Chapter 3: Want to Fuck a Ratkin

Test Subject "Marmotte" No. 9

Subject "Marmotte" 9.

Chirp chirp—

"...Mmm."

Waking up not to a beeping digital clock, but to the sound of living birds chirping.

It was the sort of luxurious awakening only nobles or tycoons got to enjoy.

"Nnngh..."

How soft could bare ground with nothing but grass strewn over it possibly be?

Of course every joint and muscle in my body was screaming.

I rubbed my eyes and got up.

!@))@(&$@^%

"No signal...?"

The communications device I had ripped out of the pod was dead.

The primitive radio receiver gave no meaningful response either.

Judging by how the static changed subtly whenever I turned the dial, this did not seem to be some pre-medieval planet where radio waves themselves did not exist, at least.

"Damn it."

I threw away the radio dial I had been fiddling with and thumped my stifled chest.

Not that doing that would solve anything.

Even if this planet was outside the Union, I had planned to contact a local faction and send out a distress signal. That plan had fallen through too.

For all practical purposes, I was trapped on this planet.

"Fuck..."

I should never have taken a vacation.

But no amount of grumbling changed anything.

Thud thud thud—

That did not mean I could move carelessly, either.

Thump. Thump.

This was the last thing I wanted, but what if the local faction was a savage, warlike primitive tribe—and cannibals on top of that?

"Fucking racist."

The civilized-world ethics drilled into me said I should not harbor such cultural chauvinism, but you never knew what people might be like.

"Aah!"

"A local with a square jaw, wearing fur pelts and twirling a club as they come at me."

Was that not such a classic unga-bunga caveman cliché that it could give anyone a prejudice they never had before?

I absolutely could not make that person angry.

"Wait? Excuse me?"

"Uwooooh!"

But the primitive, already furious, was right in front of me.

"Talk! Let’s taaaalk!"

This was even worse than being threatened by a wild animal.

Which was scarier: a stray dog charging at you, or a person charging at you?

Anyone who was on a leash in the first place was clearly not normal, so run the hell away.

Clang!

Of course, if I could have run, would I be sitting here saying this shit?

"Guhk!"

Before the searing pain could even hit me, everything went black.

.

.

.

"Is this person an idiot too? How did he think he could beat a Neanderthal on flat ground?"

A woman with pale white fur and round ears spoke as though dumbfounded while looking down at the unconscious outsider.

Even if he had fired a pistol point-blank, his skull would have cracked just the same.

Was it not common knowledge that an equal number of Neanderthals were tough walking tanks in hand-to-hand combat that could beat anything short of an elephant?

"That felt weird. It was like I punched a mech."

"How many times do I have to tell you? It’s a mechanoid, not a mech!"

"Mech-an-oid."

The Neanderthal repeated it clumsily, but it was apparently still difficult.

Marmotte, the round-eared Ratkin test subject, furrowed her brow.

"Ah, whatever. What does it matter whether it’s a mech or a mechanoid?"

Marmotte, who claimed to have a "low-intelligence allergy," forcibly cut off the pointless conversation.

They had followed the tribespeople all night after they made a fuss about a star suddenly falling from the sky last night, only to find neither meteorite nor anything else—just a broken pod and a space refugee.

My fault for trusting people whose names have animals and colors in them.

"...?"

In that sense, the "Green Shark" in front of her was someone Marmotte should never trust, but—

Knowing full well that she would be beaten into a bloody pulp if they fought, the clever Marmotte did not bother saying it aloud.

"Is this... an outsider?"

She looked down at the man whose skull was practically dripping kimchi broth.

The star Green had seen yesterday must have been the vehicle this man arrived in.

The thing those rude space pirates always rode in overhead before dropping down out of nowhere.

"Why does he have so little? Is he a beggar? Wow! Painkillers!"

Rifling through his belongings with practiced hands, Marmotte cheered at the sight of a whole box full of medicine.

The two of them wandered this vast grassland, so resources like these were always precious.

"Is there any food?"

"Here."

Without even turning around, Marmotte tossed a yellow-wrapped ration behind her.

Hearing Green cheering behind her back, she continued searching.

Looking closely at this outsider, he had no breasts.

"He’s tall as a lamppost, too. Hehe."

For once, a blooming smile spread across Marmotte’s face at someone else’s misfortune.

Though he looked about two heads taller than a Ratkin who was barely 130 centimeters tall, he was smaller than she was.

"Compared to that one, anyway..."

Marmotte whispered, shooting a sidelong glance at Green, who was already tearing into her second pack of survival rations.

Green’s voluptuous figure, impossible to conceal even beneath a Neanderthal’s characteristic robust musculature, had always been an object of envy for Marmotte.

Yet despite being about the same height as Green, this outsider’s bust was utterly hopeless.

Heavy.

"Oh."

But that sense of kinship was spectacularly betrayed while she searched his lower body.

"Hey... Green."

"What?"

"This outsider. He’s male."

"?!"

Plop—

The ration wrapper fell from Green’s hand.

This was huge.

.

.

.

"Ugh..."

My head hurt like it was about to split open.

Considering what I had seen before losing consciousness, there was a high chance it really had been split open.

[Injury: Head 10/25]

Fuck, it really almost cracked open.

The expensive implant I had installed faithfully reminded me, even now, that I had been on the verge of death.

"You’re awake."

I raised my head toward the unfamiliar voice.

But my vision was too blurry for an image to properly form.

"It probably hurts."

A gentle voice spoke.

"I administered first aid, but I forgot that the one who hit you was a Neanderthal."

It sounded like an attempt to reassure me, but also like she was making fun of me...

"You awake?"

"Aaaah!"

The moment I saw the large figure enter the room, I could not stop the scream from bursting out.

After all, the primitive who had brought the agonizing pain currently pounding through my skull had leaned in close.

"I don’t have anything, but please spare me!"

I curled up, trembling.

Judging from the survival-ration wrappers scattered nearby and the sterile bandages wound tightly around my head, the few belongings I had must already have been completely looted.

There was no more extreme situation than being left with nothing but my body.

"Did I hit him too hard?"

Yet unexpectedly, the primitive was not aggressive.

As my sight slowly returned, I saw the crouching primitive and, in front of her, a white-haired woman with round ears...

"...A rat?"

"Squeak!"

[Insulted: -5]

Uh, was that not it?

The long-haired woman with rat ears grimaced.

No, were those real? The area around here had been nothing but overgrown grassland, so there was no amusement park nearby.

And if not, she could not be some lunatic who went around wearing fake-ear headbands...

"Have you never seen a Ratkin before?"

"Rat...kin?"

The petite girl planted her hands firmly on her hips and shrieked at me.

"A new xenotype...?"

I had heard of animal-like xenohumans such as Pigskins and Yttakin, but a rat was a first for me.

"Squeak squeak?!"

[Insulted x2: -10]

Ah, that was not right either.

-----

The average day on the frontier.

Want to fuck a Ratkin.

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