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They were like a well-oiled machine; if their performance at Monster Mart hadn't convinced you yet, their extraction protocol would.

The trucks swung round to pick up the mortar team en-route, barely coming to a stop as the teenagers threw their gear aboard one of the lighter loaded trucks and clambered aboard in a run. The Feds had stepped things up since Buster's strike team hit the Monster Mart, meaning extract and return home had to be quick. Which was only fair.

But the gear-heads would have to get up very early in the morning to outdo Da Cubz.

The trucks pulled into a multi-storey car park. From there it was well choreographed action, one thing right after the other. The drivers had barely settled into their pre-determined parking spots - pulling in at the same time like they were synchronised - when peeps piled out and pulled thermal blankets over the hoods.

From there everybody ducked for cover. Then came the worst part.

Waiting.

Heads down they watched a saucer glide through the street, a trio of spotlights sweeping the road they had travelled only moments ago. It swept by, the edge of one light touching one of the truck bonnets, but it made no indication it noticed anything out of place.

After a tense few moments the saucer tipped then shot off further down the street to do further scans, it's thermal sensors blocked by the blankets pulled over the vehicles. Nobody breathed easy though, looking expectantly to Buster.

The tiger had his FAST helmet off, fiddling with one of the adjustment straps as he gave the saucer thirty seconds grace. Then satisfied the coast was clear he gave his strike force the nod. They lightened up immediately, those that wore helmets like Buster's took them off.

Even Buster breathed easy, tousling his sandy coloured hair and straightening out his back. He'd huddled behind the truck's cabin. Not a natural posture for him. He was a large guy, muscular as well. He fitted into his body armour well enough that it didn't look ridiculously over-sized on him. It was clear to see - if you didn't know him - that he played football in school, and that he may have had a cheerleader on his arm come Prom Night... had any of them made it to Prom Night.

The Galactic Federation fell on them, kicking off the 13-Hour War when all of them were only sixteen years old. It had been touch and go for those first few months as they were packed together, teenagers who barely even liked each other cowering in some basement, allied only by the fear of darted and carted by some alien machine.

"Party time!" Pester whooped, jumping from one of the trucks and opening his pack to stow some of the booze he had liberated.

Buster shook his head, remaining on his perch towering over the cat. "Leave it, Pester. We're taking the booze to trade with Callie's Settlement, remember?"

Pester grumbled. "I remember. I was hoping you'd forgotten."

"We still got a war to fight. Can't do that with my best machine gunner drunk off his tits."

Pester rolled his eyes. 'Best machine gunner' wasn't much of a compliment if he needed to stay sober to get it.

Patting his friend on the shoulder with an expression that said 'lighten up, dude,' Slick moved past Buster and hopped from the truck bed. Landing heavily, he shifted his rifle to his side and retrieved his backpack. As he did, Blitz hurried over and helped him, knowing full well what was inside.

"Did you get the stuff?" she asked in a hushed whisper.

Before Slick could answer, Buster chimed in from where he was dismounting the vehicle. "Yeah, he got the stuff. The stuff he wasn't supposed to get!"

Her eyes widening, Blitz glanced between Buster and Slick before sighing frustrated. "Oh for... you told him?" She wanted to scream but was afraid if her volume matched her frustration she'd easily bring the entire Galactic Federation armada on their heads.

"Of course I told him," Slick argued. "He's in charge. He needs to know what the fuck is going on, especially when it's behind his back. Y'know there's a reason we're not allowed to have scav like this." He held up his backpack stuffed with contraceptives as if showing it made a valid point.

Truth of the matter was; Slick was way off the mark. It wasn't that they'd gone and grabbed loot Buster had decided was contraband, it was the fact they hadn't trusted his judgement and were sneaking around behind his back.

"You all put me in charge for a reason," Buster seared as he strapped on his own backpack. Moving in closer he angrily put his face within inches of Blitz's taking her aback just a little. "I didn't ask for it, but it happened anyway. And I made a decision. I don't care if you agree with it Blitz. When I lead I need you to follow or you're no good to me, understood?"

Swallowing, Blitz slowly nodded. as she did, Slick's eyes darted down and he eyed the tight grip she had on her pistol. Mind you, Buster had a hand on his too. And that was what disarmed Blitz.

After a tense few seconds Buster finally turned and moved away, with Slick in tow. The duo went on ahead to drop off the pharmaceuticals with their resident doc while the others busied themselves with offloading the rest of their loot.

Pester walked up beside Blitz with a frown. "What the hell was that all about?"

The girl just shook her head and walked back to the trucks. "Just offload the shit."

In the meantime Buster shifted some strategically placed rubble blocking a door and moved into the stairwell. He had thought his strike team was a blessing. Now he was hearing about how they were going behind his back, grabbing loot they weren't allowed to grab? There was going to have to be a re-organisation people.

The tiger sighed, rubbing his eyes as he reached an abandoned elevator shaft, nestled deep within the ruins of the lot. He felt like a dictator making political and personnel shifts in a desperate attempt to upset a coup before it happened. This shit was spiralling rapidly out of control.

He forced himself to calm down. One crisis at a time. Let's focus on the food shortage, then we can think about appeasing the masses.

With Slick's help he pulled aside the broken door covering over the elevator and looked down the empty shaft. The elevator itself was missing, as were the weights and cables, long since having been 'surgically' removed. The bottom of the shaft had been broken open as well to reveal chambers and caves underneath. All that was left was a ladder, a new ladder to boot, leading down into the dimly lit corridors below.

Turning, Buster climbed down the ladder, leading Slick to Haven Metro Central Station; down to the place Da Cubz called home.

~~~~

The jingling of the bell just above the door caught the servant's attention and scurrying out of the back of the cleaners came a dren. Envoy had already placed Nazrella's red dress on the counter by the time the humanoid greeted his customer.

"My mistress needs her dress cleaned for the palace ball tomorrow," Envoy instructed as the male dren closed in to inspect the work.

Dren reminded Envoy of terran humans. They had pale pink skin, although their bodies were entirely hairless. They had thin arms and digitigrade legs ending in paw-like feet. The females had more curvature to their bodies, while the males remained thin and wiry, and lacked the stinger on the end of their whiplash tails.

The dren weren't entirely a servant race. Just the males. The female dren were akin to the vyper race, near the top of the Galactic Federation social ladder. Being aggressive and domineering, they were ideal as special military forces in the Galactic Federation army. But males being so naturally subservient made better servants.

The dren behind the counter was no exception. Though he did seem confused a moment as he inspected the crusted streaks and spots all up and down the dress - the soppy result of Nazrella playing with her toy earlier.

The dren stared for a moment before he noticed the purple in Envoy's uniform. At that moment the cleaner smiled broadly and nodded.

"We'll have this ready for you tomorrow morning," the cleaner said, and Envoy paid his thanks.

Errand for the day done, Envoy left the shop and entered the street.

The Galactic Federation controlled planet of Ravenside was an endless expanse of scorching desert dotted with eight sprawling metropoles such as this, Nazrella's home city. Its wonder was matched by the backdrop of clear blue skies which helped shape the city to what it is today. The climate these skies brought were of great importance, but they were also influential when it came to architectural designs. Buildings were designed to take full advantage of the climate through large windows and lush gardens perched on the flat rooftops.

The skyline was a spread of stylish skyscrapers that incorporated old Galactic Federation designs and new ones. Being at the heart of Galactic Federation space, Ravenside was the subject of a great expanse of multiculturalism. It was not only evident in the design of the buildings and streets, but also in the services.

In the street outside the cleaners alone were hundreds of food carts, clubs and diners offering a plethora of culinary choices. And those who felt hungry for something else could enjoy the finest trained carnal servants for rent at the recreational centre. Or for those looking for a more permanent toy, the same way Nazrella took pride in owning Envoy, there was a servant market just up the main-street.

Situated in the sprawling main square was the heart of Galactic Federation servant trade. Here on Ravenside was where most servants were sorted and distributed. In the very same bazaar of cages, display podiums and handlers showing the fleshy wares was where Nazrella had found Envoy.

He smiled at the memory as passed on the opposite end of the street. It was a fond memory, one he would no doubt regale to Nazrella's please when he got home...

Then his vision flared, like he'd turned to look directly at the sun. the washout was followed by a split second of silence before the first half of a deafening crack registered in his ears. The second half turned into a whoomph, followed by the shrill scream of a tuning fork singing deep inside his head.

The only sound Envoy could register was his own heart pounding in his ears.

Finally, when the light faded and the ringing subsided, Envoy realised he was lying flat on his back, looking at the sky that had been clear just moments ago. Now it was choked with smoke. He struggled for breath in a fog of brick dust, smoke and something that smelled horribly ammonia. What had happened?

It only hit him when he started hearing the muffled yells and roars of other people half a world away.

Oh, God. A bomb.

Reaching up he managed to pat himself down to make sure he wasn't bleeding to death alone and far away from his beloved mistress. With a groan, Envoy rolled onto his side, pressed his hands to the pavement and the equine sat up. He kept trying to suck in air, but his lungs felt disconnected from his brain. He started coughing so hard that he almost vomited.

When he caught his breath the dust had settled enough for Envoy to spot the servants bazaar... or what was left of it.

A seven or eight meters wide crater had gouged a scar in the elegant paving. That was where the device had detonated: not in the midst of the plaza among the caged servants, but by the entrance where customers lined to speak with sales representatives and browse catalogues. A rainbow-pallet of blood lay in glossy pools or trickled into gutters. Envoy tried not to look at the dead and injured. Soldiers of the Galactic Federation may have been used to seeing body parts, but this was all new and sickening for him. He didn't recognised some things. He made himself look away before he did.

It was sobering that even on an alien world the carnage that followed a bombing looked pretty much like any shattered street on Terra in the aftermath of a terror attack. And people were just as scared and shocked and grief-stricken.

Envoy had long ago stopped referring to his fellow citizens of the Galactic Federation as aliens. They were all just people to him now.

Turning away from the grisly detail of the scene, Envoy found his feet. His whole body shook. He counted himself lucky for not having been eviscerated by shrapnel or burned to death. It was a miracle he could just walk it off like this.

But the ordeal wasn't over yet.

As a pair of vypers slid past carrying something in an improvised stretcher between them, Envoy heard the sound of smashing and shattering metal. The terran turned and spotted movement among the servants' cages. At first he thought it was the handlers checking to make sure the servants in the cages were uninjured. Instead he saw a cluster of terrans in raggedy clothing, nothing like what Envoy and the other servants on display wore.

There were nearly twelve of them in total. They were armed, carrying rifles Envoy was fairly sure they shouldn't have had. Several of them pressed the muzzles against the cage locks and discharged. Each sub-sonic crack was muffled by a hiss of coolant that sounded like an angry vyper, thus making the sounds of the gunfire indistinguishable in the chaos gripping the bazaar. With the locks smashed open on terran cages the armed youngsters dragged the servants out.

Envoy was watching them kidnap at least eight servants before he realised what this was. This was a jailbreak. There was a rebellion going on, right on his doorstep!

He wanted to cry out. Scream for help. But in the chaos of bodies milling about to see to the wounded and dead nobody would pay attention to him.

one of the terrans, a wolf somewhat shorter than him, although his age, turned and spotted him. Without hesitation the wolf ran over and slung the laser rifle over his shoulder. Rooted to the spot, Envoy could barely move as the wolf took his arm and pulled hard.

Envoy pulled back, the wolf's nails raking painfully over his wrist as he turned back to the equine with confusion.

The other terrans breaking the servants out were starting to move out. One of them was holding a pair of young terran cubs, one in each arm. Another had a girl, clearly in shock, draped in his arms as they peeled off and disappeared into a nearby alley.

The wolf snapped his fingers at Envoy. "Hey! Focus! C'mon!" He went to pull Envoy away again, but the stunned equine pulled back.

"Are you crazy?" the wolf shouted looking left and right. Heads were turning and people were beginning to notice the terrans now.

One in particular pulled out a spray can and was tagging the ground beside the cages they had broken. Several vypers pointed at them. One chomeari was shouting for the authorities - the squat potato-headed creature waving his arms almost comically in a desperate panic.

"C'mon!" the wolf urged, but Envoy took another step back.

"Leave him! He joined the circus!" the girl with the spray can shouted.

Cursing in a way Envoy recognised he would have done back on Terra, the wolf turned and joined the rebels as they bolted, disappearing after the others into a nearby alleyway.

Envoy was still rooted to the spot as several authorities ran past him. One bumped into him and he stumbled. But he didn't take his eyes off the message the terrans had left in the wake of their expertly fabricated chaos.

The message wasn't in Galactic Federation script that most people would have been able to read. The text was terran, slapped in place with more paint than talent. And its cryptic message chilled Envoy to the bone.

"Da Cubz were here."

The dissidence terrans were known for had come to his new home.

~~~~

Haven Metro Central Station was like a shopping mall under the foundations of Haven. The central atrium was a two level chamber that used to house a food-court in the centre, now a communal hall. Sprawling off from there like the spokes of a wagon-wheel were avenues lined with shops, long since gutted and turned into living quarters or storage areas. The eight surface access stairways had long since collapsed and were blocked over, leaving only a few hidden access ways like the parking garage entrance.

On each of the platforms stood subway cars, long since powered down and fallen into disrepair, which Da Cubz had turned into greenhouses. They were lined with pots and troughs of dirt and supplied with water from the city's left over municipal system. Diesel generators powered the UV lamps like everything else down in Metro Central.

More diesel generators hidden in the subway tunnels powered other lights around Metro Central Station, their exhausts vented into the sewage system a few metres above their heads.

Back in the day Suture never would have imagined her home would one day be a hovel in the ground like this. But then now and days she couldn't imagine living anywhere else anymore. She had settled into her routine as Da Cubz's doctor. Not because she had any medical experiences. She'd started out fairly handy with a needle and thread, then sort of picked up the rest along the way. It had been 'learn the hard way' for her, but then it had been the same for pretty much all of the others as well.

She was very settled into her routine. Every night around the same time she made her rounds through the spokes of Central Station, making sure her patients saw her and stopped her if anything was wrong. Buster had left Suture in charge of assigning quarters to everyone, so she had organised everyone in tiers based on their needs.

She put the kids with asthma in the same avenue, so everyone knew to keep that particular area clean, dust free and stocked with inhalers for emergencies. The babies had their own wing as well, and even though there were only five two year olds and a dozen three to seven year olds there were at least ten girls - and three boys - who volunteered to bunk up with the little ones in the crèche to take care of them.

Again, putting them in their own area ensured their particular needs were stored nearby, negating the need to constantly micromanage too many supplies between areas. Buster loved the system they had going.

Then again, Buster loved things simple. Simpler was better, and Suture couldn't help but agree... on most points anyway. The alien armada over their heads complicated things enough.

When Suture finished up she liked walking along the subway cars on platform B3. While other platforms were reserved for growing vegetables and fruits as best they could underground, B3 was more of a recreational thing to make sure Da Cubz didn't go insane. The cars on B3 were overgrown with flowers, weeds, ivy and all sorts of non-edible plants that seemed to grow out of control as opposed to their food that grew at a painful snail's pace.

But while B3 was technically useless, it was lovely to look at. Like their own little forest park in the darkness.

Suture had to fight Buster hard in order to get the project greenlit nearly a year ago. He thought it was a waste of time and resources, but Suture of course knew better. Platform B3 was all about maintaining the mental health of Da Cubz. Nothing more.

"Thought I might find you here."

Moving her fingers away from the flower she was caressing, Suture turned to the voice. Standing framed in one of the carriage doors was a familiar human figure, his rifle slung conveniently under one arm and a bulky rucksack over one shoulder.

Suture was sure she'd never seen Slick go anywhere unarmed. Then again, considering what he'd been through during and after the 13-Hour War she could hardly blame him. The boy believed in being ready.

But then so did Suture, hence the shopping list she had given Blitz. And it didn't surprise her to find Blitz had 'sub-contracted' to her friend Slick.

Unshouldering the bag, Slick held it out for her to take. "Blitz sent me on an errand."

"I see that." The anthro golden retriever brushed some of her blonde hair from her eyes and took the bag, unzipping it and looking at the contents. As she'd asked for, a pile of contraceptives and pregnancy tests. Just in case. "Thanks, Slick. Blitz was right to count..."

She stopped as Slick moved aside and sat on one of the low tables unoccupied by the errant foliage dominating B3. In his place stood a familiar figure Suture wished wasn't standing there.

"Buster." Suture sighed, then looked at Slick. "You taddled!?"

Slick scoffed. "Taddled? Seriously? Aren't you supposed to be the most grown up of us?"

It was true. Suture was the oldest of Da Cubz at twenty years old. She'd been right on the verge of being slain in the 13-Hour War. If the Galactic Federation had delayed their invasion by a few months she would have been a goner. Then again, if she hadn't hooked up with Buster and Slick when she did she would have been a goner anyway.

They all would have been.

Buster's quick draw and Slick's crack shot had saved them from being bagged by the alien machines. Suture's maturity had formed the roots of what Da Cubz were now and seen to it they were sorted for the long haul.

Stepping onto the carriage, Buster dropped his own backpack at Suture's feet and slid his AK onto his back. "Slick, give us a minute."

The human took his leave, leaving mom and dad to talk; so to speak.

When they were alone, Buster folded his arms across his chest. Suture did the same.

"So." He just let the word hang there for a moment.

"So," Suture responded. "I should have known Slick would mindlessly pick your side. I should have warned Blitz."

"Well she ain't the sharpest knife in the drawer at the best of times. You should have come straight to me with your concerns."

Suture scoffed. "Like you would have seen reason. Buster, most of us are cooped up underground with nothing to do but wait for the day to end. Some of the older teenagers are already getting aggravated. And not just the boys. Girls can get frisky too, y'know."

"I've been told. But rules are rules. The last thing I wanna do is encourage any of the boys and girls to have sex. Allowing contraceptives and preggo-tests into our home is going to encourage exactly that. Drugs and alcohol aren't allowed for all the same reasons."

"Some of the others are going to have sex regardless. Whether we have contraceptives for them or not. Don't you think it's better to have them? And what's the harm is letting the older teenagers let off a little steam? Shouldn't we encourage them to do so safely?"

"They aren't one-hundred-percent. Isn't that what sex-ed taught us in school? The last thing I want is one of the girls getting pregnant. Especially by accident after a casual romp."

"We're probably the last terrans left on the planet. We're going to have to repopulate at some point."

"Not while there's an alien occupation right above our heads! We got enough problems as it is. We need to keep things simple."

"Or maybe you could run this place a little better if you stopped gallivanting out there, waving your dick at the Feds and aggravating them into hunting us down!"

"The Feds are cutting off our supply chains by occupying the larger supply stores still left over. Our usual scavenging spots are drying up. The crops we grow won't sustain us. We got some sick kids need medicines and - oh, yeah - about two hundred mouths with the powerful need to eat sometime this week! You wanna go risking throwing a newborn babies into this mix?"

Suture raised an accusing finger and angrily jabbed it into Buster's chest-plate. "Callie's Settlement has three newborns this year alone and they're doing just fine!"

Infuriated now, Buster raised his own finger. "I'M NOT CALLIE!!!"

That put a stopper on the argument pretty quickly. As his voice echoed off down the subway tunnel, both Buster and Suture seemed to stand down. Gritting her teeth, Suture rubbed her eyes. Buster turned away with one hand on his sidearm, fingers drumming the holster almost nervously.

As he looked up from his hand doing the usual nervous ticks whenever he was thinking, Buster saw Slick poked his head around the corner. His hands were on his rifle and he looked concerned. Buster quickly gave his buddy the thumbs up and dismissed him again.

Slick actually hesitated. He never did that. But looking between the two he eventually nodded and made himself scarce again.

Turning to Suture again, Buster caught her looking apologetic. With a deep breath he calmed down and reaffirmed his point.

"I'm not Callie. I refuse to be."

"I know," Suture said quickly, nodding vigorously. Her voice was calm and kind again, like it usually was. "I shouldn't have said that. I'm sorry. I just... it's frustrating, y'know? We're better than that. We're the good guys. But we're the ones who are suffering."

He agreed, looking a little guilty over his outburst. "I know. It sucks."

Suture held up the bag Slick gave her. "Will I throw these out?"

With a sigh Buster shook his head. "Keep them locked up until I figure something out."

Buster looked about to leave, but Suture put the bags down and quickly closed the gap between them. Without a second hesitation she wrapped him into a warm hug. He couldn't help hug back. He'd forgotten how these kinds of hugs felt. She was soft and caring, like his mom had been.

Suture was the only one who could hug just like her.

"You're doing an amazing job keeping us alive, Buster," she whispered into his ear. Stepping back, she pressed a hand on his cheek. "You know that, right?"

Buster shrugged, then looked around. "It doesn't feel so amazing sometimes."

Turning, he left. Out on the platform Slick was still loitering. Spotting Buster, he quickly moved closer.

"You good?" the human asked.

Buster nodded. "You should get some sleep. You up for recon tomorrow morning?"

"Always. I'll let the others know." Slick was about to run off and prep the strike team for an early morning, but Buster stopped him with a hand on his shoulder.

"No, I'll let who I want to come know. I'm revisiting the strike force roster. Slimming down."

"Blitz is out, isn't she?"

"We'll be rolling with a skeleton crew from now on," Buster answered, without answering very directly. "Just you, me, Pester and Stitch. Stitch is pretty good with a DMR."

Slick looked more concerned about skillset than treading on toes. "He ain't Blitz."

"He'll do." Changing the subject, Buster opened up one of his cargo bottoms pockets and produced a packet of what looked like sweets. "Here. Dream would love you for delivering these."

Taking the pack, Slick chuckled. They were multi-vitamin gummy bears, generally designed to trick little kids into getting all sorts of healthy stuff into their bodies. Fishing into one of his own pockets he produced a pack just like it, indicating he'd done a little scavenging on the side too during their Monster Mart raid.

Showing Buster, they shared a laugh before bumping fists. Watching his friend go one way, Slick pocketed the sweets and went the other way. His direction was off the B3 platform and towards the wing designated the crèche.

Skirting the common area in the centre of Metro Central he jogged up a defunct escalator... actually that's as far as he got. Sitting outside one of the other wings in his path sat a cluster of four girls. Blitz and her three most commonly seen friends.

Seeing him they jumped to their feet and walked over. Slick could have just given them the cold shoulder and kept waking. Fact of the matter was he had better things to do than receive the third degree for having his best friend's back.

Stupidly he couldn't walk away from a fight though.

"Traitor," Blitz growled. The anthro shark was bearing her pointy teeth as she gave Slick a hard shove. Probably not the best idea considering Slick was armed to the teeth, and she'd neglected to pick up her rifle still standing against the wall before walking over.

"What's next. You gonna lead the Feds to our door?" one of the girls with her snapped. The other two friends grossed their arms over their chests giving that typical high-school bitch glare.

That tore it and Slick felt the sudden need to start busting knee-caps. He kept his hands off his guns though in case the need overwhelmed his self-control.

"Fuck you," Slick told Blitz, then proceeded to point at each of her friends in turn. "Fuck you as well. And fuck you. Also fuck you. And fuck you again," he added, pointing at Blitz again. "Buster is in charge and he laid down the law pretty clearly when he said we all shouldn't be having casual sex. Bringing in a couple of condoms is just going to encourage dumbass motherfuckers like all of you, increasing the likelihood of an accident happening. And I happen to agree with him. We got enough mouths to feed and helpless bodies to defend as it is."

Either Blitz and her friends didn't see the sense in it, or perhaps they were too riled up on teenage hormones to care. Leaning forward, Blitz gave a wide, evil looking smile. "You wanna know something, Slick? Suture promised me a couple of condoms if I grabbed that stuff for her. And the first thing I was going to do when I had them was visit your bunk. But I guess you can kiss that opportunity goodbye."

She had expected the comment to strike him hard in his ego. Problem was, Slick didn't much care. He just mimicked her smile and replied; "Wanna know something, Blitz? I was gonna let you bitches have the batteries out of my night scope for your vibrator; but I guess you can kiss that opportunity goodbye."

That took Blitz by surprise. Slick couldn't tell if she was surprised by the fact her comment hadn't fazed him, or whether it was his response. Still, it gave Slick the opportunity to flash a smile, flip them the bird and walk away.

As he rounded the corner into the crèche tier of Metro Central, one of Blitz's friends cursed with a sigh.

"Well, fuck."

Blitz nodded in agreement.

~~~~

Nazrella watched with some concern as Envoy helped the other servants clear the dishes. He didn't have to, but he always insisted on doing anything to please his mistress. Anything she asked he would do, most of the time without even consideration or himself.

Today however Nazrella wanted to tell him to relax. Especially considering what he had been through.

Only a couple of hours ago a pair of dren operatives had escorted him home and explained to her the ordeal the poor thing had been through at the servant's bazaar. Envoy hadn't spoken about it yet, and Nazrella was afraid he was still in shock.

The plates rattled as he took them shakily in one hand, the glasses clinking persistently in the other.

"He seems to be acting unusual this even, mistress."

Nazrella blinked a few times then looked to the house servant serving her dessert. The drakken servant set down the bowl and cutlery, then quietly stepped back, keeping his eyes fixed on the ground. Normally Nazrella didn't care much for a servant that couldn't at least smile at her, but Gor was one of her oldest and most trusted servants. He came from a time of more stringent training and customs, and old habits died very hard.

The drakken was small, smaller than Envoy, though he was still young enough for a drakken - only a hundred and twenty. He had slight features, stubby filed down horns cresting his jaw and skull and filed down three-digit claws on his hands. His wings had been clipped a long time ago, leaving two small stumps hidden under his typical servant's attire. He wasn't a rippling example of drakken that had been common a few thousand years ago when the Galactic Empire first came upon the draconians' feral world. Back then they had been tribals, massive hulking beasts of acid spitting ferocity.

Now and days, thanks to chemical intervention and selective breeding the drakken were much smaller, the acid glands were redundant and inactive, and a great many of them hatched without wings. Gor had been an exception, an exception quickly corrected at birth.

He had been the head house servant of Nazrella home before it had even been Nazrella Estate. She remembered calling him to her room as a little girl and asking for late night treats. Requests he'd always passed by her mother and quickly had his orders rescinded.

And one day, when her own children inherited this house, Gor would likely take care of whichever one of Nazrella's daughters decided to live here after she was gone.

"I had noticed, Gor," Nazrella said with a sigh. "I suppose what he saw at the bazaar rattled him."

"I know it would have rattled me, mistress."

Nazrella huffed. "You? Rattled? How?"

She had known Gor long enough to notice the very subtle body ticks. His scaly face may have been a rock wall, but Nazrella knew inside he was smiling.

"He merely needs some rest and time to allow the memories to settle," Gor advised. Then after a prolonged pause of standing to attention he added, "Will mistress be needing anything else?"

Twirling her spoon between her slender fingers, Nazrella looked thoughtful. "Hmmm? No, thank you Gor."

After dessert - a course she should have enjoyed but couldn't bring herself to - Nazrella went for a walk. She moved through the gardens surrounding her estate, they were extensive and exotic. Lush growth the likes of which she'd never before seen on the vyper home world in her sparse visits, grew across every hill, surface and statue within the estate's walls.

The Ravenside soil was surprisingly fertile. There was simply not enough natural water on the planet to sustain sprawling stretches of lush vegetation. Nazrella remembered the colonisation reports of the planet, how the Galactic Federation had to import water mined on ice-belts and ice-moons just to create a sustainable eco-system on Ravenside. In the long run the efforts seemed to have been well worth it.

Nazrella wasn't sauntering for very long when she heard something. A soft snivelling followed by a whimper and a sob. Curiously the vyper pushed forward and brushed aside a curtain of ivy hiding an overgrown pergola.

Beneath the overgrown trellis on a stone bench sat Envoy. He was bent forward, cradling his face in his hands as he cried, the tears so profuse they leaked between his fingers.

The sight of it distressed Nazrella more than she thought it would have. A long time ago she wondered if seeing her favourite carnal servant in tears would be a turn on. She quickly purged the thought and figured it wouldn't be. She knew of servant owners who got off on that sort of thing.

Rushing across the pergola towards her toy she immediately realised she couldn't bear to see him in tears.

"Envoy what is it?" she crooned like a mother comforting a child.

Noticing her, Envoy quickly jumped up with a clack of his hooves on the stone floor. He made a fuss of the water streaking his face as he turned away snivelling.

"Nothing. It's nothing, mistress."

"It's not nothing." She took him by the shoulder and gently turned him to face her.

It was obvious he had been crying, even if she hadn't caught him. Envoy's eyes were red and bloodshot, and the tears had left salty trails in the fur on his cheeks.

"Is this about what happened at the bazaar?" Nazrella asked, as if it weren't obvious enough already.

Envoy sniffed, then sat down, wiping his runny nose with the back of his hand. Not very becoming of the carnal servant of a well-to-do lady, but Nazrella was instantly able to forgive his lack of etiquette, considering the circumstances.

"It's alright, Envoy. You're home now," Nazrella said in a hushed whisper, coddling him to her soft chest. "You're safe with me."

Nazrella held him firmly as his head rested in her ample bosom. Before long he started getting comfortable, and the vyper gasped lightly as she felt his hands gently glide up the inside of her tunic. She didn't stop him until she felt his digits tease the soft mounds of flesh and giggled, easing back.

"Naughty boy," she teased, seeing him smile.

"I can't help myself with you, mistress. You're so beautiful."

Nazrella smiled as she eased herself into a seated position in front of him. As she sat on the ground, her tail coiled beside her she was still practically eye to eye with the horse.

"Flatterer," she said as she got comfortable. As she did her hands moved to the waistband of his trousers. "You're not the only one with a sweet tongue though."

She hissed, running her long tongue over her lips as she pulled his trousers down. Already her favourite toy was at half-mast. The way his mistress moved, the sultry tone of her voice and the lusty fire in her eyes; Envoy loved nearly everything about her. The vyper were a beautiful species already, but Nazrella was the crown jewel in Envoy's eyes.

Without hesitation, the vyper opened her mouth and dipped her head forward. Her eyes were shut, but she found his cock with such ease she clearly had practiced these motions often.

The moment he felt his shaft engulfed in the wet, hot confines of her mouth he felt his whole body stiffen. Her saliva was practically already drooling down his shaft by the time her lips met around the median ring. Then her tongue started its work.

Hot and slick, it coiled around his girth, looping at least three times before slowly riding up and down with the gentle bobby of her head. Her damp lips raked across the sensitive flesh of his cock, all the way up until they met where her tongue coiled under is flare. Then she slid forward, taking in his whole length. Her lips passed the median ring and didn't stop until they met where his sheath ended and the precious, sweet male meat started.

His flare disappeared into her throat like it was meant to be there. Lodged in her gullet he felt her powerful swallowing muscles wetly massage the most sensitive end of his cock with skilled caress. Vypers having evolved from serpents were used to swallowing larger prey whole. And as such Nazrella's kind were capable of stretching their gullets out as far as thirteen inches in diameter. And breathing while massaging the end of his cock in her throat was no problem thanks to a set of secondary breathing tubes. She could literally do this all day.

It showed that at some point she had, because she had enough skill that even though Envoy had admirable stamina and self-control; even he couldn't hold back the moment Nazrella opened her eyes and looked up at him. She must have felt him swell because she pulled back a little so that he wasn't lodged down her gullet anymore.

But as she did her tongue's ministrations increased. Like a slick, wet hand her coiled tongue jerked up and down his length as she bobbed her lips up and down along the shaft.

Envoy thrust his hips forward slightly as he came, spots blurring his vision. His mouth was agape in a silent moan as one of his hands found the back of Nazrella's head, lovingly caressing the beautiful woman's scales. Thick, copious ropes of cum shot into the back of her throat. A hot blast glazed the roof of her mouth, making Nazrella hum with satisfaction before swallowing down every drop.

She gulped it down loudly, savouring the slick warmth sliding down her throat and into her belly, her second dessert joining the first. She was looking up at him as she swallowed, and it was the most gorgeous thing he'd ever seen. She was nothing short of a goddess.

In all the whole affair had been quick, no longer than a few minutes. But treats like these never did take long. When Envoy made his mistress happy he could take his time and see to her every need. But Nazrella had a lot more experience than he did, so whenever she wanted to make him cum, no amounts of skill or stamina would stop her from getting her salty treat.

"Thank you, mistress," Envoy said with a breathless smile. "But it is actually me who should be pleasing you."

"Oh, yeah," the vyper answered humorously, pretending to suddenly remember. "Well then..."

She grabbed his hand and directed it to the slick arousal forming in her crotch.

"You'd better get to work then..."

Nazrella was smiling as her beloved pet eagerly got started. But on the inside she was a whirlwind of fiery fury. The general she intended to meet at the Empress' ball wouldn't have to convince Nazrella of anything. She was going to travel to Terra regardless of whether the Galactic Federation sanctioned her or not.

The terran rebels had fucked with the wrong vyper's carnal servant.

~~~~

During the day the crèche was awash with noise and chaos. Slick had been in a fair share of firefights, exchanging fire with superior numbers and greater firepower. But none of that matched the madness of taking care of young children and babies in the crèche. There weren't even that many of them, but they were like a guerrilla force. Few in numbers, highly effective.

It was late though, and all the little ones were put to bed. Their caretakers, a few boys and girls who volunteered, were seated near the entrance of the crèche relaxing and chatting before heading off to bed themselves.

As he walked over he unloaded his weapons and made them safe for handing them over to the caretakers. "Hey guys. Is Dream still up?"

One of the boys accepted the guns for safekeeping and nodded, pointing Slick further into the crèche. "Yup. One of the babies is having night terrors. She's keeping her company."

Slick smiled as he thanked them and moved on. That was so typical Dream. Taking care of the younglings was her job of course; but even with a bunch of other volunteers ready to jump to the needs of the young children, Dream was always first to go in. Kind of like Slick, but instead of going in guns blazing to hand out free fades, she took care of kids.

He found her in the nursery that housed two small cubs. One of the two year olds snoozed in his bed under a pile of blankets. The other bed was empty, but Dream stood beside it.

Hearing his footsteps, she turned around, cradling the small child in her arms and singing softly under her breath.

Dream was an anthro tanuki with short, bone-white fur. She was built quite petite and slender, the same age as him but a few inches shorter than Slick. Definitely thinner as well with very slight, foxy features. She had dark brown eyes, angled slightly as per her Asian heritage and long, straight dark brown hair hanging just past her shoulders, a few long strands falling over her brow.

She was singing softly in Japanese until she saw Slick and smiled broadly. He smiled back, seemingly about to say something when Dream quickly pressed a finger to her lips then glanced down at the two-year-old.

The tiny vixen was sleeping soundly, though the tear stains on her furry cheeks indicated she hadn't been so calm a few minutes ago. However, after Dream worked her magic she was back to sleep and snoring gently.

The panda put the cub down in her bed and tucked her in. The little girl whimpered for a moment, but calmed again when Dream gently stroked her cheek.

"Hi, Slick," Dream greeted in a whisper as she led him out of the nursery by his hand. "What are you doing here?"

"Hey." Slick quickly produced the sweets and handed them to Dream. "We picked up some cool scav today. You've got incoming bottle formula and vitamins for the little ones. But I'm sure they'd appreciate these too."

He had her at 'you've got incoming.' Dream was overjoyed to hear she had incoming supplies for her little ones, but seeing the sweets he brought her was just icing on the cake. Gasping happily she took them then jumped Slick with a tight hug.

"Oh, thank you, Slick. These are great! The little ones will love them."

When she let go of him, Slick did his best to hide a blush by pretending to scratch his nose. "You know me. I love to help. Hey, have you eaten yet?" When she shook her head, Slick smiled broadly. "Well then have I got a treat for you. I've been saving a couple of noodle packs. Wanna share? I know it's not exactly traditional ramen, but..."

Dream was already giggling and nodded. "That sounds great. What's the occasion?"

Slick shrugged. "I remember you saying it was a pity we don't keep track of the days and months. We really don't know the time of year aside from the season, so we're going to miss all the important days. Christmas. Easter. The Doll Festival you mentioned you were quite fond of."

"I did say that."

"Then it hit me; this isn't a problem. It's a blessing. We can have our special holidays whenever we like. So..." Slick offered his arm with a grin. "Wanna celebrate the Doll Festival with me right now?"

Dream chuckled and took his arm. "I would love to."