FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

It's been three days since Crunch and Elizabeth had what Boomer calls a "Holycomto Jesus meeting". I don't get it, but the others think it's funny. Anyway, last night we had snow. Real snow. As in a foot of it, not the little sprinkling of ground ice that melts with the sun. The temperature has dropped a lot as well, which brings me to winter clothes.

We only have three pairs for twelve people. Ten if you omit Crunch and me: We have fur and suits and don't plan on sharing either. Three for ten still isn't good, considering the whole group will freeze if we ever have to evacuate, or if the heat went out for any extended length of time. As it is now John can scavenge, Boomer can patrol with me, or Sid can repair/maintain/build whatever our utilities need at the same time, pick any two.

Irene and John are still escorted by Boomer and I, which means if the heat goes out while we're away Sidney will either learn the joys of being a male human wearing a (used) female spacesuit with automated life support (both ends -not going to happen) or they'll sit and hope we come back before the pipes freeze (the real reason Sid had the for though to get the heat working).

Ellis can turn string into clothes until her lips go blue and her joints lock up, or she could until we ran out of string. Even so, nothing she makes will break the wind or keep you dry. Irene and John have tried bringing back different types of plastic sheets in an attempt to make some sort of shell to go over people's clothes, but they're either too fragile to work, or we're missing something to hold the pieces together. Boomer tried what he called a "poncho", but it was too windy to do more than make a lot of noise.

Don and Ellis have asked Irene and John to get something they call duck tape. I think ducks are an animal. Do they make this tape from ducks? Beats me. Regardless we haven't had any luck finding the stuff, and we've been looking. We've been looking long before they asked. Apparently it's some miracle material or something, maybe like our trido epoxy in tape form. I still wish I had stashed that other tube in my life support pack. Ah well. Hindsight is hindsight.

We've also tried scavenging winter clothes from the dead, which is difficult to do. First off is the fact that nearly all of the dead around here were killed in the first month or two after the initial attack, back when the humans only needed clothes with long legs and arms when it cooled off at night- if that. Those lost to... them that have returned looking for free humans have been either non-recoverable because Boomer picked them off in locations we dared not go, or Crunch or I shot them at night with our cannons. Boomer can't see well in the dark, and it's been getting dark earlier and earlier, so nearly all kills made over the past few weeks have been by Crunch or myself. One downside of blowing holes in organic material using microwaves, especially large holes in dry material is that it has a nasty habit of lighting them on fire. Nothing we've brought back so far has been usable except for a few pairs of welcomed pants and three singed sleeves.

It's frustrated by the fact that the monsters who left took everything their hosts owned with them when they evacuated. Otherwise we could simply raid an abandoned apartment or whatever and would be set. Crunch speculates that it's an intentional tactic to do exactly what we're facing and either kill us or flush us to where we don't have the tactical advantage.

This vulnerability was made all too obvious this last time the pipe heater went out. John, Irene, Boomer, Crunch, and I were all out looking for an acid called vinegar, salt, some sort of wire(Sid's request), and the ever elusive duck tape. Sid climbed all the way up onto the roof wrapped in a blanket, a plastic blanket the called a tarp, and three pillow cases on his head to fix it. Now Boomer and I are back at our posts by the door, and as Francine finishes updating Crunch on what was missed we're looking at each other, silently realizing just how big of a hole in our security this is.

Francine finished and Crunch turned back to us.

"Next time we go out, we are skinning anything dead that has fur."

"I don't think we can just peal the fur off something and wear it, ma'am." Boom said.

Francine smiled.

"Sven said he found a book that tells one how-"

The pipes rang in the apartment like a bell.

"Sid is still up there?" I said, climbing to my feet. "Boomer, give me your-"

Sid was standing in the kitchen, vary pale and staring wide eyed into the distance. No words were said as Boomer, Crunch and I scrambled out the door; Crunch calling out names to take door duty. There was no need: Nine people wouldn't be tearing themselves away from that door until we came back.

Boomer was frustrated with how long it took us to climb to the roof, hastily clearing every floor on the way up.

"Shouldn't we hurry?" he said.

"And get pinned on the roof from behind?" I said. "No thanks. We clear our way up. We don't know who is where."

And so we did, with Boomer covering the stairs (We had destroyed the other cases shortly after it became clear we were staying). Finally I swept the last room.

"I'm clear!"

"Clear!" Crunch said.

We jogged back to where Boomer was waiting.

"Anything?" Crunch said.

"No ma'am. I can hear someone banging around up there though."

He jerked his head towards the top of the stairs. There was a pause as we listened for footsteps, heart, and breathing.

"I can't get anything," I said.

"Maybe one," Crunch said. "But I can't get much either. Too much wind and other noise. Smell one though."

I nodded in agreement. We began climbing the stairs again.

"A male and a faint second, like he's wearing someone else's shirt or something."

"Yeah. Or they were touching recently. Like slept next to each other."

"You two creep me out." Boomer said.

"I feel hurt," Crunch said, giving him an evil, human style grin that showed off her teeth. "You act like we're made for killing things or something."

"I, er..."

"How creepy would it be if I counted your pulse while simply standing here?" I said.

"Quiet," Crunch said.

We were at the door, which was closed but left unlatched. A plastic card (Boomer said it had been some thing for money before the invasion) had been wedged in the door over the latch receptacle in the door frame. They were worried about becoming trapped on the rooftop (Irene used a similar trick while scavenging when we couldn't leave a door guard), which meant they weren't fools.

Normally I'd say this was a good indicator that they were human, but recently our area had become a bit of an recreational area for masters seeking thrills and their human puppets. If you could enjoy being "alone" for a day it was supposed to be a freeing experience; if you could make it back without getting picked off by a human, that is. If you brought one back to be inserted, it made you a hero. Most have begun carried a sedative and traveling in small groups for that purpose, so we were unsure just who was checking out Sid's handiwork on the roof.

I nudged the door open and immediately noted the fresh scent of the male who had climbed the stairs. I caught the sight of a figure straight through two rows of Sid's tall rain collectors, leaning on the concrete rail and looking out over the city. I cut left with my cannon and dropped to my knee. I heard Boomer go right, and finally Crunch.

"Pants, you take left. Boomer, you take middle. If he's human we want him alive. Otherwise try and save his coat. Call if you find others. "

"Yes ma'am," Boomer said.

"On it ma'am."

The left side of the collectors was empty. I knew that because walking forward was walking into the wind, and the wind on the left side smelt like cold, empty rooftop city wind. I don't doubt that Crunch, who would have stayed behind to guard the door, had poked her nose around the right corner to check for extras. I didn't hear anything from her, so I moved forward. I was about to round the last rain collector when Boomers started talking fast.

"Whoa whoa whoa! We don't want to hurt you, man! Easy."

"Go away!" a nervous voice said.

The scent earlier put him in the 'younger adult' range, but it voice made me place him slightly older than Boomer; mid to late twenties in human years.

"We don't want to hurt you!" Boomer said. "Just show me your neck and let me look at your eyes and the rifle will go down and you can see mine."

"Like hell I'm going to turn my back on y- Hey! Back off! I know I look easy, but the others are armed to the teeth, and when they get here-"

"Others?" Boomer said. "What others?"

The man must have taken Boomer's question to be fear, because his tone became more confident, if still shaky.

"The rest of my team. We're ready for slugs like you that think we're just a big game hunt."

"I'm no puppet, man. I hunt those horrors too."

"Then prove it. Show me your neck."

"Like hell. You might have a knife, and you're on my roof."

There was a pause. Then,

"Hey! Watch it! Stop! MARK! GOT ONE ON THE ROOF! RIFLE! HELP!"

"Mark?" Boomer said. "Where is Mark?"

"On his way. Soon you'll-"

"How many?"

"What makes you think I'll tell you?"

"I'll make it one less if I have to. How many?"

"More than you can handle."

"I don't want to hurt you. I don't want to insert you. I don't want to kill you. But I have people I need to protect, and we want to ask you some questions."

I peered around the rain collector. A short, stocky man with dirty red hair and a short dense mane (Boomer called it a 'beard', both John and Sidney grew them) was slowly backing towards the edge. He wore a large, blue, warm-looking coat and thick black gloves. There was what might be a hat stuffed in his coat pocket. Jackpot.

"We? Questions? Like hell! I'm not falling for your tricks, slug! I'd rather jump than give them away!"

He turned towards the rail and I launched myself at him, closing the distance from my position in less than a second. I swept by him, wrapping my right arm around his torso, pinning his right arm to his side and clamping my hand over his mouth. My left arm I wrapped around him and grabbed my right elbow and then I twisted, ripping him away from the edge and slammed us into the rooftop, pinning him under me. Unfortunately it also pulled my hand off his mouth.

He lay there stunned for a moment before he started struggling. I took the opportunity to glance at his neck. He matched his scent: 100% human, and one that was quickly regaining his wits. He thrashed.

"I won't go down! No! Let me go! You're not going to-"

"No," I said. "I'm not."

He froze. I could hear his already fast pulse begin to pound. Slowly he turned his head until his ear brushed against the fur on my chin. He timidly twisted more until he could see my face out of the corner of his eye. His voice became weak.

"Oh no. It's you."

"It's us. Boomer!"

"Yes Corporal?"

"He's missing a scar. Get the restraints out of my support."

"Where are they?"

The man twisted and thrashed again.

"You're working for them?"

His face deformed into a scowl.

"Traitor!"

I could feel Boomer opening compartments on my life support package. I had familiarize him with ours when he asked out of curiosity, and it had only payed out ever since. I hope he hurries up. If Mark is armed I needed to be upright to help Crunch or she would blow him away: it was the only safe thing to do when alone and guarding the door.

"Traitor?!" Boomer said. "You don't even know them!"

"Neither do you!"

"What makes you think that? This is a team venture. Crunch just happens to be good at leading it, so she's in charge."

"They're monsters!"

"Hah. Compared to the parasites they're like you n' me but with more hair and less salad."

"-and named Crunch."

"Crunch... Crunch can be a monster when she wants to be. Pants here is cool as long as you're not a puppet. Ok Corporal, I got'em."

I felt the man's arm move and I heard the snap and whine of the restraint closing down over his hand and wrist. I rolled to the side and Boomer put his knee into the small of the man's back. He took the man's other arm from me and installed the other half of the restraints.

"Hold him. Make sure he stays quiet," I said.

"Yes Corporal. Got that down there? He says stay quiet and Mark lives. Make noise and you're both tortured and killed."

"What difference does it make?" the man said, trying to roll to his side. "He's the one who's been eating people. He has to be. I'm not going to be a sna- OOF!"

"Shut the fuck up," Boomer hissed, bringing a fist back from where he had rammed it into the man's ribs.

"He's killed nobody for food, and he won't. Be. Quiet. We want to know who you are and where you came from and let you go. Nothing more, nothing less. Got it?"

He nodded. Thank god. I picked him up by his shoulders and set him on his feet, then turned him to look at his face. Normal eyes. Good.

"Bring him over by Crunch," I said. "Keep him behind the hutch for the stairs though- out of sight."

"Yes Corporal."

I brought my cannon in front of me and jogged over to Crunch.

"He's human, ma'am, and-"

"I know, I heard, along with everyone within a mile. His buddy is on his way up, too, about three floors down. Out of breath. I think he came from the building next door. Idiots."

"Mm."

I blinked and flared my ears simultaneously. Our version of the human's agreement nod. Listening I could hear a set of boots pounding their way up the stairs. No heartbeat yet, just wind, but only one set of boots.

"I have one ma'am."

"Same. Either he's a very good distraction or he's-"

"Ryan! Ryan! You ok?! How many are up there? Ryan?!"

"-brainless." Crunch said.

She moved away from the door enough to be out of sight and motioned for me to move my cannon behind me. That means I'll be the one tackling again. Fair enough.

The steps moved closer to the door. I crouched, waiting for a muzzle to break into my field of vision so I could grab it and point it at the dirt. The footsteps leveled off at the top landing, they were moving to the threshold, they- they stopped.

"Ryan? Are you here? Hello? Did everyone jump? What's going on?"

I could hear his heart pounding, his feet shifting on the concrete.

"Ryan?! Ah, dammit."

I heard him step forward.

"It's me Ryan! Don't-"

A handgun appeared, held out and aimed low by two hands. I launched myself at it, grabbing his wrists and ripping him forward, putting a foot in front of him at the same time. A skinny, light haired man tripped over my leg and fell. I kept pulling him forward and rolled on top of him. He hit the ground, the gun went off, and I sat on his back, pinning his wrists to the ground.

"Drop the gun," I said.

He turned his head to look over his shoulder. We made eye contact.

"I said drop the damn gun."

Of course he didn't. Why would he? But what else was I supposed to do? It's not like I could let go.

"Oh shit," he said in a quivering voice. "Don't eat me. Please don't eat me. I'm too skinny. You won't-"

I lifted his wrists and slammed them into the ground.

"Drop it!"

"Ah! I'm sorry! I'm sorry! Fine, eat me, but at least don't eat Ryan. Leave him here. His brothers can give him a proper-"

I extended my claws, digging them into this idiot's shirt enough for him to feel how sharp they were. I shook his wrists.

"Just drop the fucking thing!"

"Oh. The gun. I'm not going to- I won't- I... Ok."

There was a clunk as it hit the floor. I heard soft footsteps behind me and what sounded like life support compartments opening. Crunch knelt next to me.

"Ready when you are."

I brought one of his arms around and behind him. He followed with his eyes, stopping at Crunch.

"Oh... you're both here."

"Have you ever seen us alone?" she said. "We're not stupid. Not like you are."

I brought the other arm behind him. He sighed.

"Fine. I get it. You gotta eat too and there aren't a lot of other options around here. Just... can you make it fast? Can you?"

Crunch gave me an irritated look. One that was more irritated than normal, that is.

"I want to kill him out of spite. Moron."

I nodded in agreement.

"And here we thought Boomer-," I said.

"Boomer is just a boot, I can deal with that," she said. "He's annoying because he doesn't know, not because he can't think."

Crunch giving someone a compliment? There had been a lot over the past month... something must be wrong. I hoped Boomer was listening.

"-This bag of rocks, though..." she said. "Done."

I hauled him to his feet.

"What the? Is it too exposed to eat? You've never been bothered by- Ryan! They haven't killed you yet-"

"Shut the fuck up!" Ryan mouthed, glaring at Mark.

Mark's eyes went from Ryan to Boomer. He gave Boomer a dirty look and I heard him in the quietest whisper I have ever heard from a human.

"Traitor."

"Is your helmet still in security mode?" Crunch said.

"I never took it off, ma'am. Didn't have a reason to."

"Put it on him then," she said, handing Boomer her own helmet while taking control of Ryan.

He held it, his forehead wrinkled and frowning.

"Security mode?"

"Remember when you tried my helmet on two weeks ago," I said. "and then you freaked out when it powered on, fit to you, then went completely dark and you couldn't get it off again?"

He gave me a dirty look. I grinned.

"And then, then you had to wait for her to stop laughing to let you out."

"I remember, Corporal. No need to rub it in."

"In security mode only I can use my helmet, and anyone else is locked out, well, in, but they can't operate any of the... well, they won't have the same permissions as I do. Now let's say you put on Crunch's helmet but it wasn't in security mode. -Don't try it, I'll guarantee it is- Any machinery you walked up to would know that you weren't Crunch, but it would still see you as a lieutenant with all of her privileges and authority."

His eyebrows were raised, making that comical bewildered expression I loved drawing that out of humans.

"Why would you even have that?" he said.

"Redundancy. While we're working with our crew security mode is off so if something happens to a senior crew member and the computer doesn't detect it and shift command down then the next person in line can swap helmets and perform the duties until either the first crew member recovers or we finish what we are doing. Outside of that, though, security mode is on automatically so nobody can pretend to be you by stealing your helmet and, uh, get into things they shouldn't. The whole swap helmets thing goes junk once you get outside of a pressurized hull, obviously."

"Oh," Boomer said. "Alright you two, contrary to popular belief this won't read your mind, kill you, or anything else. It's a helmet to a space suit that doesn't let anyone but its owner see."

They threw a silent fit. He looked at me, I smiled, and he jammed the helmet onto Mark's head while I held him. Mark panicked until Boomer told him to shut up and punched him in the stomach. Ryan, on the other hand, remained silent as I shoved my helmet on him. He went rigid as soon as the helmet twitched, but that was it. Not a whimper.

"It won't hurt you. Calm down." I said.

I don't know if my tone of voice put him at ease or if he accepted what he thought was his impending doom, but he relaxed. I gently grabbed him as Boomer took Mark and we slowly made our way back down stairs. I was surprised how trusting Ryan was, moving wherever I guided him quickly and without a fight. Maybe he figured out that I would keep him from falling down the stairs and he might as well save himself the pain until he had better footing.

Mark ate it three times. I'm glad those helmets are as tough as they are, otherwise his tiny brain would probably be all overt the place. I'm even more glad he was wearing Crunch's helmet and not mine. I bet she was seething, and I didn't dare turn to find out.

It took a while but eventually we made it back to the door. Boomer handed Mark off to Crunch, which I thought might be curtains for Mark, but all she did was grab his restraints and lift, forcing him to bend over. I wrapped an arm around Ryan's head and brought my microwave cannon over his other shoulder.

Boomer knocked.

"Who goes?"

We really needed to put a peephole on that thing.

"Lieutenant Crunch, Corporal Pants, Anthony, and two prisoners, both human."

There was the sound of a drop bar being lifted (Sidney's suggestion, and a good one) and the door opened, thunking against a stop when it was only a few inches open. All you could see was the bookcases.

"Weapon."

It was Don's voice. Boomer opened the bolt and caught the round, shoving it into his pocket before passing the rifle barrel up through the crack. A hand appeared and took it, then Boomer turned around and backed up to the crack.

I kept my cannon on him. If the apartment had been over run while we were out whoever was cleared first was always covered by someone outside. They'd either a) pick off whoever tried to grab the person getting checked, or b) kill the poor soul to prevent him from being inserted.

"Ok, Eyes."

Boomer turned around and I could see Don inspecting his face.

"Now you," Boomer said.

Don turned and showed him his neck.

"Clear," Boomer said.

"He's clear," Don said inside, probably to the group of people nervously grouped in the kitchen.

There was a thunk, and the door opened a little more before hitting another stop, letting Boomer squeeze through. He stood in my view for a moment as Don passed him the rifle back, then looked at me.

"They're good Corporal."

I slung my cannon over my back and pushed Ryan up to the door backwards.

"Pants," Don said, "I can't see all of his neck."

"You can see where the scar would be, can't you?" I said.

"Boomer," Don said, "what did he-"

"The scar wouldn't be under it, Don, the helmet it too high. Besides, Pants got a really good look at his neck. His face was shoved in it."

"That may be, but Pants hasn't been cleared yet, and I can't-"

I pulled Ryan away from the door, turned around, and backed up to it.

"Then clear me," I said. "We can check both of them after they're inside."

"Pants, what are you- oh. Alright then."

I felt fingers dig through my neck fur.

"Ok. Eyes."

I slung my cannon behind me and leaned over to stare at Don's face. The same boring Don-eyes he always had. Good. I liked them that way.

"You're good."

I grabbed Ryan and pushed him through the door with me. Immediately Crunch backed up to the door. Don rapidly cleared her, undoubtedly aware of her more foul than usual mood.

When we had first developed the security protocol Crunch had mandated that all human weapons be passed through the door, but put her foot down about our cannons. While human weapons were passed in, microwave cannons only went from perthu hands to perthu hands. The rest of the time they were always slung away from the door.

Initially there was outrage. The second time we came inside Boomer was one of the door guards. I heard several people start complaining and the door closed after Dammit was cleared, leaving Crunch and I outside with nothing more than a 'hold on'. I heard footsteps away from the door, follows by a hushed conversation from deep within the apartment, of which neither of us could catch much more than mumbling of. After that were were clear and there was no complaining.

"Chairs and rope," I said, slinging my cannon back in front of me.

Boomer didn't translate. He was already helping Sid drag the heaviest chairs from the table and Don popped out of the hallway with a couple bundles of woven rope.

We tied Ryan to a chair in the bathroom and sent Elizabeth and Dammit to go read him a story so he couldn't hear what we were doing with Mark. Well, Dammit was going to read. Elizabeth was going to supervise and ensure enough noise was being made to drown the rest of us out. She's mellowed out a lot since Crunch has taken on her new role, complaining while she quickly does what she's told now rather than avoiding the task. Crunch is far from satisfied, but seems to like the progress. Everyone seems to like her progress.

We secured Mark to a chair set in the living room area. He, like Ryan, and become very quiet and compliant since entering the hole we called home, probably listening as to how many people were around him. After Ryan was secured we started in on Mark. Elizabeth's voice was broken intermittently with Dammit's chitter of laughter from the bathroom, assuring us that they were doing well.

I am not an interrogator. The closest thing I've done to that so far was yesterday when I tried to find out where Dammit's shoes went. Crunch and I took her outside to run around and play a few games. She likes the opportunity to speak freely with us, and I think Crunch sees this as a way to lower any temptation she might have to speak at other times. "Until we go out and play tonight" is a long time for a kit that young, but a heck of a lot sooner than "eventually". How her shoes can vanish while under the constant supervision of two perthu beats me. It's not like she stopped running. We still don't know where they are.

Crunch isn't an interrogator either, but she is scary as hell, earning every syllable of terrifying in 'Terrifying Shark Cat Lady".

We decided to focus on Mark first because being the dimmer of the two bulbs we figured he would be easier to get information out of, especially with how loosely he flapped his lips on the roof.

He turned out to be a harder nut to crack than we thought.

We stood staring at him for about a minute after we finished tying him. He didn't even twitch.

"What do we do now, ma'am?" I said.

"I was hoping you would know."

"Should we leave your helmet on him?"

"No, he can't see us, and I want him to know we mean business."

She reached forward to take it off when Boomer interrupted.

"If you take it off, ma'am, he'll know who we are and how many of us are here."

She paused, then looked around at the rest of us. Her ears twitched in thought.

"Rrrm. And you all value sight. It might be best then. Boomer, you translate."

"Yes ma'am."

She leaned in, her face ear level with him.

"Listen and listen hard, idiot, because if you're really obedient we might let you live instead of making a meal out of you."

Boomer gave me a rather disgruntled look. He opened his mouth to translate when I heard Mark's muffled voice.

"I don't care what you do. What any of you do. I'm not going to talk. I won't say shit. They're safe, and they stay safe. You try to put a... a... thing in my brain and I'll forget before you can."

Crunch growled.

"I want to know where the rest of your house is. How many of you are there? What do they have?"

Boomer translated.

"Screw you."

"Listen here, punk, we're going to find them one way or another, all we have to do is sniff your trail and follow it back."

Boomer translated. Mark was stock still, probably realizing we could if it really came to that. It would be slow work, some of it in the open because I don't doubt that these ding-dongs crossed open areas, so it would be very dangerous, but still doable.

Crunch grinned.

"And if you tell us where they are, we won't slaughter them all when we get there. Maybe one or two for a snack and that's it. Got anyone you don't like?"

Boomer stared at her.

"You can't do that Crunch."

I took a step away from him. Oh man. They've either lowered your IQ too, or you have more guts than Oops did staring down that Colonel crawling around the wrong hanger.

"I can't do that? Are those the words I heard come out of your mouth?"

She turned and glowered over him. Her face, and all those sharp teeth were inches away from his face.

"Yes ma'am. It would be extremely harmful to us."

She reached out and wrapped a hand around his throat. Her claws dug in just enough that I could see tiny red marks that would become droplets of blood when she let go. If she let go.

"To us?! You moron, haven't you paid any attention to what's going on around here? Resources are scarce!"

"Yes ma'am!" he said, his voice was high and misshaped from the pressure on his airway. "They are scarce, and we need to be able to trade. It takes time to find things and people that can be spared to find them. They can find what we can't. We can find what they can't. We swap. Everyone gets more."

She growled. It wasn't a rage at insubordination anymore, more of an anger at him being right. She gripped his neck tighter.

"Tactics ma'am!" he said, struggling to breath.

His face was turning purple, but his expression stayed as serious and calm as he had started.

"Two groups," he said. "We can split up and cover each other if they have weapons. Even if they don't-"

He took a strained breath in.

"-eople here can do things they can't. They might have people who can do things we can't."

She let go. He took slow huge lungfuls of air, and I was impressed that he did it all through his nose. He had good points. The people he had shown me in the lab had vanished not longer after our visit. Gone. We couldn't find evidence of them anywhere, and we all sincerely hoped they had moved to a more secure location, while knowing they probably hadn't.

"Alright then," Crunch said. "We'll try it your way."

And she did. And then Boomer did. So did Sidney. But Mark just sat there, never saying another word other than "I ain't talkin'"

Sven said he'd give it a go, and after that were were going to start playing mind games with him. Boomer suggested via paper that we get some ice out side, light Sidney's torch, and hold it to a piece of meat while sticking the ice to him. I guess it's supposed to feel similar as long as you don't hold it too long. Especially if one smells burning flesh. We were all for it until Don pointed out that the only meat we had was Crunch's and my stash of human remains in a cooler in one of the rooms outside.

I heard the bathroom door fly open and Elizabeth bound into the hall, Ryan yelling after her.

"It's bullshit! I lied you idiot! It's nothing but lies!"

She bounced up to Crunch like she was a kit and slapped one of the books into her stomach. For the second time that day Crunch looked lethal. Elizabeth wasn't fazed. A huge grin was plastered across her face.

"I found out where they are, mom!"

"I told you it's complete shit! I was joking!" Ryan said.

Crunch took the book and looked at it. The cover was covered in writing, and she had another first. She broke into a smile.

"This is fantastic! How did you do it?" she said.

Elizabeth tried to look around Crunch for Boomer. Childish arms wrapped around one of my legs.

"She wants to know how," Dammit said, looking up her..

"Oh."

Elizabeth smirked.

"After Dammit finished the second book I complained about everyone to him a little, and after the third I flirted with him, and then it came right out."

"AAAAARRRGGGGHHHH! God damn it!"

"Maybe you won't be a shit girl after all," Crunch said.

"What did she-?" Elizabeth said.

"I'm not supposed to translate that," Dammit said. "But I don't think it was bad."

"What did you do?!" Mark said. "You told them, didn't you. You fucked u-"

"Shut up! I did not! It was bullshit!"

"Both of you, quiet!" Sven said.

It fell silent.

"Nobody is getting hurt," he said. "Nobody here is getting eaten, and nobody at your house is either. Nothing is getting stolen. It has been that way from the git go. Am I clear, Mark?"

"Yes sir."

"Am I clear, Ryan?"

"Yes sir."

Wow.

"Good. We're going to untie you and let you see. Behave like civilized people and we'll have dinner and tomorrow we will escort you home. Crunch and Pants, the two terrors you've met already are good people, but they are very protective of everyone here and won't tolerate any folderol out of you, so if they tell you to do something you better do it."

He pointed to Crunch.

"-especially the one with the purple stripes on her shoulder. She is king of this castle. Be good and you have nothing to worry about. Hurt someone or try to leave and I make no guarantees. Am I clear?"

"Yes sir."

"I understand sir."

It was quiet for a few seconds, then he started for the kitchen.

"I'm hungry. What do we have going on in here? Did we forget to cook in all of this?"

"Boomer, Pants, door," Crunch said.

"Yes ma'am."

Her eyes scanned the room, eventually landing on Elizabeth.

"Daughter,"

"-Yes ma'am?"

Several brows raise. Boomer and I had to pick our jaws off the floor, and for good reason: Elizabeth was never that polite anyone, especially to Crunch, and she certainly never responded to anything other than her name from either one of us. Nobody did, Dammit and Boomer aside.

Crunch stared at Elizabeth, who started shifting on her feet, her eyes darting nervously around the room. They rested on Boom and me.

"That means me, right?" she said. "That's like Dammit means Samantha, right? It's a nick name?"

I shook my head.

"No," Boomer said. "That was like you calling her mom, and her responding 'Yes dear?'"

Elizabeth looked at him a moment, then up at Crunch.

"Oh."

That brought Crunch out of it. She pointed at me.

"Go sit on the floor by Pants."

Boomer and I patted the spot between us in front of the door.

"Yes, ma'am," Elizabeth said, already darting over.

She slid into place between us.

"You keep that up she might even like that title you gave her," I said. "Don't say I didn't warn you."

Boomer translated.

"Pants," she said. "I honestly don't know why you keep trying to talk with us. Boomer and Dammit are the only ones who understand you. Why don't you just tell them and have them pass it on?"

"You wouldn't learn."

Boomer translated.

"It's not like we're learning now?"

"You know what you are now, right?"

Boomer translated and she sat there a moment, biting a fingernail.

"She's a bitch."

Boomer and I nodded. I recently learned that the word refers to both a female 'dog', a medium sized predator that is friendly and loyal to humans, and a woman who's very mean. It doesn't make sense to me, but then again, not much in their language does. In the context of foul tempered I can't argue with her.

"-but I'm not kicked around or off to the side," she said after a moment. "Sometimes I wish she wasn't as serious about it."

"Good luck," Boomer said. "You made yourself her number 1 priority until she's dead or deems you an adult."

"It's a good thing I'm almost there then."

I laughed.

"She is the only one who can declare you grown, at least by our law, and that's the law she'd better be following if we're ever found."

Boomer finished translating and she sighed.

"Great. And I know she's got some stupid high standards and won't lower them no matter how much of a pain in the ass I make myself."

"She'll only make you wish you were dead if you try," Boomer said.

"That's why you need to learn what we say," I said. "She can teach you faster, and you can be considered an adult before your thirty five."

She shook her head after Boomer finished translating.

"God I hope not. I'm still aiming for 18."

Hah!

"What's so funny, fuzz butt?" she said, looking up at me.

That was out loud? Oops.

"Nobody is declared that young back home."

"Oh? What is the normal then? What's the equivalent in our years?"

I sat for a moment doing math in my head. When had I gotten so rusty? Ouch.

"About 25."

Boomer translated and her jaw dropped. Then she pursed her lips and punched me lightly in the thigh, much to Ryan's horror across the room.

"It's not funny. Don't mess with me. What is it really?"

"Twenty five," I said. "You get more and more responsibility and privileges until both of your designated parents decide you're ready. If you're still rowdy after thirty they'll grant it about an hour before they pass you into another clan, who'll usually have someone, er, strong willed and even tempered to be your binding partner."

She gave me a dirty look as Boomer translated, then wrapped her arms around her legs, sighed, and rested her forehead on her knees.

"I was so close, too."

After the evening dishes were done people crowded around what was now knows as "Sven's Chair" in the living area. Ryan and Mark appeared confused as to what was going on until Sven picked two books off one of the book cases and settled into his seat. Irene held on of the lights over Sven's shoulder so he could read while the others were turned off.

When it started to become dark early Crunch has postponed our patrol until after the now-tradition was over with. Most of it was due to not wanting to be out wandering around in the afternoon, but at least a little bit of it was Crunch's interest in listening.

The windows were covered before dinner so the lights could be used, and everyone had started to become a little stir crazy being crammed into such a tight space. Every evening he would read a short story from one of the books that had a collection of them in it, and a chapter or two from a much large, longer story. It was big enough to have it's own book, and he would read from one until it was finished, and then he would start on another.

The short story he read tonight was called "To Build a Fire". It was about a man traveling far away from civilization in the middle of winter, and it was very, very cold. It sounded like it might have been uncomfortable to Crunch and me, so I can't even imagine what it would be like to a species without fur. It would be dangerous, and the story made that clear.

The longer story was about a man who had been accidentally left on P-32L1, the next planet away from the Sun, and what they called "Mars". There had been a storm, and he had been hit when they were trying to escape. They thought he was dead, and so they left. Now he was stuck trying to survive until people came on another mission.

I like how technical it was and how well thought out the descriptions were. The protagonist was very resourceful, knowing much and using things in ways that never occurred to me. Boomer told me that while it was just a story, it was possible for it to happen before the invasion, and that made me wonder if Crunch or I had been in a similar situation, even with our superior technology if we would have been able to make it alone.

All of the stories he had read so far were about people who were left stranded and working hard to survive in danger. Sven never said much about our situation. He never chaste people or scolded. He rarely warned people of danger unless it was urgent or impending. At first I thought he was one of those old people that just did their best to be in a good mood and get along with everyone, and for the most part he was, but I was learning that Sven was also a lot more observant and wise than I first thought. His story selection reflected that.

If there was an issue that came up that needed to be addressed he often read a short story about it in the evening, not saying anything more. His point was always made clear: "This is the way to go about it" or "This is why we shouldn't do that" without him saying a word about it. His larger stories, what Boomer called a "novel", had a larger theme with another message: Life was going to be hard. It would be hard for a long time, and dangerous too, but there was hope to make it through one day, and that we should never give up on it. I think people understood. I think we all did, and were all mentally preparing ourselves for "the long haul", to quote another Boomer expression.

Sven was very pointed about "To Build a Fire", much more so than the others, even asking Dammit and Elizabeth what they thought about the story afterwords. He looked at Crunch and I a lot while reading. It wasn't hard to understand him: winter was here, and the cold its self, to them was even more dangerous than the enemy.

We needed to find winter clothes.