Outpost 2 Snowed in Bisexual EditionChapter 3 Uninvited Guest
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Riya steered her dropship through the blizzard, the winds buffeting the little craft as it glided on its stubby wings, a sensor overlay projecting on her cockpit window in an attempt to help her see through the almost opaque flurry of snow. It was coming down harder than she had ever seen it, battering the craft’s hull, audible even over the sound of the thrusters as they pulsed to maintain altitude.
This should have been a routine supply run, she had been tasked with delivering a cargo bay full of food to a remote station located on this planet’s northern pole, but on the way down from the orbiting jump carrier a storm had rolled in. Weather patterns on Borealis were unpredictable on the best of days, and seemed downright hostile on others, as if the world itself was trying to knock you out of the sky. This was one of those days, and she struggled with the vessel’s flight stick as she tried to locate her destination, circling as best she could in order to shed some of the speed she still retained from atmospheric insertion.
She had coordinates to the base, but this planet was primitive and did not have GPS satellites in orbit, so the computer had to rely on surface mapping to determine her location. The scanners were having problems penetrating the thick snow, and so the ghostly, orange line drawing of the ground that was scrolling across her HUD was patchy and incomplete.
Just when she thought she might have to fire her main engines and head back to space, she saw it, a geometric blob on her display that could only be a man-made structure. She angled her dropship towards it and began her descent.
Schaffer was jolted awake by the sound of engines, the storm was in full swing and the pack was taking shelter inside, could it be the supply shuttle? They usually called ahead to let him know that they were on their way, but he had received no such message, perhaps the blizzard was interfering with their communications?
He scrambled out of the pile of furry aliens, many of whom had also been roused by the noise, their round ears swiveling atop their heads to track its source. They weren’t afraid, they knew what shuttles were by now, but this was still an unannounced visit. He rose to his feet and pulled on a nearby pair of pants, hurrying through the sterile corridors of the installation on his way to the entrance. He looked out of the porthole embedded in the reinforced metal door, squinting his eyes against the ceaseless torrent of snow, trying to make out the shape of a shuttle or the telltale flare of a thruster through the powder.
He couldn’t see three feet in front of him, landing a shuttle in these winds would be dangerous enough, never mind the low visibility. He needed to get out there and find out what the hell was going on. He retrieved an environment suit from a rack by the door, they had internal heating elements that would protect him from the planet’s blistering cold for a time, they also had a flashlight attachment that he might be able to use to signal the pilot.
He heard footsteps behind him, claws clicking on the deck as Zagza approached, the massive Alpha male’s head skirting the ceiling. He looked concerned, standing with his arms crossed across his barrel chest and cocking his head at Schaffer. He was by far the largest ... anything, that Schaffer had ever laid eyes on. Broad shouldered, and with a weight lifter’s gut to match his impressive musculature, he stood almost nine feet tall and served as the pack’s leader.
“I have to go out, big guy,” he said as he gestured to the door. The alien understood well enough, and Schaffer signaled for him to stay put. “Too cold out there, even for you.”
He pressed his shoulder against the door, turning the handle and trying to force it open, but the buildup of snow on the other side had it stuck fast. The wind howled as it blew through the gap, cold air flooding the corridor, and Zagza planted his massive hands above Schaffer as he leaned over him to help. With the Polar’s immense strength, he pushed the door open, baring his sharp teeth as he heaved against the weight of the snow to open a gap that Schaffer could slip through. Zagza slammed it closed behind him, and Schaffer found himself alone in the freezing tundra.
It was cold enough to penetrate his suit, pricking at his skin despite the heating coils that kept his body temperature in the safe zone, and his visor automatically darkened to lessen the glare of the snow. He couldn’t hear much now, the outside noises were muffled by his suit, and the blizzard hammered him with enough speed and force that it sounded almost like applause.
He struggled forward in the snowdrifts, deep enough to sink up to his knees, scanning the sky for the shuttle. Only a few feet away from the outpost, he was already beyond the comforting yellow glow that emanated from its windows, hopefully the flashlight beam would penetrate further than the interior lights did.
If he knew anything about dropship pilots, they’d be looking for a flat surface to set down on, and that might prove difficult with the dunes of snow that the winds were forming. He felt a fresh blast of air coming in from a different direction, warmer than it should be, and looked upwards as flecks of snow splashed his face plate. There, he could make out the blue flare of the shuttle’s thruster jets, but only just. There was no way his flashlight would penetrate that far.
It seemed to be circling, there was no way the pilot could see anything in this storm, and so they must be trying to locate a landing site with their scanners. He watched the ship sway as it hovered, moving off a short distance from the base before attempting to set down. He could make out its silhouette now, a large, dark blob with an angular hull and stunted wings. It lowered itself tentatively, then a strong gust of wind took it and the pilot had to fight to stay level. It looked as if it was about to spin out of control, but then the pilot made the decision to set it down regardless, and it dropped abruptly to land heavily on the side of a snowdrift. It slid down the side of the dune, its thrusters sputtering out, the engines winding down as Schaffer hurried towards the vessel.
When he arrived it was already beginning to disappear under the snow, the dropship was resting at an odd angle where the pilot had been forced to set it down, tilted on an incline at maybe thirty degrees. Schaffer climbed up onto the cockpit and smacked his gloved hand against the glass. The pilot within, a dark skinned woman with long, black hair jumped as he startled her. He waved, and gestured towards the rear of the craft, and she nodded her understanding. He clambered across the vessel’s hull then hopped off into the snow near the tail, waiting for the pilot to lower the landing ramp.
When there was enough of a gap for him to slip past, he stepped inside and hit the emergency close button, waiting for the ramp to seal behind him before removing his helmet. He took in a breath of stale, recycled air, the heating system in the shuttle working overtime as he felt the cold he had let in dissipate. He was surrounded by crates, no doubt containing food and supplies, anchored to the floor with straps where the crash couches would have been in a troop carrier. The whole thing was slanted, and he gripped one of the handholds in the roof to steady himself.
“Hey! You ok?” Schaffer shouted.
The pilot poked her head through the door that separated the troop bay from the cockpit, in the process of removing her flight headset, and looked him up down before replying.
“I think so, but I’m not sure about the shuttle, you see any obvious damage on your way over?”
“You’re parked on the side of a snowdrift, but beyond that I didn’t see any damage, no.”
“Had to set her down quickly, the winds are unpredictable, nearly lost control back there. I figured a controlled crash was better than an uncontrolled one.”
“My name’s Schaffer, I suppose you’re here to bring me my groceries?”
“That’s right, can’t believe how fast this storm rolled in, one minute I had clear skies and the next I was flying through the middle of a blizzard. I’m Riya by the way, guess I’m going to be grounded for a while.”
“At least until the storm blows over. This shuttle is gonna be buried under a foot of snow within an hour, we’re gonna have to wait until the blizzard runs its course, then we’ll dig you out.”
“We?” Riya asked. “I was told there was only one guy manning this base.”
“You didn’t think there was a little too much food here for one person?”
“The thought had crossed my mind,” she said as she stepped into the troop bay, steadying herself against the hull. “I know this outpost isn’t on the books, didn’t think I should be asking too many questions.”
Schaffer struggled with how to explain his living situation to the pilot, while he was technically the only UNN employee on site, that didn’t account for the two dozen Borealans who lived in the base along with him. UNN personnel would be aware of their furless cousins who served extensively in the armed forces, but the Polar variety were a lot less common, and these ones were locals. He decided it would be a better idea to get her into the base and out of danger first.
“You have an environment suit with you?” Schaffer asked her.
“There are some emergency suits, do I need one?”
“Temperatures out there are thirty below zero, I don’t recommend making a run for the outpost without a suit. Trust me, I’ve done it before,” he added.
He waited while she retrieved the garment from a compartment in the cockpit, then pulled it on over her flight suit, zipping it up and securing her helmet. She activated the short range radio, and Schaffer tuned in, hearing her voice come through with a hiss of static.
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