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This is a work of fiction that contains consensual heterosexual and homosexual sex, if you are underage in your country, do not read this. Additionally, this story takes place in the Chakona Space universe, which is not mine. it belongs to Bernard Doove. I do not own the characters Boyce Kline, Chakat Midnight, Chakat Forestwalker, Captain Silpurr or Doctor M'Lai. Sigma Squad, Chakat Raincloud, Lydia, Admiral Lincoln and her son are my own characters.   If you don't know what a Chakat is, proceed here: http://www.chakatsden.com/chakat/FT-index.html   If you want to skip to the beginning of the erotic parts (and I hope you read the rest of the story first, they will make much more sense if you do) hit ctrl f and search for "Twenty minutes later" without the quotes but with the asterixs.  

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  Aboard the Federation ship Pegasus, in an amphitheater deep within the superstructure, soldiers quickly and efficiently filed in and started claiming seats. The room was full of an assortment of bipeds and taurs, humans and non-humans, all of which garbed in some variety of the Starfleet Security uniform. They were there for one reason and one reason only: the Federation had decided that it was time to clean up the pirates and slave traders that were gaining an increasing foothold along the borders of Federation space. This initiative had been conceived and championed by none other than Admiral Boyce Kline himself, and was shaping up to be the largest military action the Federation had undertaken in decades.   Regardless of the man's personal proclivities, which some would fault him for; Boyce was undoubtedly an outspoken proponent of a strong arm stance on eliminating the slave trade and other forms of piracy that infested the galaxy. This large effort was something he had been working on quietly for some time though, as most parties involved were happy to passively police Federation space and take a reactionary role. All that changed when a pirate team had attacked and nearly killed Admiral Lincoln while she and her son were eating at a restaurant on Luna's largest military base, one of Kline's peers. Lincoln, another advocate of military actions against the pirates and notoriously bloody minded on the subject, wasn't expected to wake up from her coma any time soon. Her son, who had suffered severe but non-life threatening injuries during the attack was currently staying with his father on Chakona.   The brazen attack, even though it had cost the assailants their lives, shocked the whole of Federation space and before long the people as a whole were clamoring for an armed response. After all, if the pirates could get to a Starfleet Admiral on Luna, the most secure Terran military base off of earth, who couldn't they get to?   Hence the soldiers in the amphitheater. They knew in a vague sense why they were there, but they were almost universally surprised by the sheer size of the group. They were all part of small Special Ops units picked from various branches of the Starfleet Armed Forces. They were scalpels, not hammers, and there were probably two hundred or more of them in the room. A number like that was more suited to an invasion of a small asteroid than the smaller covert ops they were used to, but these were smart individuals, they had to be to get where they were, and many of them were starting to speculate. They were interrupted by Admiral Kline walking into the room, followed by Captain Silpurr and Security Chief Chakat Midnight, all of whom were wearing grim faces. Almost as one they stood up and saluted.   "At ease." The Admiral said, ignoring with perfect ease the collective gaze of the room full of trained killers as they sized him up and assessed him the way that all predators do when they first see a potential threat. At a signal from Kline a section of wall behind him retracted to reveal a large screen which quickly lit up and filled with pictures of a series of mansions. The whirring of mental gears was practically deafening as the occupants of the room started taking in the information and processing it. Once the screen filled up completely Kline continued.   "I'm assuming you're all intelligent enough to take a guess as to why you're here, so I'll skip the pleasantries and get right to it. We are going to send a message to the Pirates operating in Federation Space, and that message is simple: You are not welcome. We are going to send this message with extreme prejudice." The room full of predators rumbled with a collective chuckle as the potential for violence was waved in front of them. In fine military fashion, Kline continued as if he hadn't heard it at all. "These mansions you see behind me are all owned by one man, a perverse son of a bitch who from here on out shall be known as Objective Caravan."   A series of pictures of a human male appeared on screen, identifying Objective Caravan as one Victor (The Peddler) Jameson. Victor was an average looking man, his age was listed as fifty one but he looked more like forty five. Brown eyes, fair skin, a light smattering of freckles over high cheekbones, a nose that would have been unremarkable if it hadn't been broken badly at least twice, a pointed chin, and straw like brown hair that was rapidly disappearing from the crown of his head. All of the pictures featured him wearing some kind of suit, all of them worth more than any of the soldiers (except the Admiral and perhaps the Captain) made in a year. A list of important information scrolled across the screen including a more detailed physical description as well as a personal history as complete as Starfleet intel could make it.   Victor had grown up on Pharos, a hellhole of a world if ever there was one, and had quickly fallen in with a bad crowd. He started out as a thug for one of the slave breeders and had worked his way up through liberally applied violence tempered with cunning. By the time he was thirty he had acquired his own black market empire by killing a few dozen of his rivals and pooling their resources into a network of contacts and materials all his own. Then he had set his sights on the big leagues and started worming his way into the sex slave trade. Ten years of hard work later he had gained a name for himself as a slave smuggler with an unofficial specialization in trading in Federation worlds and colonies. Ten years after that and he was the kingpin of the slave trade in and around the border with Federation space.   "Objective Caravan has been a thorn in the Federation's side for years now, we know that he's been smuggling slaves and contraband into our worlds, but there's always been too much corruption in the local governments for us to get a hold of him and not enough incentive at high command to start putting the squeeze on. The attack on Admiral Lincoln changed that. We've had intel on him for years now, but now we've finally got our chance to act on it. We've made some covert arrangements with a Governor on Bilaska that isn't completely corrupt and set up a fake purchase. Long story short, we have his current location. He's staying at his asteroid mansion."   The screen flickered again and this time it showed a number of scans and pictures of one of the mansions that had appeared earlier. It was, indeed, on an asteroid, though given that the planet the asteroid was trapped in orbit around had no other such satellites it could have been called a moon. The building was protected from the vacuum of space by a large domed shield and surrounded by an actual lawn complete with trees and ornamental flower gardens and the obligatory hedge maze that every ostentatious home seems to have. The cost of creating and maintaining such a facility would have rivaled or surpassed the cost of an entire colony from planning and surveying to the end of its first independent year.   The building itself was a bizarre blend of idealized ancient Greek and Japanese architecture, consisting of two main buildings: a five story tall pagoda made of red-laquered wood, and a hollow rectangular building resembling the Parthenon with a small garden in the middle. The two were connected via a small enclosed hallway. Scans showed that the outer shells of the buildings were actually made of the same material starships were constructed of, and the ornamental parts were added onto that.   Gold and chrome also featured heavily in the construction, as well as statuettes of naked figures of both sexes. It was as if the owner didn't fully understand the concept of beauty, and assumed monetary value was the deciding factor in whether something was aesthetically pleasing or not.   "This is our main objective, we are going to knock on Victor's door and invite him back to Starfleet high command for a chat with a telepath." The assembled figures shifted in their seats, each feeling the first twinges of the thrill of the hunt. They had been groomed and trained as predators, conditioned through hours of training to hunt sentient creatures, it took a certain kind of individual to be a success in the field they chose, an individual with not only the capacity for but the willingness to employ extreme violence, the training couldn't instill that in someone, it has to be there in the first place, all the training can do is hone that bloodlust to a razor edge. "There are a few problems however."   The model of the mansion that had become prominent on the screen disappeared and was replaced with a topographical map of the asteroid, which rotated quickly and showed another, much more utilitarian construction not too far from the mansion. The commandos in the room recognized it instantly, barracks. They were laid out in a rough grid pattern, three rows of four buildings plus a smattering of smaller outbuildings. They were bordered on one side by a small ridgeline, and on the other side a craggy rock formation with two conspicuous entrances carved into it, each at the terminus of one of the gaps between the rows of buildings, obviously meant as thoroughfares.   "Since he deals with Pirates on a regular basis, as escorts for his slave shipments usually, he's accrued quite the personal army, which he houses in these buildings here." The buildings were an eclectic mix of the same kind of pre-fab structures you'd see in any colony and heavily armored pillboxes with anti-ship cannons and heavy duty phaser turrets crudely attached to the superstructure. There was also a middling shuttle dock nearby, not big enough to accommodate the kind of freight ships that would be used to haul large shipments of goods, but plenty big enough to allow a number of standard sized shuttles at once, which would be all that was needed for this installation since it wasn't a major hub for cargo. "This little army of his, if they're left to their own devices, may well be able to get word out to the rest of Caravan's network and our chance at dismantling it will be gone, to say nothing of the fight they would put up. Also of concern is the shielding over the mansion itself, it's dual layered: a battleship grade deflector shield projected over a military polycarbonate dome which keeps the atmosphere in and prevents anyone from simply walking onto the lawn. The only entrance is underground, accessed from a tunnel highlighted here."   A red square lit up on a small rock formation near the most heavily armed barracks building.   "The tunnel is carved directly into the asteroid and comes out in the basement of the mansion, which is where the snatch and grab team will be headed. The rest of you will be tasked with neutralizing the communications array, the automated defenses, and the pirates themselves." Kline explained, and as he continued his voice became cold and harsh. "We'd like intel on the operation Caravan is running, so we need him alive, but these pirates are expendable, understood?"   There was a rumble of solemn understanding from the troops. Predators though they were, they knew that this was big, bigger than anything they'd done before, they could restrain their bloodlust and channel it properly. They'd been given confirmation of what they'd all been thinking, now it was just down to the waiting game.   "Good. Now, here's how this is going to work: Bumper Squad is going to do a long distance EVA jump to the asteroid and sabotage the Transporter jammers located on the roof of the main barracks, then they will split in half, one group will hover over the battlefield and support the other units as necessary, and the other will guard the gravity generators and keep them from getting disrupted in any way." Bumper squad was the nickname of a detachment of Starfleet Marines that had over the years developed a specialty in covert insertions in hostile environments. "After that's done, Black Regiment will transport in around the perimeter of the base and infiltrate here, here, and here. They will disable the communication arrays and the heavy weaponry." Black regiment was comprised of several squads of stealth specialists that conspiracy theorists loved to label as Starfleet's assassination squad, they neither confirmed nor denied the accusations made against them and were infamous for intentionally provoking the paranoid individuals that decried them. "Once they signal the all-clear Steel Corps will move in for the main assault."   Steel Corps was Starfleet's heavy combat unit, the largest of the assembled groups. Steel Corps went where the carnage was, and carnage tended to follow Steel Corps. If Bumper squad was a combat knife and Black Regiment was a scalpel, Steel Corps was an oversized machete...on fire. They went into combat wearing heavy duty power armor and carrying enough ordinance to waste a small suburb, and they were quite proud of it.   "At the same time Steel Corps is moving in, Sigma Squad will infiltrate the mansion and capture Objective Caravan during the chaos." The Sigma Squad was a part of Starfleet's Hostage Rescue Unit, a group of soldiers who specialized in, obviously, hostage rescue. They were slightly different however, as they were tasked with capturing High Value Individuals instead of rescuing hostages. "After the capture the Pegasus, the Logos, and the Temeraire will take defensive positions around the planet as the Intelligence unit sweeps the compound for valuable information. Once they are done the Starfleet Corps of Engineers will set antimatter charges and destroy the asteroid once we have all retreated to a safe distance. Understood?"   Another rumble of acknowledgement.   "Good, now, does anyone have any questions?" Immediately a hand shot up in the third row. "Yes." "Admiral, when is this mission taking place?" "Five hours from now."   After the briefing, Sigma Group locker room The smell of sweat, soldier, and wet morph was redolent in the sweltering heat of the cramped locker room that Sigma Squad had permanent use of. Heat which was reflected by the tile floor and trapped by the tiny room faster than it could be absorbed by the metal walls.   "Man, the Admiral's got cajones if he thinks this circus is going to work." Griped Raul Freeman next to me as he attempted to dry off with a sodden towel, normally any morph with a functioning brain would have used one of the body-sized fur driers that come standard in rooms like this, but we all agreed the added heat would kill us, so he refrained. Raul is a very opinionated coyote morph who claims to trace his heritage back to the old terran country of Mexico, but since his only evidence is a dubious Spanish accent, a spotty knowledge of gutter Spanish, and some suspect pictures of family, no one believes him. He's our marksman, though his long barrel laser rifle won't be getting much (if any) use on this op, which is part of why he's so grumpy. "All those teams plus some standard issue intel weenies? We're all going to bite it." "Oh quit it." Counter grumped Mina, our explosives specialist. She was still showering, having gotten to the room a bit later than the rest of us. "It's always the same thing with you before every mission: 'Oh no we're all gonna die, the plan sucks, there's no way this could go right, whine whine whine, bitch bitch bitch. If you're so sure you're not going to make it just suck start your sidearm and get it over with."   I should mention that Raul and Mina sneak off to quiet parts of the ship and fuck each other senseless whenever they think they can get away with it. Hell, I'm a regular human and I can smell them on each other half the time. It's actually kind of hilarious in a disgusting sort of way. Raul is short and wiry in every sense of the word, his fur is somewhat more abrasive than steel wool and roughly the same color, his amber eyes and a few splashes of yellowish white fur across his muzzle make him look like an ugly doll that got some bleach splashed on it. Mina on the other hand, is average height and quite beautiful, in the 'striking' sense rather than the 'cute' sense. She's pure white from the tips of her long floppy ears to the tuft of her little cotton ball tail, except for her sky blue eyes. "Come on, you have to admit that this scheme is-" "If the term 'hare-brained' comes out of your mouth you're going to eat one of these." Mina growled and held up a bar of soap, which made her high pitched voice reverberate strangely in our locker room. Also, it made everything she said at least three times as amusing. The growl, not the soap. It was like getting shouted at by a garden ornament. A garden ornament that could atomize you and not leave a shred of evidence, but a garden ornament nonetheless. "Bad puns are Jacob's thing, not mine." Raul said, flicking his tail at me and splattering me with some unwanted drops of water. "Hey, keep me out of this." I protested from the place I was dressing, struggling into the cyberskin undersuit we have to wear under our combat rigs. It's similar to an old-fashioned terran wetsuit, only it has advanced circuitry running through it and is only half as flattering.   My short brown hair and pale skin set me apart from the rest of my team, which was comprised of morphs. I'm the tallest of them at six three and I'm also the only one with brown eyes, the rest of the team (except Mina and our tech specialist Vlad) are canine morphs of some type and thus have amber eyes. It always annoyed me that even though I'm in the same peak physical condition as the rest of my team, I'm still scrawny, for some reason I just don't pack on muscle mass. I'm not weak by any means, I can bench press over five hundred pounds, but instead of getting ripped like the rest of my squadmates I don't think my measurements have changed since the day I showed up for basic. "She has a point Raul." Chirped Francis, our heavy weapons specialist, cheerfully. The red wolf morph looked like someone had been injecting him with steroids right from birth and surgically attached dumbells to his limbs from the moment he started to crawl. At the shoulders he's twice as wide mine and his arms have been likened to steel girders more than once. His right ear has a notch missing at the top which he's immensely proud of, the souvenir of three on one knife fight that he had come out on top of early on in his soldiering career. "You say the same damn thing every time. If you're so scared I could get you a binkie to suck on."   Raul responded with a long winded and descriptive string of profanity rife with insinuations of the various sorts of species and inanimate objects Francis and his parents had commingled with, which of course only made Francis grin even wider. He was gay, and unabashedly so, which painted half the insults Raul had just hurled at him (the same ones he hurled at anyone who upset him, creative our little sniper is not) in a rather amusing light.   "Okay, okay, if you're not into binkies I have something else you can suck on." Francis said, standing up from the bench where he had been drying his hindpaws off to pose suggestively for Raul, which got us all laughing. Our locker room is always as hot as balls because whatever techie planned out the ship thought it would be a good idea to sandwich it between the ship's main engines, the kitchens, and a boiler room. Because of this, the morphs in my squad always went naked in here unless they were suiting up for an op, and now was no exception, so when Francis posed we all got an unintentional eyeful. I covered my eyes dramatically with a hand and gagged.   "Hey, knock it off Francis. I'd like to be able to see when we drop in later." "Blinded by my glory eh?" The red wolf replied, giving a masculine grunt as he shifted poses, flexing his massive arms in and bouncing his pectoral muscles. "Can't blame you, can't blame you. I have that effect on people." "You wish." I said, rolling my eyes. "Put it away Francis, we're not impressed." Mina said, clearly unenthused. In all actuality Francis is...well, let's just say that his equipment fits his size and leave it at that. "That's because you're not looking hard enough." "I repeat, I'd like to be able to see." I said, grunting as I finally got my left arm, which always gives me trouble for some reason, into the suit and felt it activate and start conforming to my body, shrinking and stretching as appropriate until it fit me like a second skin. This is nice because it allows you to wear a full combat rig without worrying about all the computery bits that are required to keep it running, but it also has a downside in that the material is reminiscent of latex, and when you have to take it off it gets downright tortuous. I have no idea how morphs can stand it. "You guys don't know true beauty when you see it." Francis laughed, leering at Raul purely for effect. It worked. "Take one step closer, pendejo, and your ass is mine." I burst out laughing as I (and everyone else) realized the joke Raul had just walked into. "Never tell a naked gay male your ass is his." Francis said gleefully. "He just might take it as an invitation." "Pack it in you two, that's an order." Came the amused voice of Lieutenant Catherine Van Der Beek, our commanding officer. She's a mutt, and it's pretty easy to tell. She looks like a collie, a poodle, and a timberwolf got together, had one hell of a night, and concieved her in the process. She was just stepping into her own undersuit. "Oh come on, let Raul dig himself a deeper hole." I pleaded. "He's so good at it, maybe one day he'll finally realize he's been gay all along and he and Francis can go have the glorious glorious buttsex they've obviously been yearning for this entire-" I was hit in the face by pair of shorts thrown by Mina, who beat Raul to the punch. I laughed right along with Francis. We all knew that Mina and Raul were fucking like bunnies (pun intended) and that Francis was in a long-term relationship with a very demure husky from Engineering named David, but I can't help myself, Raul and Mina are just too easy to jerk around.   Seeing Francis and David together is hilarious, David looks like he has pencils for limbs and wears glasses so thick they could be combined with a flashlight and used as a cutting laser. Contrast this with hypermasculine and uber-buff Francis and you have a walking comedy act. What makes it even better is that they're both natural born comedians, but in totally opposite ways, which means they both act as each other's foil. Francis is over the top and absurd, but David's sense of humor is drier than the Sahara and he has the best deadpan delivery of anyone I've ever met. Put the two of them together and boom, instant hilarity, just add alcohol.   "Why is it I'm always saddled with immature fuckwits?" Rumbled Vlad, our resident bear morph and hacker. "Perhaps it's because Starfleet wants to put you in with your own kind?" I offered with a grin. The only response I got was a long string of grumbled Russian which I'm guessing was similar to the monologue Raul had carried on a minute ago. Vlad, true to his Russian heritage, is grim and dour. He's good at what he does though, and if you put a plasma shotgun in his paws he turns into a one-bear army. He's short and stocky, just over five feet and almost broader than he is tall, but it's all muscle and bone. He looks like an old terran sumo wrestler, but covered in brown fur and a perpetual frown. We all call him Teddy, not because he has any visible or metaphorical similarities to a teddy bear aside from his species, but because it bugs the fuck out of him and we're all like little kids that way. "It takes one to know one Vlad." Pointed out Tara, our medic, smiling toothily. She's a Voxxan, and the subject of innumerable foxy lady jokes. She laps it up though, she's a complete attention whore in the best possible way. "Shut up slutpuppy." Vlad snarled back, growling as he forced an arm painfully into his undersuit. Tara only laughed as she climbed into her own suit, squirming and wriggling sensually the whole time and adding a few suggestive noises just for good measure, her fox patterned fur quickly disappearing beneath the constricting black material. She's slept with more people than the rest of the squad combined, and that's just counting her official relationships, her one-nighters must be approaching triple digits if they haven't gotten there already. "Well, since I am free of excess body fur and thus dressed faster than you all." I said, interrupting Vlad before he could say something else to Tara. "I am going to sick bay to get my pre-mission checkup. Have fun with the full body condoms!" I said perkily as I made my way out of the room, laughing at the chorus of growls and foul language that followed me like a blue cloud. I catch plenty of flack for being the only 'bareskin' on the team, so I take any opportunity I can to point out the advantages to possessing what I think of as a sensible amount of hair on my body.   Thankfully sickbay isn't too far a walk from the locker room, so I didn't get too many odd looks for waltzing through the halls wearing a form fitting rubber suit that looked like some kind of gimpwear, though I did get some which I ignored. After the rig saved my ass for the fifth time I stopped caring about how the undersuit looks.    When I entered sickbay I saw plenty of other soldiers, some I recognized, some I didn't, filling the room, getting examined by green-uniformed medical personnel. I had hoped to be examined by Doctor M'Lai, the Catian medical chief, but there was a group of Catians obviously waiting to be examined by her, which made sense, but left me a bit disappointed. I like M'Lai, she's a lot more approachable than most doctors I've met and given that I don't like doctors much having a doctor I'm comfortable with makes these visits go a lot smoother. "Hey there, stud! Waiting for an examination?" Came a cheerful voice from my right. Balls. "Yes Ma'am." I said, turning to face the grinning Chakat beside me. Chakat Raincloud is the newest doctor on the Pegasus, shi just came on a few months ago when we last stopped at High Command. Shi was transferred here when it was decided by Admiral Kline that since the original pair of Chakats the Pegaus had, Midnight and Forestwalker, were usually caught up with him and his growing family, the other Chakat aboard (Sparks from Engineering) needed a companion that wouldn't be running back to the Admiral's suite every night. Now, I don't have a problem with Chakats, or morphs of any kind for that matter, but Raincloud can get...wearisome. "Well then follow me handsome, let's go play doctor!" Shi chirped, laughing at her own joke and the looks it garnered. Doctor Raincloud got hir name from the undulating bands of grey that made up her fur coloration, she really did look like a stormy sky, if a stormy sky could ever be imagined as a hermaphroditic feline taur with a human fetish that is. I sighed as I followed hir to an examination table, I find myself doing that a lot when shi's around. "In your female phase ma'am?" I asked as I sat down on the table and waited for her to pull up my record on the terminal next to the cot. "Just starting my male phase actually." Shi laughed. "Nice try though. Why, interested in a little fun?"   Now, if she had been any species but a Chakat, shi would have been fired for asking that...well, shi would have been fired for almost everything that comes out of hir mouth, but that was blatant even for hir. Chakats are notoriously promiscuous, and they have no problems propositioning someone they're interested in, and even other Chakats think Raincloud is a bit forward, which is saying something.   "No ma'am. Just a hunch." I replied. "Oh well, can't blame me for trying." Shi said as the terminal beeped, indicating that the terminal had successfully linked to my suit and shi had my information ready. Hir tone changed and became more professional, which I'm grateful for. "Alright, hold still while I run all the regular scans."   I did as she asked and refrained from moving as she swiped various scanners over me and hummed at the results they spit out. I met hir when she first came aboard the ship a few months ago, which is when shi had acquired her little crush. Shi'd gotten completely lost and ended up outside the armory, where I had been practicing with my old fashioned ballistic, a M1911 that had been in my family for over two centuries. I noticed the obviously lost Chakat out of the corner of my eye and packed up my gun before asking if shi needed help. Shi told me who she was and where shi was bound and I led her there, pointing out the signs on the wall and how to read them, which is something all newbies have problems with.   Somehow, over the course of the ten minute venture, shi had come to like me and spared no opportunity to playfully let me know that shi was more than ready to get down and dirty. Now, once again, I have no problems with Chakats or herms or anything, but I'm just not the kinda guy to hop into bed with someone for no other reason than my own hormones, and Raincloud's constant proposals get annoying after a while. Besides, I already have a significant other who I am happily monogamous with. Thankfully shi's a professional when it counts and when shi's getting me ready for an op shi's all business...it's just the before and after I have to worry about.   "Alright, vitals look good, no outstanding readings except a slight increase in cortisol and adrenaline, but that's understandable. How's your leg feeling?" "Fine." I took a bad fall in unarmed combat practice a week ago, and I had been treated for some minor tissue damage. "Good, it looks totally healed, but best to be sure. Any recent injuries or illnesses sickbay hasn't been informed about?" "No." I replied truthfully. Shi nodded and put the pad down. "Excellent, that concludes the physical part of the exam, but I've been ordered to give you a mental one as well. The brass wants to make sure all the empaths are warmed up and ready to go when things go down." Well, I can't say I wasn't expecting it, but damn. I hate doing mental tests, I had enough of that at the Empath Training Center. "Alright." I sighed. "What do I need to do?" "Your file says you're an E5 with telepathic capabilities, that right?" I nodded, my strong empathic talent is the only thing that kept me alive growing up in New Orleans in the HCKNA. Well, that and a well-developed trigger finger and proficiency with a knife. I enlisted to get away from the trash I'd grown up around, and once the recruiting officer found out I was an Empath, my file was fast tracked. "Alright then, let's start with a basic warm up, I'm going to pull out a card and hold it up with the back facing you. I want you to tell me the picture on the card by reading my mind."   Shi pulled a box of regular playing cards out of a drawer, probably put there for just this purpose, and drew one out at random. I sighed again and reached out with my empathic sense, which I normally keep partially subdued so I'm not overwhelmed by the thoughts and feelings of those around me. The bromance between Francis and Raul alone would leave me crippled.   I quickly felt Raincloud's own empathic presence, which was like a floodlight compared to the others in the room. Chakats all have at least some level of empathic talent, but it's rare in humans. If I had to hazard a guess I'd rank Raincloud as a high E3 or low E4. Hir mind was at once much more 'visible' than the other, untalented, ones in the room; but at the same time it was much better guarded, as you would expect. Shi had deliberately left a gap though, a breach in her mental barriers large enough for me to make contact and get the impression I needed. I really don't like doing this, whenever I touch someone's mind like this I always feel like I'm trespassing in the most horrible and invasive way. It's damn useful in a fight, since I can get an inkling of what an opponent is going to do a fraction of a second before they do it, but a deliberate reading like this makes me feel dirty.   It didn't help that Raincloud's mind was subtly, well, alien. It may sound obvious, but it's not something you'd understand unless you were able to touch someone else's mind. Even among someone of your own species it can be a disquieting experience if the person you're reading comes from a drastically different cultural or economic background than you do, and reading an alien only increases the psychological differences. Raincloud's mind was about as different as any I'd ever touched, and it made me all the more uncomfortable. At least shi wasn't thinking anything sexual, or if shi was shi was hiding it well enough. I didn't overstay my welcome though, I went in and got what I needed as fast as possible before getting out.   "Six of clubs." I said, blinking a few times as I came back to reality. Shi nodded again. "Good, twice more and we'll be done." Shi said, and I mentally groaned. Dammit, I hate this shit.   Two quick mental readings later and I was confirmed as mission-ready. After that was done I went down to the armory to get my gear ready. Normally I would have done that before I got into the undersuit, but this op was happening much sooner than is normal for something as complex as it is, and there's always a brief period of discomfort before you completely get used to the suit, no matter how many times you've worn it, so I decided to be as efficient as possible.    Since I don't have an official weapons specialty like some in my squad I get to pick and choose what loadout I bring on a mission, and since I'm in Starfleet Special Forces I get access to more than just the piddly little phasers most of the security forces use. For this mission I decided to go with the D149 phaser carbine, it's ugly as sin, resembling nothing more than a white tube roughly two inches wide with a butt stock, foregrip, and sights attached, but since it's based off the same laser rifle that Raul uses when he needs to reach out and touch someone from a long distance it's got plenty of power. The shorter length of the weapon means I'm sacrificing accuracy at long range, but since we're going to be fighting room-to-room in a house I don't need long range, I need close quarters maneuverability and stopping power, and the D149 has that in spades.   Another perk of being in SSF and having permanent residence on the Pegasus is that I get to keep a personal locker in the armory where I can keep all sorts of goodies, and since I'm even more neurotic about tweaking my gear than the rest of my team, I have a modded D149 already there, I just need to give it a once-over to make sure it's set up the way I want it. After I pulled it out of my locker I sat down at a weapon bench and tore it apart, preparing to swap out parts. The last time I had used this thing we were sent after a high ranking member of a Voxxan drug cartel who was hiding out in the sewers of some bumfuck city on a desolate rock on the outer rim. I'd outfitted the carbine with a rapid-fire trigger assembly, an overclocked power cell, and extra heat dispersers and cooling cells all in the interest of putting as much firepower downrange as fast as possible.   That had worked since the guy was a known telepath and I wasn't able to play as big a part in the takedown as I normally would have, he would have felt me coming even if I closed my senses down, so I was relegated to rear security. This time however, I'm going to swap back to my usual set up: I'll lose the overclocked power cell and replace it with a regular one, this means I'll sacrifice some power, but the D149 has plenty of that already, and it'll let me remove the added cooling elements that the amped up power cell had necessitated and replace them with a focus array and target assist CPU that would make the phaser much more accurate, which is what I want.   After that was done I grabbed my sidearm, the standard-issue phaser that most people in the federation are familiar with. I haven't modded my regular phaser as much as I have the rest of my personal arsenal, partly because there isn't much you can do with the limited space for extra parts and simpler circuitry, but mostly because I just don't use the thing very much. In the normal course of things my primary weapon gets me through my ops just fine. All I did to the phaser was make sure all the systems were working properly and the power cells were at full charge.   Once my primary and sidearm were set up and ready for test firing I pulled out two other goodies I'd be taking with me. One is a holdout knife I always take with me on missions, it's smaller than my normal combat knife, but I can keep it in a discrete spring loaded holster on my arm, so it's worth having around even if I can't put it on quite yet. The blade itself is four inches of 1095 carbon steel with a matte finish and tapered to a needle point; it's saved my life a few times and it was the first weapon I ever got, the first and last birthday present I ever received from my father. He gave it to me at age four and started teaching me how to use it the same day.   Yeah, I have a fucked up family, I know.   The other bit of hardware that I'm bringing with, well, that I always take with me, is my old M1911. The old ballistic blunderbuss. Francis and Raul laugh at me for carrying the ancient thing with me on missions, but it's saved my life more than once back when I was just a kid growing up in the slummy part of New Orleans in the HKCNA. I acquired it shortly after I...parted ways with my family. The parting of ways, incidentally, started with a shouting match and culminated in a propane explosion that destroyed three (thankfully empty) houses.   Like I said, I have a fucked up family.   Anyway, I like to keep the old thing around for two reasons, one: the personal shielding technology that's become so popular nowadays only deflects phaser fire and plasma (to a limited degree), it's designed to disrupt electrical energy and does has very little ability to absorb or deflect kinetic energy; which means it doesn't do jack shit against little bits of lead travelling at eight hundred and fifty feet per second. Two: almost no one seems to think about this because ballistic weapons are seen as a thing of the past, thus they don't take it seriously. This works out in my favor because they think their shields make them invincible. The surprised looks on their faces right after the bullet blows a huge hole in them and the pain registers is quite amusing.   Kinetic shielding was popular and widespread, about a century and a half ago, but that was back when the standard infantry weapons were really nothing more than downsized railguns firing metallic slugs charged with a minimal degree of electrical energy. Back then, you needed kinetic shields, but once phaser technology developed enough to be put in the hands of regular soldiers such weapons and shielding became obsolete because the phasers were lighter, had effectively infinite ammo, didn't need to be reloaded, and had the handy side-effect of disrupting anything electronic because of the magnetic containment that was used to keep the phaser shots stable back then. Nowadays all military electronics are hardened against electromagnetic interference like that, but ballistic weapons are enjoying a bit of a renaissance because of the lack of widely-used kinetic shielding.   The old ballistic was a pain to maintain compared to the phaser weapons I normally use, but the advantages outweigh the risks by a long shot, pun intended. I grabbed a few boxes of ammo for the old blunderbuss and loaded three magazines of hollowpoints, slid one into the grip, racked the slide, and engaged the safety for the short trip to the firing bench.   When I had all my weapons laid out in a neat row I hit the button to summon a holographic target. Ten feet in front of me a lifelike pirate appeared, frozen in the act of drawing a phaser. Deciding to work on the D149 first, on the off chance it would need to be tweaked again, I shouldered the weapon and checked the holosight, clear as crystal. Then I disengaged the safety and set the weapon to heavy stun, this would switch the projectile from a lethal ball of compressed plasma to a painful but non-lethal orb of electricity that would cause muscle spasms and short-term paralysis after the initial impact.   The ball of whitish blue energy sizzled through the air and hit the hologram in the exact center of mass, just where I'd been aiming for. Good. I adjusted the distance knob next to the on/off switch and the next hologram was twice as far away. Another shot, perfect placement. I continued this until I'd walked the target out as far as it could go, then I switched to my sidearm and did the same thing all over again, shooting the target and moving it further and further away. The phaser was pulling to the right, and even if I don't normally use it I still need to fix that. A quick inspection proved the first suspicion I had, one of the focus arrays was going bad. No big deal, it was about time to swap out for a new one anyway. Five minutes later and it was putting stunners right where I wanted them.   Now that I was done with the phaser weapons and was about to switch to my ballistic, I had to take a few extra precautions. The range isn't set up for ballistic weapons and I'm not about to shoot at a hard metal backstop, that's just begging for a bad ricochet. So I had to fuck around with the range controls until the computer decided to listen to me and have an automated claw grab a block of hyper dense gel that would absorb the impact of the bullets and keep them from bouncing all over the range. Once that hassle was finally dealt with I went back to the lane I was using and put earplugs in and started running the forty five through its paces.   The old gun has a lot more kick to it than the new phasers, but after years and years of ownership (and a few thousand rounds put through it) the kick of the pistol against my hand was a familiar and comforting sensation, a welcome bit of normalcy before the inevitable insanity of the operation to come. I went through all three magazines I had loaded, twenty one rounds sailed downrange and intersected with holographic pirates at various vital points. By the time I was reloading the magazines I had fallen into the pre-mission calm, my mind coming into focus while my body coasted through a well-practiced rhythm.   There was fear, there always is, but after a few ops you learn to control it, to harness it. Fear exists for a reason, fear is intended to keep you alive, and ignoring fear is a stupid idea that will get you killed. You can't let it control you though, locking up will get you killed just as easily as thinking you're invincible, what you have to do is find a middle ground. A place where the fear is acknowledged, but not in control, a place where your fear keeps you cautious but not panicked; it's not an easy trick to pull off, probably the hardest part of being a soldier in my opinion. The physical aspect isn't a walk in the park, hardly, but it's the mental part that makes or breaks you.   This was my way of dealing with the premature buildup of adrenaline, putting rounds down range and letting my mind slowly empty until time seemed to stop and blur by exceedingly fast at the same time, every fiber of my being focused on nothing but the mechanical action of repeatedly loading and firing the pistol. Fear slowly faded into its reserved place in the background, and calm clarity pervaded my psyche. I was as ready as I could be, and there was nothing left to do but wait.   One by one my squad mates joined me in the range, and when they did I switched from the pistol to the D149 out of respect for their hearing. The block of gel I had used as a backstop was taken away by the computer with a few seconds of menu navigation at the range terminal. None of us spoke as the range slowly filled, first us, then a few of the other soldiers that would be participating on the mission. There was no conversation as each and every one of us practiced what we would be doing in just a few hours, calm, quiet and focused.   The range started to heat up as more and more people dressed in black undersuits began frying holographic targets with hot bolts of plasma and before long the heat began to become uncomfortable. I didn't care though, ambient temperature was a minor detail now, something I noticed peripherally but didn't pay any real attention to, I was too focused on my target, each time it popped up I put a stunner through it before it could finish the animation of drawing a weapon. As my internal clock ticked down the minutes I idly noticed that my team was identifiable by the color of the lights flying down our lanes. We had our weapons set to heavy stun, while everyone else had them set to kill. It was the difference between us, my team is just as capable of mass destruction as any of the others, but we specialize in the capture, not the kill. The added element makes our job that much harder, but at the same time our consciences can remain somewhat clearer. On a lot of our ops no one dies, our targets usually aren't very happy or comfortable, but we don't have as many deaths on our hands/paws as the other soldiers.   I had just put three stunners through a heavily armed holographic foxtaur when a subtle shift in the ship's superstructure signaled that we had dropped out of warp speed, we had arrived. The firing stopped almost instantly as everyone in the range picked up on the same thing I did. We all knew what it meant: time to suit up. The holograms on the range disappeared with a chorus of beeps and whirs as keypads were pressed and holo generators shut down. A crowd gathered behind me as people started filing out of the room, on the way to the temporary bunk rooms they had been assigned to get into their combat rigs. I didn't join them. Instead I calmly checked over the magazines I had loaded for my forty five and waited for them to clear out. Sigma Group's combat rigs are kept just off the armory, in a room attached to our locker room, so I didn't need to leave.   When the crowd thinned enough for me to navigate to the appropriate door I walked over to it, following Tara and being shadowed by the rest of the team, each of us carrying the weapons we had been firing. I had a slightly harder time since I had one extra to carry. Once we got through our locker room we each got scanned at the door to the Rig Room and proceeded inside, to suit up.   Our combat suits were tailor made to fit us, unlike the standard issue armor that the Marines use. One of the perks of SSF. Each rig was kept in its own little alcove, supported by a mannequin. I pressed my hand against the palm scanner next to mine and the forcefield that prevented any tampering shut down.   Each suit consisted of four parts, five counting the undersuit. The pants and boots were one contiguous unit, made of hardened plates around the thigh, shin, and foot, with thick nanoweave around the joints instead of plating. The upper body armor looked like a grey turtleneck shirt with a vest attached and gloves sewn onto the arms, There was less plating on the upper body because of the need for mobility, but there was still some plating over vital areas. The next piece to go on was the vest that held the bulk of the life support systems and comms, the power supply being located on the back around where the right kidney is on a human, with an auxiliary just opposite it. The last piece is the helmet, a completely sealed piece of hardened ceramic carbide and lightweight metal alloy with a non-reflective rectangular visor on the front.   The whole thing is the same grey as the Starfleet Security uniform shoulder pads, and it once it powers on, the suit syncs with the undersuit and seals itself to become fully capable of EVA walks and is biohazard proof. It's a heavy get up, even before our weapons and gear are added to the mix, but I've always thought the extra weight is reassuring. When my hud kicked on I saw the locations and vital signs of my team mates appear on the indicator in the top right of my field of vision, and as I picked up my D149 and sidearm the computer in the suit's helmet linked itself to them and an icon appeared that would give me the option to link my hud to a video feed from one of them.   I slung the carbine after checking to make sure the safety was on, and holstered the phaser on my right thigh. The forty five went on my left thigh, the pistol sliding to fit neatly into the modified holster I'd had installed onto the suit. My regular combat knife went into its usual holster at my right hip, and the extra one was attached on my left wrist, as always. Also on my right wrist, mounted on the top, was a black box that ran half the length of the forearm; an automated grappler. It shot out a small but very sharp and very heavy dart that could penetrate concrete, unfold into a grappling hook, and could be magnetized for a sure attachment to a metal structure, the ultimate in grappling technology.   The rest of my team was assembling their gear in the same calm silence that I was. This operation might be a rush job, but the intel was solid, and we have a clear objective ahead of us. We're about to infiltrate a hostile base located on an asteroid out in the middle of nowhere with limited support with the intention of penetrating into the deepest part of the base to capture a single man. All that stood in our way was an army of pirates with military grade weapons and plenty of experience in doling out violence.   Business as usual.   Twenty minutes later, transporter room four   "This is Black Regiment one, comm array and sentries are down, Bumper squad took care of the anti-transporter field. Steel Corps and Sigma Group are clear for insert. Sigma's drop location has been marked with a high frequency transmitter" Came the voice of Lieutenant Halsey, the senior member of Black Regiment, over my suit's radio.   We'd been in the transporter room for a while now, listening to the radio chatter as and waiting for our cue. Everything had gone according to plan so far. Bumper squad had made one of their suicidal long range space jumps and landed without alerting the pirates, then they had disabled the anti-transporter field without the enemy being alerted, Black Regiment had gone in and done their thing, now it was time for Steel Corps and Sigma Group to drop in and the noise to start.   "Coordinates for drop are in." Said the transporter engineer calmly. "All ready for transport?" We gave him a thumbs up and he nodded. "Initiating transport in three...two...one."   My vision blurred and distorted briefly as I was transported, for just an instant I became lighter than air and flew faster than light, but the feeling left almost before I could register it and I was suddenly standing in a crater on some desolate asteroid orbiting a tiny rock planet without enough mass to hold onto an atmosphere. I instinctively raised my carbine to my shoulder and scanned the area for hostiles, only to find the surrounding rock bare, good. I would be taking point on this one as I usually do, my telepathic talent allows me to sense any and all lifeforms, even if they're behind doors or around corners, and it also gives me a decent chance of identifying our target from a distance. I saw the green blips that represented my team mates forming up behind me on the radar and, when I felt Catharine pat me on the shoulder, I started walking cautiously forward, scanning visually and mentally for enemies.   It turns out that the crater that Black regiment had marked for us as an insert point was a fair distance away from the compound, but seeing as there was no other cover between here and the anti-ship cannons I wasn't complaining. I held up a fist and sank to one knee, signaling a halt. Let Steel Corps go in and start the party, that's what they're here for.   "What's the hold up?" Raul asked from his place in the back, he wouldn't be able to see over the edge of the crater. "No cover, the ground is open from here to the compound." I replied over the suit-to-suit mic. "We'll move once Steel Corps-"   I was interrupted mid-sentence by a flash of light and a soundless explosion as Steel Corps announced their presence by detonating one of the helium three cells that the pirates were using to power their generators. The explosion tore one of the smaller outbuildings in half, jettisoning what looked like food packages and water jugs into space, the relatively fragile containers burst spectacularly in the vacuum and made a nice counterpoint to the twisted shards of metal that were flying everywhere.   "Ha! Steel Corps says hello cocksuckers!" Came a loud, boisterous voice over the comm net. "They know how to make an enterance, I'll give them that." Came Francis' amused voice as we all got up and started double timing it to the compound. Phaser bolts were flying back and forth across the vacuum as Steel Corps engaged the pirates, who were at a distinct disadvantage since they were caught unawares and most of their forces still had to suit up. Bumper squad could be seen flying overhead, employing the jetpacks they used to make their insertion to act as improvised air support, and Black Regiment was providing overwatch from a rise on the opposite side of the compound as us.   The plan was for Steel Corps to blitzkrieg their way to the door we would be using to enter the compound and secure it for us. Then, depending on how things were going, a squad of them would might accompany us through the tunnels that connected to the mansion, where our intel was weakest. Since that was the official plan, it instantly went to hell.   Somehow the pirates had managed to stow some armored rovers on-site that the scans hadn't picked up, and Steel Corps was rocked back on their heels by the fast moving, heavily armed and armored vehicles. The pirates used them as mobile baracades and in a few moments of their deployment they had multiple entrenched fighting positions that we couldn't easily assault. By the time the news was broadcast over the radio net we'd already reached the outskirts of the compound, with no Steel Corps in sight. When we were about twenty feet from the nearest building a door slid open and I was suddenly face to face with a Rakshani in full EVA gear and holding a carbine not too different from my own. He (or she, I couldn't tell) only had time to blink once before five heavy stunners slammed into his center mass. "Overkill much?" Came Mina's voice, ironic since she had been responsible for two of them. "No such thing." I replied dismissively. As I got closer to the buildings I could feel the people inside, they were broadcasting their emotions like beacons. None of them were aware of our presence, yet, and the longer we could keep it that way the better. A quick peek into the building the pirate had come out of revealed a lot of tools and maintenance equipment, as well as what had to be a spare comm array. "This is Sigma Team, we've reached the compound but can't move up, there are too many hostiles between us and the tunnel." Catherine said over the force-wide comm net. "Well, we've got about a metric fuckton of angry pirates who don't wanna let us through. If you've got any fancy ideas I'd sure appreciate it." Came the reply from Steel Corps. "This is Black Regiment one, we're doing everything we can to pick off the vehicles, but they've got military grade shielding and battle plate. We can knock out the engines with anti-material lasers, but then they'll just be immobile baracades."   Well, shit. That's plan A gone right out the window, in record time too. We moved behind an outbuilding labeled 'workshop' and Catherine coordinated with the other team leads and the Pegasus to try and figure out a plan while the rest of us kept watch for hostiles.   The long and short of it was that the rovers were blocking the only routes to the tunnel, which was set pretty far back into a craggy rock formation that was only accessable from the compound. This was intentional on the pirates' side of course, and judging by how fast they had gotten the rovers into place they had been put here in case of a raid like this. Not good. While the team leads went back and forth I was scowling in frustration, we're burning time, the longer the target has to make his escape the lower our odds of capturing him. After a few moments I was struck by an idea, Steel corps couldn't get rid of the rovers with explosives because that would only clog up the road further, which was counterproductive. Well, if we can't go through the rovers, we might be able to move them remotely.   The rovers had been identified as military model fives, which were really just your regular PTV except with a mounted phaser cannon and constructed of battle plate. The important thing was that they had primitive computers in them that allowed the auto pilot to work. The thing about those computers is that they're, as I said, primitive. They can be broken into with the right gear, and since we're right next to a workshop...   "This is Sigma three to Black Regiment and Bumper Squad, do you think one of you could jury rig a signal booster and take control of the rovers?" I broadcast the message in a lull in communications. "Black Regiment one to Sigma three, we already tried that, the rovers are hardened and we couldn't break through to the computers." "This is Bumper one, same here." "There's a replacement comm node in the workshop we're sitting next to, it looks undamaged, you might be able to use that." There was a short pause, followed by a response from Bumper Squad. "This is Bumper one to Sigma three, we'll be right there." "Good thinking." Catherine praised. Not three seconds after she said that four jetpack bearing Bumpers landed right in front of me. They wasted no time in clearing the workshop and getting the comm node active. Catherine sent Vlad in to help with the actual hacking while the rest of us made sure they weren't interrupted, and maybe a minute later Bumper one spoke up again. "This is Bumper one to all channels, the rovers will be up and moving in a few seconds, get ready to move." Out of the corner of my eye I saw the comm node flicker to life and Vlad joined us again. A few tense seconds passed and Steel Corps one came on the comm net. "The rovers are gone, nice job Bumper, the tunnel will be secure in a second. Sigma squad, start moving towards the rendezvous point, we'll meet you there." Catherine patted my shoulder and I rose, striding towards the meeting place with my carbine leading the way.   Without the rovers providing cover the pirates didn't stand a chance against Steel Corps, and the pirates foolish enough to stay in the streets after the rovers were sent on their merry way were quickly culled by the heavy combat troops lumbering their way down the street. As they went, squads would be moving to the buildings on either side and clearing them out, preventing the street from becoming a killbox. By the time we reached our destination I saw no less than twelve of the heavily armored Steel Corps troopers waiting for us right outside the tunnel entrance.   Mina immediately went forward to examine it, the door was a blast door like you see on most starships, but that was all that was readily apparent. Thankfully, our little bomber bunny carries the good stuff. A hasty plan was concocted as Mina set the antimatter charge that would render the door a non-issue, and by the time she backed away the rest of us were in cover and waiting.   "This is Sigma five, blowing door in three...two...one." The explosion was soundless in the vacuum, and anti-matter bombs don't give off much of a light show anyway, but it was plenty impressive regardless. The meter thick door just disappeared, as did a good foot of rock in a five meter sphere around the antimatter charge. Debris and fog flew by us, indicating that the area beyond the door had been pressurized.   We moved the instant the last of the debris stopped flying, the Steel Corps troopers leading the way, their heavier armor allowing them to absorb more damage. A few phaser bolts flew out to meet us, but Steel Corps took care of that before any of us had a chance to. After an awkward hop over the crater the antimatter charge had left we pelted through the tunnel as fast as we could go while still maintaining caution.   The tunnel was carved right into the grey-brown rock of the asteroid and was remarkably straight and smooth given that it couldn't have been a professional job. Cheap floodlights powered by batteries were crudely mounted to the walls and provided decent, if a little inconsistent, lighting. There were alcoves spaced more or less evenly on either side, each of which was scanned and cleared by the Steel Corps troopers leading the way for us, but they needn't have bothered, there was no one in the tunnel, no one alive that is. I pointedly didn't look at some of the bodies I knew to be in some of the small rooms.   Our intel on this bit was rather iffy, we didn't know how long the tunnel was or what it contained, all the ships could tell from the scans that had been made of the place and what little information could be gleaned by Starfleet's hackers was that it connected the compound to the mansion. We got our first surprise we ran into a dead end, the path coming to an abrupt stop and the ceiling disappearing into a black void.   There were also steel runners on the wall opposite us and a small pylon with two buttons on it. This must be an elevator, and judging by the size of the shaft it's a freight elevator. We got our second surprise when a bottle of champagne fell from up above and nearly landed on Tara's head after a particularly large explosion that someone outside set off. Francis grabbed it three inches before it could impact her helmet and read the label, butchering the French horrendously. "Moet & Chandon Dom Perignon White Gold." He said, bemused. "Damn, this is about two hundred years old. Any chance we could bring this back with us?" "It would be wasted on you." Vlad said with a snort. Teddy is a complete wine snob, and I have no doubt that he knows everything there is to know about that bottle, or at least thinks he does. "Stow it." Catherine commanded. "Francis, leave the bottle here, we need to get up there. Everyone get back and find what cover you can." She pushed the bottom button on the pylon and we all dutifully moved back, getting ready to give whoever might be on the descending elevator a really bad day.   The thing was, as I expected, a freight elevator, and thus abominably slow; I really hope there's no back door out of here that we're not aware of, if there is there's no way Objective Caravan won't have used it by now. When the elevator finally did reach the bottom it proved to be devoid of people, but there were a few cases of booze, one of which was situated precariously close to the edge, no doubt where the bottle of champagne had come from. "Move up." Catherine ordered. "Sigma goes first, then we'll send the elevator down to for Steel Corps. Follow us as soon as you can."   I moved onto the elevator along with my team mates and pointed my carbine up at the top of the shaft, ready to say hi to anyone who wanted to peek over the edge and have a look. The elevator's ascent was slower than its descent, or at least it seemed that way. While we waited for the stupid thing to rise the radio chatter was increasing.   The pirates were beginning to realize that they couldn't win this one and were fighting all the harder for it. The penalty for piracy and smuggling is harsh, it runs the gamut from mind-wipe to execution, hard to tell which is worse. There's no way they're going to throw down their weapons and surrender quietly, but we didn't really expect them to anyway. So far we'd gone without any serious causalties, a few dings and scratches that were made more serious by the vacuum, but no fatalities yet thankfully. When the elevator finally reached the top we found ourselves at an airlock, the entrance to the mansion. Catherine radioed the Steel Corps troopers below. "This is Sigma six, we have reached the air lock. We will hack and insert, the elevator will be heading back down shortly."   At her signal Vlad moved up to the air lock terminal and inserted a cable attached to a small rectangular device designed to break into the programming and override any lockdowns that may have been implemented. A few seconds passed as he tapped the screen a few times, and the air look door opened without incident. We had the room beyond covered with our weapons, but it was empty. I moved ahead, taking point and hoping to find a view port on the other side so we could get an idea of what we were getting into, no such luck. We couldn't form up the way we normally would in the limited space, but we made do. Vlad did something with to the terminal and the room pressurized with a hiss that was audible even through my helmet. As odd as it may sound, it relieved me a little, fighting in vacuum always makes me nervous, and having a breathable atmosphere makes me feel a little bit better. "Opening the door in three...two...one." Vlad rumbled. The door swished open and we filed in, scanning the room with our weapons.   It was obviously a storage room of some sort, but the lights weren't on and it took me a second to figure out what the shelves on the wall contained in the green glare of the night vision mode my helmet automatically switched to. Wine bottles. Hundreds and hundreds of wine bottles. We were in a wine cellar. The champagne bottle should have been a clue, but I still found myself surprised in a distant sort of way at the absurdity of it all. Here, out on an asteroid orbiting a lifeless rock in the middle of nowhere, was a mansion complete with a wine cellar. Fuckin' A.   "Clear." I said as I walked forward. The only cover in the room was a single crate just outside the elevator, the rest of the room was completely open, with racks of wine bottles lining the walls. The only door was on the far end of the room and we made our way to it quickly, our footsteps echoing in the cavernous space. When we got to the other door I was relieved to find that it wasn't a security door, just a regular one. "Anyone on the other side?" Catherine asked. "No, I don't feel anyone nearby. Everyone must be up in the mansion itself." "Alright, good. Form up and let's go." Everyone fell into place behind me and I opened the door to find a staircase. I walked upwards, my carbine leading the way, until we got to the top and another door. As we got close I felt something on the fringes of my telepathic senses "Hostiles nearby. At least four, two of them directly above us, the other two on our left." I said curtly. I saw a minor spike in everyone's vitals as they processed the news. "On your go." Catherine said. I took a deep breath and grabbed a stun grenade from my belt and primed it. The grenade was based on the flash bang grenades that came into use around the early twenty first, and the design hasn't changed much since then, but they're still plenty useful. "Alright, in three...two...one...go!" I opened the door and tossed the grenade out, a second later there was a shout that was drowned out by the deafening sound of the grenade going off. The instant I heard the noise, dampened by my helmet by still audible, I was through the door.   I was in a hallway that looked like it was part of the pagoda section of the mansion, if the ink block paintings and miniature shrines were any indication. The floor was all woven grass mats and the walls were painted paper screens. I didn't bother to admire the décor beyond that though, I was too focused on the two woozy security guards not ten feet away. Both were human, bulky, and carrying phasers. They were wearing regular clothes, so either they weren't heavy combat types or they hadn't had the chance to suit up. The one on the left had a truly massive nose and was shaved bald, the other one had a short buzz cut and a large brown moustache. I put a stunner into each of them and moved on.   "Engaging hostile!" Francis shouted, and I saw a stunner fly off to my right and out of the corner of my eye I saw an armed human tumble to the ground and start twitching. "Matt, any sign of Caravan?" Catherine shouted over the mic. I swept the area with my mind, not bothering with subtlety, it was empty. "Negative." I replied. I was feeling for the kind of fear response that a person would get when they know that their home is being invaded. It's a slightly different feel than the run of the mill fear that comes along with any kind of combat. I'm also looking for anger, Caravan will in all likelihood be angry as well as scared. Again, hardly uncommon, but it'll help me pick him out.   "Clear the area!" Catherine ordered. The staircase leading to the second floor was near the door where we first entered the building, and we went back to it, running up the stairs to the second level.   The second floor proved to be more heavily populated. When I mounted the stairs I only barely saw the phaser bolt headed my way in time to dodge to the left, putting the shooter down for the count with a stunner to the forehead. The next room, the one that took up most of the space on the second floor, was some kind of dojo. Completely devoid of furniture, but unfortunately full of pirates, though they didn't open fire immediately, which confused me; they had to know we were here, but I realized why a second after I had that thought. The walls were made of paper, phaser bolts are hot. Any shot fired would set this place on fire. Not good.   "Watch your shots, a miss will set the whole place on fire!" I called over the radio as I grabbed another stun grenade. Affirmative responses came over the radio. I reached a hand out to open the door so I could toss the grenade in, but I stopped halfway. The walls were made of paper, what did I need a door for? The pirates were spread out in a rough arc, all facing the sliding door, perfect positioning.  I primed the grenade and threw it hard, it ripped through the paper and detonated in mid-air. Then I opened the door. We charged in and put the pirates down hard, each of them falling to the floor and twitching as their muscles spasmed. We were lucky none of them accidentally discharged their weapon and started the place on fire.   It was when I went to cuff the furthest pirate from the door that I felt it, a spike of fear and anger different than what I'd expect from a normal combatant, an individualized fear, this person knew without a doubt that the people storming into his home were after him specifically. My head whipped around as I got the impression and I probed the feeling further. The distance made it difficult, but I had no doubts. Catherine must have noticed because her voice came over the radio almost as soon as I was standing up. "You found him?" She asked intently. I scanned again, focusing hard. He had someone else with him, it might have been a morph or a human, I couldn't tell, the secondary presence was clouded, probably drugs. Both of them were moving, I recalled the blueprints that the hackers had been able to scrounge and tried to figure out where he was going. "He's moving towards the front of the Parthenon, we need to move!" I shouted over the comms. Everone stood up and followed me as I led the charge. "This is Sigma six, we have location on Objective Caravan and are moving to intercept, prepare for HVT extraction!" Catherine reported, then she switched frequencies and contacted the Steel Corps troopers that had followed us in. "Sigma six to Steel Corps gamma squad, we have cleared the first and second levels of the pagoda, the top three are not clear, go up and clear them out while we move to capture Objective Caravan, Steel Corps epsilon squad, follow behind us and provide support!" "Roger that! Let's move gamma!" "On your six Sigma!"   I ignored the chatter, focusing on re-acquiring the mental presence I'd lost as we ran the opposite direction to get to the stairs again. The hallway that joined the structures was on the opposite side of the building, and we had to cross the length of it in order to get through, which wasted precious seconds. When we finally got there I sensed that there were no hostiles in the connecting hallway, and put my shoulder to the door at a dead sprint, crashing through it thanks to the added weight of my gear. The hallway was furnished with some kind of art I had no time to appreciate, but it was just long enough for me to feel a hostile presence off to the right and catch a mental glimpse of the target. "One hostile to the right!" I bellowed over the mic, lifting my carbine to my shoulder and slowing down briefly to shoot the door knob. "Target is ten meters dead ahead!" "Confirmed!" Came the response from my team, in near unison. I ran through the door, already turning to sight in on the pirate just down the hall. I put a stunner into his chest mid-stride and turned ninety degrees, resuming my course.   There was another door between us and him, this one already open. It led to the garden in the center of the building. It was full of fountains and white marble statues. I could feel Caravan strongly now, he was starting to panic, growing desperate. We need to catch him before he does something stupid like shoot himself. The presence with him was equally terrified, but there was an undercurrent of hope to it that gave me pause. I probed it deeper as I ran and felt it recoil and close down, another empath. I was about to report that revelation when all hell broke loose. "Rocket!" Screamed Tara. I heard numerous phasers open fire and bolts impacted all around me, hostiles in the upper floors of the mansion overlooking the garden, just beyond my range. I hadn't looked up to check the surrounding area, the presence had distracted me. The bulk of the security forces that had been absent from the pagoda all opened fire simultaneously. Then there were two slightly staggered whooshing noises. With my adrenaline-enhanced perception of time I had just enough time to realize that they were the rockets Tara had warned us about.   Heat and light slammed into me like someone the size of the Pegasus had hit me with a flaming pillow. I was thrown off my feet and hurled forward, though a glass door. My suit was able to protect me from the worst of it, but I was still left with ringing ears and a series of rapidly forming bruises. My hud flickered as my helmet's optics were jarred brutally by my impact with the checkerboard patterned marble floor of the mansion and I heard screams and rumbling as part of the mansion collapsed in on the hole, sealing it off. Shit. I got up as fast as I could, only to find my carbine had been ripped from its sling and was nowhere to be found.   Error symbols peppered my hud as I shakily stood up, I was lucky to be alive after that. I saw movement out of the corner of my eye and whirled to my left and drawing my sidearm in a flash only to find myself face to face with Objective Caravan. Or almost face to face.   "Put the weapon down!" He shouted from behind a naked morph, his pudgy body and brown silk robe only partly concealed by the smaller female. She was a digitrade tigress with blue-green eyes, orange ochre fur and jagged black stripes running the length of her back and sides, there was a white oval on her front that contained her breasts, belly and continued down between her legs and inner thighs. Her paws were white as well, as was the tip of her long and rather heavy tail.   He was using her as a shield, holding her in place by the back of her neck and trying to point a phaser at me without sticking his arm out too far and risking getting stunned. Judging by the sleek frame, wide hips, and large visibly lactating breasts she was obviously a sex slave. It wasn't uncommon for smugglers and pirates to keep them around, but that didn't make hiding behind her any less repulsive.   "I said drop it!" He roared. The morph flinched and whimpered in fear. My empathic senses twinged and I realized that she was the empath I'd felt before, what I had mistaken for drugs was sexual arousal, she was probably genetically programmed to be constantly aroused. Even now, with fear radiating from her like some kind of black sun, her body was still physically aroused, even if her mind obviously wasn't in it. I scanned the area for other hostiles, none in range, good. I kept my phaser on him and tried to think of something, I don't want the morph killed, but the hallway is narrow and I don't have any room to maneuver. What's worse is my radio is broken, damaged in the blast, so I can't call in the rest of my team, but even if I could they might not be able to get here in time. "Put your fucking phaser down or I'll kill her!"   He was definitely desperate enough to do it, no doubt about that, he was almost as afraid as she was, just for different reasons. I racked my brain trying to come up with a plan but distressingly kept coming up empty. Most of my gear was useless in this situation and a lot of it had been damaged in the blast just like my radio. My shielding unit was miraculously unharmed, so I could take a phaser bolt if I have to, but I'd rather avoid that if possible. I don't have the luxury of stalling for time in hopes that my team gets here, he might very well kill her and himself before that happens; or more of his troops could show up. I was just considering trying to grab a stun grenade when I noticed that the tigress was trying to tell me something. She was mouthing three words over and over.   'Shoot through me.'   I don't know how she knew that I noticed that, but she did. She started mouthing it more insistently, over and over. Tears were streaming from her eyes and I felt a sick surge of conflicting emotions roll off of her like a toxic fog. Overpowering, atavistic fear was pouring off of her in waves, suffused with a kind of primal, undiluted anger directed at the man behind her, crushing depression and self-loathing, and worst of all, a tentative hope. She wanted me to kill her just so that man would die. She was begging for it.   I couldn't completely suppress the shudder that went through me when I felt it. But her words gave me an idea. Slowly, I took my left hand off my phaser and  knelt down, moving to place it on the ground. The morph's emotions spiked almost painfully as I did, but I ignored it. I had a suspicion that he wouldn't remain so composed when he saw me complying to his orders, and when I had placed it on the ground and was halfway back to my feet, I was proven right. He roughly tossed the morph aside and leveled his own phaser at me. I grinned fiercely, dumbass.   As I had knelt down I had primed my grappler, the targeting indicator appearing in my hud as I did. When he threw the morph clear and opened himself up the reticle was hovering just below his right shoulder. I triggered the device and the barbed hook shot out with enough force to penetrate solid stone, the flesh and bone of one overweight crime boss was completely immaterial. He screamed as the barb tore through his shoulder, doing massive tissue damage and obliterating all the bone in its path.   His phaser fell to the ground as his right arm fell limp. Then, I triggered the magnetizing function of the grappler, sending a powerful jolt of electric current down the line, essentially turning the grappling device into an oversized and tremendously inefficient stunner, leaving him twitching and jerking spasmodically. Once I was sure he was down for the count I grabbed my phaser and started retracting the cable carefully, taking up the slack as I approached him with my weapon drawn. He didn't move.   The morph was curled up into a terrified ball a few feet away, looking between me and the smuggler on the floor with tears still falling from her eyes. Her mind was even more jumbled than it was before, pain from the fall and continuing fear fought for supremacy against elation, disappointment, and vindication. I had to pull my mind away from hers lest I get distracted.   I had to disengage the spool of cable in the grappler completely, there was no way I'd be able to remove that dart without doing massive damage and probably killing him. I swept the area for hostiles one more time and, finding none, tried to get my mic to work again. All I got for my efforts was silence. I couldn't stay still, the target's been captured and in need of medical attention, it wouldn't do for him to die before he can spill his guts to a Starfleet interrogator. In the interest of keeping him alive long enough to talk I pulled a small canister of wound sealant off my belt and sprayed it over the entry and exit wounds on his shoulder, stopping the bleeding With the cable still inside it wasn't perfect, but it would work until he got to the Pegasus.   That done, I scanned the area to try and find my fellow team members and realized something as I did: it was quiet. The shooting had stopped. That could be either very good or very bad, if I'm the only one of my team left alive I'm not going to last for long, especially not with a broken radio and only a basic phaser and an old ballistic for defense. I swept harder, searching intently for any presences at all, not just friendly ones, and once again came up blank. Not good. I weighed my options, I couldn't move Caravan easily, and I would be vulnerable if I did, and there aren't any rooms nearby either, the hallway was devoid of doors, or any other defensible positions for that matter.   A whimper from the frightened morph next to me reminded me that she was a factor in this too, I couldn't leave her, she could potentially tell any pirates she came across where I went if I moved Caravan. Or she might follow me, which is probably more likely now that I think about it, she'd be conditioned to stay close to her master. I could try ordering her to stay put, but I doubt that would work. She's terrified of me; I can read that from her without even trying. There's a lot more going through her mind than just fear though, but I can't make sense of any of it, the fog of her seemingly ever present arousal and her understandably near-panicked emotional state prevented me from getting anything distinct from her. I could tell that a part of her was wishing that I would shoot her, but I stayed away from that part as much as I could.   Movement at the end of the hall caught my attention and I whirled to around, orienting my phaser on the figure striding through the cloud of dust that enveloped that part of the hall. A coughing pirate stumbled into my line of sight, some kind of feline morph I couldn't identify. Whatever color his fur was I couldn't tell through the thick coating of grey/white dust covering every inch of his body. He was wiping his streaming eyes with one paw and waving a phaser around wildly in the other. I fired my phaser and my stunner caught him in the chest, followed shortly after by another one that slammed into his side.   Raul came striding quickly around the corner, followed by Francis, Catherine, Tara, Mina, and a limping Vlad. Relief nearly knocked me off my feet as I waved them over. They all caught the motion instantly and were across the hall in a second, probably giving me hell for not responding to over the radio. I reached a hand up to my helmet and engaged the speakers so I could actually communicate with them. They, at least, were functional, if a bit glitchy. "My radio's out, destroyed in the blast." I explained. Tara had already knelt down beside Caravan and started examining him while Raul, Francis and Mina took up defensive positions around us. Vlad limped over to the wall and leaned up against it, pulling out a beacon that would mark our position for the transporter techs on the Pegasus. Catherine approached me and engaged her own helmet speakers. "We thought you were dead Hennessey, you got damn lucky. Any closer and those rockets would have pulped you. I see you got the target anyway though. Good work." "Yeah, what the hell did you do to him?" Tara asked, her voice highly distorted. Her helmet speakers must have been damaged more than mine were. "He used the morph as a shield." I said, indicating the still trembling female a few feet away. She had shrunk back against the wall when the others arrived and was watching us intently, but warily. "I faked putting my phaser down and when he opened himself up I put my grappler through his shoulder and magnetized it." "That's a new one." Francis said, obviously amused, though whether it was due to my unorthodox takedown or that his highly damaged speakers made him sound like he'd been breathing helium is anyone's guess. "Damn." Mina said succinctly. "I have my moments." I replied dryly. "I take it from the casual humor that the area is secure?" "The fucker with the rocket didn't think about the backblast." Vlad grunted. "They were all packed into a single room that had multiple windows overlooking the garden. Took out half of his own guys in one fell swoop. Grenades and Steel Corps took care of the rest." "How long until we can extract?" Catherine asked. "The transmitter is acting up." Vlad replied. "It's taking a second for it to sync up with the Pegasus." "Ma'am, what are we going to do with her?" I asked Catherine, indicating the morph, who squeaked and curled up into a tighter ball. Catherine puzzled over it for a second before walking over to the tigress slowly, and as non-threateningly as she could. "We're about to leave this place, and we need you to come with us, can you walk?" The morph just whimpered and shied away from her. "We won't hurt you, but the other people, the ones that were here before us, might. If any of them are left they might try to hide behind you like he did. If you come with us we can keep you safe, do you understand?" "Y-you taking m-master away?" Came the meek response. Her gaze flickered to the fat man on the floor. "Yes, we're taking him with us." Catherine replied. "L-lydia m-must follow master." The morph, ostensibly Lydia, answered after a long pause; her gaze flickering to Caravan and then me. She was still frightened, which was understandable, we were faceless grey intruders fairly bristling with weaponry, and one of us had put her master out of commission. I'm mildly surprised she didn't attack me for that, but I'm not complaining about it. "Transport coordinates locked." Vlad announced. "She'll need to get closer to the transceiver." "You need to come over here, can you do that?" Catherine asked, pointing to the transceiver that would allow the transporter techs on the Pegasus to transport all of us at once. Lydia tried to get up, but she yelped and dropped back down when she tried to put weight on her right leg, which buckled immediately. I glanced down and identified the problem, she was a digitrade morph, and her right 'heel' was severely sprained if not broken. It had to have happened when Caravan threw her. Her teeth were gritted tightly together and her eyes were screwed shut as a fresh wave of tears fell from them. I approached her and knelt down, holstering my phaser. "I'll help you up." I said as non-threateningly as I could. She opened her still watery eyes and nodded. I could feel her emotions shift, she wasn't quite as afraid of us anymore, which is good, but she's still wary, which is understandable. She awkwardly got her left leg underneath herself and tentatively reached an arm out to me. I took it and pulled it over my shoulder, wrapping my other arm around her waist and taking most of her weight as we stood up. She had to lean on me heavily, and she wasn't at all comfortable with the arrangement, but it worked. She hopped awkwardly along with me, keeping her right leg held up off the floor as much as possible. When we were in position next to the beacon I stopped walking and waited for the signal from Vlad that the transport would begin. I didn't have to wait long.   "Pegasis this is Sigma two, we have HVT and are ready for extract. Be aware that HVT is unconscious and in need of immediate medical attention. We also have a wounded non-combatant also in need of medical attention, and we have wounded, please confirm." "We read you loud and clear Sigma, medics are standing by for your arrival. We will transport on your go." "Beam us up." Vlad replied immediately.   Lydia gasped as we were transported, the sensation was probably new to her, and it's always a bit startling the first time. The onrushing medics definitely frightened her though, and she started squirming away from me. I held onto her firmly, but not too tightly, and tried to calm her down. "Easy, easy. They'll make your leg better, they won't hurt you." I assured her as a Catian in a green medical uniform hurried over to us. Lydia stopped squirming, but regarded the oncoming medic with blatant fear. I saw the medic look her over and frown, coming to the same conclusion I had about Lydia's status as a sex slave. "You need to go with her Lydia, she'll make your leg better." "W-what about master?" She asked, her eyes darting all over the room. "Your master will be fine, now go with the doctor." I blurted before I could think it through. Oddly, she took that at face value, I didn't even have to add anything to it. The instant the words were out of my mouth she acquiesced to the doctor and allowed herself to be led to a floating gurney. She laid down on it when prompted to do so, and the medics thankfully didn't try to employ the restraints, which averted a potential fight. She was whisked out of the room right after Caravan, with Vlad following behind her on his own gurney.   I sighed and reached up to pull my helmet off, only to find that the mechanism that locked it to the rest of the suit and created the hermetic seal was jammed. Brilliant. I tried deactivating it manually, but I kept getting error messages and eventually I had to concede that something was physically wrong with it. The others had already taken their helmets off and were idly talking as the medics examined the readouts from their suits. "Hey Francis." I called, ignoring the mousy human medic that was frowning at my own suit's lack of biometric data. He turned around when he heard his name. "My helmet won't come off. Look at the seals and see if you can't find the problem."   "Anything besides the helmet jamming up?" He asked as he strode over. "I've got two dozen error messages on my hud, but I can move everything just fine." "You're lucky." He said, stepping behind me and pushing my head forward gently so he could get a better look at the seals at the back of my neck. "I thought those rockets had turned you into aerosolized ape." He said it nonchalantly, but the way his left paw was gripping my shoulder let me know that he had actually been worried. "Yeah, well, I've always been a lucky bastard, you know that. Anything wrong with the seals?" "Yeah, looks like the heat melted them a bit. Hold on, I think I can get them." I felt him grip my suit and he torqued on it hard, a second later there was a small pop and my helmet loosened. "That did it, thanks." I reached up and happily took my helmet off. The techs that take care of the armor won't be happy, they're going to be spending a lot of time fixing everything the blasts ruined, but hey, their problem, not mine. "Nice bruises." Tara commented, scratching idly behind an ear. I flipped my helmet around in my hands and looked at my reflection in the scuffed visor. Sure enough, I had some mottled bruises on my right cheek and part of my forehead. "Sexy, I know." I replied, grinning. "All things considered I'm pretty happy how it turned out, I survived two rockets with just a few bruises. Think they'll give me a citation for that? Maybe a medal for how badass I was?" "Oh, I think a few medals are going to be handed out." Came an amused baritone voice from off to my right. "I don't know if Starfleet has medals specifically for badass though." "Admiral on deck!" Catherine barked. Conversation instantly stopped as we all snapped to attention, spinning to face Admiral Kline and Captain Silpurr, who was shadowing him. "At ease." He replied, and we all relaxed. I've been on the Pegasus for a few years now, long enough to get an idea of Admiral Kline's character, and I like working under him. He has the gift of a good commander: he takes his responsibility seriously, but not his rank. He's not ostentatious or hidebound like a lot of senior officers can be. All the people that I know who work with him more closely than I do have nothing but respect for him, and from the times I've seen him interacting with the crew I can't say as I can find anything to complain about either. "I came down here to personally commend you all on a job well done, I've been listening in on the radio chatter and I'm impressed." "Thank you, sir." Catherine said, replying for all of us. "Where's Vlad?" Kline asked suddenly, surprising me. I didn't know he knew our names. "Uh, sickbay sir. He took a hit to the leg." Catherine responded, as surprised as I was. "How serious?" "Don't know sir, he could walk but he was definitely feeling it." "I'll stop in and see how he's doing in a minute." My respect for the good Admiral just went up another notch. "Anyway, besides the commendation I came down to tell you that your debriefing has been postponed until tomorrow, intel has started their sweep of the mansion and they've already found several terminals that merit a thorough search." He said, satisfaction and anticipation in his voice. As a soldier I can understand that, his operation (and it was his operation, he was the one that pushed it through Starfleet High Command after all) went off well and he was riding the high, and capturing enemy intel is like getting birthday presents early. "We appreciate that sir." Catherine said. "What time tomorrow?" "I don't know yet, that depends on how much intel we get and how soon Caravan starts talking. I'll let you know as soon as I have a better idea myself. Until then, consider yourselves off duty, you've earned the break. Dismissed." He said, turning sharply on his heel and striding purposefully out of the room, undoubtedly to go get an update on the intel that was being gathered. "I don't know about you guys." Tara said abruptly, breaking the silence that had fallen after Admiral Kline left. "But I'm going to shower and head to the canteen, there's alcohol to be had!" "Have fun." I said, starting towards the door. "After that rocket the last thing I'll need tomorrow is a hangover." "I'm with him." Francis grunted. "Aren't any of you going to go check on Vlad?" Catherine asked, amused. "He's alive right?" Tara answered her question with a question. "Yeah." "And not in critical condition, right?" "Yeah." "Well then there you have it. Beer is more important." She said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. Everyone laughed. "It's what he would do." Raul piped up. "No, he wouldn't be caught dead drinking beer." Mina interjected. "He'd have a glass of some wine none of us can pronounce, like that Perignon stuff that nearly concussed Tara." "It's not pronounced 'perig-non', o literate one, it's pronounced 'pair-in-yon'." I corrected. I grew up around New Orleans, no one who grows up around there doesn't know at least some French. "Whatever, it's all bubbly wine to me." Mina said dismissively. As I recall, she prefers gin. Why, I have no idea. We continued this conversation all the way to the locker room, where we were faced with the gruesome task of stripping out of our undersuits, our combat rigs had been left in the care of the techs who take care of them. The poor bastards looked on the edge of tears when they saw what happened to the suits and realized how much work they had ahead of them. Oh well, not my problem, I've gotten blown up not once, but twice in the last few hours. I have no more fucks to give.   Getting out of the undersuit is worse than getting in by a long shot: it sticks to your skin like glue and it never fails to pull out half the hair on my arms and legs, not to mention the smell. The material it's made of may be really good for relaying electrical signals and dispersing heat evenly, but it smells pretty unpleasant at the best of times, and when it's combined with sweat and body odor the miasma it produces is downright vile. "Damn." I said, getting nose full of the reek as I pulled my right arm out. "I swear they smell worse every time." "You sure it's not you you're smelling?" Raul quipped, struggling with his own suit and growling angrily under his breath. "Yeah, pretty sure. I don't bathe in solvent and rotten fish. Seriously, where the hell did they find this shit?" "They made it in some lab, probably had to sacrifice a few innocent children to do it too." Francis grunted, pulling his right leg out and leaving a tuft of hair behind. "They can make cancer cures an over the counter pill, but they can't synthesize a rubber suit that doesn't smell like a chemical spill at low tide." Mina groused. "That says something about our society, not sure what, but it can't be anything complimentary." "No kidding." I said as I sat down on the bench and started working on getting my legs free. "What do you have to complain about? You're practically bald, we've got fur." Catherine said, struggling with a leg. "I won't have any left by the time I'm done with this." I grumbled, wincing as I nearly gave myself a bikini waxing when I pushed the suit down to start trying to extricate my legs, which only took five minutes. After I did I walked over to the shower stalls and turned on the hot water, groaning as I was deluged in steaming hot nirvana. I tuned out the grunting and cursing of my team mates as I scrubbed myself clean. We've seen each other naked so many times now it's a non-issue, so I don't care about bathing in front of them. One by one as they finished pulling their suits off they joined me in the shower and our conversation turned to after-mission plans. "So, are you all really going to leave me all by my lonesome at the bar?" Tara asked the group as a whole. "I can't." Catherine said. "I have to go check in on Vlad, then I'm going to see if I can get a look at any of the intel we got." "The intel dorks won't let you see anything." I pointed out. They get so hung up about security clearance and 'need to know'... "It's worth a try, besides, I don't want to get bitched out by Teddy for not visiting him." She said, rolling her eyes. "Hmm...visit Teddy and listen to him gripe, or go to the bar and hook up..." Tara said with a grin, scratching her chin in mock contemplation before cheerfully announcing her decision. "Bar it is!" "There's more to life than one night stands you know." Catherine pointed out uncomfortably.   She wants to find a mate, badly, but put her in a situation that doesn't involve commanding this little circus or shooting something and she just can't function socially. It's actually kind of sad, but still funny, especially when she gets tipsy and tries to hit on people. Some of her more memorable opening lines include: 'I'm in Starfleet Special Forces and I'd like to talk with you' 'I've run a background check on you to see if we would be compatible and you passed' and her crowning achievement in drunken awkwardness: 'Hey, I shoot things for a living and I'm drunk, wanna go somewhere dark and private?'.   "Sure boss, whatever you say." Tara chuckled. She'd end up spending the night with one of her regular sex partners, maybe two or three of them. Probably at the same time, she always gets extra randy after a mission. "I don't think I'm going to go either." Mina said as she scrubbed the backs of her long ears. "I have some personal stuff to take care of."   Translation: I'm going to be fucking Raul until my thighs are bruised.   "I don't feel like hitting the bar either, that rocket really rang my bells and I've got a headache. I'm gonna turn in early." Translation: same as Mina's.   "Right, sure, just remember to use protection." I said, earning myself a scowl from the soon-to-be-fucking couple and a sigh from Catherine. Technically, if any one on her team was conducting an illicit relationship like that she'd have to report it. "I'm going to meet up with David." Francis said simply, averting any potential outbursts from Mina or Raul. "Ooh! Sounds like fun!" Tara said, leering at him. He rolled his eyes. "Unlike some of us." Francis replied, giving her a pointed look. "David and I are not slaves to our genitals, and furthermore, I won't tell you about it." He said, dead serious. He and David have been together for almost six years now, and in that time they have been completely faithful to each other and they both value fidelity (physical and verbal) extremely highly. "Alright, alright, I was just joking." Tara said, holding her paws up. "What about you Jacob? You gonna to be boring too?" "I'm probably going to see if Cynthia has any plans." Cynthia is my girlfriend, a white tigress morph that I've been seeing for about a year and a half now. "Things are getting serious between you two, huh?" Francis asked. Normally a question like that would have rankled, I value my privacy highly (current nude status aside), but Francis is a special case. Francis and I are real close on a personal level, and he's the one I've always gone to for advice on relationships. He helped me get through the worst of the breakups and kicked my ass back into gear on the occasions that I gave up on it out of frustration. If he hadn't been prodding me and supporting me in all likelihood I wouldn't be with Cynthia today.   My track record with relationships is like my childhood: spottier than a cheetah's ass. My first 'serious' relationship back home resulted in me getting shot by my girlfriend's father because she accused me of raping her and knocking her up. In reality, she had been cheating on me, not that it mattered to any of the adults involved. I found out about her indiscretion while I was in the hospital with a phaser burn the size of my fist on my chest and a broken arm from the subsequent fall.   Because of that, I've had...difficulties, with the whole relationship thing. The vast majority of my relationships have either been sexually satisfying (sometimes) one night stands that always left me feeling hollow afterward, and short-term flings that were dissolved in less than six months and usually on bad terms. Part of it is that there aren't many people who can handle having a boyfriend that does what I do for a living, but most of it is that I have pretty significant trust issues and I seriously lack the ability to open up and talk about...well, much of anything. "Yeah, we've been together exactly a year and a half tomorrow. That's longer than anyone else, and we don't fight all the time either, that's a definite bonus." Cynthia has been more than patient with me, especially during the early phase of our relationship when I was still kind of waiting for the other shoe to drop, but I'm beyond happy that she did. She had her own issues in the past that she doesn't like to talk about much, which I can totally empathize with, and we share a lot of interests and personality quirks, so we really hit it off. "Yeah, that does tend to be a good sign." Francis said, clapping me on the shoulder painfully. "I'm glad to see you've finally found someone." "Ugh, poor guy, just think of all the sex you won't have." Tara said. I think she was joking...I think. "Remember what I said about most people not being slaves to their genitals?" Francis asked wearily. He's a big believer in monogamy, even though he's not particularly religious. Hell, he was a virgin before he was with David. Tara on the other hand, thinks monogamy is ridiculous. It's a point of contention between them, but fortunately it doesn't cause any real fights. "Sure we are." Tara countered. "Look at all those ads that feature nearly naked females, the dating service industry, hell, the brothels. A huge part of our psychology is rooted in our base desire to breed and pass on our genes, I'm just open about it and refuse to be ashamed of it." "Let's just say it boils down to whether you want quality or quantity and leave it at that." I interjected before they could really get into it, which they would. "Yes, please spare us. We've heard it a million times before." Raul begged. "At least wait until we're gone." Mina added. They both looked a little chagrined, despite the fact that they held opposite beliefs, they really did enjoy the ongoing debate. The rest of us, however, don't. "Well, since I have a reasonable amount of fur and thus don't have to spend an hour washing myself, I am going to leave before I get caught in between those two again. See you all tomorrow." I suited word to deed and turned off the water and grabbing a towel, ignoring the usual grumbles. I really hope Cynthia's not busy tonight, I haven't been able to see her in a few weeks and I really miss spending time with her.     Twenty minutes later   Having changed into my regular Starfleet Security uniform I walked through the halls of the ship towards Cynthia's cabin. The bruises on my face combined with my uniform's assortment of medals denoted me as a veteran soldier who'd just seen action, which meant that the crowd parted around me to give me a decent berth. It was nice. Cynthia's cabin isn't very far from my cabin physically, but due to how the ship is designed it takes about ten minutes of walking to get to it; which always strikes me as a design flaw.   When I did get to her door, I placed my palm on the identifier pad and waited to see if she was there. Even if she was too busy to do anything she would at least tell me. My prayers were answered though, as scarcely five seconds after I announced my presence the door slid open and I was treated to the sight of my girlfriend wearing a grey bathrobe a little too small for her. "Jacob! I was hoping you'd come!" She greeted happily. I smiled and took her in, she's just an inch or so shorter than I am, but whereas I am perpetually rather scrawny she has definite muscle on her frame, but still manages to look feminine. Her fur is, as you would expect from her species, white with black stripes, but her stripes are the most well-defined I've ever seen in a tiger morph of any type. Her blue-grey eyes are large, emotional, and expressive; the kind of eyes you don't normally see on an adult. "It's been a while." I confirmed. "But, thanks to Admiral Kline, I have the night off. Are you free?" "Yeah, I took tomorrow off and I'm done with my duties tonight." She works in the nursery, so she works fairly regular (if very demanding) hours. "Come in! I just finished dinner, but I can heat some up for you if you like." "That's okay, I grabbed something to eat already. I just wanted to spend some time with you." I said, following her into her cabin. It was your standard cabin: a kitchenette and attached dining room with a small living room with doors leading to the bedroom and a small closet respectively. She had elected not to bring in any of her own furnishings like a lot of people who have long-term berths on a starship do, instead she put up pictures of her family and had plants growing in small pots strewn across the limited available space.   They ranged from herbs like parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme, to purely ornamental ones like pansies and a few other flowers I couldn't name. There were even a few that she swore were medicinal, but I don't have the botanical skill to know for sure, so I take her word for it. The smell of the plants really made the cabin feel much more welcoming than it had any right to be, but I'm not complaining.   "I'd like that." She said, leading me further in and sitting down on the couch, the only comfortable seating in the place. I sat next to her and she wrapped her arms around me, pulling me into a long and drawn out kiss. She broke it off when she had to breathe again. "Mmm, I missed you Jacob." "I missed you too." I murmured, planting another quick kiss on her mouth. "How have things been going for you since we last talked?" "Oh, the usual." She said, leaning against me and resting her head on my shoulder. I rested my head on top of hers. "The kids are crazy, one of the two year olds got strep throat and passed it on to the rest of them, the parents blame us for it. Business as usual." "Ooh, that's rough." I grunted. I've met a few of the kids she works with, and I honestly can't fathom how she deals with them on a daily basis. If it was me in there they'd all be muzzled and put in straight jackets. "Tell me about it." She griped. "One of the moms actually started to yell at me in front of the whole nursery. She was mad because I put her son in time out for throwing food everywhere at snack time."   We gripe a lot in the standard course of our conversations, not about each other, but about life in general. It's one of the things that keeps us together.   "This wouldn't happen to be the Wilson kid, would it?" I asked, having a hunch. "Right in one." She confirmed sourly. "He's a spoiled brat just like his parents." "I could always talk to them on your behalf." I offered with my best mile, which was made rather gruesome by the bruises on my face. "I'm pretty sure I could convince them not to bother you anymore." "Heh, I appreciate the offer honey, but I don't think your Commander would appreciate it if you went around assaulting civilians." "Are you kidding me?" I asked. "Terrorizing civvies is Sigma Squad's official unofficial sport! We even have a score card hanging up in the locker room. Five points for intimidating some random person who's in your way, ten points for deflating some young moron's ego, and fifty points for scaring the piss out of someone who doesn't know you're in SSF." "That's horrible!" She laughed, her eyes twinkling. "How can you live with yourself?" "I remember the looks on their faces." She laughed again. She has a very nice laugh, her voice is...well, musical is the best way I can put it. She was in musical theater in college and she's a very good singer, an alto. That training comes across in her every day speech, she always sounds like she's just a second away from bursting into song, which I really like. "You should be ashamed of yourself." She scolded, though the smile on her face kind of ruined the effect. I grinned and draped an arm over her shoulders, pulling her close. Just sitting down with her felt good after our separation. "So do you want me to have a talk with them or not?" I asked, grinning wickedly. "I promise I won't leave any marks...well, no visible ones anyway." "Let me think about it." Then it was my turn to laugh.   After that conversation slowed to a halt and we just enjoyed each other's company and cuddled. She curled up against my chest and I wrapped my arms around her, nuzzling her gently and breathing in her scent. She must have just finished in the shower, because she smelled like the peppermint infused soap she's so fond of. I felt the post-mission tension that had been lingering in my body dissipating as I held her and idly stroked the soft fur around her ears, occasionally scratching lightly, just the way she liked it. Her tail wrapped around my leg and her left paw trailed carefully across my right side.   She's always extra gentle after I come back from a mission. Partly because of any injuries I may obtain downrange, and given that I got blown up and despite my suit's protections I'm pretty well tenderized, I'm more than happy with that. Mostly though, it's because after all the adrenaline and violence that accompanies my job having a soft, non-violent touch is a greater balm than any fervent groping. Some soldiers I know get exceedingly horny after an action, Tara is a great example, others get mopey, some of them get drunk (Vlad), but all I want afterwards is to curl up and cuddle.   I closed my eyes and listened to the soft sound of her breathing as her paw started to trail upwards towards my face and I knew what was coming next. She cupped my cheek softly and ever so lightly traced the bruise.   "How did you get hurt?" She asked quietly. "One of the pirates had a rocket launcher, probably one of the old F-80 dual tubes, we got caught in a bad place. The suit protected me from the blast but I got tossed around and I landed on my face." She digested that for a moment while continuing to stroke my face. "Did you get hurt anywhere else?" "I'm tender all over, but the suits are tough, so other than a few minor bruises I'm just fine." I don't lie to her about my injuries, I've found from past experience that it just isn't worth it. I'm not dramatic about it, and I try to spare her the gory details of how exactly I got them, but I don't lie about them.   She didn't say anything for a few minutes as she mulled things over. I didn't try to defend what I do for a living, she knows I'm a soldier, I know the risks and so does she. It's hard sometimes, but it's something we both have to accept. After maybe three minutes of silence she nodded her head with a sort of finality, and I could practically see her switching mental gears, then she leaned in to kiss me intensely. Her rough tongue probed tentatively at my lips a few times before she pulled back.   "I love you Jacob." She murmured softly, her muzzle just a few inches away from my nose. She was panting slightly and I could see that her eyes were getting a just the tiniest bit glassy. "I love you too." I replied just as quietly. She kissed me in lieu of response, shifting position on the couch as she did. I felt her leg move across my lap and by the time we were done with the kiss she was astride me, in a dominant position and pressing me back against the couch. My hands found their way to her thighs and I noted that her tail was starting to thrash the air rather dramatically. "It's been too long since we've been together." She ground herself against me at the end, emphasizing her point. "I agree." I said, my own blood starting to heat up. I carefully grabbed her swaying tail in one hand and earning a small sound of pleasure for doing so. She was rapidly sinking into full-on predator mode. A lot of morphs derived from carnivorous species tend to be very intense in bed. They have to be very careful about their predatory instincts and it's very common for them to sublimate that into their sex lives, when they get in the mood it's like they're on a hunt, which is something that takes getting used to, but can be extremely thrilling. Normally after a mission I'm all for gentle and soft, but I know I'm going to enjoy the sex, and once Cynthia works through some of her pent up hormones we'll be able to have the kind of gentle sex that I really like. Right now though... "Wait here." She commanded, getting up suddenly. She was sporting a leer that would have intimidated a lesser man. "I have something special set up. I'll call you when I'm ready." "Okay." I said, a little confusion seeping its way into the edges of my rapidly growing lust. She walked quickly over to the bedroom door and walked in, loosening her robe on the way, but only allowing a little bare back to show. I dutifully waited for her signal, though I quickly got impatient. All in all I sat there for what had to be four of the longest minutes of my life before I heard her voice from the other side of the door. "Alright, it's all ready. Come in." I sprang up from the couch and quick marched over to the door, but I was not prepared for what I saw when it opened. She had done some decorating, extremely fast decorating at that. The small room contained nothing but a bed, closet, a nightstand, a wastebasket, and a lamp; with a few paltry shelves on the walls, but somehow Cynthia had used that space to work magic.   The lights were off, but the shelves were littered with candles, which gave off just enough light for me to see that she had acquired new sheets for the bed, which were a deep crimson color and made of some material I couldn't identify. There was a pile of condoms on the nightstand, of various varieties if the radically different colors of packaging were any indication, and she had left an open bottle of lilac infused oil somewhere in the room, which perfumed the air subtly with the sweet fragrance. All of that paled in comparison to her though.   She was, for the first time since I have met her, wearing jewelry, but it wasn't any kind of jewelry I've ever seen. Most rings, necklaces, bracelets and the like were designed to draw attention to themselves, they were decorations that screamed out for attention. The jewelry she was wearing emphasized one thing and one thing only: her nude body.   Brass colored bracelets adorned her wrists and similar anklets were loosely attached to her digitrade feet. The bra she was wearing, if it could be called that, was a string of copper colored beads that wrapped around her neck like a necklace, plunged down between her breasts and attached to another band of beads so that it looked similar to an upside down letter Y, her thrashing tail bore a series of ringlets made of some shiny jade colored material, thin leather armlets graced her biceps with matching versions wrapping around her thighs, and around her waist was a sort of net belt of yet more copper and brass colored beads that dipped down in a swooping V shape so that a single bead, dangling from a string, drawing the eye to the slightly thicker fur between her legs.   The ensemble completely blew me away, and I couldn't help but stare, my mouth practically hanging open in shock. She smiled at my reaction and reached up a paw to brush against my mouth, I could smell female fluids on her pawpads, and taste them slightly as she brushed my lips with her paw. Doing that to another morph would have driven them wild almost to the point of insanity, their keener noses would have picked up on all the chemical signals contained in the juices she had gathered onto her paw. Even without the extra strong sense of smell it nearly drove me insane.   "Cynthia...it's...this is..." She covered my mouth with her paw again and shivered when I flicked my tongue across one of her pawpads. "Shh. She said huskily, moving into my personal space and giving me a kiss that would have qualified as oral rape in any civilized part of the universe, and I loved it. Her paws seized the hem of my uniform shirt and pulled upwards roughly, not hard enough to really hurt me, but close. I helped her, not caring that a few of my medals fell off and hit the floor, and stripped out of my undershirt as well.   As I struggled with my pants she gave me a long lick from the area directly over my heart, up my chest, across my shoulder and neck, and ending up just under my left eye, making me totally forget what I was doing, quiver, and let out a breathless gasp. She grinned as she stepped back to allow me the room I'd need to shed my pants, her nostrils flaring as she caught my scent. Once I'd completely disrobed she walked backwards towards the bed and sat down, slowly sliding backwards until her head rested on the pillow. Then she stretched sensually, giving me a tremendous view of her exposed and hardened nipples, before resting her head on her crossed arms and bending one leg at the knee, posing for me.   I smiled and joined her; she sat up as I crawled onto the bed with her and grabbed one of the condoms at random.   "I'm going into heat a few days from now, we have to be careful." I had expected as much when I'd first seen the condoms. Normally we don't bother with condoms, trusting her birth control shots, but it was better to play it safe. She tore the package open to reveal a ribbed condom with the thickest ridges I've ever seen. She grinned, panting more heavily as she took in the sight and glanced at my erection. "Hold still now, let me put this on."   I don't particularly like condoms, no guy really does I think, but I'll always use one if given the choice, just to be safe. Cynthia, though, has somehow elevated the act of putting on a condom to an art form, and the feel of the fur on her paws as well as the snug material of the contraceptive sliding down my shaft nearly pushed me over the edge. When she had unrolled the condom completely she laid down on her back and placed her hindpaws on my shoulders after moving a pillow under her hips, getting into our favorite position. We traded smiles as I got onto my knees and she shifted position to make penetration easier, slipping her tail between my legs as she did.   Once we were both ready she reached down and took my shaft in her paw, I let her guide me in and slowly sunk my shaft into her warm, wet depths. She immediately started shifting her hips impatiently, the intense, predatory look on her face returning. Seeing no reason to disobey her non-verbal command I started rocking my own hips back and forth, pulling out and plunging back in with increasing speed and force until we were both going full-tilt.   She was in full form, panting and growling, her mouth wide and her tongue protruding slightly. Her eyes locked onto mine as we bred, holding my gaze. Her paws drifted to her belly and she pressed them against herself, moaning as she stimulated the hidden but still sensitive vestigial nipples under her fur, my hands strayed down to her inner thighs and began tweaking the fur slightly, drawing a long, low growl that emanated from her lower abdomen and vibrated her entire body.   We both started to sweat from the exertion and the added heat the candles brought to the room, but in my opinion it only made her look even better. Her fur started to get a bit matted and tousled as her body attempted to cool itself, making her look even more wild than she already did.   Knowing that I wouldn't be able to last very long the first round, I started doing what I could to help her finish, starting with her hindpaws. She has a foot fetish, and especially loves to have hers played with during sex. I nibbled on the extended portion of her foot right above the paw itself, careful of her anklet, and her growling was abruptly cut off and replaced with a whimper. Now that's what I like to hear.   Her right paw found its way between her legs and she started to play with her clitoris, driving herself onward. At the same time she moved her right foot slightly, giving me full access to her hindpaw. I kissed the pawpads and softly traced them with my tongue as I increased the frequency of my thrusts, feeling myself getting close. She mercilessly assaulted herself with her paws, grabbing her left breast as she continued to pinch and stroke her clit. I took one of her pawpads into my mouth and suckled on it slightly, sliding my tongue over it and nibbling on it as well.   That was the last straw for her; she started bucking her hips almost frantically, her eyes wide and her breathing coming in ragged gasps. Her legs started to tremble and I knew she was done; I released her hindpaw from my mouth and thrust in a few more times before she finally got pushed over the edge.   Her whole body convulsed and she arched her back, hilting me inside of her as her tail thrashed wildly. She gripped the sheets with her paws and the growls that she had been emitting grew to a crescendo and actually became a roar, the volume almost deafening in the confined cabin. Her tunnel clenched repeatedly in quick, rhythmic spasms which sent me over the edge. I groaned as I relished the knowledge that I had just done that to her, and savored the bliss and relaxation that came with my own orgasm, thinking idly that the sensation of the condom filling up with semen was surprisingly pleasurable.   When she came down from her peak she lowered her legs back to the bed and stopped moving for a few moments, her glassy eyes half-lidded as she gasped to try and regain her breath. To be honest, I wasn't in much better condition, but I wasn't complaining. The sight of her, sprawled out on the bed, exhausted but smiling, was better than any of the hospital-grade narcotics I've ever been prescribed. After a few minutes her eyelids fluttered and her eyes refocused on mine. "Mmm, oh wow, that was...delicious." She said, her eyes trailing up and down my body, then to where we were still conjoined. "Hmm, nice view too." "I think you may have gone into heat a bit early." I commented, stroking her hip, she arched up to take advantage of the attention, but shook her head with a contented sigh. "No, I haven't. That was all pent up sexual tension. Believe me, you'll know when I go into heat." The way she said it, or rather the way she bared her fangs as she said it, made me briefly wonder if it would be wise to spend time around her when she did enter estrous. I promptly decided that it would be a wonderful idea and that I couldn't wait for the experience. We've never been together during her heat cycles before, they happen twice a year and until now she hasn't been comfortable enough to give it a go, but we've been talking about it and she's ready to take that step. "Ooh, can't wait." I replied, pulling myself out and carefully removing the condom, being sure not to spill any fluid. She handed me a small towel and I cleaned myself up after depositing the used rubber in the small wastebasket she keeps by her nightstand. "You won't be thinking that when I'm waking you up for the fourth time in one night." She said, patting the bed next to her. I dutifully laid down and she wrapped her arms around me, kissing me deeply as she did. "Which reminds me, we're not done yet, I've got at least two more in me and I'm not letting you sleep until we're done." "That'll teach me to neglect you for so long." I replied. "Give me a minute to recover and I'll get to work." "Good boy." She laughed, giving me a quick kiss and a grope. "I'm sorry I got so...primitive though." "Are you kidding? I loved every second of it. Do you know how big of a turn-on that is?" I asked, honestly shocked that she thought she had to apologize. "Well, if you like that you'll love what I'm doing to you three days from now." She said, her grin changing into a softer expression as she gently cupped my face again. "In all seriousness though, I missed you, a lot...and I'm overjoyed to have you back." "I missed you too." I said, returning her gesture and meeting her warm, affectionate, gaze. "I love you sweetheart." "I love you too." We went on to mate twice more that night, slowly and tenderly, but no less passionately; and in the end we fell asleep in a messy but contented tangle of limbs.     With Francis and David    As I limped into David's cabin, I briefly reflected that I might be getting too old for this job, but considering that the incident that caused this train of thought was being in the kill radius of two outdated rockets and surviving only because of an advanced combat suit, I seriously doubt I was ever young enough in the first place.   I also reflected that I tend to get philosophical after missions and start carrying on inner monologues. I'm sure a psychologist would love it, but I don't care right now. The adrenaline from the mission has long-since worn off and I'm feeling the effects of the rocket blast. Nothing's broken, that much is for sure, but I've probably got deep tissue bruising on the outside of my right thigh, and my right arm from where I was slammed into the wall by the pressure wave. I have no idea how Jacob survived getting sandwiched between two of them.   "You're not looking so hot Francis." David said after the door closed behind us. He's been serving on the Pegasus ever since he graduated from his training, and he's earned himself a larger cabin. As the lights came on I took in the familiar décor: the large (for a starship) living room contained a brown leather couch, a matching chair, and a few well-stocked bookshelves arranged around a glass topped coffee table. The kitchenette was untouched, containing little more than a sink, a table, and a replicator. There were a few bits of art along the walls, but other than that there wasn't much in the way of decoration, David believes that less is more.   "The rocket messed me up a bit, but I'm alright, just a little sore. I'll take it easy for a few days, maybe a week, and I'll be fine." The computer had started playing jazz the instant we walked in the door, but low enough that it was a pleasant background noise instead of something that intruded on the conversation. "So you're saying that you...blew it?" He asked, grinning. I turned and regarded him over my shoulder, he was wearing his engineering uniform, which contrasted rather horribly with his stark white and black coloring. His tail was wagging fiercely. "I knew I never should have introduced you to Hennessy, he's the one who got you started on that." I growled. "Oh hush, you're just jealous that you can't pun as well as I can." He said blithely, waving a paw dismissively as he walked past me over to the replicator. "Computer, coffee, black, two."   A second later he handed me a mug of steaming coffee and we both sat down on the couch. He has a coffee maker of his own, and I vastly prefer his coffee than the replicator's, but I'll take my coffee where I can get it. I'm hopelessly addicted to the stuff, and I'm the first to admit it. I can go through two or three pots worth all by myself over the course of an afternoon.   "Puns are the lowest form of humor." I replied after draining half the mug in one go. No cream, no sugar, perfect. "No, fart jokes are the lowest form of humor, puns are high-brow and debonair because they require linguistic skills on the part of the punner and intelligence on the part of the punee." He said, sipping from his own mug. His eyes were flicking to my leg constantly. I sighed and drained the last of the coffee. I need the caffeine to combat the adrenaline crash. "Seriously pup, I'm fine. Just sore." I reassured, using his pet name. I never use it in public, only when we're alone together. "You were really favoring your leg, are you absolutely sure you don't need to go to sickbay?" He asked, abandoning the pretense of the conversation he tried to have a moment ago. "I got checked out and everything's just fine. The doctor just told me to rest and take some over the counter pain pills, which I already did." David worries about me, and I can't really blame him, but we both know that I'm not going to retire any time soon, not willingly anyway. "Do you have tomorrow off?" He asked, putting his coffee down and snuggling up against me. I draped an arm around him and felt him nuzzle my neck. David is a very tactile person, he touches a lot. Smell is also a very big thing with him, even for a morph. He was reassuring himself by touching me and breathing in my scent. I started to pet him out of habit, which soothed both of us. "No, I wish. We haven't been debriefed yet, and I'll have to write up my report and I'm sure there will be some other forms Starfleet will come up with." I answered. "I'll get back here as soon as I can though, I promise." "We could apply for a joint berth, you spend enough time here that we practically live together anyway." He said, reaching up and petting my face. I grinned as is paw brushed my cheek, I love it when he does that. "Starfleet tries to keep its soldiers separate from the non-combat personnel." I reminded him, this is hardly the first time we've had this conversation. "But we can try when our tours are up." "Mmph, not soon enough." He replied, dissatisfied. "I know what you mean." I really do prefer staying with him, and when we decide to retire from Starfleet we're going to be moving in together, no doubt about it, but we can't just skip out. We have to finish our tours of duty, and probably a few more before we'll be in a position to make the transition to civilian life.   We stopped talking and just petted each other for a while, enjoying the closeness and the touch. David had a field day messing up my thick neck fur, and I nuzzled his face softly before moving in for a kiss. The soft brush of his muzzle against mine brought back fond memories of our first year together. I had insisted on moving slowly, and David had taken it in stride, even when he felt that I was being a little ridiculous. We didn't even kiss until our one-year anniversary, and that had been my first kiss ever. I always knew that I wanted to save myself completely and totally for the one I was going to spend my life with, and after a year of putting up with my insane schedule, even more insane team mates, and old fashioned dating mindset, I was pretty certain he was the one.   David had to teach me, well, everything, about the physical aspect of our relationship, but when I told him that I had chosen to remain a virgin (a real one, not a technical virgin) and why, he had been flattered instead of scornful as I had secretly feared. He also enjoyed teaching me, and had been very eager to do so, but he didn't push me beyond what I was comfortable with. We just let things progress naturally, until our two year anniversary that is, then I had taken the initiative and given him a bit of a surprise. I didn't regret my decision in the slightest.   David deepened the kiss and started to explore my body a bit more thoroughly. I was only happy to return the favor, enjoying the musky element his scent was taking on. We habitually tease each other when we're together, even when we can't take the time to have sex. A strategically placed paw, a pointed look, a whispered comment, anything to let each other know that we were desired; it really does do wonders for your self-esteem when your mate gives you an appreciative look and a whisper informing you of how sexy you are.   "Do you feel up to a little playtime, big guy?" He asked, smirking. I noticed the beginnings of a tent in his pants, and my own pants were growing rather tight as well. He stroked my belly through my uniform as he spoke, careful not to be too rough. "I'm feeling a bit needy, but I can wait if you'd rather rest." "I'm up for a little fun." I said, giving him a very tongue-heavy kiss. "Just as long as it's gentle." "I can do gentle." He replied, taking off his shirt to reveal his bare chest. He's really skinny, and even though he does exercise fairly regularly he isn't very muscular. That was one of his biggest insecurities back in the early part of our relationship: I'm very well built and muscular, he was nervous that I wouldn't find him attractive since he was so skinny and, and it's something he still struggles with periodically. I thoroughly disabuse him of the notion whenever I can. Usually with my tongue. "Do you want to stick to our usual, or do you want to go all the way?"   His well-curved tail lifted up until the tip was resting between his shoulder blades and I got the point. Anal isn't something we do very often, it takes a lot of getting used to on the receiver's part and there's always a risk of some kind of infection. We actually had a few close calls when we first tried it, but we've gotten better at it. I thought about his proposal for a second before answering.   "I'm tempted." I replied, and I honestly was. David is, contrary to what an outside observer would think, actually the more dominant of the two of us and he isn't as comfortable being on the receiving end as I am, so he doesn't offer very often. "But honestly I'd rather just stick to the usual." "Alright." He said, opening my shirt and giving me a nibble. "Whatever you want, I'm all yours."   Whenever I get back from a mission David does his best to seduce me, and when he succeeds (which is most of the time) he really wears me out. This helps avoid the post-mission nightmares I'm prone to, and it also provides a convenient way to dump any excess adrenaline that might be hanging around my system. I have absolutely no problem with this whatsoever.   I pulled him into a heated kiss and hummed as I got a strong whiff of his musk. He gets very musky when he gets aroused, which embarrassed the hell out of him when he was younger, because anyone with a decent nose could tell when he got hot and bothered, but I happen to enjoy it a lot, and I felt the tent in my pants growing in size as I broke off the kiss to take a few deep breaths and appreciate his smell.   "You're getting musky faster than normal. Been feeling a little neglected lately?" "Well with your schedule we haven't had time to properly enjoy ourselves." It was true, the details of my latest mission hadn't been given to us until the last minute, but we had been doing extra training lately, something that had made the team rather unhappy, along with our lovers. "Well, we'll just have to make the best of tonight, won't we?" I asked rhetorically, sighing happily as he gave my chest a few licks. "Yes, we will." He replied, grinning. "Do you want to play around a little more, or can I get to the good part?"   His paw started playing with the tent in my pants as he said that, and I grinned. I don't care who you are, human, morph, male, female, herm, strait, gay, bisexual or otherwise, it feels good when your mate wants to get you into bed and lets you know it. I made a move to get up and David obliged me, a few seconds later my pants and underwear fell to the floor. David was squirming out of his own pants while giving me an appreciative look and a smile. When he was done I gave him an equally approving ogle, all as a part of my long-term plan to remind him that I really do like how he looks, and if I have to appreciate a good view to do so, well, that's just the price I have to pay. I turned to walk to the bedroom so we could start the real fun, but before I could take a step I felt a paw wrap around the base of my tail and start massaging it pleasantly. I awkwardly half-turned to see David on all fours on the couch, staring at my erect shaft. "Let's do it out here." "Huh?" I asked stupidly. "Let's do it out here." He repeated, still massaging my tail and sending ticklish waves of pleasure threading up my spine. "We always make love in the bedroom, let's try something new." "Alright, yeah, that sounds good." I agreed, recognizing a good idea when I heard it, stepping back to the couch. "Good." David said, moving to allow me to sit. It took a few seconds of maneuvering, but David quickly settled between my spread legs and started gently pawing at my shaft. I sighed and got comfortable, immediately taking a liking to the location; the couch is more comfortable than the bed if you're going to be sitting up during the act, and with the viewport open there was an illusion that someone might somehow be watching, an added bonus. I was distracted from that thought by David's tongue drawing a sloppy line from my balls, across the underside of my shaft, and up to the head of my dick. I groaned as he did, I love it when he does that. "Now sit back, relax, and enjoy the show."   After that David stopped wasting time and started giving me the ride of my life. He had a couple of partners before me, which I don't hold against him, and even though I like to think I've gotten pretty good at oral sex David could give a hooker lessons on how to show a guy a good time. He didn't just get you off quickly, he could, but he didn't because the fun is in the journey as much as the destination. We've been together long enough now that he can read my signals and knows exactly how far he can push me before I cross the line of no return. He brought me there slowly, very slowly, getting acquainted with every part of my shaft along the way and never once showing me that he wasn't having the time of his life. That's a huge part of oral sex, if you look like you hate it your partner can tell and it'll ruin the experience for them. David enjoys it, and it shows. "Holy hell pup." I panted, my ears drooping and my eyes fogging over. "I don't know how long I can last."   He took that for the warning it was and backed off a little, releasing my cock from his maw for the first time and using his paw to keep me aroused while he let me regain some control.   "I've been waiting to do this for a long time." He said smokily, eying my erection lustfully and glancing up at me briefly before leaning in and giving it a quick lick. "I've wanted you so bad I could barely think straight at work." "I missed you too pup." I replied, stroking his face. "Damn it feels good to get down and dirty with you again. Tell you what, after this we'll switch places and I'll show you something I've wanted to try for a while now." "I can't wait." He said, his muzzle breaking out into a predatory grin. "I suppose I should get back to it then, shouldn't I?"   He didn't give me the chance to respond; instead he dove back down and picked up right where he left off, except now he did make eye contact with me, which made the experience much better. He still wasn't going all out, that would end it too quickly, but he was getting me damn close. He brought me up to a point where I was just shy of getting off and then he kept me there, slurping and moaning at just the right times to keep me on the brink. It was a game, he would keep me there until I told him I couldn't take it anymore. Fine by me, I'm getting the best head I've gotten in months so I'm more than willing to play along. I could've held out for a while, but we've got plenty of time to go a few rounds and I want some relief, so I caved in.   "I want you to swallow it." I said, putting a paw on the back of his neck and pushing him down gently when he was on a down stroke, our usual signal. "I've got a huge load ready and I want you to swallow it all." He just grinned around my shaft and gave me his best.   It only took him about five seconds to push me over the brink, I groaned in bliss as I felt my long-awaited orgasm wash over me and watched David bury his nose in my pubic hair, deep throating me, and swallow as I squirted four jets of cum into his throat. He couldn't catch all of it, and some leaked back into his mouth, which I saw when he leaned back and gave me an open mouthed grin, entirely for show. Then he closed his mouth and swallowed again, the white residue vanishing down his throat.   He sat beside me on the couch and cuddled up to me, petting and stroking as I panted and gasped, my heart hammering against my chest. Once I could talk again I turned to him and gave him a kiss, the taste of my fluid still strong in his mouth. "Enjoy yourself?" He asked rhetorically, licking an errant drop of white from his muzzle. "You can taste the answer to that." He just laughed and squirmed against me in a way that reminded me how horny he was. I grinned at him and moved onto the floor, pulling his legs apart. "Now then, my turn."   We may not have gotten much sleep that night, and we were walking more than a little funny when we finally called it quits and crawled into bed, tangling up together in a sweaty mass of sweat-matted fur and musk, but damn was it worth it.   The next morning, Sigma Squad locker room, Jacob's PoV   Tara was the last to arrive in the locker room, we'd all gotten notifications from Admiral Kline that we were going to be debriefed at eight hundred hours, and we'd all congregated in the locker room as usual, awaiting our official summons.   "Ooh, congratulations Hennesy!" Tara said the instant she walked in and laid eyes on me, giving me a sly look. "What?" I asked, blinking in confusion as I tossed an empty paper cup of coffee into a trash can. "You got laid last night, what else? How was it?" "That's private!" Francis said, much offended. He had a similar paper cup in his massive paw (the latest of five) and looked scandalized. "Oh come on, there's no reason to be shy Francis, we're all adults here." Tara insisted. I swear she's an undiagnosed nymphomaniac. "How are you always able to tell when one of us has sex?" I asked, she has a seemingly preternatural ability to sense when someone in the vicinity has fucked within the past twelve hours or so. "I took a shower, so you can't possibly smell anything..." "It's not a question of smell." She said dismissively, though her smile gave away how much fun she was having. "It's the aura of satisfaction that's practically oozing out of your pores." "Bullshit." I deadpanned. "It's true!" She asserted. "You're always more relaxed after you've gotten some pussy." "Oh for fuck's sake." I groaned. "Really? You actually stooped that low? Of all the potential jabs you could take at me for dating a feline morph you had to pick the most overused and obvious one? Even my brother kept a semblance of decency when he found out, and he's fifteen years old." "That was pretty bad." Mina agreed, looking like she was fighting a massive hangover, just like Raul. "Even for you." "Mmph, pathetic." Grunted Vlad, his first words to anyone. "Ah, so Teddy finally deigns to speak with us." Catherine said, preventing Tara from continuing. "I would have expected you to rail at her for being indecent, why keep quiet?" "None of you bastards visited me last night." He grumped. He doesn't have any family (that we know of) and no mate, so he's hilariously co-dependent with the team as a whole, and despite his cool and collected façade he's a huge drama queen. "Boo hoo, you were fine, just a sprain and some bruises." Raul said, rolling his eyes. "There was beer to drink." "And sex to be had!" Tara added, her eyes glinting. She never misses an opportunity to bug Vlad, though I suspect they've passed more than a few nights in each other's cabins. Vlad just grumbled and muttered passive-aggressively under his breath. We all ignored it, we've got plenty of practice. "So, ignoring Teddy's rampant codependency, what's the news boss?" We all looked to Catherine expectantly. "Well, the tech dorks found a whole room full of computers in a hardened bunker beneath the mansion, we're actually damn lucky that the rockets blew Hennesy right in front of the target when they did, otherwise he would have gotten to the bunker before we got to him and the whole thing would have gone to hell." "Nice to know I got blown up for a good reason." I interjected before being glared back into silence. "They also found a huge stash of stallyons in the master bedroom." Tara continued, though she had to pause for a bout of immature giggling, even Vlad joined in. Stallyons are a black market drug that are marketed to guys who need a little help getting it up, and long-term use is supposed to make you bigger, well, according to the marketing pamphlets anyway. They're outlawed in Federation Space because the list of side-effects is as long as my arm, including but not limited to: nephrotoxicity, increased risk of cancer, retinal damage, and osteodegenerative effects. Oh, and sudden death due to massive heart attack, can't forget that one. Once we were able to act our age again she continued, her tone sober. "They also found a slave pen next to the bunker. Probably where the one we rescued came from. It was empty, but the blood stains led the sweep and clear team to the incinterator that was used to hide the bodies."   We weren't smiling any more. We've captured a few slave traders before, and that's not uncommon. Dump the bodies to get rid of the evidence. Slaves don't have a good lot in life, sex slaves in particular, and that's just one of the nasty ends they can come to. The first time I ever walked into an operation like that, my second mission with Sigma Squad, we caught the trader and his thugs in the act of killing the slaves prior to disposal. It still gives me nightmares to this day. Even through the helmet I could hear the slaves screaming, and the sight was more than enough to make me vomit afterwards.   We managed to save about half of the slaves, but you never forget something like that, ever. One of the bastards was dumb enough to go at Francis with the knife he'd been using to kill the slaves; that's the only time I've ever seen Francis totally lose his shit. We had the rest of them in hand, putting down their weapons and getting on the floor, standard procedure, but then the one dumbass decides to test his luck. The scary part was that Francis didn't make a fucking sound when he put the guy down, not a peep, complete silence. He just grabbed the Voxxan by the wrist with one arm and wrapped the other paw around his neck and yanked the arm right out of its socket, then he slammed the disabled fucker into the nearest wall three times. When he stopped and the body slid down the wall it left a trail of blood, skull fragments, and grey matter. He'd gotten a dressing-down for it later, but Captain Silpurr hadn't been nearly as vitriolic as she could have been, and nothing was added to his record.   That one mission probably did more to fuck up our psychological health than anything else we've ever gone through. Once the thugs were secured we spent an hour in that cramped room waiting for the Transporter techs to get a proper fix on our coordinates because the beacon we'd dropped at the start was hit by enemy fire and the star of that particular system was going through a particularly violent part in its solar cycle. So we stayed there in that hellhole, Francis and Vlad covered the door, Raul, Catherine and I covered the prisoners, and Mina and Tara tried to help the slaves.   They were all terrified, not that I blame them, and most of them were injured or sick. Tara did what she could, but most of the ones that were injured when we arrived didn't make it. By the end of the hour I was grinding my teeth and mentally begging one of the slavers I was guarding to make a move, only so I could have an excuse to shoot one of them. None of them did anything.   When we finally did get beamed up to the Pegasus we were debriefed in record time and informed that we'd be seeing psychologists later. I also notice that we weren't given any missions that had to do with slavers for almost a year after that, I suspect that there was some executive interference there, but I can't prove it; and honestly I really don't have any intentions of trying to. As far as I'm concerned, if I never have to come face to face with another slaver again that'll be fine by me.   "What about prisoners?" Francis asked, breaking the uncomfortable silence that had fallen and changing the subject. "Most of the pirates were killed in the assault, and a lot of the ones that were in a position to get captured killed themselves, but we got a few. They're being pumped right now." "What about Caravan himself?" Vlad asked, always to the point. "That I don't know, no one knows anything about his condition. Not even Black Regiment, and they spy on Starfleet almost as much as they spy on everyone else." Black Regiment had a bad reputation among Starfleet Intelligence because of a few incidents where operatives from Black Regiment used their own information network to discover moles in SI. SI hasn't gotten over it in over thirty years, probably because Black Regiment takes every opportunity to remind everyone that it has better spies than SI. "That's not good." Said Tara ominously and we all traded uncomfortable glances, if something went tits up with Caravan while he was being...processed, the easiest scapegoat would be us. "I'm sure they're just being secretive about it." Catherine said with forced optimism. "Grabbing him was a coup after all." "If only I could live in the same happy world you do boss." I deadpanned, she glared at me again. "Shut up Hennesy." I opened my mouth to reply. "Yes, that's an order." I shut my mouth.   0800 hours, secure briefing room   "Sit down Sigma Squad." Admiral Kline ordered. He looked worn and haggard, his hair a bit of a mess and his uniform looked like he'd slept in it.   The small metal box of a room was pretty crowded. All of Sigma plus the Admiral, Captain Silpurr, and surprisingly doctor M'Lai as well. We were all sitting on one side of a plain rectangular table that looked like it had been welded together from segments of the same plating that the dully reflective walls were made of. We all had tablets in front of us, though only the officers really needed them. Everyone on Sigma had already written and submitted reports of the action.   "First of all, I want to congratulate you all again. That was a hell of a capture you pulled off." Admiral Kline began, and we all murmured the obligatory responses, but I could tell by the slight shifting of our postures that the others had caught onto the same thing I had. The way the admiral said that signified that there was a 'but' at the end of his sentence, one that couldn't be followed by good news. The Captain took it from there though. "You will all be receiving Meritorious Service Clusters in addition to any Purple Hearts you've earned." Captain Silpurr ran a tight ship, and I've interacted with her even less than the Admiral, but there was a definite strain in her voice that made my heart pump a bit faster. Something was going on that they weren't telling us. I glanced at M'Lai, but she was intently studying her tablet and studiously avoiding eye contact. Not a good sign. "Now, let's start from the top."   From that point on the debriefing went the same way all the rest of the debriefings I've sat through have, except this time we were all on edge because we could tell we were kept in the dark about something. One by one we recounted how the mission went, basically paraphrasing our reports and answering any questions we were asked. Normally the process was desperately boring, but this time it was nerve-wracking. Especially because I was saved for last; I'd rather get it out of the way and be done with it, but I was left until the end. Kline and Silpurr weren't acting normally either, to a normal person they would only have seemed a bit stressed, but you can't hide from an E5 like me, no matter how hard you try. They'd only been half-listening to our reports and answers the whole time, their minds wandering back to something I didn't dare probe for. There are very strict rules about telepathy, and digging around in a superior officer's mind is the first of the Seven Deadly Sins of Telepathy.   I didn't have to probe them to know that they were distracted though, the basic feel of their minds told me that, and I can't not feel someone that close to me. M'Lai was distracted as well, but in a slightly different way that I couldn't really pin down. She spent the whole time looking down at her tablet and occasionally fiddling with it, but at least part of the time she was actually doing something purposeful instead of just using it to avoid eye contact with us. Her presence and her reaction had given me a sinking feeling from the instant I stepped into the room, and the longer the debriefing got the lower the bottom of my stomach sagged. My vague feelings were confirmed when Admiral Kline, who had been conspicuously silent during both Tara's and my reports looked at me and asked me for clarification of my unorthodox takedown method. "Hennesy, explain again how you disabled Caravan." Shit, this isn't good. "I used my grappling gauntlet as a makeshift Taser, sir. I fired the dart through his right shoulder and magnetized it, which sent a jolt down the wire. I figured the charge would be enough to incapacitate him long enough for me to think of something else." "And why didn't you use your phaser?" "My D-149 was lost in the blast and he would have killed the morph if I hadn't put my side arm down. Most of my gear was damaged or ruined by the rockets, and the grappler was the only piece of equipment that seemed to be actually working at the time." My gut had fallen nearly to the floor and had twisted itself into a cold, hard knot. I didn't dare ask why he was asking me this. "I see." He paused for a long time before heaving a deep sigh. "Well, I guess it can't be helped." "What can't be helped, sir?" Catherine ventured hesitantly after Kline didn't clarify. "Objective Caravan is brain dead." Kline said dully. Oh fuck. "He's a vegetable, no chance of revival."   He could have been an intelligence gold mine. Slavers, mercenaries, smugglers, arms dealers, drug cartels, Caravan had contact with all sorts of criminals. The information he had locked away in his head would have been worth millions. If he was brain dead he obviously wasn't any good to us, and since Sigma was the team that got him and I'm the one that did the actual takedown... "I didn't hit him anywhere vital, sir." I protested, internally wincing as it slipped out my mouth before my mind realized it would be a bad thing to say. "It's not his fault." M'Lai said, speaking for the first time. Kline and Silpurr both gave her a questioning look. She handed her tablet over to Silpurr and explained verbally for the rest of us. "He had a massive stroke brought on by a ruptured aneurysm. There was so much blood in his brain case we had trouble finding the problem with the scanners, but you can see it if you look hard enough."   Silpurr put the tablet on the table and a second later it projected a scan of a brain up into the air. I don't have any in-depth medical training, but the way it was rendered just didn't look right, even to me. Tara, who knew a hell of a lot more about this than anyone else on the team, was studying it intensely.   "I didn't pick up anything odd when I scanned him at the mansion." She said quietly. "Did it happen when he was in sickbay?" "It could have." M'Lai allowed, which earned her another interesting pair of looks from the Captain and the Admiral. "The aneurysm that ruptured isn't the only one we found, he had them in a couple of different places. There was a lot of damage to his body consistent with heavy drug use, the stallyons that were found probably did most of the damage, but we'll never know." "So when Hennesy hit him with the grappler..." Silpurr said, trailing off at the end. I winced. Fuck, if she decides to pin the blame for this on me I'm finished, no ifs ands or buts about it. "The aneurysm was huge, a time bomb. It could have ruptured the next time he sneezed." M'Lai said assuredly. "Unless he got immediate medical help he wasn't going to last the month, if even that." "Damn." Kline muttered, very vehemently. I, on the other hand, couldn't help but feel a bit relieved. As horrible as it is, at least I'm off the hook. When I step down from Sigma Squad I want it to be on my terms, not because Starfleet had to toss someone under the bus.   The rest of the team looked a bit relieved as well, everyone in SSF knows at least one soldier whose gotten burned because their superior did something stupid and needed a scapegoat, the high risk missions SSF tackles go wrong more often than the mundane ones do, so the chance of getting fucked is higher. This could have gone bad, but it looks like we got lucky and we'll be getting out of this with extra medals instead of dishonorable discharges. "Does that mean we can go, sir?" Catherine asked as respectfully as she could. Kline shook his head. "Sorry Lieutenant, but there's one last thing we need to deal with." He gave Captain Silpurr a meaningful glance and she nodded, standing up and walking out of the room purposefully; leaving the rest of the room (with the exception of M'Lai) confused. "The slave you rescued, Lydia, keeps insisting that she has to talk to you. Or one of you anyway, she's extremely confused and frightened, enough that we think she might be a danger to herself. We think some compulsion that goes along with her slave conditioning is causing it, but we can't help her until we have a better idea of what's going on and she's in no state to tell us." "She's extremely fragile right now, psychologically and physically." M'Lai stated the obvious. "She can't even tell us which one of you she wants to talk to, though your suits are probably the reason for that. Did she hear any of your voices?" "Yes, all of us." Catherine responded. M'Lai looked thoughtful. "I was hoping we could narrow it down to one or two of you, damn. Anyway, when she comes in you may need to speak to her individually. Her conditioning is complex, even for a sex slave's. There are rules about when she can talk, but they don't seem to make any sense. It may be that she isn't being ordered by her master, but once again we just don't know. She's intelligent, we know that much. Forestwalker, Midnight, and Raincoat have all said that they think she's smarter than she's letting on." "I can confirm that Ma'am." I said. Kline looked interested, and his eyes bored holes into mine with a sudden intensity that unnerved me a little. Slavery is an issue that's close to his heart, especially after the Pegasus ran into a wrecked slave ship a few years back and captured a cargo hold worth of slaves. "How can you tell? Did you telepathically contact her on mission?" "Not precisely, sir. She's an empath herself, a weak one, E2 or maybe E3. She was broadcasting strongly the whole time and I got a very clear impression off her when Caravan used her as a shield." I felt myself go a little green at the memory of the contact I had with her mind. Most empaths don't make good soldiers because you feel the emotions of the people you're fighting. All the fear and anger can pile up on you and drown you if you're not careful. That goes double for someone who's dying. The first time I telepathically felt someone die I almost keeled over on the spot. Since then I've gotten a lot more careful about how I use my telepathy on the field. "She's definitely got full higher cognitive functionality." "How could you tell?" Kline pressed, I squirmed a bit in my seat and couldn't meet his gaze. "She felt me, sir. Granted I wasn't being subtle, but even so an unintelligent E3 wouldn't have noticed. Furthermore, she communicated with me." "Telepathically?" "No, she asked me to...shoot through her, sir." I hadn't included that in my report. I should have, but I'd been trying hard not to think about it since it happened, and my report was a bit rushed given that it had been done just this morning. "I see." Kline said, his voice a bit softer, and tinged with something I couldn't describe. "She's intelligent enough to know how bad she had it." I continued. "Otherwise she wouldn't have asked, and she didn't say it out loud, she mouthed it while Caravan held her as a shield." M'Lai was about to respond, but just then the entry alarm on the door sounded and Captain Silpurr's voice came out of the speaker. "She's here, Admiral." "Bring her in." He responded instantly.   The door slid open and Captain Silpurr walked in, keeping Lydia in front of her. The morph was in better shape than she had been last night. She no longer had a thick layer of grey dust clinging to her fur, she had obviously bathed, and her leg had been treated. There were bandages around the injured joint, and she was limping, but she could actually walk unassisted. Despite all that she was obviously afraid of everyone, her shoulders were hunched inward and her chin was pressed against her chest, she wouldn't look anyone in the eye and she was trembling a little bit. She'd been given a robe to wear, but she was obviously uncomfortable with it and kept adjusting it like it itched.   When she first walked in her eyes flickered over the whole room, taking in everything. We were one of the first things she noticed, and she visibly leaned back from our collective gaze. M'Lai immediately got up and walked over to her. Lydia was apparently familiar with M'Lai because she wasn't as nervous about the doctor as she was the rest of us. I could still feel the fear she was exuding clearly, but it wasn't the same magnitude that it had been yesterday. "These are the ones you wanted to see Lydia." M'Lai said, pointedly not speaking to her like a slave. Lydia fidgeted but did nothing. After an uncomfortably long pause M'Lai continued. "Here, why don't you have a seat?"   Lydia allowed herself to be steered into one of the chairs, but didn't sit back against it. Her spine was ramrod straight and she kept her face down, staring resolutely at her paws, which she kept in her lap. I couldn't help but feel sympathy for her, she was miserable. Her thoughts were, much like when I first met her, a conflicting jumble of contradictions. She was terrified of all of us and of the strange new place she was now staying, but at the same time a part of her was happy to leave her old existence, and she definitely wanted to see us. Under all of that I could feel her slave conditioning manifesting as numerous compulsions that were practically howling at her from all sides, trying to get her to do things she didn't want to do, and pervading her entire thought process was a constant hum of sexual arousal. With all that crammed into her head it was no wonder she was suicidal.   "You said you wanted to see the ones who took you out of the house Lydia." Captain Silpurr prompted after an awkward minute of silence had passed. Unfortunately, despite her good intentions, this did more harm than good. Lydia was trying to work up the nerve to say something, I could tell that much, but she was struggling against at least one of her compulsions, and probably more. When Silpurr said that, I could feel a spike of self-loathing and resigned despair infest her thought patterns and I knew she'd give up before long. "She can't." I interjected quickly. "She's being compelled to be quiet." "Are you probing her?" Silpurr asked, giving me a disapproving look. My response was cut off by Lydia's head shooting up. The sudden movement catching everyone's attention. She was staring at me intensely, almost desperately. Seeing that, the Captain spoke to her again. "Is he right?"   Lydia nodded.   "Can you tell us why?" Kline asked tensely. She opened her mouth, but closed it again quickly and frustrated tears started falling from her eyes. "I can help you Lydia." I ventured, holding her gaze. "I can feel the conditioning, the thing telling you not to talk. If you let me in I can hear what you're trying to say." Her head whipped up and she focused on me intently, so much so that I leaned back in my seat without realizing it. The compulsions that were pounding on her psychologically suddenly ramped up to a fever pitch. "Y-you t-take Lydia from...Before Master." She said, startling and confusing everyone in the room. "Before Master?" I asked, her language skills were sub-par to say the least, or at least she wanted us to think they were. It wasn't uncommon for captured slaves to play dumb and use slave speak because they were afraid of their captors. "You mean your last...master?" "Yes. You take Lydia from him." She said it like she was trying to convince herself. "You take Lydia away from Before Master." Her inflection indicated that she was an object, property, it made me wince internally. "I didn't take you." I said without thinking. "I..." I couldn't think of how to finish that sentence. She interrupted me anyway, so it hardly mattered. "You t-take Lydia from him." She said, more sure of herself now. "You take Lydia. Lydia belong to you know."   Whoa, hold on one fucking second.   "No! I'm not...you don't belong to me." I said urgently, but it was too late, I could feel the compulsions in her mind suddenly quieting down and I realized what was going on. "Yes, Lydia yours." She said firmly. I winced. "Hennessy?" Catherine asked, as confused as everyone else. Fuck, this is going to get messy. "She felt him stroke out." I said. "She knew he was brain dead, or was going to be. She was distraught earlier because she didn't have a master." "And since you're the one that did the takedown she latched onto you?" Kline finished, his brow furrowed. I nodded. "Master take Lydia from Before Mster." Lydia confirmed, sounding calmer. "She heard my voice when we got ready to transport." I said, the last detail falling into place in my memory. "Shouldn't you...renounce ownership or something?" Francis asked, his brow furrowed. M'Lai, Kline and Lydia all shook their heads with varying degrees of intensity. "Lydia need Master." Lydia said. "If she doesn't have a Master the slave conditioning will compel her to find one, it's built-in. It can be treated, but not with the facilities we have onboard, she'll need to see a specialist on Earth or Chakona." M'Lai explained. "So what do we do?" I asked. She needs psychological help, and I'm not exactly the best person to be around if you're emotionally fragile. "Lydia do anything Master wants." Lydia said, the implications of which made me extremely uncomfortable. "She needs to stay in sickbay a few more days." M'Lai said, looking at me pointedly. "She'll be compelled to try and find you if you don't order her to stay there." "Okay...uh, Lydia." She looked at me expectantly. I was struck by how wrong this felt. I've given orders before, in a military capacity, but this was completely different. I didn't outrank her, in her mind I owned her. I don't want that kind of power. "I order you to stay in sickbay, and obey any of Doctor M'Lai's commands as if they were mine." I tacked the last bit on at the end, having gotten the idea mid-sentence. "Yes Master." Lydia said demurely. Captain Silpurr nodded approvingly. "Does Master want Lydia to do anything else? Lydia will do anything Master wants."   The way she emphasized 'anything' was dismissed by the others as an invitation for sex, I could feel it in the uncomfortable shifting of their minds. She didn't mean it that way though, well, she did, but she meant something else as well. She was trying to broadcast an idea to me, something she couldn't specifically do without fighting her compulsions. She was thinking it as loudly (for lack of a better term) as she could. I picked up on her thoughts, felt her feel me do so, and couldn't help but grin a little. She was using my telepathy to bypass her compulsions, clever girl.   "Lydia, do you know anything about your last master's records? His computers?" M'Lai shot me a strange look, but Captain Silpurr and Admiral Kline caught on quickly, as did the rest of the team. "Yes Master, Lydia know lots." She was definitely smiling now, though it was a small one. She gave me another telepathic hint and I let her lead me along. "What did you do for him Lydia?" "Lydia made special. New kind of slave, make very good sex, make them feel extra good after. Before master give Lydia to people to try, then they buy slaves like Lydia." It took a second to puzzle out her language, but it was easy enough. "He was breaking into the slave market." Kline summarized. "Marketing his own brand." "You did more than that though." I said, giving her the push she needed to get the next bit of information out. She nodded again and her smile got bigger. She was trembling again, but now the fear that she had been practically reeking of had vastly decreased and was tempered by excitement. "Yes. Lydia have sex with other people, make them tired. Then Lydia steal things. Computer things. Give back to Before Master." "A honey trap. Just like Leanna." Silpurr murmured, frowning thoughtfully, then she glanced at me. "How did you know." "She's telling me, not directly, her conditioning won't let her, but she can lead me to where I need to go." I said, grinning. "Lydia just want make Master happy." And get revenge on her last master. I could feel that clear as day. "And you're doing a very good job." I said, feeling like I should praise her, hell, she's earned it. Even though she was skirting her compulsions it still took guts to even try, and it's a delicate operation, she's a hell of a lot smarter than she seems. I could feel the conditioning kick in and send a spike of dopamine through her synapses when I praised her, she shivered a bit. I let her regain her composure and noted that I'd have to be careful with my phrasing when I continued. "Can you be more specific Lydia? You don't have to tell me if your conditioning would hurt you, but I would like you to give me more details." "Lydia use small chip to get things from computers, bring it back, give chip to Before Master. Also read papers and tell him things. Bank papers, ship papers, lots of papers." "Did you do anything with his computer?" Admiral Kline asked, unable to contain himself anymore. If she knew enough, she could salvage the operation, and he was understandably excited about it. She looked at me questioningly. "It's okay, answer him please." I said, giving her permission. "Lydia not touch Before Master's computers, but Lydia know how to get into Before Master's favorite one." She said. "His favorite?" "He take it with him always. He use it to do lots of things." "His personal terminal." Silpurr said, smiling fiercely. "We found it in the mansion. It's encrypted, but if Lydia has the passcodes we'll be able to get everything on it without risking it wiping itself." "Lydia, can you tell us the passcodes?" I asked. She shook her head. "No, Lydia can't tell. Before Master not let me see him open computer, but Lydia know how they sound." Her ears twitched meaningfully. "Lydia hear him open computer lots of times, bring computer to Lydia and Lydia open computer for Master." "Would that work?" Mina asked doubtfully. "Each terminal sounds slightly different." Vlad chipped in, though he wasn't totally convinced himself. "It's better than anything we have now." Admiral Kline said, tapping his communicator badge. "Admiral Kline to Intel. I want Caravan's personal terminal brought to suite 2428 immediately, along with a cryptologist." A confirmation came from the other end, but I couldn't hear it properly.   During the short wait, Lydia helped me find a few more questions to ask and before long we were getting a pretty good picture of Caravan's recent movements as well as some names that Intel would be very interested in.   Lydia was eager, almost desperate to tell us what she could, the knowledge that she was getting revenge on her last master drove her on and gave her the strength to ignore the compulsions and keep going, even if she occasionally went too far and had to restrain herself. I began to get an idea of how her compulsions worked as well, and I tailored my questions to minimize the risk of her running afoul of them.   By the time the terminal arrived, maybe five minutes after Admiral Kline asked for it, I found myself respecting Lydia quite a lot more than when she had first come in. She was intelligent enough to play the complicated word games necessary to tell me what I wanted to know while following all the 'rules' she'd been programmed with, and she was brave enough to keep going. She was a little nervous when another human bearing the purple uniform of Starfleet Intelligence walked in with the terminal, but I distracted her with another question and she forgot about him quickly enough, eager to get on with her revenge.   "Here it is Lydia, can you please put in the passcode?" I opened up the terminal for her and she studied it for a second. "Lydia has to listen to the buttons." She said, thoroughly confusing the intel dork that brought the thing in. He opened his mouth to say something but Silpurr glared him into silence. "Go ahead." I said. She looked back at the terminal and methodically pressed each button on the keyboard, her head cocked slightly to her left. After she finished she went back and pressed a few keys apparently at random, then she repeated the process. It was slow enough to make everyone a bit impatient, but no one spoke, not wanting to interrupt her concentration. Once she was satisfied she held the backspace button down for about thirty seconds in order to clear out the password entry box, then entered pressed fifteen keys. "That's it! We're in!" The analyst said, his eyes lighting up as he leaned over to get a better look. Lydia leaned away from him. Silpurr moved the terminal so he wouldn't be so close to her, which made her feel better. "Thank you Lydia." I said, she looked back at me and smiled triumphantly. "Lydia make master happy?" "Yes." I replied. "You did a very good job. You should be proud of yourself." I added the last part intentionally, I meant it completely, and I made sure she felt that. The genuine compliment had a big effect on her, and she got a little emotional as the dopamine spike returned. It was actually pretty sad, a simple compliment like that made her eyes get watery, it says something about how she had been treated before, but I didn't let that leak over into her consciousness, she earned her victory here. "Lydia put in other codes to, open up whole computer." She said, eager to do just that, but M'Lai cleared her throat. "She needs to get back to sickbay soon. We had to do some intense repair work on her leg, and she's actually fighting off what I'm guessing is the tail end of a viral infection. She's not contagious, but between that and the regenerative therapy we have her leg on she needs to rest." "Now that she's unlocked the terminal we can do the rest." Said the Intel guy, who had already opened something on the terminal and was greedily reading over it. "Good, I'd like to start doing what I can to mitigate the conditioning as soon as I can." M'Lai said, standing up. "Could you please come with me Lydia?" "Yes." She replied simply, standing up but keeping her eyes on me. "Does master want Lydia to do anything else?" "Just to follow M'Lai's orders." I said, smiling at her. "You did a great job Lydia, that took a lot of guts. You've earned a rest." "Yes, Master." She said, ducking her head. She was smiling though. M'Lai led her out a second later. "Good work Hennessy." Admiral Kline said. "Getting around the conditioning isn't easy." "That was mostly her, sir." I said. "She showed me where to go. She's a lot smarter than she sounds, and once they can remove some of the conditioning she'll probably be a big asset." "I don't doubt it." He replied. "And she'll be well taken care of. We're scheduled stop at Chakona soon, there are gene therapy clinics there that specialize in helping slaves overcome their conditioning. Anyway, you've done a good job today and I've kept you all here long enough. Sigma Squad, dismissed." "Yes sir." We all replied, standing up almost in unison. We quickly filed out of the room, leaving Admiral Kline and Captian Silpurr to ogle the computer along with the tech weenie. "Was she really talking to you telepathically?" Raul asked as the door closed. "Not talking no, it was like...she was leading me through a maze. She knew what she wanted to tell me, but I had to approach from the right direction otherwise one of her compulsions would get in the way." "Fucked up." Stated Vlad simply. "Well said." I replied. "What'll happen to her after she's gone to the clinic and gotten the conditioning fixed?" Mina asked. "Depends on how much of the conditioning can be taken out." I said. "She's got it pretty bad, she said she was part of a new...product line, I guess. She's definitely got a lot of compulsions and shit fucking up her brain, but with gene therapy and counseling I think she'll be able to function in a group home at least." "No one deserves that." Francis said. He really is a big softie, and his heart strings had been tugged, not that I blame him. "No, they don't. But we can't do anything about it." Tara said. "Other than kick slaver ass like yesterday. And I don't know about you all, but after that debriefing I need a beer." "Amen to that." I said, after poking around Lydia's head so comprehensively for such an extended period my own brain wasn't in the best condition. It's still revved up to full throttle even though I'm not doing anything with it. Straining my telepathy always gets me really keyed up, and since alcohol is a depressant... "So, bar?" Catherine asked. "Bar." I the rest of us echoed in a ragged chorus. A few minutes later we were sitting in the canteen, drinking beer and enjoying the awed looks we were receiving from the other occupants and shooting the shit, soldierly bonding at its best. David and Cynthia joined us not long afterward and soon it was a full blown party, complete with a drunk Francis loudly heckling ship service personnel while Raul and Mina laughed and egged him on, Tara (also drunk) ruthlessly flirting with anyone within ten feet much to Vlad's vocal disapproval, and Catherine scaring off another potential suitor by accidentally threatening to throw him out an airlock when she tried to ask him out. I just smiled and took it all in, even though things may have been weird earlier, some things always stay the same, and I wouldn't have it any other way.