FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Herkimer shielded his vulnerable eyes with a grey-furred paw, squinting as he peered out the shuttle-pod's aft airlock. The sun was fierce, unrelenting. High and hot, blazing white. The mirage-laden landscape that surrounded them had been beaten into sandy submission long ago. He didn't see any ruins. But the station's sensors said otherwise. As had Reverie's. Perhaps they were on the other side of that big dune?

"How could anything live here?" the mouse posed incredulously, hesitating to leave the cramped craft.

Advent, who was slightly claustrophobic, not to mention eternally impatient, clawed her ex-lover's rump, giving him a testy push.

The rodent teetered and squeaked, tail flailing, before losing his balance and falling from the pod, landing on all fours in the searing sand. "Hey!"

Stepping past him, the taller, heavier jaguar shrugged and breathed in deeply, leaving paw-prints where she stepped. Shifting her weight from hip to hip to keep her toes from getting too warm. The sleeves of her uniform were rolled up, and her spotted pelt shone exotically. "Not so bad." Her species was a type of jungle cat, after all. Heat wasn't a problem. "A little dry, though ... " She stuck out her raspy tongue.

"A little?" Barrow quipped, being the next to leave the pod. He had a med kit hanging from a strap around his shoulder. Crouching down, he extended his wing-arms, helping Herkimer up.

"Thanks." The mouse wriggled intensely once upright, making a face. "I have sand in my uniform, now ... it itches!"

"Guess you'll have to get naked to shake it all out," Advent suggested, glancing over her shoulder. Showing teeth. It wasn't a friendly smile. "Too bad 'Red' didn't come with us. She could watch."

"Her name's Talkeetna," Herkimer defended, of the red squirrel. His current love interest. His ears blushed. Or maybe that was the sun? He'd covered his lobes in protective lotion on the trip down as a precaution. Tail, too. Didn't want to get burned. Why am I so sensitive to everything?

"May I remind you all that we are here to explore," Annika injected, logically, hopping into view, "and not bicker?"

"Who put you in charge?" Advent challenged, being purposely obstinate. The ambassador was always so poised and competent. Even downright serene, sometimes. No one was that well-adjusted, were they?

"Commander Graham," was the obvious answer.

"Whom you're sleeping with."

"One normally does that with one's mate." The snow rabbit double-checked her scanning equipment. It was all here.

"Still think it's a conflict of interest," the feline groused.

"You're welcome to your opinion." It didn't change reality, though. In the High Command, as in the Federation, half the fleet was fucking the other half. Animal instincts, strong libidos, and close quarters? The end result was unable to be helped. "Also, I may be a diplomat, but I have no qualms about leaving you behind on the shuttle. By force, if necessary," the snow rabbit added. Her ice-blue eyes stared the feline down. "Understood?"

"Doesn't Petra outrank you? Why isn't she heading this?"

"Because she has no education in the sciences, and I do. And she was granted the day off."

"Mm." The jaguar squinted, looking her superior over. Typical of a rabbit, she had lithe, loping legs. Big, hoppy foot-paws, useful for delivering punch-kicks. Considering how Sheila, who was basically a rabbit, had handled her in the ward room a while back? Maybe it was best not to put Annika's patience to the test. Even if she was a pacifist. I'm unpopular enough as it is. If I started working out, though, I could take anyone here. Eventually.

"Thank you," Annika said, at Advent's silent cooperation. If you could call it that. She then turned to the others. Her snow-white pelt reflected the sunlight, sharply. It was almost too much to look at. "To answer Herkimer's original query, I believe the surface here didn't used to be all desert. Not to this extent, anyway."

"Climate change? Environmental catastrophe?" Barrow guessed, turning in a slow circle. Horizon as far as the eye could see. That and undulating, sandy dunes.

"That would require more study. I am only offering an educated guess. There's also the possibility it's been a desert all along, and the inhabitants simply had advanced irrigation technology that has, for obvious reasons, ceased to function." Skipping a beat, she announced, "Speculation can wait for later. We have three hours, four at most, before a major front rolls through."

"It rains here?" Herkimer said, with surprise. His ropy tail hung in the air, as if testing it for water.

"No. A sand storm. Very high winds and extremely low visibility," Annika elaborated, her pretty bobtail flickering once, twice. "In addition to that, Reverie has a cargo schedule to keep. Since they have to ferry us back to the station before they resume their time-sensitive route, we can't dawdle."

This mission hadn't been her idea, though, or even Graham's. Rather, an edict had come in from Captain Aria of the Arctic. Apparently, artifacts from the ruins on this planet were being smuggled into High Command space. Innocuous, perhaps. But Aria was a former constable. She wanted this planet checked for security threats. Especially since the former inhabitants, presumably avians, were believed to be linked to the dragons, who'd developed a network of powerful Gateways for instantaneous travel. One of which had been uncovered on the snow rabbit Home-World many months ago during the Wasp War.

And since Redwing Station's revitalization process was a long-term project, the captain had insisted they could afford short-term excursions. 'It won't hurt to spend time in your own backyard,' she'd said. Not having reliable distance-ready shuttles, themselves, the ragtag Redwing crew had turned to their Reverie friends for reliable transport.

"The ruins should be a few minutes walk, at most," Annika assured.

"Why didn't we set down on top of them?" Barrow complained.

"I thought it prudent not to, lest we disturb anything delicate. Or trigger any ancient booby traps. Or land on the roof of a weakened structure and fall into a sinkhole. Or ... "

"Alright, alright ... "

"I bet the whole place has been ransacked," Advent said, cynically, crossing her arms. Fluffy tail hiking up against her back. "This is a waste of time." She'd joined this crew as a 'hired gun' for the Federation, feeding them information about the UT so they didn't have to send their own personnel and resources. In exchange, they'd promised to reward her in future. That was the deal. But she was beginning to wonder if the Feds weren't just stringing her along. She'd given them a few subspace reports, but they'd only responded once. Telling her to basically 'keep up the good work.' Granted, there was nothing important to report about yet. Nothing attention-grabbing. Nothing worth anything. Maybe that would change, today.

"Vandalism has yet to be determined," Annika replied, patiently. "Though it is a strong possibility. Does everyone have a canteen?" Being that they were all covered in fur, and wearing their uniforms, to boot, it was a good bet they'd be perspiring heavily during their time in the scorching desert. Most of them were already doing so, in fact. "I don't need anyone getting dehydrated."

Mumbles and nods.

"And if anyone has any problems, I have some hydration hypos," Barrow announced, helpfully. He sidled up to Annika and said, more privately, "You should take more than one."

"Hypos?"

"Canteens," he said. "Your species is particularly unused to such heat." Her world, after all, was a wintry one. For the most part, anyway.

She gave him a look. Being a diplomat, an ambassador, furs sometimes viewed her as a peacenik or a pushover. It didn't help that she was more of a 'stereotypical' female. Unlike, say, Sheila and Advent, who were no-nonsense, rough-and-tumble sorts. Petra fit that bill, as well. I have more in common with Seldovia than any of them, she realized.

The skunk, a dethroned princess, had remained on the station with her newly minted mate, Seward. The chief engineer. As well as Commander Graham. Only three furs manning that huge structure? She had concerns about that. But if an attack by the Syndicate or some other pirate group happened, a few extra furs weren't going to make a bit of difference. The weapons weren't online yet. Sheila had been working tirelessly on them. Another week, she'd said, and the phase turrets would be up. Torpedo launchers would take longer. 'And require actual torpedoes,' the hare had added, dryly. That was something the Reverie crew would have to acquire for them during an upcoming trade run.

She brushed it all aside, though. Or tried to. She trusted Graham implicitly. His talents. In and out of bed. He'll be fine. The station will be fine. "I will be fine," she told Barrow. "I went through survival training at the High Command Academy."

"Yeah, but I don't want you to wilt," the bat insisted, flashing a suave, fanged smile.

Annika knew the doctor was only doing his job. Looking out for the welfare of others. But his telepathic abilities gave him a self-important air, at times. He didn't have the same decorum in regards to personal boundaries that a normal fur would, if any at all. She wondered if that was true of all bats? She didn't have much experience with them. There were only a few thousand in all of High Command space. They were more prevalent in the Federation, as well as out here in the UT. Regardless, the doctor was correct. Her water requirements would be higher than the others. So, admitting weakness, she sighed and went back into the pod to get another full canteen. And almost ran into Sheila in the process.

The silver hare, the last member of the away team, blinked and tilted her head. She had a neutral expression, which was her norm. And an armful of phase pistols. All of them fully charged.

"Is that really necessary?" Annika asked, ears twiddling primly, of bringing that many weapons.

"Yes."

"There are no sentient life signs on the surface aside from ourselves."

"Do you believe in ghosts, Amabassador?" Sheila asked, without making eye contact. Scanning the barren landscape, instead. She was a steely sort. Always held others at arm's length. By choice or by habit, Annika wasn't sure. In an odd sort of way, it made sense she and Barrow were 'partners.' They were both socially stilted in their own ways.

"Of course not," she answered. "There is a scientific answer for everything."

"And who's to say ghosts can't be scientific?"

Her slender ears twiddled. "Logic."

"Well, logic is overrated. Sometimes, you have to operate on gut instinct. When push comes to shove, when it's 'you' or 'them' ... " She thrust a phase pistol at the snow rabbit. "Don't tell me you've never fired one of these." With all the major conflicts this quadrant had seen in the past few years? No one was innocent. Not unless you'd been hiding under a rock.

Annika didn't respond to that, which was answer enough. In fact, there was a look of shame on her normally mellow face. Taking the pistol, she set it to stun and attached it to her hip pocket.

The hare ducked her head, being taller than the others, especially when her ears entered the equation, and left through the open hatch. She distributed the weapons, giving Advent a glare and adding, "Don't do anything stupid."

"Like shoot you in the ass? It's a big enough target."

"Enough," Annika said, agitated with the inter-crew tension. She reemerged from the pod and tapped a few buttons on the side. The hatch shut. She pulled out a scanner and squinted at it. Tap-a-tap. Tap. Ba-beep. Then a shake of the head as she wiped the device against her uniform. Her paws were sweaty enough to mess up the screen. Though she wasn't outwardly complaining, the snow rabbit found this environment to be completely hellish. The sooner they found the ruins and the cover it offered, the better. "That way," she said with a curt nod.

And, so, the away team trudged off, single-file, Sheila silently taking the point and Herkimer bringing up the rear.

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A paw on her breast. The left one. His favorite one. Or was that the right? He had a new favorite every day. Tiny, little kisses peppered the rat's plain-brown fur. Her neck, chin, and cheeks. Pressing the taller, heavier rodent against the main window in his quarters. It wasn't made of glass. Transparent aluminum, rather. Several inches thick. And reinforced on the outside by an automated force-field. It was in no danger of cracking. "You're awfully quiet. You getting shy on me?"

"Never been in shy in my life," Petra replied, looking over her bare shoulder. Reverie was in medium orbit hundreds of miles above the surface. The planet, for the most part, was a dusty-brown. Some patches of light green. A single ocean. Some thin white poles. It wasn't the most remarkable world to look at. But it was still a wholly-realized world, and that meant something. That was special. Wasn't it? Petra had never had a home planet, herself. Had lived in space most of her life. Stations, ships, moon colonies. Was born on an asteroid depot. Or so she'd been told.

"Ever?" he teased.

"Maybe once or twice."

"Mm-h." More nibbling.

"Do you normally make love to females inches from a vacuum?"

"You sound like a snow rabbit, there. So logical." He smiled. "Can't beat the view, though. All those stars? And unless some-fur's floating by in an EV suit, no one on the other side will see us." He moved his paw from her breast to her side, trailing his fingers down to her hips. "If you're scared of heights, we can move to the bed." His quarters were decently sized. Being the captain, he got the biggest room on the ship. His privilege. But they were still small compared to the rat's own quarters on Redwing station. And Captain Aria's quarters on Arctic probably dwarfed the both of theirs.

"Naw, I'm fine."

"You sure? My bed's comfy."

"I'm fine," the rat repeated.

He pulled back a bit. "You're worried about something ... "

"I'm not worried."

"Don't lie to a superior officer," he chided, lightly. And more seriously, added, "Or your mate."

"You're not my superior," she reminded, touching a finger to his nose. Her actual superior, Graham, had allowed her some time off to spend with Peregrine, knowing that it would be weeks before the rat got another chance. Graham was so understanding. He didn't rule his crew. He guided them. The rat admired him. She was technically his first officer, his sub-commander. But she sometimes feared she wasn't contributing enough to deserve it. She let her brown-furred fingers inch aside to strum his whiskers. Peregrine always liked that.

Closing his eyes, he tried not to get distracted. "You're thinking about the Syndicate," he realized, cutting to the point.

No response.

Opening his eyes, he didn't back down. He wasn't a timid mouse. "I thought you were over that? We both know the risks." She'd worked for them in the past. A collective of rogue bats who headed a shady semi-criminal cartel in this part of the UT. With no major government having a presence here, they were effectively the major power. The High Command was hoping to curb such lawlessness by getting a paw-hold out here, via Redwing. But, more than that, the station was going to be an early-warning beacon against future threats from beyond safe borders. Petra had parted the Syndicate on bad terms. That is, without their permission and knowing some of their secrets and methods. If they ever found out where she was, they might try to eliminate her. And, by extension, anyone she cared about.

The rat was silent.

"Petra?"

"What?"

"I thought you were at peace with things." Come what may ...

"I am."

"But?" he pressed.

"This is the first time I've been off the station in ... weeks." Months? "On Redwing, I'm safe. It's a huge, forbidding structure, for one. Full of dark rumors and strange history." That's why it had been abandoned for so long and opened to claiming. There was an unspoken feeling that it was somehow haunted or cursed. "And the Syndicate, as big as its mouth is, would never mess with the High Command." The snow rabbits had a reputation, now. After winning conflicts against the Federation, Arctic foxes, and wasps, they'd emerged licking their own wounds but still clearly the most formidable furry government in the quadrant. Certainly the most competent. But at least the Federation had finally stopped civil warring. For the moment. "When I'm not on Redwing, and just out here, in free space ... " She shook her head. "I don't know. I feel ... "

" ... naked?" the mouse whispered. "Exposed?"

She nodded. That was exactly it.

"You are," Peregrine reminded, reverently. "So am I." He tilted his head to the side. Their clothes were scattered on the floor.

A bucktoothed grin, glancing between his legs. Three inches becoming four, becoming five, becoming just a little bit more. He was already completely aroused. So incorrigible. She almost laughed. "I didn't mean literally."

"Oh?" His eyes sparkled. "Well, even if you didn't, know this: I'm naked when I'm around you. Even when I'm dressed."

Her heart swelled with emotion. She tried to hide it, though, with harmless sarcasm. "You're such a smooth-talker. It's a pity you gave up open breeding. I think about all the females who are going to miss out on your talents ... "

He chuckled. "At least, now, I better fit with my species' public image." Mouses weren't known for open-breeding. They tended to be monogamous. He began sucking on her neck, hotly. "I love you, though. That's all you need to concern yourself with. That's all that matters. Just shut up and accept it."

"I do, Perry. I do." Oh, god, she did. She panted, eyes rolling back. She arched. His paws. Oh, his paws roving all over. Moving down, around, between. If it were just herself, she might not care about risk. But love made you vulnerable. It tied you to something tangible. Something you could potentially lose. "I've never had anything to lose. Now, I have you ... "

"Hush," the multi-colored mouse breathed. Brown and grey fur, running together. A metallic cinnamon. He pressed forward and up, meeting her lips, twisting into a slow, succulent kiss.

"Mm-h." She lifted a leg, hooking it around his hip. Arms around his neck and upper back, loosely. The pulled back, lips smacking apart. "Are you ever at a loss for words, Perry?"

"I'm about to be," he insisted. He bowed his head to lick at her breast-fur. "And so are you ... " His knees bent. He dropped to the floor.

Petra began to relax, thick, ropy tail sliding along his thinner, more delicate one. They entwined like double helixes.

And the mouse dined on the rat.

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"Hey! Over here! We found an entrance!" Barrow shouted, unsuccessfully flagging for the others with a wing-arm. His powder-blue fur matched the incredibly clear sky above them. "Hello!"

"It's too windy. They won't hear you." Even with his large, sensitive ears, Herkimer could hear very little, himself. Just sand pelting walls and arches. And the air moaning in tandem.

"Seems you're right." The bat gave up.

Herkimer sought shelter under shade, where the wind wasn't reaching. "I don't like this place." He stopped short of saying he hated it. That was too strong a word for a mouse to use. He took a swig of water from his canteen. Sweat droplets hung on his whisker-tips. "Doesn't anybody remember that the builders of all this stuff ... " He shuddered, in spite of the heat. " ... they cannibalized furs! They were horrible."

"Yeah, they were pretty hard into vore," Barrow remembered, staying by the mouse's side. They'd found evidence of that on Redwing's lower decks. "A bit too kinky for my tastes."

The mouse shook his head, short of breath. He still had nightmares about what Seward and Sheila had found on the station.

"You're not going to hyperventilate, are you?"

"No ... "

"Also, you lose moisture when you do that. Panting. Take slower breaths."

The mouse nodded, weakly.

Barrow, fur matted damply, fired off an echo-burst. And another. They bounced back to his sweeping ears, delivering invisible pictures into his brain. "Maybe I should call them on my comm-badge. We only have two hours left. I thought Annika said not to dawdle."

"Use your telepathy and find out what's keeping them," the mouse told him, smartly.

The bat did so, effortlessly. Got inside Annika's head, at least. Sheila and Advent were putting up subconscious resistance. "Ah, they're just lollygagging. Found some writing or something. Trying to translate it ... "

"Why do you ask so many questions," Herkimer wondered, not for the first time, "if you can answer them so easily with your powers?"

"I'm being rhetorical most of the time. Besides, you're not telepathic. I need to ask them for your benefit." He glanced at the mouse with a slight frown. The hot weather was making both him and Herkimer a little antsy. The mouse was fidgeting. The bat kept stretching in place. "You think I like to complain?"

"I didn't say that!"

"You were thinking it."

"You just ... I don't know. Never mind."

"No, go on ... "

"You're my friend. And it's not a criticism," the rodent qualified, "but, since you're wanting to know, it's just ... "

Barrow waited.

"You're a rabble-rouser."

"Heh. Not that! Anything but that ... " He'd been called much, much worse by furs both familiar and intimate.

"Talkeetna thinks you and some of the others are bad influences for me," Herkimer admitted.

"I know." He had nothing against Talkeetna, himself. "She just doesn't know me yet." They'd talked maybe once, twice? And only incidentally. "Tell her I'll give her a chance if she gives me one."

"Yeah ... "

"And, hey, someone needs to stir the pot. Challenge the status quo. Else things get stale. Tension, my dear mouse, can be good. Especially ... "

" ... that's not what I meant!" Herkimer interrupted, realizing where this was headed.

" ... when it's sexual." A toothy grin.

"Very mature."

"You can't perform delicate cardiac or cranial surgeries on furs and be immature," he insisted. Could you?

"You've done that?" The mouse's eyes widened. "I thought you were more a general practitioner."

"Well, sorta. But ... " His ears pitched forward. "I've been a doctor for a long time. I know what I'm doing."

Herkimer tried to remember how old the bat was. Thirty, thirty-two? Something like that. Older than me. "Well, I'm sorry. I'm not trying to question your skills. I just ... " He took another drink of water. "Also, you didn't really answer my question."

"You sound like you need to get laid," Barrow decided.

"Why would you even say that?" the mouse wondered, shaking his head. "That's your answer to everything."

"Lowers your blood pressure. Increases your lifespan. Nature's best medicine."

"I guess."

"So, you and Talkeetna?" It was a three-hour journey at impulse from Redwing to the planet. "You were in her quarters the whole time, weren't you?"

The mouse's eyes darted. His tail whipped about, spreading the scent of sun lotion. "Sorta. Maybe. Why?"

"You're not that innocent."

"I like to think I am." Herkimer exhaled, closing his eyes. The wind sounded eerie as it whipped and whirled around the abandoned buildings and dilapidated structures. It had picked up since they'd gotten here. Annika was right. A storm was coming. He didn't want to be here when it happened.

"So. Did you 'officialize' your relationship? With Talkeetna?"

"If you can read my mind, Barrow, why do you need me to tell you?" Didn't he just ask him that question a few minutes ago? Or something like it?

"Cause I like conversation. Cause I'm talking to you," Barrow enunciated, frustrated that he had to explain himself.

"Officialize isn't a word," Herkimer mumbled. Is it?

"Yes," the bat said, reading his mind, "it is. You're just avoiding the question," he accused.

"We just snuggled. I mean ... " A brief hesitation. "That's all."

"Sounds cute." The bat skipped a beat. "And?" He knew there was more.

"We talked."

"And?"

"We kissed, okay? A few times ... " That wasn't entirely true. They'd made out for quite a while. Pretty hard, too, needing a few breaks to catch their breaths. "Why do you care so much?"

"Cause you're my friend. Maybe my only real friend on the station." An awkward pause. Did that include Sheila? "And I want to see you have all the happiness and pleasure in the universe. I want to know you have it." He made eye contact with the rodent. "You deserve it, mousey."

Herkimer dipped his head, clearly touched. His eyes watered, in spite of their arid surroundings. He nodded some and looked back up, squinting as the breeze blew sand toward his eyes. The wetness evaporated. His whiskers twitched. "On the way back to the station, I think. That's when I'll, uh ... "

" ... fuck her silly?"

"No," he objected, stubbornly. "I knew you couldn't stay serious for very long."

"Life's too short to be stoic." He ribbed at the mouse's side.

Squeak!

"Now, you were saying ... "

"She's gonna go off for a few weeks, you know, on Reverie's cargo run?" He didn't want her to go. That was sappy, wasn't it? You're so clingy, Herkimer. And look where that led with Advent? But Talkeetna's different. "I'm gonna miss her so much."

"Can't you talk over subspace comm?"

"I guess so ... "

"Maybe even make a hologram of her in the holo-suite. If she'll let you ... " Some furs didn't like being recreated via photons and force fields. Especially when it was for lascivious purposes.

"I'm still going to miss her. The real her. Having her next to me. Her scent, her smile. That bushy tail." He'd spent all his free time over the past few days with her. "But, you know, we have different jobs." He drew patterns in the drifting sand with his bare, blunt-clawed toes. "I don't wanna join Reverie. I don't think she wants to join the station, either. So, I don't know how it's gonna work." He'd already failed at one relationship. To bungle another so soon? He didn't think he could bear the possibility.

"Have you talked about it? With her?"

"Yeah, but ... "

"Well, maybe when we get the station up and running more fully and attract a regular stream of visitors, she'll find it a more attractive place to live. And we'll need more crew-furs to handle the extra traffic and stuff. She could get a High Command position. As a non-commissioned field officer. And Reverie is using Redwing as a base, right? With more traffic, it'll be at the station more often. Maybe running missions closer to home, so to speak."

Herkimer nodded. "Yeah, but she's really loyal to Peregrine. I think she feels like she owes him something." What, exactly, he didn't know. Only that those two were close. In a purely platonic way, of course. He'd listened to them finish each other's sentences this morning.

Barrow wrapped a wing-arm around the mouse.

Herkimer sighed, leaning his head on Barrow's shoulder. "I love her," he whispered.

The bat smiled at his friend. "I know. You make a good pair. Long-distance can be hard, but if anyone can make it work, it's you."

Herkimer looked up and smiled. With buckteeth. And dimples. "Thanks."

"Mm-hmm."

After Herkimer's abusive relationship with Advent, the bat was happy to see the mouse hadn't given up on companionship. Or become bitter or anything like that. "Sorry for teasing you so much, today. I'm just on edge, myself."

"Sheila?" the mouse guessed.

"What else? She's so fucking hard to figure out."

"You still can't read her mind?" The mouse remembered Barrow saying that the hare had some kind of mental block. A sharply-honed ability to compartmentalize things. That kind of discipline took meditation and training. Perhaps part of her security background from her Federation days?

"I don't think she respects my species' needs," the bat mumbled. "Just brushes them off as kinks or me being a 'horny bastard'." He lowered his voice. "It's instinct. I pine so badly for it. I get headaches, you know?"

"What do you mean?" The mouse blinked. "Oh, the biting stuff?" Barrow had explained how it all before. How it worked, the evolutionary purpose behind it. It seemed pretty complicated. But he had a feeling the doctor was going to tell him all over again ...

"When a bat has sex, we have a strong, irresistible instinct to bite," he told the mouse. "To inject our partner's bloodstream with a sort of 'mating milk,' which electrically attunes their mind and body to ours. Joins us as one. Thoughts, memories, physical sensations. A closed circuit. So, long story short, when you have sex and don't bite? Things accumulate. Without telepathic release, that buildup starts to give you headaches." He rubbed a wingtip against his forehead. "They're getting worse. I've been taking hypos for weeks, now. She doesn't really know. She'd just accuse me of 'playing for sympathy' or overreacting or being a baby." He knew her too well. Which was ironic, since she wouldn't let him inside her head.

"You should tell her!" Herkimer insisted, worriedly. "You're in pain ... "

"Only a little bit." The bat shook his head, trying to downplay it. He shouldn't have said anything. Herkimer was a huge worrier. You're just gonna make him fret about you. But I guess that just proves how good a friend he is.

"What are you going to do?" the mouse asked.

"There's only two things I can do. Stop having sex. Or, well ... intercourse." That was a key part of the equation. " ... stop doing that, and the desires and chemicals won't be triggered anymore and, eventually, will slowly abate." He shook his head. "I don't have the willpower or desire to go celibate." I think I'd rather die than give up sex, he thought to himself.

"And the other solution ... "

" ... is the other side of the coin. Bite. Don't bite. Bite," he said, bobbing his head. This or that. "It doesn't have to be every time, you know? If that's what she's worried about. I don't have to do it all the time. God. Is that too much to ask? Just once in a while," he qualified, "to release the build-up and ... " A sigh. Who was he kidding? " ... to get closer to her. To understand her fully, and to have her understand me. To be one." He took a slow breath. "You have no idea how pleasurable it is. You just can't understand." He trailed off.

"Why won't she let you, again?" The mouse didn't understand, of course. He'd freely admit that. He was a romantic. He took it for granted that every couple would want to swoon all over each other in love-dove fashion.

"It's complicated," Barrow admitted. Isn't everything? "Me? I don't have anything to hide. I'm an open book. And, to a telepath, everyone else is an open book, too. Life is better that way, when everyone is honest and up front. Right? Nothing good comes from keeping secrets."

Herkimer wasn't sure if he agreed with that. Total honesty was a good ideal to strive for. But in reality? You had to apply white lies and tact to function around others. Maybe that's why some furs distrusted bats? They could see through false fronts. Cut through the bullshit, so to speak.

Barrow read the mouse's mind. "It's more than that. It's more than us being able to see into other furs' minds. Yeah, our powers make others wary of us, but like I said before, nature gave them to us. Why shouldn't we use them?" He sighed. "Our abilities are one thing. But our 'strange' approach to breeding? That turns them off in a whole other way." He seemed like he was speaking from experience. "They get spooked. Like you're a vampire, out to suck their blood. Or corrupt their soul. They think biting will hurt. If only they knew how it felt. If only she'd ... " He caught himself and changed the subject. "I'm proud to be a bat. I don't care what anyone thinks."

"Maybe it's just her," Herkimer suggested lamely. Or maybe Barrow had a bit of a persecution hang-up. "I don't see the Commander or Ambassador mistreating or mistrusting you. And Seldovia and Seward don't. I don't ... "

"Enough do. It only takes a few, Herkimer, to make someone feel disenfranchised." The bat had almost forgotten how hot it was. Forgotten about the mission. There was an edge in his voice. "No. We're mistrusted more than most species, certainly more than most mammals. So, we band together for familiarity, for safety. It insulates us. And, sometimes, that causes us to view other furs the same way they view us: as something to get away from. So, we use our telepathy for protection. And some rogue elements, like the Syndicate, use it for a lot more than that. They become twisted and corrupt."

"Some might say those are excuses," Herkimer whispered.

Barrow, unblinking, swallowed and admitted, "Some might." He lowered his voice, barely audible above the rising wind. "But I'm willing to open myself to her, completely." Back to Sheila. It kept coming back to her. What have I gotten myself into? Why can't I stop caring? "I'm more than willing. I want it. I need it," the bat stressed. "And she throws the offer back in my face. Closes herself off. It's fucking infuriating." He huffed. "It's insulting."

"So, why are you still sleeping with her?" Herkimer asked, confusedly, throwing up his arms.

"Sex is sex, Herkimer. Even without biting, it's ... " The bat exhaled, his long, dexterous tongue worming out. "It's good."

The mouse blushed. "Yeah, well ... " He waited for details but didn't get any. And was too modest to press. "But it sounds like you're not really connecting ... "

"But I want to."

"But you're not! And it's making you upset, and I don't like seeing you upset," the mouse insisted. I just want everyone to get along. And be happy.

The bat closed his eyes, feeling the sweat running down the periwinkle membranes of his delicate, glorious wings. Water. Thirsty. He took several gulps from his canteen.

"Everyone wants privacy, sometimes. Maybe Sheila's just an unusually private fur?" The mouse rubbed his neck. "Maybe you need to think about finding someone else."

Hearing that, the bat's eyes cast downward. That's what any sane fur would do, right? Move on? I'm fulfilling her wants. But she won't let me fulfill her needs. And she won't fulfill mine. "She's private because she's damaged. She needs help to heal. No one can offer her the help that I possess." His voice was getting quiet. "No one."

"And what does she offer you? A project? You're a doctor. You like to fix things. What happens when she's all better?"

"I'm not that shallow, Herkimer. Even if I sometimes seem to be."

"Then your motivation must stem from love."

"What?" The bat blinked and looked up.

"You love her. Right? I mean, you never come out and say it, but ... " The evidence was pretty hard to ignore.

"What makes you think that," Barrow replied, evasively. It was true that evolution had steered bats toward monogamy. But he'd never been a conformist. He'd managed to be an open breeder in spite of everything. Moving from partner to partner. It was difficult. But, until now, he'd enjoyed the freedom, the variety. "I don't like the idea of 'settling'. I'm my own bat."

"And she's her own hare," Herkimer replied. "One of you is gonna have to compromise."

"No. Not one of us." The bat took a deep breath. "Both of us. I've compromised enough of myself. I'm not embarrassing myself any further. It's her move, now."

At that moment, Annika finally hopped over, Sheila and Advent not far behind.

Barrow blinked. "About time." He was glad they could return to the mission, now. His heart-to-heart with Herkimer had left him drained.

"We found some interesting inscriptions on a pillar. The language was unfamiliar, but we took scans to bring back to the station," the snow rabbit explained. "The main computer will have a wider database to crosscheck with."

"I know." The blue-furred bat nodded.

"You found an entrance?" Sheila asked Herkimer.

"Yeah." The mouse gestured around.

Wielding her weapon, the hare did a brief scan, as if locking down the perimeter. Not finding anything, she outright approached the gaping opening. Her bobtail flagged upward. "Looks like a ramp leads down. Into a hallway. Did you go inside?" Sometimes, it was like she was looking for fights. Maybe to distract herself from something. Or maybe because she had some sort of death wish.

"Um, no? Didn't wanna go in without backup," Barrow told her. There was an edge to his tone.

"Well, I'll hold your wing if you need me to," Sheila said, brushing off his hostility. He was just in a mood. Always was. She'd topped him last night and gotten a little rough with him. More than usual. He'd asked her why she'd taken it so far. She'd only shrugged. 'Felt good,' was her answer. Sometimes, it took more and more intensity to get to her feelings. They were becoming so deeply buried. She activated a paw beacon, pointing it into the dark and hopped out of sight.

Barrow made a face.

Herkimer thought the bat looked a little hurt.

"Let's follow her, everyone," Annika said. "Before she gets too far ahead."

They moved down the ramp, beams of light wavering from their beacons, casting long and heavy shadows. It was much cooler down here, and they found themselves breathing sighs of relief.

"Did you find anything except writing?" Herkimer whispered to Annika.

"Why are you whispering?" Advent asked.

"Cause it's ... dark?" The mouse twitched. "I don't know!" Why was everyone in a bad mood, today? I can't wait to get back to Talkeetna. She's always got a good perspective.

Annika answered Herkimer with a reassuring touch of the paw, squeezing his shoulder, and saying, "Found some twisted metal. Carbon dating placed it around the same age as Redwing's hull."

"So, it's safe to say that that the avians who built the station originally had it in orbit of the planet," Barrow decided.

"Logic would dictate, yes. But we still have no way of knowing for sure."

"Why's it three hours out of orbit, now? There's nothing strategic about its current location."

"Maybe they weren't the ones to move it," Annika suggested.

"Then who did?" wondered Herkimer.

"Whoever caused them to go extinct," Advent guessed, darkly. "Even predators get preyed on, sometimes."

"We don't know that they went extinct. Perhaps they migrated en masse."

"Hey!" Sheila shouted, tersely. She'd gotten way ahead of them. At the end of the hallway and into an open chamber. "Are you coming or not?"

When they caught up with the silver hare, they found her in empty, dusty surroundings.

Advent shook her head. "I called it. Ransacked."

Annika, squinting at her scanner, nodded. "It seems so. But if it's been abandoned for hundreds of years, it comes as no surprise. Smugglers and opportunistic explorers would've no doubt pilfered most of the technology. However, there are many rooms in this facility. Close to a hundred, in fact. There may be areas yet untapped."

"If it was all stolen a long time ago, how did the meerkat Captain Aria talked to get the, uh ... like, the things he got? The report I read indicated they were freshly acquired," Herkimer said. He twitched, suddenly distracted by what looked to be a spider. Only, it had more than eight legs. And was scaly. Eyes widening, he bumped into Barrow.

The bat steadied him.

"It stands to reason that this building wasn't alone out here. There's probably a whole town under the sand," Sheila said, coming back to them. "Could've got it from another place. Or, hell, another continent. It's a big planet."

"True." Annika, again. "We only stopped at this location because it was the most evident from orbit." It stood to reason, then, that it would be the most barren. But it was also the quickest and easiest to explore with the time and resources at paw.

"Well, if the High Command is so interested, they can send an archaeology team," Advent said. "I'm sure this is all very interesting, but ... " Opening her arms, the jaguar gestured around. "I mean, really."

Annika was forced to agree, though she didn't wish to admit it. "It does seem to be less inspiring than I had hoped."

The group wandered about a bit more, somewhat aimlessly, flashing their palm beacons into a corner and finding something.

"Look, a statue," Barrow said. "Maybe it's one of them ... " The Builders, or whatever they were called.

"Oh, it's a dragon! Right?" Herkimer said. No one had ever seen one, of course. Rumor had it they'd 'transcended beyond the corporeal plane' some time ago, before modern mammalian society had emerged. But everyone had a vague idea of what they might have looked like.

"A male dragon, apparently," Advent added, circling around the artwork and resisting the urge to point.

They all stared and blinked.

"That can't be accurate," Barrow said, eyes boggling. "I'm a doctor, but ... "

"Perhaps they were exaggerating its attributes?" Annika suggested, raising a brow. "If the builders of this civilization were avians, perhaps dragons were their gods? This might be an idealized version of a mythical figure."

"Or maybe they just liked getting screwed by freakishly big dicks," Sheila said, shrugging.

"Who'd want one that big, though? Split you in two," Advent said, unimpressed. "Skill matters more than size." The feline gave Herkimer a hungry look-over as she said this. He may have been a backstabbing, whiny little pipsqueak, but he'd been a very solid lover.

Ignoring this, the mouse asked, "Where's the female? There's a pedestal here for a second statue."

"Bet someone stole her and ... "

"We should keep moving," Annika said, before the speculation got out of paw. She ushered the group along. They found more empty rooms. Some broken floor-tiles. There were cracks in the ceiling through which the sun was slipping through.

Sheila stopped, lingering behind. Her bare foot-paws gently nudging at the loosened floor tiles. "Wait a minute ... "

Barrow stopped and went back to her. "What is it?" he asked, privately.

"I thought these were just broken, but ... " She dropped to a crouch, pulling the tiles up. Tossing them aside. They shattered upon landing. But each one, when removed, revealed part of a hatch, maybe? A door in the floor. "Why would this be here? It doesn't make sense."

"Secret passage. Bomb shelter," Barrow suggested.

"Awfully hard to get to. A lot of these tiles are still tightly in place. Never would've found it if these particular ones hadn't been loosened."

Annika, coming up behind them, asked, "Are we sure these tiles were loosened by time? Or were they pried apart?"

"Not enough of them are loose enough for it to be on purpose," Sheila said. She looked to Barrow. "Are you going to help me or not?"

"I don't have proper fingers!" the bat defended.

"You have big thumbs."

"Oh, so size does impress you," he quipped.

She gave him a half-smirk.

Barrow returned it. He even chuckled. And just like that, was no longer pissed at her. All it took was a look.

Herkimer saw this and shook his head. What a strange relationship those two had. Even if they were his friends. But the mouse couldn't be too judgmental. I got involved with a feline, for goodness sakes. He glanced at Advent, discreetly. He still had residual feelings for her. But he didn't know if it was because she was his 'first' or because he actually liked her. But it didn't matter. He was with Talkeetna, now. She was level headed and humble, yet confident and determined. And she never speaks down to me or pushes me around. She treats me like an equal.

Advent, upset that Herkimer hadn't acknowledged her earlier, pretended to ignore him now. But she knew he was looking at her. As well he should. In the meantime, she shoved Barrow aside. "I have actual claws. Let me."

Herkimer repaid Barrow the favor of helping him up earlier. He extended his paws to the winged doctor.

Advent, meanwhile, easily dislodged the remaining tiles and slid them aside. Breaking most of them. "Shall I open the hatch, as well?"

Annika considered. "Sheila?"

"Don't detect any booby-traps. Unless they're very primitive." Arrows, spikes, things like that. She pocked her scanner and pointed with her pistol. "Go ahead."

Using her predatory strength, the jaguar grunted and got it open. The air was musty and almost chilly.

"I'm going down there first," Sheila informed the jaguar.

"Be my guest," Advent said. She had no desire to be the 'canary' in this coalmine. Even though she had the best 'night vision' in the group and it was bound to be dark down there. Sheila would have a paw-beacon. She'll be fine. What do you care, anyway? Don't tell me you're developing a grudging respect for her. Or any the others. You're only here as a stopgap. I have bigger plans. I'm going to get my own ship. If only she felt more confident about that. Maybe all control is an illusion. Maybe you're just along for the ride. But she couldn't accept that. Her pride wouldn't let her.

Annika was the last to drop through the hatch. When she did, she saw walls covered with monitors. Though centuries old, they were still, surprisingly, in working order. Covered in thin films of dust, though. Each of them showing a star map. A system. A phenomenon. They rotated subjects at timed intervals.

Herkimer walked in front of them all, wide-eyed.

Barrow squinted curiously.

Advent used a big, clawed paw to wipe one of the screens clean.

"These are detailed sensor sweeps of every sector within conceivable reach," Sheila breathed. "Look at this." She pointed. "That world there? That's only a day way from the snow rabbit Home-World. That's two weeks out, and we're reading it clear as a bell." Normal long-range sensors could only pick up things two days away.

"So, this is a monitoring station?" Advent asked. A light smile crept upon her muzzle. "Knowledge is power. That's what they say, right?"

"Looks like it." The hare tapped a few controls. "These are very similar to the interfaces on Redwing. I think I can access the database." She paused, looking to Annika for permission. "If I may?"

"Of course. Can we pinpoint things? Look for Arctic," Annika suggested, of Captain Aria's ship. "It should only be a day or so away." Just within or outside their normal sensor range.

Sheila messed with some panels and buttons, trying to figure out how the thing worked. It took a few minutes. The others watched patiently. Then, a few clicks and clacks could be heard. Much harsher than the 'beeps' and 'bops' of Federation or High Command computers. "Think I got it." She nodded, letting out a deep breath. "Right there."

Sure enough, an image of Arctic shimmered onto the monitor.

"You can see the actual ship!" Herkimer exclaimed.

"Wow ... "

"She's a beauty, isn't she?" Barrow admitted. "The snow rabbits know design. So clean and elegant." Federation design was a bit bulky in comparison. More utilitarian. And Redwing? Well, it was a monstrosity at the moment. There was no saying they couldn't spruce it up, though.

"That's as far as it goes. I don't think it will get closer," Sheila said. "But who the hell knows." This technology was far beyond her.

"How is this even possible?" Advent demanded, suspiciously.

"My guess would be confined, controlled artificial micro-singularities," Annika said.

"Say again?" Barrow went.

Herkimer's whiskers twitched in confusion.

"Miniature, traveling wormholes. Pointed, triggered, and kept open long enough to allow a signal through and back. And then closed and moved again, at will. Of course, this would take an absolutely incredible power source to achieve ... "

"The understatement of the hour," Advent muttered.

" ... and we've detected nothing of the sort."

"Could be tapping energy directly from the planet's core," Sheila guessed. "Maybe that's why it's a desert, now?"

Annika raised her brow. "Possibly." But she figured there had to be another explanation. What, thought? She shook her head, padding around, ears twiddling atop her head. "It's stunning, nonetheless."

"Tell me about it," the hare said. "This type of surveillance? You could see a threat coming far ahead of time. Research celestial phenomenon from a safe distance. Assuming they had monitoring posts like this on other planets, they could even form a web, a network, which would give them an almost infinite reach."

"So, how does a species that can see for trillions of miles in every direction not see their own extinction coming?" Barrow wondered. "I mean, they're all gone." As a doctor, he was beginning to wonder if it hadn't been a virus. A sickness. The thought was sobering. "Maybe bio-genic warfare with someone?"

"I don't wanna know," Herkimer whispered, glancing at the bat.

"We need to bring this stuff back to the station. Use it for ourselves," Advent said.

"Agreed," Sheila said.

"It would take days to carefully extract all this without damaging it. And the only real engineer we have is Seward."

"I'm sure there's a few engineers on Reverie, too. They could help."

"They're not trained like Seward is," Sheila insisted.

"Yes, but Reverie has a schedule to keep," Annika reminded. "In two weeks time, when she returns, maybe we'll take a longer trip to the surface, here. With a bigger away team. Or maybe Captain Aria will come out and do it herself. Arctic is more equipped for exploration than we are."

Sheila crossed her arms and fidgeted.

"This room isn't going anywhere, Lieutenant-Commander. It's been here for half a millennia undisturbed. We'll be back ... "

"Fine."

"Let's run some more scans, though, before we leave ... "

"Doesn't anyone think it's odd that the only way in here is through the ceiling? And it was covered in tiles? I mean ... there's gotta be another door or hatch in here, right? Leading to some passage or something," Barrow said.

"As I said," Annika repeated, without repeating herself.

"Yeah, next time," Barrow whispered.

It was Advent who said, "There's too many mysteries here to make me comfortable."

No one could refute her.

.

.

.

Reverie broke orbit and headed, full impulse, back to Redwing Station, engines glowing ruby-red. Its warp nacelles weren't separated from the main hull by graceful struts, as they would've been on a modern cruiser. Instead, they were tucked right up against the sides, giving the ship a somewhat squat appearance. But to those who served on her, she was a thing of beauty.

Herkimer, free of his uniform, and any clothing at all, really, fumbled around for a handle, a button. Anything. "Um, Talkeetna ... "

"Mm?" The red squirrel was doing a gyrating dance, making a slow, savory show of getting her panties off. Her gloriously bushy tail bobbled and swayed, making her scent eddy about. They were in her quarters.

"I don't know how to work your shower. There's no buttons."

Talkeetna giggled. "It's a manual. Pull at the shower head itself. Turn it right." She pointed.

"Feel stupid, now." He finally got the water on, and it streamed down. "I'm sorry my pelt's all matted. I was sweating like crazy down there. It was so hot ... "

"It happens."

"When I was in the Federation ... I mean, the last ship I was on," the mouse said, stepping into the stall, beneath the water. It was warm. In a different way than the desert had been. This was a relaxing heat. A cleansing one. He sighed. "Last ship had sonic showers. The water didn't come just down. It came from below, the sides. In fine, swirling jets. It was like a massage and a shower, together." It was really nice.

"As long as I get clean, I don't care how it hits me. A babbling brook would suffice," she said, following him in. There was no curtain. Just a sliding foggy-glassed screen. She pressed a button, and it slid shut. Steam began to billow. She pressed her breasts to his chest, touching noses.

"What's on your mind?"

"You," he replied, "in a creek. In the fur."

"I've never seen an actual creek. I'm a space junkie."

"I grew up on a planet. Sometimes, I'm not sure I'll ever see it again." He was so far away from his home in the Federation. In more ways than one.

The squirrel hugged him close, doing a slow saunter. Moving him away from the shower head. Taking his place. Letting her lead loll around as the water ran down her neck. Her shoulders. Her breasts. "So, nothing was down there? During your mission?"

"Today?" He'd almost forgotten about that. "Yeah. Most of it was abandoned. Picked clean. The area we visited, anyway. I'm sure there's lots more to explore elsewhere. We found a secret bunker, but ... "

She was blowing against his glistening ears. Touching them, too. Tracing the rims with her fingers.

" ... but it's, uh ... mm-h." Not important. Not at all.

"You like that?"

"Y-yeah ... " He looked down, admiring her body. When they'd been undressing, he hadn't really given her a proper look over. One, because he'd been nervous and afraid that, once he started looking, he'd lose his focus and be unable to talk, and two because ... well, he didn't know. He still couldn't believe this was real. That it was happening. He was afraid if he looked too long, she would dissolve into molecules. That if he got too comfortable, he'd wake up. But here he was, in the shower with her, and it was so very real. "I've wanted this since I first saw you. Since you boarded the station that day ... "

"You were pretty tongue-tied. I remember. I was pretty flattered."

"Took my breath away," he murmured. He'd never felt so confident in his passion. With Advent, the lust had been intense. She'd stoked his submissive tendencies. Used her predatory position to coax him into things. But, here, now, with Talkeetna, he felt like he was seeing eye to eye with a female for the first time. That he could see deep into her. And she into him. Is this how Barrow feels like? I'm not even telepathic ...

"You're really sweet, Herkimer."

He dipped his chin, the water streaming down his back. Down his tail, too. "You're so lovely," he mumbled, "beautiful, angelic." A sigh. His voice faded out. But he found it again and continued, "I'm trying to think of a polite way to say how much I want to breed with you ... "

"There's nothing polite about making love, Herkimer. It's fierce and messy. Full of abandon." She cradled his head, bringing it to her shoulder. "My mate ... "

"My mate," he echoed, nodding. Then mouthing at her neck-fur, nibbling with his prominent buckteeth. "Oh, Talkeetna." Eventually, he wound up on her lips. Wet, steamy kissed. Then panting on her chin. "I'm going to miss you so much when you're gone."

"It'll only be for a few weeks. Redwing Station's our new base. I'll always be back." But as soon as she got back, she'd always be off. That was the life of a freight runner. That was the career she'd chosen. Or fallen into, at least. And she wasn't ready to change it.

"I know. I just ... I hope I don't wear out my paw out thinking about you."

Talkeetna laughed. "We can wear our paws out together over the comm ... " Unless, of course, they needed to maintain comm silence when traveling through known pirate routes. Which was likely. But no reason to tell him that right now.

The mouse smiled, turning her around. Taking the spot under the shower head, again. He tilted his face up. Let the water soak into his fur.

Her big, bushy tail weighed down from the water. It sagged and flittered, droplets flying everywhere. Her fur, normally a rich auburn was, when damp, an even darker red, almost like blood, like the heart. With a hint of earth. Maybe more like a turning leaf.

"I feel ... "His storm cloud pelt covered hers. He pushed her against the wall. Lifted one of her legs. " ... I feel so good." There was probably a more poetic way to say that. But it wasn't coming to him. He was panting, water flying off his whisker-tips.

"Herkimer," she breathed, feeling him pressing against her flower. With impatience, with trembling need. With an anticipation that bordered beyond belief.

Sucking air, he gave a bump, a hump. A thrust. Found himself within her. Her tunnel. "Oh. Oh, gosh ... "

She cradled the back of his head.

He immediately sought a rhythm. Found it. Kept it. Gently rocking against her, eyes half-open in bliss.

She closed her own eyes. Opened her muzzle, though.

He saw this. And obliged her with a hungry kiss.

"Mm. Mm-h ... " One of her paws was around his neck. The other went down between their bellies. She began rubbing at her clitoris.

The mouse nudged her paw out of the way. And rubbed it for her. The other arm keeping one of her legs up.

They balanced, wetly, heaving, as his stiff, sensitive cock dipped into her snug, sopping honey pot.

Her nipples hard, she pushed the mouse's head down. "Suck ... "

He didn't need to be told twice. A tit between his teeth, teasingly. Then between his lips. Nursing from it, blindly, own eyes having fallen shut. The water from the shower was splashing onto his face. He humped her harder. He wasn't going to last much longer. He wanted to last forever. But it was so good, too good. There was no way. He popped off her nipple and huffed on her shoulder. "Uh, uh-h ... "

"Mousey ... " She clutched at him, feeling dizzy.

"Mm!"

"Yes, yes ... " She began grinding her hips against his. They bumped into the shower walls. The clear screen was completely fogged. "Oh, yes!" Her walls began to flutter. Sensual spasms. The squirrel's buckteeth dug into his neck. "Mm-f ... " A paw dragged down his spine. Claws and all.

The mouse gasped, slumping forward. Couldn't breathe. Couldn't think. He felt himself go off. His essence jerking, spurting. Bursting. Felt his seed flow into her, painting her walls, drowning her womb. Whimpers. And squeaks. And cries. For a few seconds, time stopped. Life made sense. The universe felt in synch. And, then, just like that, it tapered off. His orgasm stopped. He blinked the haze from his eyes. He didn't know what to say.

The red squirrel put a paw to his face, shaking her head. Letting him know he didn't need to speak.

So, the mouse held her. And breathed.

He'd never felt so clean.