Scarletra brushed her claws against a towel she had snatched out of the showers earlier, cleaning off any remnants of splinters and shavings from the fatty hardwood she was using to craft a statue of Samuel`s late wife.

　　The upper half of the carving was coming along well. It captured Samuel`s wife`s likeness in near-perfect detail. Thankfully, Samuel had posted the picture of Sarah over his workstation, letting her check the picture once or twice a day while gradually pulling the statue from within the raw wood. Having that available made making a lifelike, graven Image far simpler.

　　That was the only thing that made the carving process more manageable. Whenever Scarletra made representations of the gods and goddesses, she could rely on the descriptions from stories and Edda`s to craft their image as closely as possible.

　　But in this instance, close would not do; it had to be absolutely flawless. Sarah deserved to be remembered adequately, and Samuel would undoubtedly prefer that the statue looked like a petrification of his warm fire.

　　 Scarletra still did not fully understand how Sarah was not Samuel`s home`s matriarch but had spent much of the last week pondering the idea, trying to wrap her head around the idea of joint leadership and partnership Samuel had explained to her. Even if that agonizingly long time questioning everything she had ever known only caused her mind to spiral into a vortex of confusion and self-doubt.

　　Samuel had explained that Sarah was his best friend and filled the gaps in life he could not. Both of those ideas she could understand, but they made her regret the constant lies she had been feeding him. She had plenty of friends before becoming an adult; her sisters and some of the other cubs in the village—hell, even some of the warriors she had lived and fought alongside were people she could call friends. Well, at one point in her life.

　　Scarletra knew for sure friends don`t lie to each other, even if they thought it was better for the long run.

　　 Scarletra was well aware of the effects and goals of lying to others; none were for the benefit of both. Great Mother knew that lies and tricks only led one down a path that needed more of them to keep up your facade. Her mother and former commanders might have told the world they worshiped Hurot, goddess of war, and would proudly face and fight you with honor. But Scarletra knew different, and they were indeed more than happy to listen to the guidance of Rougal, the youngest of the Great Mother`s children, the god of tricksters and gamblers.

　　They were revoltingly prideful to trick their enemies in combat or politics, ensuring they would get what they wanted, no matter the cost, whether in gold or blood. Their castles of lies and the horrendous monsters lurking in the halls were built entirely out of their willingness to gamble with the lives of those they supposedly cared about.

　　Scarletra always wondered how anyone trusted them, Mother, especially. With how willing they were to deceive others, how could they possibly be believed? All this time, questioning her role in Samuel`s home brought thoughts to her mind.

　　Was she any better than them? Scarletra doubted it—Since meeting Samuel, all she had been doing was lying to his handsome, enrapturing face.

　　Scarletra glanced up at the clock and sighed, realizing how much time had passed since she woke. Several days ago, Scarletra learned how to read the standard symbols of time and knew it was already nearly noon. Shortly, Samuel would arrive and knock on the locked door, trying to get her to leave her room and help him unload supplies. His monthly shipment of supplies would break the atmosphere within the next few hours, and he had been preparing a landing area for the shuttle all morning.

　　 Helping him unload the shuttle would be the most prolonged interaction they would have had since the hunting trip. Unless Scarletra was puttering around the outpost completing simple tasks Samuel had given her, studying Standard using one of the datapads or eating, she had secluded inside her room with the door shut and locked—contained in a cage, just like a beast of war, and death deserved.

　　Samuel had taken notice and had damn near had to drag her out for meals or to have her study with him. Scarletra just could not look at him until she thought of how to bring up her issues and admit her lies to him. Each word he spoke over the last few days was as dreadful as the screams of her victims, digging into her brain like shards of glass. The white of his smile, usually as warm and inviting as the day, felt as cold as the most horrendous blizzard.

　　While looking at him was bad enough, she did not even have him to keep the bed warm. She was not going to sleep with him until she admitted what she was. If she could not tell him the truth, she would at least keep that promise to herself—for his safety. Scarletra did this despite hearing Levaal in her dreams, begging to stop this self-flagellation.

　　Scarltra reached over and sipped out of her water flask. She had kept it in her equipment and filled it daily since the hunting trip; if she did not, the water inside would go rancid. Afterward, she returned to the log and resumed running her claws across it in slow, meticulous strokes, not letting her razor-sharp weapons slip even a millimeter out of place while carving Sarah`s long, flowing hair.

　　Scarletra allowed the attuned focus of her craft to take over; Time might as well not have existed. It was just her, the wood, and the ingrained weapons she now used as tools. Before Scarletra realized any time had passed, Samuel knocked on the door just as she was beginning to carve Sarah`s thin neck and the chain of a necklace that was wrapped around it.

　　"Scarletra, the bird will be here in a little bit," Samuel said, muted heavily by the metal door. "Can you come on out? I want to give you a safety brief before they arrive."

　　Safety brief? What in Great Mother`s realm did she have to be briefed about before moving a bunch of crates and other cargo off the shuttle? It could not be that complicated, right?

　　"Be out in a minute," Scarletra replied in Standard, letting all her study time show fully. She could nearly understand Samuels`s daily conversations and respond without the translator. Speaking in Standard still took some brain power, which was unnatural, but maybe that would come in time. If she found a way to tell him the truth and was even allowed to stay at that point—she would burn that bridge when she got to it.

　　Scarletra wrapped the totem in a towel and tucked it away before donning her jumpsuit, flicking back on her translator, and heading to the door. Ready to have the pain of her lies laid before her yet again.

　　—--

　　"Alright, so what boxes are you not supposed to touch?" Samuel asked, chewing on his lit cigar. He was just loud enough to be heard over the billowing winds and whipping snow running down his collar.

　　Today was a moderate day on Baratin. The winds were strong, but not too much. The wind offered enough cover to only allow you to see a few hundred meters, perfect for concealing an army moving toward a target. The temperature was not even that bad, just enough that the pads of Scarletra`s feet and the tips of her ears went ever so slightly numb.

　　"Don`t touch and be extremely careful near anything marked with a yellow triangle and bursting bomb," Scarletra grumbled, rolling her eyes, following behind him toward the landing zone. To her annoyance, the scent of his smoke was barely detectable in the whistling wind.

　　 Samuel had explained that those were explosives several times already. He even went into enough detail for her to grasp what a bomb and explosives generally were. Although she had never seen anything like that before. The tribes to the south had weapons that sounded similar but primitive; knowing how dangerous they were, she would listen to him without faltering.

　　Samuel`s description of how even the most minor and least potent explosive he had ordered would rip her limbs off or kill her in an instant was a heavy deterrent to fiddling with them like she tended to most other things he owned. However, why he said she should eat them despite smelling like candy was absurd. Why would you make a weapon smell like food? And why would she eat something that could kill her in the blink of an eye?

　　Samuel looked down, checked his arm-mounted control system, and flicked on the storm lights for the rough landing pad the outpost had. If you could even call the square of bright floodlights low to the ground, pointing between the garage and the main building, a landing pad. When Samuel arrived, the pilot did not even bother using it; he had touched down just outside the fencing, likely to avoid threading the needle with a multi-trillion credit spacecraft while being buffeted by a storm.

　　If today`s pilot had anything going for them, the winds and snow were far more gentle today. It was just another day on Baritin so long as the winds were below 20 KPH, and it only snowed half the time you were awake.

　　Samuel glanced up at Scarletra once the lights were on, illuminating her gentle features. He wondered what was going on with her; she seemed more distant today than she had the last few—and that was saying something. She had hardly been willing to look at him while he explained the dangers of explosives and broke down the plan of how they would split unloading the gear while assuming the pilot wanted nothing to do with helping them.

　　The fact she was acting so distant since their hunting trip was wrong, ungodly wrong. She had locked herself in her room and did nothing but study and eat. Getting her to leave the room for just that was a struggle. She did not even want to stay in the same bed as him. How lonely the bed felt was surprising. Samuel had not expected to yearn for her velvet fur and gentle caress while they slept as much as he did. Not having Scarletra in his bed made the soft covers feel like sandpaper on his skin. He wanted it more than a lost man in the desert who craved water.

　　Samuel would not let this go on for much longer; she could not keep avoiding him. For god`s sake, they lived together, and he wanted her to stay around. He clarified that he wanted to try to have a bit more of a relationship with her, and she agreed then, fuck, it was her idea.

　　Had Scaletra changed her mind or something?

　　"Go ahead and put on your ear protection," Samuel said before he slipped his electronic earmuffs underneath his parka`s hood.

　　Scarletra pulled the earplugs out of her cargo pocket and pressed them into her ear, the world`s sounds muting slightly. Samuel told her they were meant to keep her from losing her hearing from being around thunderous events and items: the shuttle, his weapons, or the explosives. Apparently, long-term exposure to those can lead to her becoming deaf.

　　That phenomenon was news to her. How in the Great Mother`s name could you lose your hearing by just being around things? She still had her hearing after being around the rifle before. But who knows, maybe muffling the sound might keep her from losing it if Samuel ever used the weapon around her again—she can pray for that, at least.

　　Samuel flicked on the radio function of his ear muffs and settled near the landing pad, lowering himself onto an overturned barrel. Scarletra dropped into the snow next to him and looked at the bright lights of the landing zone, not focusing on anything in particular, her mind too occupied with errant regret and self-loathing.This narrative has been purloined without the author`s approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

　　Neither tried to speak with the other after they were seated. Both horrendously thought they did something to upset the other and wanted to bring up the issues later—when they did not have a fully loaded restock shuttle a few minutes out.

　　It was a shame the GU could not give him an accurate ETA. So they wanted him available all day to catch the bird. He only knew the aircraft would be landing around noon when he got a radio call just after breakfast. Even then, that ETA was wildly inaccurate. They sat there waiting long enough; Samuel had a few more long drags left before burning his fingers on the cigar`s rosebud.

　　"Samuel, this is your resupply shuttle, and oh so happy to be here, pilot Moi. I am five minutes out. Are there any issues with the landing sight?" The sound of the pilot crackled over the communicator attached to Samuel`s hearing protection.

　　"Everything is ready for your arrival, no issues on our end. See you in a few minutes," Samuel replied, depressing the PTT(push to talk) on his muffs.

　　"Roger that," Moi replied with a happy twang.

　　Scarletra looked over at Samuel, confused about what he was talking about. It took a few moments for her to realize he must be talking using that device trailing from beneath his hood and hanging in front of his lips.

　　Samuel flicked his cigar off into the snow and groaned while standing up. He offered a hand to help Scarletra stand up, "Come on, the bird is almost here. We want to get away from any jet wash."

　　Scarltra hesitantly took Samuel`s hand, fearing touching it would be like a knife, and stood up with him. He guided her further from the landing site, never letting her hand go. Despite that, she tried to gently tug it away a few times, but he only persisted, holding her hand tighter and looking at her with concern.

　　Why does he have to look so amazing? Scarletra bemoaned in her mind. She wanted him. But her past—-He would hate her if he knew. Levaal, please help me, she prayed while they moved behind the main building.

　　"Alright, Samuel, I can see your landing lights. ETA sixty seconds," Moi nearly screamed on the radio.

　　Samuel and Scarletra stood behind the building, waiting for the shuttle to arrive. Their eyes locked on the swirling snow just over the landing pad. Waiting to see the lights of the landing shuttles engines to pierce them.

　　Without warning, the massive shuttle swooped in overhead, only several meters over the high exterior walls of the outpost. Samuel raised his hand to block the harsh gale of rocks, ice, and snow that the aircraft`s four powerful in-atmosphere engines had kicked up. On some form of instinct, he also stepped in front of Scarletra to keep the debris from slamming into her face, not that the gesture meant much because she also covered him by wrapping her massive arms around him, pulling him tight. Funny, despite both of them struggling with their emotions, they still moved within a heartbeat to help the other. Not that they noticed—-yet.

　　So much for his idea of taking cover to stay out of the jet wash, this pilot was either half-blind, half-mad, or both to be flying that low and that fast in this weather-especially with several tons of high explosive aboard.

　　 With a level of control and grace Samuel had never seen, the pilot performed a maneuver that definitely was not standard in training. The massive jet black aircraft`s nose went downward, the entire square fuselage nearly going vertical, almost scraping against the snow.

　　The four tilting engines roared louder, overpowering every sound in the storm. Red flames shot meters out of their thrusters, increasing the thrust enough to bring the aircraft from nearly a hundred kilometers an hour to a gentle, leisurely drift in less than a second.

　　As gentle as a butterfly, the rear of the landing craft lowered as the engines slowly shifted vertically. The craft rolled to a stop dead center in the landing area, Its nose kissing the ground, followed by the front landing skins, then the rear.

　　Samuel was stunned. What kind of maverick ass psycho pushes an airframe like that? And in the middle of a low-class blizzard, next to buildings with several tonnes of high explosives aboard.

　　"Was that normal?" Scarletra asked as the engines died down and ultimately shut off.

　　"Not in any way?" Samuel replied, looking up at her.

　　It took them several seconds to realize both tried to guard the other when the engines roared overhead and drowned out the world. A brief, awkward pause filled the air with a deafening silence. Neither figured being close like this would feel this uncomfortable when they thought they messed up, but both had a lot on their minds. Neither were willing to just rip the band-aid off.

　　"Let`s go get the cargo unloaded," Scarletra said, letting go of Samuel and stepping around him toward the shuttle.

　　As the pair neared the shuttle, they could see massive nose art just below its blackout windows. It looked like a buxom female goblin, wearing a bright red bikini, riding a bomb. Samuel wondered how cliche nose art could be and found it amusing that pilots still liked personalizing their birds, even out here in the depths of the GU, naming the machine and all. In this aircraft`s case, the name Roaring Rainy was written in gold on the massive bomb.

　　Scarltrtra gave the art a curious glance but otherwise paid the painting no mind. She was more interested in getting an up-close look at one of the GU shuttles, having only heard of them in stories or seen the one that brought Samuel to her—er, the outpost.

　　Suddenly, the pilot`s hatch opened wide. A short, diminutive alien leaped out and landed hard in the snow, somewhat stumbling by the sudden depth. They raised their balled fists over their head and hollered surprisingly loud for a creature that tiny.

　　"Woooh, hell yeah! did you two see that?" Moi exclaimed, his enthusiasm flowing out of him like a warm breeze.

　　Neither knew what species Moi was, but they were slightly over a meter tall. What little skin they could see protruding from his bright orange jumpsuit was dark green. His eyes were jet black with no visible sclera. Atop his head was a black woolen beanie with long ears jutting straight from the sides. On his chest was a large golden medallion, the details of it neither could make out in the snow.

　　Scarletra and Samuel shared a slight weary glance, neither feeling trusting of their cargo`s pilot. He looked ridiculous and boisterous as all hell. Something both disliked for different reasons. Samuel because that type of action would hurt someone. Scarletra because she preferred to keep level-headed company.

　　"Oi, can neither of yah talk?" Moi shouted, walking closer.

　　"We can talk, but what the fuck was that?" Samuel replied, gesturing at the resting aircraft as its ramp opened. "Do you have any idea how much high explosive you have in there?"

　　Moi briefly looked back at the shuttle before locking with Samuel and shrugging, "Yeah, I do. I have a full roster of everything down to the last kilogram."

　　Samuel was beside himself, not quite furious, but was getting close. He could overlook not knowing and making a mistake, but that was willful ignorance, dangerous ignorance at that. Yeah, PETN and TNT were relatively impact, drop, and friction-safe. But the critical word was relatively.

　　They still could go off if jostled hard enough.

　　"What? It`s all in there, strapped down, and you have one of the best fighter—er transport pilots in the GU behind the stick," Moi bragged, gesturing at himself.

　　Samuel and Scarletra could not deny that what Moi had just done was downright stupid and dangerous beyond anything either had seen, but it was impressive. At least nothing horrible happened that they could see. Samuel had no idea if the shuttle was rated for the G-forces Moi just subjected it to, but that was his issue, not Samuel`s—Thank god for that. Samuel did not want to learn how to fix a fucking spaceship on the fly.

　　"Alright then, let`s go start unloading this stuff," Samuel groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose.

　　"Oh, chief, before that, I gotta piss. Are you alright if I go do that first? You know, been behind the stick twelve Standard hours and whatnot," Moi asked, ramming a thumb over his shoulder.

　　Twelve? What the fuck was Moi doing? It takes an hour to descend from the atmosphere. Samuel knew that the shuttle had autopilot, having spent plenty of time playing games with the pilot who brought him to Baratin from Erula, which took almost a week. Thank god these ships do have autopilot; playing cards with the other pilot was a great way to pass the time. Too bad Samuel could not remember his name.

　　"Yeah, just go piss. Where is the dossier so Scarletra and I can get started," Samuel replied.

　　"I left it on the back ramp. See you and Cheifet in a minute," The overly boisterous and proud pilot said before scurrying off behind some nearby boxes.

　　Samuel and Scarletra went over to the back ramp. The cabin was packed, stacked nearly from ceiling to floor with boxes upon boxes of supplies. At this point, Samuel did not find anything he was looking at shocking. It was just another full shipment container for another job, nothing more, nothing less.

　　Scarletra, on the other hand, was amazed, curious about every wire, panel, box, and tube stretching throughout every surface of the dropship`s sides—at least what she could see from the ramp and peaking around the boxes.

　　"Sam, what is this? Scarletra asked, pointing at some red metal tube connecting the ramp to the aircraft.

　　Samuel glanced up from the dossier and shrugged. "No idea, likely a hydraulic line," He said before quickly returning to the papers, ensuring everything he requested was delivered. Thankfully, everything was here.

　　Scarletra deflated a little bit at that. She did enjoy hearing Samuel calmly and methodically explain anything she asked about in detail. Not getting a little hip pocket class on the odd tubing was no fun.

　　"Alright, according to this, the explosives are all packed near the cockpit up front. So, let`s get to work on unloading things. Go ahead and start taking things inside to storage. I will move boxes out of the shuttle and put them off to the side for you," Samuel explained, signing for and hanging the dossier back up where he found it. "And whenever Moi gets back, I will have him help you, alright?"

　　"Alright," Scarletra nodded, grabbing hold of two boxes and getting to work.

　　—

　　"So, Chief, what do you need a hand with? Want me to start digging the bombs out of the gear?" Moi questioned, walking up to Samuel as he set a box out in the snow.

　　Samuel stood from his slumped-over position and groaned, his back not enjoying the position he had just put it in.

　　"Not a chance," Samuel said flatly, doing his best to not sound angry at the pilot from likely nearly blowing himself and them up. There was enough PETN and dynamite on this shuttle to level a city block, and this hot head obviously did not care to respect that amount of power. "Go help Scarletra with moving the food and other supplies inside."

　　"What, why not? I got it all the way here. I wanna play with the bombs," Moi complained,

　　"That`s exactly why I don`t want you or her messing with them. I`ve done demolition work for decades and won`t accidentally blow myself to high heaven. Also, it`s explosives, not a toy," Samuel rebuked, letting a bit of a growl out.

　　"Come on, Chief, I won`t do anything too dangerous. I can handle it." Moi attempted to protest, but his words were only received as begging.

　　"Moi, you might be as much of a hot shot pilot as you," Samuel Started

　　"I am the best pilot in the GU!" Moi interrupted.

　　"Yeah, yeah, the best. But I am the engineer, the only one here qualified to handle those things, and I am in charge of the outpost. My answer is no," Samuel said, returning to the ship to grab another box.

　　Moi did not get it. He was a fantastic fighter pilot, a decent worker, and could be trusted. At least before accidentally dropping a bomb on a frigate bridge, no one questioned him. It wasn`t like Moi meant to blow it up. When he buzzed the ship, it was just to show off to the ship`s commanders, whom his last squadron had just saved from pirates.

　　How could Moi have predicted that when he quickly shifted course, the mechanical clamps holding the 5-tonne bomb to his fighter`s wing would fail? The post-investigation even proved it was the fault of the stupid part, not his.

　　But that frigate commander`s crew and the GU navy did not care. As they saw the situation, Moi must have meant to kill the entire warship command. In reprimand, and with his otherwise flawless record in consideration, they did not jail him. No, they condemned him to a worse fate.

　　Moi was never allowed to be in any ship with "bombs, lasers, kinetics, mass destruction weapons, or any other possible weapon until he retired in a few years."

　　Fuck, just stab a pilot in the back. It was a fate worse than death. Now, all he had was his new love. Good old Roaring Rainy. A reconfigured M678 VTOL(vertical take-off and landing). So long as he broke nothing, his current command was happy to leave him be; they did not give him any tasking other than doing sub-space runs. Fuck he had not even felt the rush of FTL in years, and oh boy, he itched for it. The tingles on your skin and your gut-wrenching as you sped and slowed beyond what your mind could understand. It was better than any drug. But that was not his life anymore, so he sook thrills elsewhere.

　　But this human engineer told him no, keeping him from playing with fire. Moi could respect the guy for it. Not a lot of people had the spine to tell anyone no. With that respect and the fact that Samuel was condemning him to go hang out with a bombshell thrice his size, he agreed to suffer his fate.

　　"All right, Chief. I will go help out—Scarletra, right?" Mio questioned.

　　"Yeah, Scarletra," Samuel replied, returning, lugging a few boxes.