Dayward Winds By Charlotte H. Lee

Dayward Winds By Charlotte H. Lee

Amka lifted her snout, scenting the chill dayward wind that forever hurtled toward the cerise and orange of a sun hiding just below the horizon, locked in its place in Bendigo’s tidally locked sky. The boars were downwind, approaching nightward, their identities a mystery to her. She rumbled her annoyance.

“Don’t go outside the fence alone, Amka,” Shandrika said across their link, the thought heavy with warning. “Wait for your team.”

Amka huffed, then settled down to wait. She kept her nose up, though she didn’t expect the ground wind to change its course as it raced toward the planet’s day side.

“Who comes?”

“Frida, Efretti, and Gaderette,” Shandrika thought back.

Amka growled. Unformed amusement flowed back from the human half of the ursie partnership.

“Come now, Efretti is trying.”

“Not hard enough,” Amka replied.

Three bear shapes materialized, their sleek white fur separating from the swirling snow that danced the subzero wind.

“Be careful, Amka. I don’t want to have to drag your big ass back,” Shandrika said, the long-standing joke wrapped in warm affection.

Amka struck out through the gate at a ground-eating lope, leaving the compound’s floodlights behind. Not quite nose to tail, the team advanced dayward in single file across the rolling expanse of snow and ice. Amka held her nose up, hoping to catch a scent trail to whoever was setting themselves up as magnus bait. The native octopod would feed well from the meat of two adult bears.

Fools.

Not only were the idiot boars making a dangerous situation for themselves, but the draw of their potential bloodshed could spell bad news for the entire ground station.

“Two bears circling each other three hundred metres south-southwest of you. Stand by for image push.”

Amka drew a fortifying breath, her steps slowing while she waited for the satellite image overlay. A wave of nausea roiled her belly, the image superimposing itself over her eyesight, making the world tremble until it settled into place.

“I see them. Efretti, Gaderette flank them. Frida, with me.”

The two ursies sheared off as ordered, breaking into a run to circle around the mismatched boars who hadn’t yet realized they were being stalked. Amka’s vision rippled again as Shandrika broke the visual connection.

It was time to announce themselves. Amka sucked in a lungful of air as she came to a halt, filling her whole chest. She crouched, then surged upright, balancing on her back legs. Her roar shattered the quiet, Frida joining her a heartbeat later.

When the wind drove away the last reverberations of their voices, Amka dropped back to all fours. From the gloom of ceaseless twilight, the crunch of large bears crossing snow-dusted ice approached, though picking out the boars through the swirling clouds of blowing snow was still impossible. Amka listened hard, guessing the boar on the left to be full grown while the one on the right a little more than half its size.

“We’ve ID’ed both boars. The larger male hails from Zetes Island, and the smaller…” Shandrika’s voice trailed off.

“Shan?”

“It’s Gwaailoppo.”

Amka huffed. This wasn’t the first time she’d had to face a boar cub of her own. Shandrika never took it well. She considered letting Frida take the charge on the smaller boar, if only to keep her partner from drowning them both with guilt and recriminations for weeks on end.

“Just… Try not to hurt him, Amka. You may not have any attachment anymore, but I do.”

“If he’s fool enough to come so close in search of a ready sow, he deserves to be corrected.”

The two boars emerged from the obscuring curtain of snow several lengths apart from each other, their fur ivory against the stark white ice and snow. The scarring of the larger male spoke of the battles he’d faced in his lifetime, the reason for ranging so far from his native territory clear in the drag of his right rear quarters. It wouldn’t impede him much in the water, but he wouldn’t stand a chance of running from a magnus on land.

“I will take the smaller, the rest of you on the larger,” Amka said, trusting her partner to pass along the order without hesitation despite her misgivings.

The old boar came to a full stop, swinging his head and taking in his opposition’s scents. She could almost feel the wheels in his head turning: four brooding sows and a competitor boar. Not good odds for him. He shifted his weight from side to side, chuffing. With one last glance at his rival, he decided to search out better odds elsewhere.

Amka charged Gwaailoppo, closing the distance between her and her former cub. He had halted, whatever conflicting thoughts going through his head making him sway on still out-sized feet. Her grown cub would be massive when he reached full maturity. Where once that thought would have carried a note of pride, it now carried only recognition of a dangerous threat.

“He recognizes you, Amka,” Shandrika said, her usually crisp mission voice subdued.

“Perhaps,” Amka said without slowing, “but that will not protect Kallik – or you – from him. He cannot be here. If he refuses to leave, I will kill him.”

Shandrika didn’t answer.

Amka wrinkled her lips up to reveal dagger-long canines and unleashed a heavy, low growl. Gwaailoppo huffed, ending it with a soft cry, swaying his forequarters from side to side. Once she’d closed the distance to two lengths, Amka repeated her growl. Still he did not retreat.

Amka barrelled into him, powerful forepaw slapping hard against his cheek. Three thin slivers of red appeared on his cheek, and the young boar screamed, the cry ending in a whimper. Amka snarled once more, making the rejection of his appeal clear. He moved off at a trot then, head swinging low.

“You didn’t have to hit him,” Shandrika said sharply over their link.

“If I hadn’t he would come back. Now he won’t.”

Amka’s teammates formed up abreast of her, watching the males disappear into the distance, the only sound the singing of wind across ice.

“Sat tracking shows the older male heading for open sea. Gwaailoppo’s making for Hunter’s Bay.”

“We return.” Amka chuffed at her teammates, then turned to face the endless dark of night-side and trotted for home, her juniors following.

“I’ll put soup on,” Shandrika said, sounding no less disgruntled. “Kallik is probably getting hungry, too.”

Amka sent a perfunctory wave of thanks down their link; the trek had sharpened her appetite. Their progress through the chain-linked lock halted while they waited for a vet to remove an artillipede which had attached itself to Frida’s belly fur. By the time all four were cleared, Amka’s hunger had progressed from mere pangs to a clamour.

A fur-clad Shandrika was waiting for Amka outside the door to their quarters, a mittened hand poised over the bear door’s control panel. Amka rumbled a greeting, nuzzling her partner’s belly, hoping her partner had let the matter of Gwaailoppo drop. That hope was disappointed when Shandrika ignored the tacit appeal for an ear rub and slapped the panel wordlessly.

Kallik’s bawl of welcome carried a note of relief far more intense than simple hunger called for. Oddvar, Kallik’s ursie partner, was hunkered down next to the cub, dark brown arm across her chest to restrain her from rushing to meet her mother.

“Why is he holding her back?” Amka demanded, a warning growl rumbling in her throat.

Shandrika frowned. “Oddvar, let Kallik go.”

“I want her to wait until the door is closed,” he said defensively, dropping his arm. “I’ve been trying to get her to have more respect for it.” Kallik rocketed for her mother, bouncing and weaving through the sow’s forelegs.

“The motion sensors would’ve stopped it if she’d gotten in the way.”

Oddvar’s brow creased into the beginnings of a scowl before he caught himself and smoothed his expression into bland neutrality. “That won’t help her if the power goes out.” He watched Amka clamber up onto her bed platform, Kallik scampering up the steps behind her.

“That doesn’t make sense,” Shandrika said, stripping mittens off mid-brown hands and lowering her parka hood to free ebony ringlets. “If the power goes out, the door stops. We’d have to close it manually.”

He shrugged, letting the argument go.

Amka lay down, allowing Kallik to nuzzle into her, seeking a teat. Shandrika rolled the meat cart to the platform’s edge. She perched next to Amka and held out a handful of oozing chunks of fatty reindeer.

“Don’t let Kallik feed herself to sleep. We have more work to do,” Oddvar said brusquely, running his hand over close-clipped, tightly kinked hair.

Shandrika raised slim eyebrows at him. “That’s Amka’s call. Not yours.” Amka growled her agreement.

“I’m asking,” he said, showing his palms to ward off the mother bear’s irritation.

Shandrika passed Amka another chunk, then looked back at him. “It didn’t sound like asking. It sounded like an order. Amka doesn’t take orders from you.”

“No, she’s supposed to take them from you,” he said with a sniff.

Amka curled back her lip to reveal several teeth. “I grow tired of him, Shandrika. He needs correction.”

“I’m getting tired of his crap, too, love,” Shandrika sent over their link, then aloud, “I am her partner, not her parent. You’d do best to remember that, Oddvar. Kallik has a parent. You are her partner.”

Amka ignored the next proffered chunk of meat, sniffing at Kallik. “He scares Kallik. Every time he speaks she quivers.”

Shandrika frowned, then glared at Oddvar. “Why is Kallik afraid of you?”

“She’s not,” he said. “She’s just mad because I won’t let her gorge herself to sleep before she finishes her lessons.”

“There’s no timer on training sessions. Let her learn at her own pace. It’s not like she’s going out on patrols anytime soon – she’s just a baby.”

“Neils has his cub already learning basic sight words. Kallik doesn’t even have her letters yet. We’re falling behind.”

Shandrika stared at him. “Firstly, it’s not a contest. Each bear learns at her own speed. Secondly, Amuta is four months older, and seventh gen on top of that. Cubs aren’t like human children, their brains develop far, far faster. There’s way less variation in cognitive abilities at each stage. Even if Kallik weren’t a sixth gen she wouldn’t be old enough to do what you’re demanding.”

“She’s smarter than she lets on. She’s just being lazy,” Oddvar insisted.

“My cub is not lazy,” Amka grumbled, dislodging Kallik from her teat as she rolled to sit upright.

“No, she ain’t, that’s for sure,” Shandrika sent back. “Polar bear cubs are not lazy. It’s in their very nature not to be. Most partners struggle to keep rambunctiousness in check long enough to get through a few minutes of training at a time.” She narrowed her eyes. “How long does she sit still for you?”

Oddvar puffed out his chest with pride. “Before Amka showed up, Kallik was going on twenty-eight minutes.”

Shandrika’s jaw dropped. “How…?”

The young man shrugged. “A light tap of the switch whenever she squirms keeps her butt parked.”

Amka roared. The noise echoed in the den, reverberating off the cladding. Shandrika leapt to her feet, pressing her palm against Amka’s shoulder as the bear dropped her forefeet to the platform and tucked her back feet to get up. Oddvar scrambled back up the three steps to the human door.

“That’s not what the switch is for!” Shandrika shouted. “It’s one of the first things a partner candidate gets trained on.” She turned to face her partner, grasping the snout that could bring enough pressure down on an arm to crush it to a bleeding pulp. “Let me deal with this. Please, Amka! He’s not allowed to do that. When HR finds out what he’s done, he’ll be bounced out of the program so hard he’ll hit orbit.”

While Amka didn’t retreat, she managed to hold herself back from lunging at the human. Oddvar fumbled at the human door, and disappeared through it, his face grey with fear. Shandrika chased after him, the sound of her shouting suddenly quiet when the door slammed behind her.

Hunger gnawed at Amka’s belly, but she was too angry to eat. She flopped down onto her side and gathered a shaking Kallik into her forelegs. She longed to rip every one of that horrible human’s limbs from his body, then crush his head in her jaws. That last act she’d do slowly, make the pain last until he begged to die. If it weren’t for the switch, she’d do it no matter what Shandrika thought.

Amka had no doubt, too, that Shandrika would use her own switch to stop her from mauling the man. Not once in their twenty years together had Shandrika used it, but Amka had no illusions about whether her partner would in order to stop her from killing a human. Resentment burned through her. If humans thought themselves so superior, why did they need the switch?

“I would only do it to protect you,” Shandrika said through their link. “If you killed a human, for any reason other than self-defence, you’d be shot. And there’s no way I could survive that. You are my life, Amka.”

Amka rumbled, resentment burning unabated.

“Security has taken Oddvar into custody. I’m on hold for Human Resources now. I’m demanding they suspend his connection immediately.”

Amka’s anger eased a little. Shandrika was taking care of things. As she always did. Amka cuddled Kallik, licking the top of the cub’s head, rubbing her paw down the cub’s back and sides. Kallik’s shudders stopped, though she didn’t resume her suckling.

Oddvar had better pray the cub wasn’t off her feed long.

& & &

“Wake up, Amka,” Shandrika called.

Amka snuffled, reluctant to stir from a much-needed nap. Kallik twitched, but stayed asleep, still exhausted from the separation trauma that had kept them awake well into third shift. At least now the poor cub was free from that scat-fueled villain.

The human door creaked open, light spilling in around Shandrika and another figure. Amka sniffed, then stiffened. Whoever it was, she didn’t know them. She let out a low, warning growl.

“Be easy, sweetheart,” Shandrika said, pitching her voice low as she came down into the den. “Hekla’s come to meet us before she gets linked.”

The other human, almost as pale-skinned as Amka’s own fur, followed only as far as the stoop. She stood, hands clasped together, oozing out a complex scent that included only a trace of fear.

“It’s not even been a full shift cycle.”

“I understand your worry,” Shandrika said. She passed on what Amka had said to the waiting human while she climbed up onto the platform. “The vet’s worried that if we let Kallik go too long it could cause serious neurological harm. Hekla’s already going to have a difficult road thanks to Oddvar. We have to do everything we can to make this as easy as possible.”

“For who? Kallik or Hekla?” Amka snorted, knowing full well the only reason the company cared a twiddle for neuro damage was because of how expensive it would be for them to remove Kallik’s chip.

“Sweetheart, we all want what’s best for Kallik.” Shandrika sighed and knelt down next to Amka’s head. “A neuro damaged bear won’t survive on her own, and they’re too dangerous to keep in the compound.”

Amka grumbled. “That’s what they tell us, but is that true? I’ve never seen a neuro damaged bear.”

“I’ve seen tapes, Amka. It’s part of a handler’s training. It doesn’t happen anymore because now we know what to do when things like this happen.” Shan waved at the waiting human. “Hekla didn’t have to come here before her procedure. She could’ve just gone online. But she cares enough to show Kallik she’s safe before that happens.”

Kallik kicked in her sleep, drawing all their eyes to her.

“How do we know she’s not another Oddvar?”

Shandrika sighed sadly. “Oddvar never should’ve been approved. HR wouldn’t tell me how he managed it, but I asked around.” She rubbed Amka’s cheek. “His family is connected in the company. Someone must’ve pulled strings for him. I’ve filed a complaint with the Ethics Committee.” She shrugged. “I don’t know if anything will come of it for him directly, but at least there’ll be a review of his screening results by someone who doesn’t give a crap about him. Hopefully this won’t happen again.”

“Hopefully?”

“Well, I can’t promise it won’t ever happen again someday. But I can promise someone sure as shit is going to get it over this. Another layer of oversight will get added to the process. Hekla already had to jump through a lot more hoops than I did to get partnered.”

“So did Oddvar,” Amka growled. “And he passed the screening.”

“I expect the hoops will be added to the screeners, not candidates.”

Amka chuffed a low bark. “Kallik is sleeping. Hekla can come back during first shift.”

“Hekla goes under the knife then.” Shandrika sent a flash of urgency over their link. “If Kallik has a chance to interact before her link goes active again it will be much easier for her.”

“I’m the parent. I say no.”

“Amka’s refusing, Hekla,” Shandrika said to the other human. Then, to Amka, “You are the parent, yes, but I’d have to override you in this. Please don’t make me do that, love. I know it’s hard for you to see it now, but it will be much, much better for Kallik if we do it this way. Just like getting stitches can hurt in the moment, that discomfort is far, far better than letting a wound bleed you dead.”

Amka raised her head high, pulling back her lips to bare her teeth. “You say I’m the parent, but what you mean, Shandrika, is that I’m the parent only as long as I do what you say. And you’ll use the switch if I don’t.”

Shandrika flinched. “No, Amka, but I am responsible for your welfare, and Kallik’s until she’s weaned. You are the parent, but I’m the legal guardian. If anything goes wrong with Kallik, I’m the one who’ll be held responsible.” Shandrika cleared her throat. “Just like I’m held responsible if you deliberately hurt someone.”

Amka glared, sending waves of angry denial over their link. She pulled her lips back farther, adding a growl into the mix. She wasn’t going to win this fight, no matter how angry she got. Or how strong she was. The switch would see to that.

“Fine,” Amka sent. She kept her teeth bared, but made no other movement when Shandrika waved the pale human forward.

“Try to relax, darling,” Shandrika sent privately. Then aloud to the cautiously moving Hekla, “Amka won’t hurt you. She’s upset, but once you’ve proved you’re no threat to her cub she’ll relax.”

In company with unspoken reassurances, Shan sent to Amka, “Hekla truly is sweet. Her protective instincts score is almost as high as yours. Better than mine, even. It really will be okay, I promise.”

Amka forced herself to remain still, fighting the compulsion to slap the puny human away from her sleeping cub. Instead, she watched the strange woman gently stroke Kallik from shoulder to haunch, whispering greetings.

Kallik’s breathing changed, and she cracked open an eye. She raised her head to look at the new human, wariness easing away with every gentle stroke of that pale hand. Several minutes passed quietly, and Kallik laid her head down again. Moments later, she’d fallen asleep.

“Thank you, sweetness,” Shandrika said aloud, wrapping her arms around Amka’s neck and hugging her hard. “That was incredibly difficult for you, and you did brilliantly. I’m so proud of you.”

As much as Amka hated it, her partner’s words made her feel better. A part of her longed to snarl at both humans to make them go away.

Amka laid her head back down, tension not easing in the slightest until the humans had left. It was a long time before she returned to sleep.

& & &

Amka ambled out the bear door, picking up speed when Kallik made no objections. The cub gambolled about Hekla while the door descended, seemingly oblivious to her mother’s departure. Amka tried not to let that rankle. It was childish of her to resent Shandrika for being right, she told herself again. She shoved the thought away where Shandrika wouldn’t be able to hear it, squashing it like a snowball.

“Dayside gate standing by, Amka.” There was a cautious edge to Shandrika’s voice these days. Amka knew it was hurting their relationship, making her partner tiptoe on thin ice this way, but she felt powerless to resist her growing resentment.

Amka bore right once out of their home row, passing the community hall and reindeer pens without pause. She pressed on to the docks separating the northernmost pen from the dayside water gate, girding herself for their noise and bustle.

Once past the row of store houses, she halted. At this point in second shift, there should be a crowd of humans, waiting to unload the approaching cargo vessel’s goods for transshipping to Cercyon’s orbital mining platforms, far away in the night sky. Instead, there wasn’t a human in sight.

Amka lifted her snout and dropped her jaw, drinking in the air. The stymphal was close. No wonder they’d all taken cover. A fully-grown adult stymphal could chew its way through the compound’s chain-link cover in less than an hour, spitting toxic streams while it worked. Reindeer was a mild incentive for an exceptionally hungry bird, but a human’s omnivorous flesh made the herbivore a distant second choice.

A fresh flash of resentment blew through Amka like a bitter wind. She was being sent out to lure the raptor away, presenting it with a target far more difficult for it to take down. A bear being sent out, at risk to life and limb, for what? Feeble humans who couldn’t bring themselves to make their own kills?

“You know we aren’t allowed to kill native species unless it becomes a direct threat. This one isn’t even an adult, so one good swat from you should persuade it that hunting its usual prey is far less trouble than any of us.”

Amka huffed. “Humans make too many rules. Life would be easier if we culled these birds.”

Shandrika didn’t answer with words, but exasperation flowed clearly down their link. Which didn’t help soften Amka’s resentment. Shandrika ignored Amka’s answering burst of dissatisfaction.

“The gate operator is awaiting your pleasure,” Shandrika said.

Amka passed through the lock, then out onto the open tundra.

“You’ve got its attention. Its following you, though it’s maintaining altitude.”

“How high up?” Amka asked. She could smell it, but making out its camouflaging mottled silver hide from amongst the low clouds scudding dayward across the sky was impossible.

“Just under thirty metres.”

Amka shifted into a lope, heading inland, wind in her face.

“Amka veer right about twenty degrees. There’s a crevasse ahead of you.”

Resentment blazed up. Amka knew this terrain very well. Shandrika did not need to tell her how to do her job.

“Amka, veer right. You’re coming up on a two metre crevasse. Judging by the ice density along its edges, it’s pretty fresh.”

“It isn’t that big,” Amka grumbled. “I was well able to cross it last time.”

“It probably widened during the last Conjunction Tide. Veer off, you can’t make a two metre jump.”

Amka snorted her disdain. “How high is the stymphal now?”

“Still holding at thirty metres. Come on, Amka, change heading.” Shandrika’s mind voice was losing its calm.

Not that Amka cared a whit. Shandrika was making a larger fuss than necessary. As usual. Two metres was nothing. She was strong and fit. Amka dug her claws deeper into the hard-packed snow, picking up the speed she’d need for such a leap. Shandrika would be eating her words soon.

Amka thundered forward, ignoring her partner’s increasingly frantic instructions to turn aside. She galloped nightward, frigid air driving icy particles into her eyes, making her squint.

The ice under her feet changed. Where it had been solid, as firm as Bendigo itself, it was now spongy, shifting. Fear stabbed her. It was one thing to leap across a chasm with firm lips of ice, but another thing entirely to launch from a weak, crumbling surface.

One moment she was running, the next she was falling, ice and snow swirling and crashing against her as she plunged down into a featureless world of white.

“Amka!” Shandrika shouted over their link.

As with all things, nothing lasts forever. Not even a fall. Amka hit the ground, the snapping of her leg bones as they tried to absorb her impact explosively loud in her ears.

“Shandrika!” Amka cried. She tried to form another thought, but the pain, pain, pain made consciousness torture.

“Help is coming, Amka.” Shandrika’s voice was coming from very far away. Almost as far away as the cry of a circling stymphal. Amka tried to pay attention to the bird’s cries, to figure out where it was. But the roaring in her ears made it hard to hear anything at all. Amka clung to the last words she’d heard from her partner as she slipped into black oblivion: help was coming. She only hoped it would reach her before that stymphal decided to test its prey’s defencelessness.

& & &

“You can do this,” Shandrika said, “I know it hurts, but you’re almost done. Just ten more metres and you’re done for the day, I promise.”

Amka grunted, pain and fatigue blunting thoughts into simple, visceral emotions. She pushed against the tread, her claws clacking on the plating. Her head grew heavier with each stride until her nose hovered a bare centimetre above the track. Blindly, she pressed on, Shandrika chanting down the distance remaining.

“And done!” Shandrika said, keying the track off. Amka collapsed into her harness, letting it take her weight, and ignored the straps’ bite into her hide. Every gram of her two hundred kilos felt as though it had been pounded flat and left out to dry beyond dayside’s habitable edge. Sweat oozed down her inner thighs.

Amka hung, trembling with exhaustion, while Shandrika fetched the snow pails waiting outside. She offered no resistance to her partner strong-arming her feet into each pail as she brought them in. The shock of cold against the scalding heat of bare skin made her twitch, but the sensation passed quickly. Soothing cool spread upward from her footpads, calming tremors and slowing her racing pulse.

Shandrika rubbed her shoulder, inarticulate worry and concern making her hands over-gentle and unsatisfying. Disdain for all humans stirred in Amka’s heart once again. They were so weak. Even injured, Amka would have no trouble killing the strongest human on Boreas Island.

The link betrayed Amka’s feelings to her partner, and Shandrika moved away with a sad sigh. “I’ll give you a few more minutes to cool down and recover. Then I’ll get your braces back on so we can go home.”

“I don’t need them,” Amka replied, not bothering to keep the snarl out of her voice.

“Amka,” Shandrika said, her voice slow with forced patience, “You could barely walk a hundred metres just now. What makes you think you’d be able to manage the eight hundred home?”

“I would go slow. And it would be outside, so I wouldn’t get so hot.”

Shandrika stared at her, irritation slipping through her mask of amiability. “Amka, it’s only five degrees warmer in here than it is outside. Be reasonable, for pity’s sake. It’s going to take time to rebuild those muscles.”

Amka huffed. “It would have been easier if I’d been put down, my body left to rot in that crevasse. Instead you torture me with all this ‘physiotherapy’. Even HR thinks you a fool.”

Shandrika’s nostrils flared as she drew several deep breaths. “Maybe I am a fool, Amka. But no matter how nasty you get, I will keep fighting to protect you.”

“I am not your cub. I do not need you to fight for me.”

“No, you are my partner. It’s not the same, but the attachment is just as real for humans. It used to be for you, too.” Shandrika’s voice cracked on that last. She looked away, chin trembling.

“I am a slave. And you hold the whip.”

Shandrika’s eyes flashed angrily. “You are not a slave, Amka. You’re free to leave the compound at any time.”

“But not come back.”

“If you choose to leave, the chip gets removed. From both of us.” Shandrika yanked a bucket out from under a front paw, banging Amka’s leg none too gently. “ No more switch. You could go wherever you wanted. Hunt for survival. You’d be free to do what you wanted as long as you didn’t bother anybody.” She crossed to the door and chucked the melted snow outside. When she returned, she stood in front of Amka, arms crossed, a scowl on her dark face. “If you want to do that, fine. But Kallik stays here. One of the other sows would foster her.”

Amka stared at her partner a long moment, the first trill of fear singing in the pit of her stomach. The realization that she was afraid of the dangers she would encounter alone in the frozen wilds of Bendigo’s night-edge rankled. Her innate self-honesty required her to admit that she didn’t want to be a wild bear. Until recently, she’d always enjoyed the comforts of partnership. To be out there, alone in her head, with no one to share life’s joys and sorrows with, would be a sad, lonely existence with little to mitigate it.

“I get that you’re frustrated, Amka. I get that recovery from injuries like yours is a long, slow, and painful process. And I’m trying really hard to be patient with your sulks while you work through it. But you’re making it damned difficult.” Shandrika sniffed, and rubbed a knuckle across her cheek. “It doesn’t have to be this hard.”

The fear in Amka’s belly demanded an angry growl in response, rejecting Shandrika’s words. Conquering it, she looked away. No bear should need a human’s approval. It wasn’t natural. Gwaailoppo didn’t need it, neither did her other two boar cubs. She pushed away the question of whether they still survived.

The silence stretched, the tension as hard as nightside ice. Finally, Shandrika reached for another bucket. Amka lifted her paw free of it, but said nothing. Pride wouldn’t let her ask for forgiveness.

& & &

Amka circled wide, keeping a wary eye on the magnus’s front graspers. The beast surged, rushing Efretti. Amka cried a warning. Efretti spun and dug her claws into the ice, her powerful rear quarters launching her away from the creature’s strike. The young sow was quick, but not quick enough. A glistening, mottled grey tentacle wrapped around her rear leg.

Blood stained sleek white fur red as the grasper’s row of ten centimetre claws sank through hide and tissue from ankle to hip. Efretti roared. Gadarette rushed forward, the four other bears of the team closing in a heartbeat later to snap at soft, writhing, leg ends in an effort to distract the octopod from its prize.

The magnus pulled Efretti closer to its centre carapace – and its terrible beak. Efretti thrashed and raked her claws at the other grasper, desperate to keep it from also gaining purchase, her growls high-pitched with pain.

Amka got close enough to sink her teeth into the giant predator’s rear leg, just below its lower leg bone. Oily black blood filled her mouth. She ignored its burn, biting harder, trying to rip away enough flesh to cripple the hydrostatic flow, rendering the tentacle end inert, if not the full length of the leg.

The magnus’s shriek shook the air. The monster reared away from Amka, taking its full weight onto the three legs on its other side. It yanked Amka from her feet as if she were a tiny cub. The world and sky became a blurred kaleidescope as the magnus tried to shake her off. Another sow must have found purchase with jaw and claw because the magnus shrieked again.

Efretti screamed, the sound trailing off as the monster threw her away, freeing its grasper. Amka couldn’t spare a glance in her squad-mate’s direction, instead seeking the threatening grasper snaking toward her. She let go of the limb, turned tail, and galloped out of the creature’s range, the slap of its tentacle against thinly covered ice vibrating the ground behind her.

On the magnus’s far side, two bears were biting down on separate limbs, their fur covered in black, patchy streaks. Gaderette saw the reaching graspers in time and let go to spring away.

The other sow did not.

Five metre long graspers wrapped around fore and back legs. The sow roared. Two ragged breaths later, the magnus tore the sow’s legs away from her torso. Heart’s blood pumped from the wounds, spraying the magnus. The sow fell. The entire squad froze in shock at the carnage.

Amka was the first to recover herself. She screamed a deep-throated challenge as the magnus dropped the lumps of reddened fur. The four uninjured bears lunged forward, splitting into pairs, Gaderette joining Amka. Each pair landed on a grasper, jaws wide. As one, they sank twelve centimetre long canines into the tentacles.

The magnus tried to back away, but its rubbery hide slipped on the ice’s thin cover of snow. The bears bore down harder, each making sure the other had a firm hold before seeking to rip away another chunk of sinew from the flailing limb.

Through the noise and tumult, Amka could hear Efretti’s whimpers. Encouraged that her junior still lived, she threw herself harder into battle, ignoring the tweak of pain in her legs. Of their fallen comrade, she couldn’t spare a thought. Later. They would mourn her later. Now they could only avenge her.

Gaderette let go and roared triumph. It took a moment more for Amka to realize that the grasper in her mouth no longer fought. Then she, too, roared triumph. The magnus shrieked back its defiance. With Gaderette by her side, Amka advanced on the monster’s carapace. They wouldn’t be able to bite through the thick shell, but they could claw the creature blind.

The beast recognized its danger and struggled to back away. The other two sows still anchored it, making the magnus swing around them, its pivot point slippery black with the blood pulsing out from its mutilated grasper.

Amka rumbled a command, and the two other bears let go. The magnus retreated, dragging its useless graspers. The snow stirred up by its passage slowly settled back to cover the black trail it left behind. The creature wouldn’t survive long with such grievous injuries.

The thought offered little comfort. Amka turned back to her fallen comrades. Efretti would live, she thought. Frida was dead. Grief welled and she moaned, the keen rising from from the bottom of her footpads.

“Help is on the way,” Shandrika said over their link, her voice sad and small.

& & &

Dayward wind sliced across the compound, driving swirling clusters of snow crystals to harry Amka and Shandrika as they walked to Efretti and Luis’s quarters. Shandrika’s steps dragged slower the closer they got to the injured bear’s den.

“Sorry, Amka,” Shandrika said over their link rather than make the effort of shouting through her muffler.

“I don’t want to go either.” Efretti’s decline had been hard to watch. Luis’s inability to fight for his partner harder still.

Gaderette and her partner, Gabriel, appeared from the cross street on Amka’s right. The bears chuffed greetings, the humans sparing each other only silent nods. They walked on in tandem, as quiet as under-ice sea. Efretti’s house was dark, as if no one was home. Shandrika thumped on the bear door anyway, then stood back, unmoving except for the wind’s ruffling of her hood’s thick fur trim.

The door’s mechanism groaned, then its panels began to track upward, revealing a man’s slippered feet, then thin pants. By the time the hem of his heavy sweater came into sight, Shandrika and Gabriel were ducking under the door. Moments later, Amka and Gaderette followed them in out of the icy wind, the door rumbling closed behind.

Efretti lay huddled on her platform, her side rising and falling in a fevered pant. She gave no indication she was aware of her guests. Her cub, Nintku, pressed up against her belly, his high-stressed mewling barely audible. Luis rushed past the visitors to perch on the edge of the cushioning. He tenderly picked up the sow’s unresisting head and lay it on his lap, stroking his insensible partner’s muzzle, fresh tears making new tracks down his face.

“She’s stopped producing milk,” he said, his voice husky.

Shandrika and Gabriel glanced at each other. Gab shook his head, lips pressed tight. Shandrika cleared her throat. “If she’s not responding to the primaxin, you need to switch her over to the gentamicin.”

Luis shook his head. “It’s not a bacterial infection. Or at least that’s not what’s killing her.” He looked up, and even Amka could read the helplessness on his face. “It’s blood poisoning. And the company won’t approve dialysis to scrub the magnus material from her bloodstream.”

Amka growled deep in her throat.

Shandrika pressed a hand to Amka’s shoulder, and she subsided. “What do you mean? Why not?”

Luis’s face crumpled. “Her service record isn’t good,” he said through his sobs. “And they blame her for the stillbirths.”

Shandrika’s face darkened. “You have to fight that, Luis. They always reject on the first try. You have to keep going back to them over and over. Make the adjuster’s life miserable until they give you what she needs.”

Luis shook his head. “I tried. But they won’t listen. I just keep getting disconnected when I call.”

“Then go in person!”

Luis clutched Efretti’s head tight. “I can’t leave her. What if she dies while I’m gone? I couldn’t live with myself if that happened.”

All four ursies stared at the man in shocked dismay. Gabriel found his tongue first. “So you’re going to let her die in extreme pain?”

Luis recoiled as if he’d been physically struck. “Of course not!” He went back to stroking his partner’s head. “The vet will put her down tonight,” he said, his voice cracking on the last word.

Amka growled long, low, and deep. “This human did not deserve to be an ursie,” she said, her mental voice a snarling, slashing strike.

Shandrika winced and pressed her fingers behind her ears. “Amka, that hurt.” When Amka fell quiet, she turned back to the cowering human clutching at Efretti. “What do you want from us, then?” she asked, her voice bitter and hard.

Luis swallowed and bit his lip. “She asked to have one of you foster Nintku. His protective instincts score was too low for the program, but he’s not old enough yet for survival training.”

Both Amka and Gaderette rumbled. Their human partners glancing at one another, tight-lipped, each giving the other a single, shallow nod. “Of course we’ll honour her request,” Gabriel said. “The four of us will discuss which pair makes more sense. We’ll have an answer for you within the hour.”

Gabriel turned on his heel and strode to the bear door, slapping the control panel with far more force than necessary to get it started. Gaderette swayed from foot to foot waiting for the door to roll up, then followed her partner out, her snout millimetres from the ground. Shandrika stared at the useless human sobbing on the platform for several additional seconds then stamped away. Amka wasted no further time, matching Shandrika’s stride. She had to get out of there before she mauled the fool.

Efretti was going to die. And she didn’t have to. Bitter anger blossomed. Luis had said the sow needed only a simple procedure. She was young, and would’ve pulled through this if she’d had a braver partner.

When Shandrika hurried to catch up to Gabriel and spoke in a low voice. Gaderette pressed her shoulder against Amka’s, laying her head along her squad leader’s neck. Amka pressed back, as eager for the comfort as her junior.

Shandrika and Gabriel separated, each turning for their respective homes. Gaderette rumbled one last purr, then lumbered after her partner.

Amka watched the pair go. She should ask Shandrika what the humans had said to one another but she was loath to, as if knowing which of them was going to accept Nintku was killing Efretti by her own claw.

The sound of Shandrika’s footsteps faded away, and still Amka stood frozen. She’d never thought Luis a bad partner before. He’d been gentle and encouraging with Efretti through every one of the young sow’s many mistakes. He’d pleaded for patience from both herself and the company.

Patience wasn’t how one survived on this brutal planet, though. Perhaps it would have been back on Earth, where polar bears had been an apex land predator. But here there were creatures far more deadly in mankind’s battle for survival so far from its stellar birthplace.

Like Luis, Shandrika could have given up on Amka after she’d fallen into that crevasse. Instead her partner had waged war against anyone who’d suggested that Amka could never recover. Even herself, she admitted very quietly in a tiny corner of her mind. And after all of that, all Shandrika asked for Amka’s good will.

It was little to ask for. It shouldn’t be so hard to give.

Amka shambled toward home, wrestling with her reluctance to let go of the distrust that had grown between them.

Shandrika was waiting when Amka got there. Kallik gambolled about the den, batting a brightly coloured ball against a newly painted target on the wall. Every time Kallik landed the ball within the smallest circle, a strip of candied fish would drop from the chute below it. Of Hekla there was no sign.

Shandrika started stripping off her outerwear. “Gabriel thinks Gaderette should be the one to foster Nintku. He’s closer to Cleta’s age. Kallik won’t be nursing much longer, and if you take on a cub so young it’ll throw your heat cycle out of whack.”

“Alright,” Amka replied. “Shan,” she said when her partner turned to the human door, “I’m sorry.”

Shandrika turned back, shoulders sagging. “I’m sorry, too, love. For all that’s happened.” She came close, stroking Amka’s neck.

They stood quietly for a moment, a tendril of peace seeking an opening in their link. “Kallik is doing really well with Hekla. She’s not afraid anymore.”

“Yes, Hekla is kind. But that’s not enough.” Amka moaned in worry.“Luis is kind.”

“Yeah, he is,” Shandrika said with a sigh. “And you’re right, kindness alone isn’t enough. An ursie partner has to be fierce, too. It’s hard to find the right balance.”

Amka pressed her head into Shandrika’s body. Relief flowed when her partner’s strong fingers dug into the thick hair behind her ears, a warm current washing away a layer of the frost that had been growing between them. “I guess I know.” She huffed. “Humans aren’t all the same. I forget sometimes.”

“Most of us humans forget that, too,” Shandrika murmured into Amka’s ruff. “What Oddvar did was really bad. It’s going to take time to accept that it won’t happen with Hekla, too.” Shandrika pulled away and grasped Amka’s jowls, staring into her eyes. “But, love, you have to work at it. You have to be mindful of those feelings. You have to let go of that fear.”

“It’s hard.”

Shandrika pressed her forehead between Amka’s eyes. “Yeah, love, it is. But if you let me, I’ll help you.”

Amka rumbled a purr, and pushed a tentative pulse of gratitude down their link. She wasn’t ready yet to open herself all the way up again, there were still too much to sort through. But for the moment, just having Shandrika physically close was enough. Amka curved a gentle paw about her human, drawing her tight. Her purr buzzed louder when Shandrika squeezed her arms around Amka’s neck, sending an answering wave of love down their link.

* * * * THE END * * * *
Copyright Charlotte H. Lee 2025