FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

The mouse's ears, silhouetted in the darkness of the room, rose like moons. Eclipsing her view. "What was that?"

"Huh?" was her slow, hazy reply.

"That shaking," he whispered.

"Prolly me," the rat slurred, sultrily, with a bona fide bedroom voice. She made grabby paws at him. "Mm. Keep goin' ... "

The smaller rodent made a face, settling back on his haunches. Thin, ropy tail snaking about. "I'm serious."

"An' who says I'm not?" Her own tail, thicker and rougher-skinned than the mouse's, whipped in his direction. "Also, why you whisperin'. We're alone."

"Small ship. Thin walls," he reminded.

"Nothin' they haven't heard b'fore. An' since when are you concerned with appearances?"

"True." He smiled, buckteeth showing, before a more serious expression befell him. "Could've been imagining it," he decided, whiskers twitching. "Every time we pass through this system, I expect to be hassled." With good reason. It was a known hotspot for piracy. He blew out a breath and rubbed at his cheeks, whiskers twitching. A very mousey gesture. "I get so paranoid." He may not have been as anxious as the stereotypical mouse, but he wasn't devoid of worry. Especially now that his mate had joined the crew. If something happens to me? Well, that's the breaks. But if something happened to her?

The rat sighed and folded her arms behind her head, her modest, brown-furred breasts rising and falling freely. Living apart from her mate for the past few months, him on Reverie and her on Redwing? She'd almost forgotten how pleasurable it was to simply be naked together. Their pelts meshing. The softness. The heat. Even if they were just chatting like this. "Then take another route."

"And lose time? Time is currency." His eyes, pupils fully dilated, met hers.

"Then ya best spend it 'fore ya lose it," she teased. Her rough accent got even thicker in private, when she was relaxed.

"You're awfully eager today." He cupped a breast. The one above her heart.

"Am I?"

"Uh-huh." The mouse groped her a little, then eased back and rolled his neck and shoulders around, loosening them up. They'd been doing some heavy lifting. Though not as much as his jaw and tongue! He licked his lips. He could still taste her. "What has you so incorrigible?"

"Change o' scenery's always a bit exciting, I guess. I'm in a new place. A new bed ... "

"You're not doing anything new in it, though. We've done this a hundred times." A lewd grin, paws caressing the female's plain-furred thighs now. He hunched forward, moving to all fours above her. Lowering his face until their whiskers were brushing. "You're just crazy about me, aren't you?" he cooed.

"An' you're just plain crazy."

"How close are you?" he murmured.

"I'd be 'closer'," Petra emphasized, pecking a kiss to his lips, "if you got back to work, Cap'n."

"Hah! This is hardly work," he panted, raising back up. Full of energy. And knowing just who to spend it on! His whiskers still glistened with clear fluid. Her nectar. "Or are you questioning my judgment?" he teased. Adding, for erotic measure, "Commander."

The rat tried not to giggle, watching as he finally got back into position. Took him long enough ...

"Now, this is just a warm-up drill. There's a lot more coming your way," he went, clearing his throat, taking a deep breath as he went down on her again. Muzzle drifting between her legs.

"Talk's cheap, Perry," she breathed, reaching for his head. Gently brushing his ears and wrapping her legs around him. Toes curling in anticipation. Then, oh, his tongue, swirling, whirling, lapping into her most sensitive spaces, dancing upon her feminine pearl. A squeak! "Ah-h ... ah ... "

BAM!

" ... ah?"

Ka-crunch!

"Eek!"

CRACK!

"Squeak!"

The two randy rodents were tilted and pitched, somewhat violently, out of their bed, bumping, bouncing! Rolling! To a tangled stop against a bulkhead as alarms started blaring.

"What the ... fucking."

"Hell."

"God. Dammit!" the rat exclaimed, slightly disoriented. And angry. I was about to cum! Pleasure to pain in five seconds flat. She rubbed her head, the lights tinted slightly red, now. The color of blood. Blinking on and off. Her eyes mimicked them, fluttering with confusion. "This better be good," she said, of whatever it was that had interrupted them.

"I knew I felt something!" Peregrine insisted tersely. He stood up, wincing. I should've called the bridge. But, no, that's not my job. I'm the captain! Why didn't they call me? "Better not have any fucking bruises," the mouse mumbled. "I swear." Unlike High Command vessels, where every deck had plush, pleasing carpeting to make it friendly for bare foot-paws, the freighter Reverie had thinner, cheaper carpeting, if not outright metallic floors in most areas. Stuff was expensive, you know! The UT wasn't known for its easy access to luxury.

"Well, how was I s'pose to know we was in real trouble?" Petra huffed.

"Uh, because I told you? You convinced me otherwise."

"Oh, what, me an' my feminine wiles?" The rat frowned. "It's a good thing I don't have balls, or they'd be blue."

"If you had balls," he countered, immediately, giving her a semi-serious look, "I'd have to rethink my sexuality." He'd never been anything but straight. But for Petra? Good thing he'd never have to find out.

A gruff chuckle on her part. "Gonna help me up?"

He nodded, apologetically, and did so. "Sorry." A sigh. "Didn't mean to snap."

"S'okay."

"Guess the situation can't be too bad or we wouldn't still be here." Power of positive thinking!

"Yup."

Peregrine began putting his clothes back on.

The rat, remaining 'in the fur,' ventured to a window and crossed her arms. She squinted, looking for trouble. The stars weren't streaking anymore. "We're not at warp." Maybe that's what'd pitched them out of bed? An emergency stop? If it were enemy fire, surely it'd be ongoing.

"I'd noticed."

A comm chirrup. "Bridge to Peregrine." It was Vesta, the lop-eared rabbit.

"Go ahead," he squeaked, adjusting his pants.

"We've, uh, run into some trouble."

"Tell me something I don't know."

"Well, someone," she emphasized, "didn't want to interrupt you ... " Translation: Jale, being the ranking fur on the bridge, had gotten an ego and thought he could handle it. With claw-power, no doubt. And, surprise! He couldn't. He wasn't the best at strategy. "We could use you on the bridge?"

"I'll be right there. Just make sure we don't get destroyed before I arrive." He cut the channel and moved for the door, wriggling into his shirt. Fully clothed, now. "You better get dressed, love. If you come to the bridge naked, you'll cause a distraction. And last time we had sex in the captain's chair, it didn't go so well." A wry, bittersweet smile.

Petra just shrugged. Her thick, fleshy tail coiled about. "Doubt anyone would notice."

The mouse blinked in surprise. "What do you mean?"

"Never had furs knockin' down my door to get to me," the rat said quietly. She was hardly glamorous or traditionally 'pretty.' It was her spunky, irreverent personality that framed the core of her appeal.

Peregrine frowned and said, "Hey. I think you're beautiful. You know that."

"Mm-hmm."

"Petra."

She looked at him. "I believe you." The way he made love to her? You didn't bring that kind of intensity unless it was real.

"Then what's wrong?"

She waved a paw. "Think you oughta get to the bridge 'fore we become space dust. This can wait."

"No. It can't," the mouse countered. She was being stubborn. Well, two could play at that game! He hugged her from behind. "You best be quick."

The rat, still completely naked, turned to face him. "I dunno." Her whiskers twitched. "Guess I'm used to bein' an outlaw, a ruffian."

He looked up at her, nosing her chin. The rat was a few inches taller.

"Now, all my past crimes are forgiven. My slate is cleaned." On account with the Syndicate having struck an alliance with the High Command and all the intricacies involved in that.

"But that's a good thing," he insisted.

"Yeah. It is. I'm all innocent and law-abiding now. An' in love, to boot," she said, letting her arms drop. She touched noses with her mate, swallowing, moving her paws to his chest. She wished he hadn't put that shirt on. She wanted to run her fingers through his pelt. It was so soft. "I'm happy," she whispered. "I'm normal."

"So, wait, what's the problem, again?" he asked with confusion.

"I'm not sure yet."

"Well." The mouse scrunched his mix-furred muzzle. His pelt looked more brown right now than not. Sometimes, it looked grey, sometimes, like cinnamon. "You deserve to be happy."

"I just don't trust it," she breathed.

"You think something's gonna go wrong," he realized.

"Happiness isn't a natural state, is it? Makes you lose your edge." And she'd defined herself by her 'edge' for so long. "Animal nature ... we're wired to keep on wantin', to never settle. So, here I am, settled ... an' waitin' for the ceiling to cave in." She sighed. "Always has b'fore. " Never at first. But, eventually ... always. "I have such bad luck. Guess I'm tryin' to soften the eventual blow by convincing myself there was never anything to lose in the first place."

Peregrine, features melting, nuzzled her neck. "I love you, Petra. More than I love Reverie. More than ... well, more than I can say." He didn't have time to regale her, and besides, he was a simple, horny freighter captain, not a poet. "I'm not gonna get bored of you. I know I used to sleep around ... " That was putting it mildly! He used to dip his wick at every station Reverie stopped at. He cleared his throat, awkwardly. "But I'm yours, now." There'd be temptations, no doubt. He wasn't going to lie to himself about that. But this was a new chapter in his life. I'm turning the page. "And, no, living on a freighter isn't easy. We're gonna have some bumps and bruises ... " He rubbed the back of his head. Fucking hurt. " ... but who doesn't? It'll just make us stronger."

"I was never the best first officer on Redwing, though," she continued, quietly. "I was just kinda a figurehead. A liaison. Bein' a native UT resident an' all. It was more honorary than practical." She paused. "The Reverie crew may have teased Talkeetna a whole lot, but they respected her. I'm not sure they respect me yet. I'm too much like them." She'd spent extended time on Reverie before. Years ago. But some of the faces had changed.

"You think they don't take you seriously?"

"Well, I'm fuckin' the cap'n." She blew out a breath. "They take me seriously cause you do."

"You're wrong," the mouse insisted, taking both her paws in his.

"Not unless I've been screwin' your imaginary twin."

A bucktoothed smirk. "No, not about that. About your reputation. They know you're a survivor. You fled the Syndicate and lived to brag about it! They know you've got wiles and wits. They trust you on your own merits."

She smiled back at him. Her heart melted. "I love ya, too, Perry," she breathed.

He moved in for a passionate kiss.

A chirrup from the bridge interrupted them, though. "Uh, sir?" Vesta, again.

"Yeah, I'm coming!" The mouse pulled away from the rat, reluctantly. "Now, get dressed." He slapped his mate's rump, playfully. "We have a tight space to squeeze out of."

"You're so good in tight spaces," she cooed.

"I know." He winked.

Then, violently, ship shook again.

BAM!

They both wobbled on their foot-paws, wind-milling their arms to stay upright.

"Does this ship even have internal dampeners?" she complained.

"You think we'd be space-worthy if she didn't? They're just a bit ... outdated." By a few generations, tech-wise. "Maybe you could put in a word with Graham to get us High Command versions?"

"Maybe," she said, putting her own clothes on. "Why don't you try your pal Talkeetna? She's in the cozier spot, now."

"True ... " He wasn't used to sweet-talking the squirrel, though. He'd always been her superior. Now, he wasn't.

SLAM!

Sparks flew!

The alert sounded again.

Definitely weapons fire that time!

Again, the comm, and this time Vesta was practically screaming. "Captain?!"

"Welcome to Reverie, love! Consider this your baptism," Peregrine exclaimed to Petra as he finally heeded his comm officer and scurried to the bridge.

"Took you long enough!" Vesta accused.

"Yeah, well ... what is it this time?" Peregrine asked, smoothing down his uniform-shirt. "Jale?"

"They surprised us!" the wolverine said, obviously. He slammed his sharp-clawed paws against the tactical controls in anger, causing them to wink and waver.

"Hey! Try not to break your equipment," Peregrine scolded, ropy tail giving a few whips.

Jale chuffed, sheepishly. "Thought we could slash an' claw our way out, but they gots more weapons."

"I figured. So, who are they? What do they want? Run-of-the-mill pirates looking for loot?" The mouse stood in the center of the bridge, glancing at the main view-screen. "Hmm." Looked too nice to be a pirate ship. Almost looked like a cruiser. "Vesta?"

"They won't answer our visual hails. They're just repeating their demands on an audio loop."

"That's something, at least." A nod, dishy ears swiveling. "Let's hear it."

A whoosh from the back of the bridge, as Petra quietly joined them.

Jale noticed and snickered. The old 'we were screwin' like ferals, but we don't want to admit it, so you arrive first an' I'll hang back and come in a few minutes later' routine. Classic! Rodents were so self-conscious. Even the ones that liked to think they weren't. He couldn't let it pass without calling them out on it. So, he said, in a stage whisper, "I smells a rat."

"Shut yer face, Jale," was Petra's level reply.

Vesta put the attacker's message on speakers.

"Freighter Reverie, this is the cruiser Juniper of the Skunk Sovereignty," began a stiff, humorless voice. Deep and masculine.

Peregrine blinked, settling into his center chair. "They're a bit far from home."

"That's Seldovia's homeworld," Petra added, knowingly. A small, unaligned planet, like most in the UT. Former monarchy. The royals were overthrown in a violent coup, and Seldovia had fled amidst the bloodshed. They were a 'republic' now or something.

"What are they doing along a well-known trade route?"

"Your ion trail indicates you've come from the Redwing Sector," the skunk's voice continued. "We know the High Command has taken residence there. And that the Syndicate has now moved into the region, as well. This alliance concerns us." A defiant pause, declaring, "Stand down and prepare to be boarded and searched for telepaths. If you're in the clear, we will let you go. If not ... " He let that hang like the threat it was.

"Telepaths? Why don't he just say 'bats'?" Jale wondered.

"Sounds less racist when it's 'telepaths'," was Petra's dry reply. "Some furs can't separate individuals from the organizations that claim to represent those individuals."

"So, what, they're ... policing this part of space, now? The skunks?" Vesta asked, sounding confused. The message began to repeat itself and she put it on mute. "They don't have the power or numbers to do that."

"No. They don't." Peregrine tugged at his left-side whiskers. "Maybe this is just a rogue faction of skunks? Trying to make a name for themselves. 'Hey, look at us, we took on the Syndicate!' Even though it was really a lowly freighter with a loose association to them. But who's going to be able to prove that? They go home and tell their new, vulnerable government, 'We've been taking on the bats! Give us more power!'"

"Shoulda known this would happen," Petra said with a scowl, crossing her arms. "The Syndicate's been feared for so long that them makin' peace with a powerful entity like the High Command makes 'em, in the eyes of the UT locals, even more powerful. We know the alliance is honest. But even presented with all the evidence, the rest of the UT may not want to believe it." Not for some time, anyway. Hatred and fear took a while to purge.

Peregrine gripped the armrests of his chair, scowling with aggravation. "If they have a problem with our friends on Redwing, they know where the station is. But they're not putting a single foot-paw on Reverie. Fuck them!"

"Tell us how you really feel, Perry." Petra padded over to Jale, asking, "What's their weapons?"

"Likes I said, better than ours," the wolverine repeated, dejectedly.

"What about hull plating? Shields?"

"They gots the better shields. An' us the thicker hull."

"Good to know." The rat exchanged a look with Peregrine. "Mm?"

The mouse smiled, slowly. "Hmm. You think?"

"Mm-hmm."

"Right! Let's do it."

"Wait, what?" Vesta went. What just happened? "Don't tell me the skunks are right about us harboring telepaths."

"Mad, crazy love has a way of puttin' two furs on the same wavelength, Loppy," Petra said, wisely.

"Well, I'll have to take your word for it ... " The rabbit had never been in love. She sighed.

"Heh. Loppy," Jale repeated. "That's cute."

Vesta made a face. That was going to stick, now, wasn't it?

"Petra, you take the helm." Tapping a button to open a ship-wide signal, the captain announced, "Prepare for ramming speed, everyone. We're gonna out-bully our bully."

"What?!" Vesta yelped. "Sir ... "

Jale chuckled darkly. Oh, boy! I get to ram something! I'm good at rammin' things. Yates could attest to that. "Heh-heh-heh ... "

"What are you laughing at?" the nervous rabbit accused.

"Calm down, Vesta," Peregrine advised. "We're gonna be fine. Jale, the skunks may fire at us as we approach them. Return the favor."

"Yessir!"

Petra was behind the helm controls, now. The ship had been on autopilot. She switched it to manual, brown-furred paws moving about. "You wanna hit their nose, tail? Or go straight for the gut?"

"Let's go for the gut. Hit 'em where it counts."

"Will do," the rat said, huskily.

So, Reverie, on full thrusters, powered straight for the cruiser. The skunks held their ground, unleashing their phase canons.

Shake!

Rattle!

SPARK!

"Firin' everything! Hoo, boy!" Jale yowled, firing Reverie's own canons at random.

"They think we're bluffin'," Petra remarked with a snicker.

"Their bad," Peregrine said, darkly. Whiskers stiff and eyes narrowing.

At the last second, the cruiser, sure enough, tried to turn, but it was too late. Reverie barreled into its shield grid. A blue, sizzling sphere appeared around both ships, and Reverie shook violently and bounced aside.

Everyone on the bridge was hurled from their seats.

Rolling, colliding, yelping, screaming.

When everything had settled, Jale crawled back to his station. Huffing, he managed to get back in his chair. "Mm-f. Their ... their shields are down." Well, practically. One shot should do it. Then they would be completely defenseless! The wolverine growled. "Shall I fire on 'em 'gain?"

"Ugh." Peregrine moaned. He was going to be feeling this for a few days, even after Yates patched him up. He just hoped none of his crew had gotten a concussion. Or worse. "Power down weapons. It's not our policy to hurt anyone." Not if we don't have to, anyway. "We're just teaching them a lesson."

The predator scowled.

"Besides, the skunks have traditionally been on our good side."

"But they may come affer us!"

"He's got a point," Petra said, gingerly stretching her legs, which were suddenly full of painful knots.

"What's worse?" the mouse countered. "Agitating one ship of skunks? Or destroying it and having five more ships come after us in the name of vengeance? In the long run, I'd rather get sprayed by a few than a lot."

Even Jale couldn't argue with that. Prey logic. Buh. He's been spending too much time round those snow bunnies on Redwing!

"While they're distracted, we're making our getaway," Peregrine repeated. "Assuming engines didn't get fried in the collision? Commer?" he said.

"Workin' on it," the Kodiak bear growled from engineering.

In the background, Sesqui was squeaking, "Left-side stabilizer is out of alignment!"

"I got my paws full, girly. Have someone else deal with it," the bear complained.

"Don't yell at me!"

Peregrine blew out a breath. No doubt those two would be having some hardcore make-up sex when this was all over. The mouse leaned back in his chair. "Commer?" he prodded, impatiently. "They're going to regain their bearings soon."

"I got it! Light 'er up!"

"Petra, if you will?"

"Aye, cap'n." She dialed the ship's speed to as fast as it could go and vaulted them back into warp. "Original course resumed."

Everyone sighed with relief.

The stars were streaking once more.

"Think you enjoyed that," the rat accused, setting the helm back on autopilot.

"Yeah?" The mouse, adrenaline flowing more freely than he cared to admit, raised out of his rickety captain's chair. He took a deep breath, steadying his pulse. "What gave you that impression?"

"Bump an' grind? Favorite pastime o' yours."

"Don't act so innocent," he said with a weary smile. "You did a great job, by the way."

"Just pushed a few buttons."

"A rat with mousey modesty?"

"You've not a lick o' modesty in ya, Perry." She gave him a smoldering look. "You're no ordinary mouse."

"Oh, I'm all," he promised, lowly, "mouse. Now, if you need a reminder of that, a demonstration can be arranged."

The rat licked her buckteeth, suggestively.

"Get a room!" Jale heckled.

"No kidding," Vesta muttered, jealously.

"Mm." Peregrine tried not to smile. "I think we will," he said, brightly. "Only, this time, if something happens when I'm gone, I want to be notified immediately. Got it?"

"Was just tryin' to take initiations," Jale mumbled.

"Initiative," Peregrine corrected. "And I appreciate that. But it's my ship."

"Aye, Cap'n."

"You have the bridge, Vesta," the mouse told the lop.

She nodded, quietly, watching the captain move for the rear lift.

Petra followed him, looking more confident and comfortable than she had to start the day. A good crisis had a way of testing your mettle. And, mettle tested, she'd found herself more than up to the task of being Reverie's first officer. They needed her. And she needed them. All the best relationships were symbiotic.

Once the captain and first officer gone, Jale got up to stretch. He padded over to the captain's chair. Looking left. Looking right.

"What do you think you're doing? You're not sitting in that," Vesta said, sternly.

"But it's got a cushion! Mine doesn't ... an' I hurt my ass when we bounced off their shields," he admitted in a mumbly tone. His tailbone was bruised. Of all the places! It even hurt to swish his stubby, bushy tail. "Where's Yatesy?" he demanded as he slowly settled into the chair.

"Probably tending to any injured." The lop-eared rabbit interfaced with sickbay's computer system. "Yeah, she's at her post." A few bumps and bruises were being treated. Case of first-degree burns. A broken arm. Ouch. I wonder whose? Nothing life-threatening, though. Reverie only had 15 crew-furs at any given time. It wasn't hard to know everyone else's business.

"Mm." The wolverine growled, hungrily. "Wonder if she should fix me first, or if I should bang her first? Cause I don't wanna be in pain, but I do wanna feel good," the wolverine deliberated. "That's what they call a pair of ducks, you know?"

Vesta sighed. Paradox, she thought. But she didn't bother telling him.

"Heh. Pair. Makes me think of tits. Or balls."

"You're so crude, sometimes, Jale." Who was she kidding? He was crude all the time.

"Yeah, well ... " He scrunched his face, looking for a comeback. "So!"

She reluctantly smiled. "You're also unintentionally endearing ... "

"I am?"

"You have your moments."

"Y'know, if'n you're lonely, you can join me an' her."

"What?"

"Me an' Yatesy. Some say three's a crowd, but I always said it's company, too! As long as it's two females to one male." Less competition and more pussy for me!

"Excuse me?" Vesta blinked. I didn't just hear that, did I?

"Threesomes are hot," the wolverine said with a giddy look.

"I, uh, wait ... you want me to ... ? Uh, look. I'm not ... and I don't think she'd even go for that." The lop skipped a beat. Would she? Vesta! "Besides, we've bred before, remember? We weren't exactly compatible in the chemistry department."

"Oh ... heh. Yeah, we did! Forgot."

"Gee, thanks ... "

He stretched his limbs. "I gots a lot goin' on in this head!" He tapped his noggin. "I remember likin' it, though."

"I didn't say it wasn't enjoyable. It was just ... we weren't a good match."

"That don't make sense. You're just as submissive as Yates is."

"Well, she's kinky, isn't she? I mean, hell, she's a opossum. They're all ... weird."

"Watch what ya be sayin'," the wolverine warned. "She's mine!"

"It's not an insult," she insisted. "Just an observation. I'm more a romantic, though, so ... "

"Ah. I hear ya. All that lovey-dovey stuff," he said lightly, swiveling Peregrine's chair back and forth.

"I think I've given up on finding romance, though."

"So, ya don't mind bein' by yourself?"

"I didn't join Reverie to find love. I joined to get away from a bad situation in a bad place." She didn't elaborate. She didn't have to. Most furs who joined up on UT freighters were trying to escape something. They weren't glamorous postings. Rather, they were first rungs on the ladder to elsewhere. Talkeetna had climbed out of her former life perfectly. She'd joined, risen to commander, and now found herself with a cushy, by comparison, High Command job. With a sweet mousey mate. Vesta twitched with jealousy. I shouldn't feel that way. I shouldn't be so envious. It's not right. But I can't help it ...

"You make it sound so ... " The wolverine searched his mind for adjectives. Wait, what's an adjective? "Well, like you don't like it here. Like you don't like us?"

"I didn't say that ... "

"Well, I been here a while, now." He shrugged. "I have fun! Most of us do. We gets to go places, see things, screw things, and Perry isn't that strict on us. You just gotta have a good outlook an' all! Don't be such a stick in the mud."

She nodded quietly. "I suppose." It was good advice, actually. I'm too uptight. Perspective was everything, wasn't it? "We don't all fit into the same pegs, though. What fits for you might not fit for me."

"Heh, well, I think I fit ya just fine. If'n I recall right. Ya know what I mean?"

"I shouldn't have brought that up." She rolled her eyes. Maybe I can end up on Redwing, too. Dobson's there. He seems to like me. Though I'm away so much, and he's so nice, I'm sure another female will nab him. And, besides, didn't they just bring aboard a second communications officer? They certainly don't need three. A sigh. Maybe I should settle for someone else, somewhere else. But who? And where? I don't know what I want out of life. I only know what I don't want. "Right now, I'm just doing my job. I'll worry about my personal life later."

"You should explore the depot when we drops off our cargo an' gets more. Ya got a whole day. You always stay on the ship when we stop at places? Why's that?" He tilted his head. "You afraid of gettin' noticed?"

The rabbit fidgeted. "Why would I be afraid of that?"

"You tell me." The wolverine studied his claws. "You gots a criminal record?"

Vesta just looked him in the eyes.

"What'd ya do?" He didn't fancy her for violence. Stealing, probably. But what? And why?

"It's in the past," she responded, meekly. "I served my time."

"Then what've ya got to worry 'bout? Long as you don't go breakin' things no more. You can still have fun within reason. Can't assume you'll get a chance later. What if there's not a later?" the wolverine posed, seriously. No guarantees. He should know. He'd almost died a few weeks ago, after battling with that deranged jaguar Advent. Where'd she get off to, anyway? She was on that Marcus' ship, right? He dug his claws into the armrest of the chair as he thought about it. She's getting off scot free. Bitch.

The two furs fell into awkward silence.

Until Jale, chuckling lowly, shoved aside his predatorily violent urges and wondered, "So, who do you think squeaks louder? Perry or Petra?"

"Oh, uh, 'scuse me, um ... thanks," Herkimer said, wriggling into the lift. There were three other furs in there. Two bats. And a snow rabbit. The mouse was embarrassed to admit he didn't know all their names. Or, well, any of their names, actually.

One of the bats, clearly reading the grey-furred rodent's mind, said, "I'm Warsaw. This is Arlet ... "

"You're a shy one, aren't you?" Arlet observed, bluntly. The female bat had dusky-pink fur and a distinct lack of inhibition. "Remind you of anyone?" she remarked to Warsaw.

The male bat chuckled and nodded at the apparent personal reference. "Where are you going, Lieutenant?" he asked.

"Me? Um. Ops."

"Ops," the bat repeated to the computer. The doors whisked shut and the lift began to move. "My 'friend' and I are simply familiarizing ourselves with the station."

"Oh." Herkimer bit his lower lip, wondering if they were more than just friends.

Arlet chittered with amusement. "Friends definitely don't do what he does to me."

Warsaw feigned offense. "If making others happy isn't friendly, I don't know what is!"

"That's neither here nor there." A brief pause before, "I don't know what Marcus expects to learn here," the female said, folding her wing-arms around her curvy frame. "They have such simple minds."

"Where are your manners, Arlet?" Warsaw scolded. "Besides, you hated Janna as much as anyone."

She sighed and nodded reluctantly. No denial, there. Hated. And feared. "Yes. Well ... that doesn't mean I wanted her murdered."

"That wasn't on Marcus. It was on Advent."

Advent? Herkimer felt a sickly-cold shiver at the mention of the jaguar. He swallowed.

Both bats whipped their heads toward the mouse.

His dishy ears got hot.

"Oh, my. Really, now?" Arlet whispered with clear surprise. "Pussy, huh?"

"Leave him alone," Warsaw chided.

The female bat rolled her eyes. "He was broadcasting it!"

"Even so. You'll have to forgive her," the blue-furred male apologized. "Unlike me, she's spent her entire adult life in service of the Syndicate." Where there were little to no decorum when it came to telepathy. You used it as you wanted when you wanted. Bats could be bats. No holding back. "She has trouble reigning herself in."

"My lack of restraint in the bedroom is the reason I've got you wrapped around my wingtip, Warsy. Don't be a hypocrite."

The male bat gave her a look, sending her a telepathic note.

She snorted with amusement, flashing her pearly-white fangs. "As if."

"I, uh ... I thought all the bats in the UT were part of the Syndicate," Herkimer replied, quietly, trying to change the subject off sex. He was fine having it! But talking about it, especially with strangers, made him feel very awkward. And it was especially awkward to remember he'd ever had it with Advent. He didn't want to believe that was him. That was some other mouse. In some other life. He tried to bury those memories ...

"We are. Just as, say, every snow rabbit is part of the High Command. But not every rabbit serves it. Same with us. We're all under the Syndicate's protection and jurisdiction. Some bats are active participants and become officers or agents. Some simply flap in the background and let the Quorum represent their interests. We're all part of the same roost. But that doesn't mean we're all the same."

"I see ... "

"You still don't trust us?" Arlet accused.

"I didn't say that!"

"You were thinking it."

The mouse sighed. "My best friend is a bat."

"Hmm." The female squinted, scanning him deeper. "Well ... alright, so you win that point. But I still want to rant!"

Warsaw chittered with amusement.

"The UT has a power vacuum," Arlet said, seriously. "Always has. Always will. We were forced out here, into the hinterlands, because we were feared. Misunderstood. The Syndicate ensures our species is clearly, strongly heard." She didn't deny that physical force, telepathic intimidation, and outright mental manipulation had been tools employed to make this happen. In nature, it was survival of the fittest, wasn't it? A species shouldn't have to apologize for strengthening its existence.

Herkimer wasn't sure how to respond to that. Just bit his lower lip, shyly. He hated conflict! Thankfully, he was spared from having to address it when the lift stopped.

The two bats shuffled out and into a corridor on the habitat ring.

Warsaw turned and gestured with a wing-arm. "See you around, Herkimer! It was a pleasure."

"Um, thanks. Later, yeah ... "

"Such naughty thoughts, Lieutenant," Arlet breathed with a twinkle in her purple eyes. "I'm already taken."

"Huh?"

The doors shut.

The lift resumed its movement.

The snow rabbit cleared his throat.

Herkimer blinked, almost forgetting about him. He'd been stonily quiet the whole time. And had apparently been mentally disciplined enough to escape the bats' attention. Or maybe I'm just more fun to tease. That's probably it. I fluster too easily ...

"Um, she's ... she's teasing," Herkimer insisted, perhaps too emphatically. "I'm not, uh, thinking about ... " Sex? With bats? Squirrels? Well, maybe a little. With squirrels! Not with bats. Honest! But I'm thinking about other things, too! A lot of things. Like, um ... "Colorful characters, right?" A pause. "The bats, I mean. Literally. Cause, uh, their fur is ... "

No response.

"Guess I should say hello, first." A deep breath. "I'm Herkimer."

Nothing.

"The lifts normally move faster than this." God, please move faster. Get me to Ops! "Uh ... seem to be having some power fluctuations, today." Ever since Arctic had begun its explorations of the desert planet. Probably just a coincidence.

The snow rabbit nodded, stiffly.

"I'm on the senior staff ... "

"I know." The lapine stiffened, sounding slightly annoyed. As if he were being badgered into small talk. "I have familiarized myself with the entire duty roster."

"Oh. Well. Only, I don't think we've met, and ... "

"Adak." The insignia on his uniform revealed him to be an ensign. "Stellar cartography."

"Star maps?"

"In addition to charting and documenting various spatial phenomena. The High Command, despite the Syndicate's wishing we don't try to officially map the UT, would like me to gather as much information as I can on the Redwing system at the very least. And, if possible, put together piecemeal tidbits on the places beyond."

"As long as you don't step on the Syndicate's toes ... "

"Why would they be standing close enough for me to do that?" Adak asked, wrinkling his brow with confusion.

"No, it was just ... I mean, not literally," the mouse stammered, whiskers twitching. He gave up. "Just an expression."

"Ah ... " He nodded. "Yes, I see."

"Aren't you afraid you'll antagonize them? I mean, Warsaw and Arlet probably sussed you out already."

"You mean like they sussed out you?"

The mouse's ears turned rosy-pink. "I have nothing to hide ... "

"I highly doubt the Syndicate will honor every technicality of our alliance. They will bend the rules when and where they see fit. That is part of their reputation, is it not? Flexibility on our part, therefore, cannot be overly criticized."

"Makes sense," Herkimer replied.

"Of course it does."

Snow rabbits had a penchant for logic, their emotions somewhat restrained as a result of evolving on a harsh, wintry world. But Graham and Annika could more than take a joke. And give one back! They had a warmth about them. And Captain Aria, from what he'd seen, was fairly expressive. But Adak was like a glacier. He took the cake as far as seriousness went. Best not tell him that. He won't get that expression, either! Instead, Herkimer just said, "Well, I hope the station has been to your liking thus far."

"It is somewhat old. Clunky. The sensor array, while hardy, is not as refined as I'm accustomed to. It would be better if they would allow Arctic to explore the region. High Command technology is unsurpassed in the quadrant. It's just as well that we are now integrating our tech into the station's mainframe. I only wish we could build a station from scratch. However, we're too far off the grid for that."

Herkimer didn't know if Adak was being confident or arrogant. Or just plain stuck-up.

"Arctic is wasted poking and prodding the dry remains of a long-dead culture on the nearby planet. It is my belief that the ruins can wait. They have been there for a long, long time. They are not going anywhere."

"Well, neither are the stars. Heh ... " The mouse smiled, shyly.

Adak gave him a look.

"Mm." Herkimer swallowed and looked down, awkwardly. "But, uh, we believe there could be things of great value on that planet! Clues and stuff."

If snow rabbits rolled their eyes, which they didn't, Adak surely would have as he replied, tolerantly, "'Things' and 'stuff' are hardly solid reasons to allocate our resources to surveying such a dead world. Would it not make sense that, if there something of value, it would've already been pillaged by the proliferation of pirates that seem to reside in the UT?"

"Maybe. Doesn't hurt to be thorough, though."

A head-tilt. "Perhaps not," he relented.

"Have you tried the holo-suites yet?" Herkimer wondered, not-so-idly.

"No."

"Wouldn't hurt."

The rabbit raised a brow and flicked his flame-white bobtail as the lift whirred to its next stop. He hopped off. "Good day, sir."

"Thanks, ensign. You, too." Herkimer watched the male go. If Barrow were here, the bat would say 'that rabbit needs to get laid, stat!' The modest mouse would never say that, himself. Hence the, uh ... well, slightly more tactful holo-suite remark.

A few seconds later, the mouse was in Ops.

Finally.

A squeaky sigh of relief.

He waved to Seldovia and went over to his familiar station. The mouse's duties kept him scurrying about Redwing, so he wasn't rooted in place like poor Seldovia was. He suspected the skunk didn't mind. Though her royal days were long gone, she was still a pampered sort. She probably wouldn't want to be on her foot-paws all day. It would drive him crazy, though. I'm too twitchy by half.

"Good morning, Herkimer," said Annika.

He looked up and nodded. "Ambassador."

"You're looking well."

"Thanks!" He smiled, widely. With dimples.

"I wonder what we can attest that to?" she teased, warmly. Her ice-blue eyes sparkled a bit.

He beamed, looking down and taking a breath. Everyone knew that his mate, Talkeetna, had recently transferred from Reverie to the station. The red squirrel was now Redwing's first officer. His superior. And they now shared the same bed. The mouse decided to change the subject, though, before he got too bashful. "I've, uh, met some of the new officers."

"Yes? Are they fitting in?"

"For the most part. One of the snow rabbits seems to think the station is beneath him. I think he views this assignment as a stepping stone to future greatness. The others, thus far, seem more ... invigorated." Last night, just before going off duty, he'd caught a male and female getting frisky in a shadowed nook on the Promenade.

Annika mewed with mirth, catching his drift. "Sometimes, a change of scenery can do that to furs. They'll settle down soon enough."

"As for the bats, they seem pretty laidback. But I know they're constantly reading my mind ... " So did Barrow. But that was different. He's my friend! I trust him. "And they ask a lot of questions."

"Oh?"

"Some of which I don't have clearance to answer ... "

"The Syndicate expects us to fully honor our end of the agreement." Which was, simply put: allowing the High Command to run Redwing un-harassed in exchange for all information they obtained while running it. "To telepaths, information is power. Which, I suppose, is true for everyone on some level." Annika's ears twiddled. "I've only become acquainted with a few of the newcomers, myself."

"Yeah, well, at least I don't have to pull long shifts anymore. There's a second comm officer!" Seldovia said, excitedly.

"Who?"

"An otter. Female."

"Dobson might be happy about that," Herkimer said, ever the romantic.

"He's gonna find himself in a love triangle if he gets too happy," the skunk said. The ex-princess was the queen of gossip. "He and Vesta were getting a bit starry-eyed before Reverie left. They didn't consummate it, but ... " She trailed off, seeing that the other two weren't captivated by the information. She made a face. Well, I'll just tell Seward, then. He always listens to my stories!

"It just feels a little weird. I sorta got used to it just being us ... " The nine of them. Well, eight. Or, well ... no. It had been nine, originally. Graham, Annika, Barrow, Sheila, Seldovia, Seward, Advent, Petra, and himself. But, now, Advent and Petra were gone ... and Talkeetna was here. So, that was eight. And don't forget the five bats on 'loan' from the Syndicate. And six more snow rabbits assigned from the High Command, as well as an otter and a beaver. And a few others he was glossing over. Enough to staff an entire second shift. "There's nearly thirty crew-furs, now."

"This station has the capacity and power to house hundreds, if not thousands, of furs," Annika told Herkimer. And docking ports to accommodate twelve ships at once. "It's not crowded just yet."

"I like it. Makes the place feel more lived in. Feels like we're part of something successful, now," the skunk said, wafting her luxurious tail about.

"Price of success, I suppose," Herkimer said with a wistful sigh.

"I've had guests complaining Holo-suite One is on the fritz. Or, rather, that it ... well, I'm not going to explain the lurid details," Talkeetna said, moving through a corridor. Headed for the Central Core. "Suffice it to say, the self-sterilization mechanism isn't performing its duties. And we don't want anyone to slip and break their necks, do we?"

"Aye, ma'am. No, ma'am. But ... " The snow rabbit hopped after her, trying to keep pace.

"You don't need to call me ma'am."

"Yes ... Commander?" Seward said, uncertainly.

"Talkeetna's fine." The red squirrel suddenly stopped.

Seward nearly barreled into her, nose sniffing.

She giggled and steadied him with her paws, swishing her tail. "Look. I know I'm new here, and I'm not as relaxed as Petra, but that doesn't mean we can't be on a first name basis like everyone else." Except, maybe, in a crunch. "Just don't call me Red." They'd called her that on Reverie. She'd gotten used to it, and had even come to find it cute, but nonetheless felt it belittled her authority.

"Yes. Well. Can I possibly assign one of the new officers to fix the holo-suites? Docking pylons three and four have faulty beam stabilizers. When ships are docking, they are not being properly towed in. They've put a few dents in the outer hull. I'd like to attend to that problem personally."

"Right. Of course. That's a priority." The squirrel's head spun. She'd visited the station enough times, now, to know where the major systems were. What the place was like. But, still, there was so much to keep track of compared to a tiny freighter like Reverie. "Um, anything else I should know before I have my daily meeting with the Commander? What about the lifts? I hear they're moving a bit slowly."

Seward nodded, tall, furry ears twiddling. "Already got a team on that. It should ... I mean, it shouldn't, rather, be a problem much longer." Seward wasn't shy so much as just plain introverted. He was the exact opposite of Herkimer, who was very shy but genuinely friendly.

Herkimer.

The squirrel's thoughts drifted. I left our quarters before he woke up. He looked so cute curled up in bed, in the fur, whiskers quivering. I wonder if he was having a dream? Was it about me? She couldn't stay to find out. Bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, she'd been attacking her duties vigorously these first few days. She wanted to make a good impression. As fond as she'd been of Peregrine, she was secretly relieved to be in a more stable situation. No more space pirates. No more seedy trade depots. No more hearing Jale fuck Yates in an obnoxiously loud fashion through the bulkheads. She scoffed lightly, trying not to smile.

"Is there anything else, um ... Talkeetna?" Seward asked, interrupting her thoughts.

She blinked. And cleared her throat. "Yes. You can relax, Seward. I don't bite."

"Right," Seward said, simply. "Of course."

The rodent resumed her path toward the Core.

Seward swallowed and bolted after her, again. "Are you sure you don't want me to give you a tour?"

Talkeetna could see why an ex-princess like Seldovia would go for the engineer. He was obliging to a fault. No doubt she always got her way. Probably helps fuel that ego of hers. "I've been around more than a few engine rooms. I think I'll know what I'm seeing. Besides, you said you had problems to fix?"

"I do, yes." A pause. "You've not seen anything like this, though. The power core on Redwing is bigger than some small freighters," Seward bragged, proudly. He'd had no paw in building it, of course. The thing was five centuries old. But as its current steward, Seward felt a degree of ownership.

"So I hear. Which is why I'm eager to see it." After that, she'd go to Ops and meet with Graham. And then lunch. And then the day would be half over! Time certainly moved more quickly on the space station, or seemed to, in spite of it being stuck in one place.

"Well, I'll be off, then. With your permission?"

"Dismissed," she said lightly.

Clutching his toolkit, the rabbit diverted into the next side-corridor and disappeared.

Talkeetna chuckled and reached a set of double doors. They slid open, and she commenced her exploring.

"Clean bill of health," Barrow said, gesturing with his velvety, bone-strutted wing-arms.

"I'm relieved to hear that. It's been a while since my last physical," the female bat said, speaking in a soft, lilting tone. She had a light, melodic voice. She casually worked her uniform back on. Each female bat's fur seemed to be a different shade of pink. Hers was a bright, delicious candy-pink. "About that little bump near my rump ... " She wiggled her rudder-tailed ass flirtatiously.

"Just a harmless cyst," Barrow interrupted, quickly. "As we age, our bodies develop little oddities, sometimes. Doesn't need removed. But, cosmetically, if you ever want it gone ... "

The pink bat grinned. "I'll know who to ask."

The doors whooshed open.

Barrow's gaze shot to the entrance. Sheila! He cleared his throat and stood up straighter. "Well, you're free to go, Miss Pawnee."

"Thank you, Doctor." The bat got up and moved off, hips swaying. She gave the hare a look-over. Then raised a brow. That's what he prefers sinking his fangs into? Well. To each their own. "Lieutenant-Commander," she said, simply.

"Yup," Sheila answered, gruffly.

"Heh. She's, uh ... she's healthy," Barrow announced when the Syndicate officer was gone.

"I bet." The hare crossed her arms, squinting. "You're liking this, aren't you?

"Liking what?"

"Seeing all the new crew-furs naked. Going over every inch of them." She licked her buckteeth. "Particularly the female bats."

"I'm sure I don't know what you mean. Seeing and fixing bodies, and keeping them from needing further fixing, is my job." He stood up straighter, his periwinkle blue fur hiding the flush in his cheeks. "I'm a doctor."

"Been a while, though, hasn't it?"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Oh, nothing. Just that a bat as pink as the inside of a watermelon, or the inside of a female's ... "

"That's not what I was thinking!" But now that she mentions it ...

" ...is gonna catch the eye more than a plain, monochrome hare." She knew all about his past partners. Just as he knew about hers. There were no secrets between them. There couldn't be as long as he was biting her. The telepathic link, while extremely pleasurable, was also very intimate.

He squinted, scanning her mind. The surface, anyway. She wasn't actually jealous, was she? That wasn't like her. No. She's just giving me a hard time. Antagonizing me. He rolled his eyes. "What are you doing here, anyway?" he demanded. "If you're looking to get banged, it's not lunchtime yet."

A scoff. She planted a computer pad against his chest.

"Oomph. Hey!" He staggered back, flapping his wing-arms.

"Arctic's security team's started to explore the ruins, in conjunction with Marcus' ship."

"I know." He blinked and took the tablet, scanning its contents. "This is what they've found?"

"So far." A pause. "Thought it might interest you."

"Psionic technology. Mm." He shrugged. "Nothing new. We were already aware the dragons used it. That they were telepathic, too."

"Still. Aria wants you to study it and see if it would be medically safe for a bat to use. If they can even figure out how to activate the stuff. There's so much down there we don't know about ... " The hare shook her head. "Unsettles me." She remembered back to her encounter with the alien tech in the station's lower decks. It had shocked her, triggered her body into a false heat. Which had fostered a closer relationship, and an eventual mate-ship, with Barrow. Yeah. Definitely unsettling.

"You'd rather be in charge of the search?" he guessed. He knew her well enough.

"I've been through a lot. I have good instincts. We should be exercising extreme caution. Does anyone ever wonder what happened to the former owners of this station? And the residents of that planet? They all just ... vanished. Maybe their technology destroyed them. We may be playing with fire."

He put the pad down and wrapped a wing-arm around her. Touching his snout to her muzzle. "You don't need to worry about getting burned, Sheila." He pecked a kiss on her lips. "You're already smoking hot."

A chuckle. She nudged him away, avoiding eye contact to hide how flattered she was. Her hostility was partly an act. A self-protecting front. She couldn't fool him. She's crazy about me. "Fuck you later, Barrow," she said, softly, before striding off, twitching her white plume-tail.

The blue-furred bat sighed. God help him, he was crazy about her, too!

"I've never written so much in my life," the red squirrel admitted, handing Graham a computer pad. The daily departmental reports. Compiled by her from all the major departments, like engineering, medical, operations, communications, et cetera.

"It's not so bad once you get used to it," he said, accepting her pad. He activated it and gave the documents a cursory look-over. They were in his office overlooking Ops. Him behind his desk, and her on the other side. "Record-keeping comes in handy."

"We didn't keep records on Reverie. We just sorta flew by the seat of our pants."

"Has it been a difficult adjustment for you?" He glanced at her, briefly.

"No! No, I'm doing fine. It's just ... different."

Graham nodded and put the pad aside for later review. Once he confirmed the information, he would relay it to the High Command. "Anything that needs immediate attention?" he continued, folding his paws on his desk.

She sat up straighter. "Holo-suites are being finicky. As are some of the docking ports. I assigned Seward to delegate."

"Business as usual, then," he joked, lightly. "Redwing was built with avian technology, and we're slowly trying to splice High Command tech into it. It doesn't always take kindly to the upgrades. But they're necessary."

"I'm not complaining." The red squirrel smile, her angular, tufted ears cocking upright. "This is a luxury hotel in comparison to what I'm used to."

"I've seen Reverie, of course, though I haven't boarded her more than once or twice, and then only briefly. But she seems ... serviceable," Graham said diplomatically, "for what she is. A tough, little ship."

"Little?" Talkeetna echoed, clicking her tongue. "Don't let Peregrine hear you say that."

"Tough, medium-sized ship, then," the snow rabbit corrected.

She giggled.

"I'm glad you're approaching your duties with such bushy-tailed enthusiasm."

"I am a squirrel, after all." She bowed her head.

"That you are." The male leaned back in his chair. "I have a great fondness for Petra, but she isn't a gung-ho, go-getting type. She's content to let things happen. Which was fine at the start. The station was still a sleepy, rundown place. But we're starting to attract visitors, now. We have this new alliance with the Syndicate. The tempo's quickening. I'm excited about the energy you're bringing to the job. We're going to need it going forward."

"Thank you, sir. Graham," she corrected. That felt really good to hear.

"I'd like to have a senior staff meeting tomorrow. Marcus and his aides want to discuss Arctic's progress on the planet. Captain Aria will be piped in via comm."

"I'll let everyone know. Will that be all?"

"For now. Just one more thing, though, off the record," the white-furred rabbit said, leaning forward. Elbows on his desktop. "I want to thank you for what you've done with Herkimer."

"How do you mean?" she asked.

"Before he met you, he was fragile, willing to latch to any-fur who would make him feel special, simply because he had no self-confidence of his own. Unfortunately, he was too desperate to be properly discerning." Referring to his disastrous relationship with Advent, no doubt. "Ever since he laid eyes on you, however, he's shown notable spark and purpose. He wants to be the best for you. And that has prompted him to be the best for everyone else, too, be it as an officer or a friend. You've made his life better." The rabbit paused. "I care about my crew. So, it pleases me to see them pleased."

Talkeetna was touched. She let out a breath. "I, uh ... well. He's made my life better, too," was all she could say. "I wouldn't be your new first officer if he wasn't here."

"True."

And I wouldn't know the joyous, addictive high of making love with him, she thought. After thirty years in the seedy, cynical Uncharted Territories, it was refreshing to bask in the mouse's sweet, incorruptible purity. He needs me. And that makes me need him.

"I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable. I just thought you'd be pleased to know."

She blinked and cleared her throat. "Oh, no. No, it's fine. I am! Just ... flustered." I'm a rodent, after all. I have my moments.

"If you're sure ... "

"I am." She stood up and bowed, warmly. "Same time tomorrow?"

"Of course. Though I'm sure we'll see each other before then."

"Likely," she reasoned, turning and looking through the window-doors of Graham's office. Down into the Ops department. Herkimer wasn't there. He had been when she'd arrived ...

"So, what's it like?" Barrow asked.

"Hmm?"

"Living with your mate? I know the long-distance stuff was hard on you."

"Oh! It was." All the nights of tossing and turning. The wondering. The pining. "It's, uh ... well, it's great. I haven't felt this happy in a long time."

"Lots of pussy, huh?" the bat guessed.

"Um, well ... " Herkimer blushed, fiddling with his ropy tail. Eventually mumbling, "Yeah."

"Heh! Hot." Barrow chittered loudly, wrapping a wing-arm around his best friend. He was so impossibly cute, sometimes. "Perfectly natural, though. You're in love! What greater way to express it?"

"It's just so ... it's not just that," he whispered. "I've never lived with anyone before. Not like this. Just having someone to talk to and lean on? To not be alone? It makes life a lot easier."

"Well, yeah," the bat said, obviously. "Health is as much psychological as physical."

"It's almost spiritual, though," he insisted.

"Consider me your confessional." The bat winked. "I won't judge."

"I know ... "

The bat wanted to prod for details. To dip his feelers into the mouse's mind and determine if, indeed, squirrels were as flexible and acrobatic as their reputations! But he sensed something was wrong. So, instead, he asked, "What brings you to the infirmary? More than just a friendly visit?"

"I don't know ... "

"Come on, now," the winged telepath chided. "You know better than that. Don't make me take it from you."

The mouse, dipping his chin, said, "I just ... I should be relaxed, and I am. I am happy."

"So you've said."

A deep, shaky breath. "But I'm still kinda nervous?" He sounded confused. He hugged himself, vulnerably. "Maybe I'm still wounded from what Advent did to me. But I was prepared for the worst every time Talkeetna went off with Reverie. Maybe they'd be destroyed, or ... she'd find someone else."

"You can't think like that. You're not gonna lose her. Or her heart."

Herkimer twitched, quietly. "Now that she's here, now that we're finally, fully together? I've let my guard entirely down. It feels so good! But, at the same time, because of it, I'm no longer prepared for a bad outcome. And knowing this?" He swallowed. "I'm torn between trying to relax and being anxious about what might happen if I do."

"Oh, I see." The doctor nodded. He sat on the bio-bed, wrapping a wing-arm around the rodent. "You're overthinking it. Plain and simple. Love is a risk, Herkimer. You can't fully protect yourself. Our mission on Redwing is a more dangerous than your average assignment in High Command space, for sure. Any one of us might get hurt on any given day. But you can't entertain too many 'what if's' or you'll distract yourself from living in the present."

"I'm a mouse. Worrying is our talent."

"You're selling yourself short. The entire crew's seen an improvement in your mood since you met Talkeetna. You've gotten better."

"Better," he mumbled. "Which means there's room for improvement."

"I suppose. But no one's perfect ... "

"Just ... maybe just give me a little something?" the mouse asked, quietly. Almost at a whisper. "But don't tell anyone ... "

"You sure?"

An insistent nod.

"Mm." The bat paused, listening to his friend's erratic breaths. He'd worked himself into a tizzy over this. "I can't keep a secret from Sheila," he reminded, honestly. Cause of the biting. "But we'll keep it to ourselves. Though I'd suggest you not lie to Talkeetna."

"I won't ... "

"Good." It wasn't unusual for mouses to medicate themselves to control their naturally intense anxiety. But it wasn't something bandied about. There was a slight stigma attached to it, as if you were admitting 'mouses are weak' or 'I'm ashamed to be prey.' And, indeed, that's what Herkimer was feeling. Peregrine's a mouse. He controls his anxiety on his own. Or seems to, anyway. Why can't I? What's wrong with me?

"Nothing's wrong with you, mousey," Barrow insisted, reading his thoughts. "Everyone's different." He accessed the pharmaceutical database, replicating the necessary injection. And then, when it was ready, he loaded it into a hypo. "Now, this isn't going to free you of worry entirely, okay? You'll still get anxious. There's no cure-all. It's just gonna take the edge off ... "

"That's all I want." He nodded, avoiding eye contact.

Barrow pressed the hypo to the mouse's neck.

The mouse tensed.

It hissed.

"There we go. Didn't hurt a bit, did it?" The bat put the hypo down. "It'll stay in your system for a week. If you want to stay on the drug, just let me know."

He smiled, shyly. "Thanks, Barrow." He felt better already. Or was that just a placebo effect of his imagination? Probably a little of both. His whiskers twitched. "I should go ... "

"Maybe you should also grab a light snack before returning to duty? Just to keep your energy up." Mouses had fast metabolisms. You rarely saw a fat mouse, right?

"I will. I'll, uh, get some granola or something." He hugged the bat and scurried for the exit.

"Herkimer?"

The mouse stopped in the entrance, glancing over his shoulder.

"We, uh ... we all love you." The bat couldn't quite bring himself to tell the other fur 'I love you' outright. Sheila, sure, especially because sex was involved and things got so emotionally intense. Feelings were much easier to confess when you were feeling heady. Herkimer knows how much I care. I'm sure I've told him before ...

"I love you, too," Herkimer said, scurrying off before the bat could see the mist in his eyes.

With love still in mind, he kissed her neck. A simple kiss. Light and lilting. Which segued into sucking, into nibbling, into ...

Talkeetna took an audible breath. Paws gently nudging at his uniformed chest. "Herkimer ... "

"Mm?" He blinked and pulled back. "What's wrong?" It was hours later. They were finally off duty for the day and had both returned to their quarters. Our quarters! We're living together! Me and my mate!

"Nothing," she insisted. "I'm beyond thrilled our relationship is no longer, well, long-distance. But ... " How to say this gently. She'd gotten used to, while on Reverie, having her space. Moments of privacy. And Herkimer could be a bit clingy. "I was hoping to have supper before dessert," she settled on, diplomatically.

"Right! Of course." He took his paws off her, clearing his throat. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be." She smiled. "I appreciate the affection. I've just had a really long day. Very busy." Getting used to her duties on the station was a bit stressful. She hoped the adjustment time wouldn't last too long. Graham had insisted it wouldn't.

"Want me to set the table?"

"Sure."

"Anything you wanted to have, tonight?"

"Hmm ... on Reverie, our food processors were so limited. I'm sure these can produce a wider variety of foods."

"They can, yeah," Herkimer said. "I know just the thing! You sit down, and I'll take care of you."

She did so, slumping into a chair at their little, round table. "Seldovia said you went to the infirmary today. Something wrong?"

The mouse made a face. The skunk found out of everything! "Just, uh, was feeling a bit anxious. Barrow ... he, uh, gave me a little something to settle me down." His ears burned with embarrassment.

"Did it work?" There was no hint of judgment in her voice. Just concern.

"I think so ... "

She smiled at him.

He smiled back, flooded with relief. And presented her with a glass. "Wine? Is that okay?"

"It's fine," she assured. "I could use some water, too."

"Right! Coming up!" He brought back a few more glasses. Wine for him. A pitcher of water. And then started replicating the food. Some kind of casserole with sliced almonds on the top. Tossed salad. Hot whole-wheat rolls.

Without much fanfare, they began to eat. Lots of nibbling. And the occasional squeak. As well as a few exchanged pleasantries. But, truthfully, both were famished. They focused on the food.

When her plate was empty, the red squirrel leaned back, swirling the last of her equally red wine in her glass. And then downing it in a slosh-slosh-gulp. "Mm." She set the glass down, eying the mouse from across the table. "Nice meal."

"Mm-hmm," he went, softly. He'd barely touched his alcohol, though. He was a bit sensitive to it.

"Think you're forgetting something."

He blinked.

"Dessert?"

A smile spread across his rainy-grey muzzle. "I thought we might take that in the other room."

She stretched, sensually. "You did, huh? And what did you have in mind?"

He looked her up and down. "Red velvet cake," he breathed, heart skipping a beat.

The red squirrel got red beneath her fur, replying, "Are you going to provide the cream?"

The mouse's ears got rosy-red. "I ... I could do that." That could be arranged. Oh, yes.

He began to see red.

Everywhere.

Red!

The color of passion.

Red!

He swept her up, dancing her about.

Into the bedroom, clothes falling away.

Onto the bed, breathlessly.

The two rodents, very naked and insatiably horny, making out. Mouths all over each other. Tongues doing tangoes and paws performing waltzes through each other's pelts.

They writhed and flowed.

Arched and moaned.

Soon, she was doubling back, legs raised above her head.

He hovered over her. "Are ... is this ... "

"It's fine," the acrobatic rodent panted. "I'll let you know if you're hurting me."

Nodding, he began rubbing his penis against her tail. The fur. Soft, fluffy fur, maroon as clay. Against it, through it. The rubbing soon turned into grinding. She facilitated this by furling and undulating the large, banner-like appendage, covering her mate's loins.

"Mm, mousey ... " She reeled in his own tail, a thin, wisp of a thing compared to hers.

"Yeah?" he slurred, hotly, watching her suck his tail-tip with a suggestiveness that left little to the imagination.

"You're humping my tail, silly."

"I know. I ... " He was burning up. "I love your tail. So pretty ... " He reached down to fondle and squeeze her rump, allowing his grey-furred paws to stray. To slide up her legs. Beneath her knees. Then he laid atop her, hugging her to his chest. Her legs, breasts, everything.

The squirrel reached down, fumbling with her clitoris. Briefly. And, then, she fingered herself. Delicately, at first. One finger. Then two. Deep and curling. Moving them in and out. When they were thoroughly soaked with her juices, she brought her paw back. And used it to trace his lips. To bop his nose. "Wouldn't you rather hump this?"

"Well," he breathed, dumbly. Was that a serious question?

"It's yours," she murred.

Wriggling heatedly, the mouse inched forward. He didn't need to be asked twice! Disengaging from the squirrel's huge, billowy tail, he wedged his essence between her petals. Parallel. Rub, rub. And, then, in one smooth gesture, he lifted and went perpendicular. And sunk down to pierce her. Sinking right into her tunnel with a delighted gasp.

"Mm-h," she went, shuddering beneath him. The feeling of being filled. Her walls snugly clenching around him. There was nothing like it. They were united, now, as one, as close as two furs could be.

Herkimer was already thrusting. How could he not? It was like tapping into a pocket of heaven. Barrow's right! There's nothing better. Except for the fact that it belongs to her. My mate. She was slick, steamy. Soft as silk. Snug as a glove. His hips began to piston.

"Uh ... uh-n," she moaned.

Hearing her sounds, knowing he was giving her real pleasure, aroused him nearly as much, if not more, than everything else. He nibbled on her chin, breaths washing down her neck.

"Mm, mousey," she managed.

"Y-yeah?" he panted back, planting his arms on either side of her. Her legs hooked over his shoulders, now. He turned his head to kiss at her ankles. To suck on a clawed toe. "Mm!"

She tweaked her own nipples. "I love your scent."

He melted upon her, brushing whiskers before locking lips. Then losing himself in a series of wet, suckling kisses, during which the female wrested control away from him and shoved him, nudged him, kicked him back. Bodies rolled. Herkimer didn't realize he was on his back until he felt her hips rolling, gyrating. Lifting and grinding. And touching his ears.

Ear-sex was a sensitive art. A mouse's lobes were delicate. Too much pressure, and it would hurt. Not enough, and the pleasure would fizzle out. They required finesse. Talkeetna had it. She worked them to perfection. Gentle slides, strokes, and even leaning in to lick the rims and blow.

"Ah-h! Ha!" Herkimer cried, trying not to twist his head about. His ears throbbed. Pulsed. All the blood. Rosy, almost red, and the sensations reached such a point that the heat 'broke,' spilling down into his cheeks, his chest. His whole body became momentarily flushed.

"How was that?" she whispered against his forehead before kissing it. His fur was lightly matting with sweat. Then bumping noses. "Mm?"

"Oh ... I ... no one's done that to me in ... " Heaving for breath, his eyes watered. "Ever."

Talkeetna sat back up, still straddling his erection. Her own ears, smaller and more angular, cocked atop her head as she wondered, "What feels better? Your ears?" She began to gyrate her hips. "Or this?" She steered his cock in circles.

"T-that ... second one," he blurted. "Ears are good. But, uh-h, oh ... t-that ... "

She giggled. "I figured ... "

The mouse began to wriggle with excitement. He was achingly, painfully erect. It was beginning to tingle!

"Mousey gonna cum, isn't he?" she cooed, rubbing at his chest. Feeling the heat in her own loins. The wetness. The wild desire. She bounced on him, lewdly. "Gonna get all squeaky?"

Herkimer huffed, unable to fashion a tangible response. He just reached for her tail. Then her rump. He slapped her there.

Chuff!

He did it, again.

"Oh, yeah!" she huffed.

He grabbed. And groped. And pulled her closer to his body.

But, before they could tumble into the heady, blissful abyss, she had one more position she wanted to try. She dismounted and turned herself around. "Think ... think you might like the view," she breathed, raggedly.

He reached out and held to her hips. "Oh. I do," he breathed, reverently. "I do."

Their genitals fused once more, and she began to ride him reverse-cowgirl, her rump bouncing in his field of vision. And that tail. Oh, that huge, silky tail! Rusty, like autumn leaves. Everything natural and raw, dancing in his field of vision.

Herkimer sounded like a feral mouse when he came.

And he came hard.

Spurting, twitching, jerking.

Eyes squeezing shut, paws clutching at his mate's hips. Breaths escaping him. "Ah-h ... ah!" He gaped and arched. "AH!"

Her pussy fluttered, slowly at first. Then rolling, rippling into ecstatic spasms, waves of pleasure crashing upon her extremities. "Oh! Oh ... " Chittering with abandon. His climax fostering her own. They'd timed it perfectly.

He squeaked. And sighed.

Her breasts heaved, and she hunched forward. Rolling her rump one more time. Left to right. And then stopping.

"Mm. Talkeetna."

"I love you," she said, warmly, glancing over her shoulder.

He peeked his eyes open and beamed, replying, "I love you, too." He took a cleansing breath. "That was so, so ... " He searched for a word. And was forced, due to his stupor, to settle on something generic. "Wonderful."

She slowly dismounted, and flopped on her back beside him. A sigh. "You're telling me ... "

Rolling onto his side, the mouse nuzzled against his mate. "Would you like to take a hot bath with me? Soak for a bit?" He felt too hazy for a shower.

"That would be nice, actually." She traced her fingers along his arm. "My muscles aren't used to the amount of walking I've done today." Redwing was much larger than Reverie. "Go fill the tub. I'll be there in a minute."

He kissed her lips and sat up. "Ooh," he went, the blood still in his ears. He wobbled, almost toppling over. Waited a few seconds. Then slowly padded to the bathroom.

The squirrel closed her eyes for a moment, fearing that, when she opened them again, she'd discover this had all been a dream. Is this too good to be true?

She peeked one eye open.

Slowly.

Then the other.

They darted.

And blinked.

She still smelled Herkimer's scent in the air. Felt the evidence of his passion trickling down her thigh. Heard the water filling the tub from the next room, too. And her new commander's uniform was on the floor by the door, right next to his lieutenant's attire.

"Talkeetna?"

"I'm coming, mousey," she promised, scampering after him. Smiling contagiously. This was more than a dream. It was a dream come true.