bond-mates."Two-Talon stopped momentarily, opening his eyes to look at Hunts-In-Grass with a strained smile on his face. "You remind me of the first time I met him, actually. He was a patient of mine, also." Two-Talon was sick of the heart-ache, but in some strange way it lessened the pain slightly to share the story. It was, in some small way helping to keep Tusker's memory alive. He had promised himself that Tusker's sacrifice wasn't going to be forgotten and by sharing it with the young warrior he was helping to accomplish that. Hunts-In-Grass shuffled closer until he was able to rest his head on the medic's shoulder and began purring quietly, attempting to comfort him. Quietly appreciative of the contact, Two-Talon wrapped one of his rear arms around his shoulders.