Between Dreamed Flights
The Luminous slid slowly through space, at impulse speed. Between missions, between flights from here to there ... it was docked with a larger, darker-colored ship. A fellow ship of the fleet. A predator ship ... here for an inspection. Here for scrutiny.
"I don't like your office," said the wolf. He was the brisk sort. Was older than Wren. And he was an admiral. Fur grey, a sort of timber color (with streaks of silver ... which gave him his name: Silver).
"Is that supposed to concern me?" Wren was sitting in his chair. Trying to act casual, trying to remain cool. But it was hard for any squirrel to do ... in the presence of a wolf. And the fact that this particular wolf was his superior ...
"I'm here to check up on you. I look at everything. Environment," the admiral stressed, standing in front of the squirrel's desk, "is one of them. Mood. Color. Does the environment inspire dedication? Duty? Or laxness?"
"My office doesn't inspire laxness. I'm the only one who uses my office."
"And you're the captain of this ship. Your office ... reflects you. Your space," the admiral continued, prattling on, "reflects you. I won't have a lax captain in this fleet."
"I'm not," Wren responded, "lax." He took in a breath.
The Admiral glowered a bit. Could smell the squirrel's tension. "No?"
Wren looked up to him. "No."
The wolf paced. "Are you going to offer me a seat?"
"For me to offer you a seat," Wren replied smartly, strategically, "would be to suggest that I hold the power in this exchange. Where as ... if you held the power, you would take whatever seat you wished. Don't wolves take what they want? Do they even have to ask?" He leaned forward, very carefully. "Has prey ever bested you, Admiral?"
The Admiral took a seat. Quietly across from Wren. Nodding a very brief, very reluctant nod of approval. He could see, in a way, why the squirrel had gotten this rank. This ship. Why the admirals (most of them predators) had allowed it to happen. But the wolf hadn't been one of them. He had wanted this ship to go to one of his own kind. To another wolf. Or a coyote, even. Something rougher, more rugged. He hated appeasing the prey ... simply to keep the peace. It felt so forced. So artificial. It wasn't natural.
"I assume," Wren said, starting up again. Feeling more confident now. "I assume that you've gotten my reports."
"We've ALL gotten your reports," the wolf emphasized. Emotionally blank. His way of speaking, his way of looking at you ... reminded Wren of Assumpta. One of the predators on Luminous. He didn't talk to her much. Field had. And, from what Field had said, her gaze could almost freeze you in place. And the Admiral's gaze would've frozen furs in place, too. But not this fur. Not Wren. And the Admiral growled a bit from his throat.
Wren ignored it. "And?" was all he said.
"And we are ... reluctant," the Admiral iterated, "to accept them as truth."
"Everything I've said ... has been the truth."
"Are we to believe, then, that you are swimming in supernatural happenstance? Time travel? Shadow furs? Electric moons? Telepathy?"
Well, truth be told ... Wren would admit it sounded silly when you said it out loud, and in that tone, but ... no, he wasn't going to start doubting his own sanity. Not at the moment, anyway.
"We want proof of these things."
"Why do I feel," Wren whispered, not giving the wolf a direct response to that. "Why ... do I feel," he said again, "Like I'm under inquisition here?"
"Because you are."
"Try and take my ship away from me," Wren said quietly. Daring. Perhaps that was reckless to do, but the squirrel didn't think so. When dealing with predators, you had to stand toe-to-toe. Foot-paw-to-foot-paw. You showed your teeth. Otherwise, they wouldn't respect you. "Try, and you'll have a fight on your paws. Your ship's bigger, but mine's faster, and mine's newer. Just try it."
"You wouldn't dare assault us," the wolf whispered back. Lowly. Eyes squinted. "You would be branded outlaws. You would be hunted down and killed for treason."
"I protect my own, Admiral," Wren said. Of his ship. More importantly, of his crew. "I won't be pushed around. I was appointed as Captain. I've earned it. And just as you demand my respect, I demand yours. Even as I defer to your ... impeccable," he said, "advice."
The wolf growled again from the throat. And leaned back in his seat. Squinting. This Wren ... was not a typical squirrel. He was not average prey. This was going to be fun ...
The mouse stepped into sickbay, nose sniffing, twitching instinctively. Taking the air. The air in sickbay (as in all places medical) always smelled so sterile. Like ... sick things came here to be eradicated. And it scared the mouse. He didn't like coming in here. Even if the lighting was soothing, and ... white and blue, and ... no. Good lighting or not, he didn't want to come here.
"Mouse-oh-mouse ... what's on your mind?" asked Kody. Grinning at his own wit. Poking fun at the mouse's newfound telepathic abilities. The white-furred rabbit walked out of his office. Wearing his lab coat. Having been doing who-knew-what.
"Nothing," Field replied, looking around. "Admiral Silver's here. He wants ... well, Wren thinks he's gonna want me scanned senseless, so ... he's having me do it now. So, when the Admiral asks to see proof of my abilities, he'll already have it."
"And why would the Admiral want you scanned?" the rabbit asked, smiling. "Cause mice aren't supposed to have mental powers? Cause you're a freak of nature? Cause he doesn't believe your story?"
"I don't know ... just ... scan me," Field said, biting his lip. He didn't think Kody was funny.
"I don't know if I can prove how crazy you are, Field," said the rabbit, reaching for a scanner. "Sit on a bio-bed. I'm gonna have to use the imaging systems."
Field nodded. Sighed. Went for a bio-bed.
"I don't know," Kody began again, "if I can prove how crazy you are, cause ... frankly, you're walking evidence. You radiate not-rightness."
The mouse ignored him. Tried to. With his dish-like, swiveling ears ... mice couldn't ignore much.
"Lay on your back," the rabbit instructed.
The mouse did so. Shifting and twitching a bit.
"Lie still."
"I'm trying."
"Try a bit harder." The rabbit tapped at some controls on the consoles.
Field tried. Tried to remain still as the computer peered into his body, his blood, his brain. It was so unnerving. The mouse swore he could sense the electrical rays piercing him. Could swear it made him itch. And caused him to twitch.
"So, any complaints? Anything ... this will take several minutes. We might as well make small-talk."
"I don't make small-talk."
"Well, talking at ALL ... would be a step."
"I talk to furs," Field replied, frowning. "I'm not an introvert."
"Oh, but you are. Now ... mind you, I probably am, too. I've been told as much. Our good squirrel thinks I'm a nut-case. Yet he recruited me as his chief medical. Go figure."
The mouse said nothing.
"You think I'm a nut, Field?" A smile and a stare.
"I think you're a rabbit," Field replied dully. Looking up at the ceiling.
The rabbit laughed. "I love dry senses of humor. So much better than wet ones."
Field frowned a bit more.
"Headaches? Muscle aches? Anything?"
"I've felt ... tired, but ... "
"Tired?" The rabbit crossed his arms.
"Just going to bed late, getting up early ... all the new sensory input in my mind. Learning how to filter it. Nothing I need pills or shots for." The mouse was the type who wouldn't take medication unless he was dying. Preferring to let his own immune system fight it. Preferring to fight through it. Doctors scared him ...
"Bed late ... early up. Hectic yiff life, huh?"
"What?" The mouse blinked.
"Give me a break, Field. I'm your doctor. You can confide in me."
"You're not MY doctor. You're the ship's doctor, and I don't even know you."
"Just trying to be a confidante."
"I have a confidante," Field replied. Irritated.
The rabbit chuckled inwardly. It was SO easy to wind up mice. And it was so enjoyable doing it. They were too easy. "And you're fucking your confidante nightly," he said of Adelaide. "And I'm just saying that, as your doctor, I'm here to confide in. Should you too ever have any ... performance problems, or ... so on, so forth."
The mouse frowned at the rabbit. He didn't trust Kody. There was something ... dark about him. Something.
"Well, I'll transfer all of this to ... Wren's office. When it's all compiled," said Kody, tapping at controls. Stopping. Sighing. Waiting for the scans to complete themselves. Still a few minutes left. He waggled his ears. "You reading my mind?" he half-asked, half-accused.
"No," the mouse replied stubbornly. Cause he hated being asked that. Now, whenever there was a silence, a pause ... any sort of lapse in conversation, the fur talking to him would invariably pipe in with, "Are you reading my mind right now?" And Field would always deny it, cause ... honestly, he never was. He wasn't as good at that as Adelaide was. She could do it effortlessly. And without anyone knowing. Field couldn't do that yet. And even if he could, he wasn't gonna scurry around reading everybody's thoughts or hidden desires. That wouldn't be right. That's not how he worked. So used to being afraid and paranoid of everyone else, the mouse was coming to find that ... the other furs on the ship were unnerved by him. By a mouse. It was all so topsy-turvy.
"I bet it's good, though, isn't it ... "
The mouse, still on his back, turned his eyes to the rabbit, who was standing over him, wielding his scanner.
"The yiff," Kody prompted. "The sex."
The mouse flushed. "Yiff" was the furry word for love-making. "Sex" was the alien word for it. From some foreign tongue that ... no one knew the origin of. But it was a slang term that had come into the vernacular. Field felt it was a crude word. "Yiff" was more poetic. More versatile.
"I fancy myself a connoisseur of yiff."
"Really," the mouse said, not paying full attention. Just staring at the ceiling.
"You ever used the simulation room?"
"Not yet."
"You ever done holograms?"
The mouse flushed, frowning. "I think that's ... not anything ... "
"You have. Don't tell me you haven't."
"How did you ever pass medical school?" Field questioned. "You're supposed to comfort your patients, not make them uncomfortable."
"So, I'm making you uncomfortable?"
"I don't wanna talk about yiff. It's yiff. It's ... yiff is private. I don't wanna talk about it. My relationship with Adelaide is my business. She's my mate. Don't touch her."
"I see," the rabbit whispered (in a bit of a snaky way), "I struck a nerve."
"I'm ALL nerves," Field emphasized, squinting darkly. "And I can only take so many frays."
"Ah ... big mouse, huh? Ooh, look at the big puffer-mouse puffer up. I'm really scared, Field," the rabbit wise-cracked. "I really am."
Field sighed. "Are these done yet? Are these scans done?"
"Two more minutes."
The mouse fidgeted.
"Even if these scans tell me anything, I still don't believe you magically acquired telepathic powers, mouse. There's nothing scientific, nothing rational about that."
"Well, I don't care how it happened. I just have faith that ... it was meant to. And ... that I'm meant to do something with it."
"Ah, faith. The crutch of the weak. The excuse of those who are too afraid to deal with the realities of life."
"Rather," Field countered, not missing a bit, "the heart to accept evidence of things not seen. Things beyond. To hope for more."
"Prove it's real, Field. Prove any of it's real. Show me facts."
"I can't."
"Well, then you have no backing."
"My backing," Field emphasized, "is that I'm alive. That I have love. That we're catapulting through the stars in a piece of metal. That I feel a purpose and drive in my heart. That the idea of all of this, everything, all the colors and sounds and details of the universe ... the idea of that being an accident, of creating ITSELF out of NOTHING ... I can't buy that. I'm a writer," the mouse said. "I recognize that mortal things do not create themselves. Just like a story cannot write itself. There has to be a writer."
"Yet God created HIMSELF out of nothing? Explain that."
"I don't need to."
"Why not?"
"Because I don't need the answer. The answer doesn't impact my happiness. Doesn't make my life easier. I don't need the answer. I just believe it."
"Then you're blind."
"Or maybe I'm using more than my eyes to see. The eyes grow old. You age, you lose your sight. You lose your eyes. You can never lose your heart."
"Doesn't change the fact that faith is just comfort food for the uneducated masses."
"If you don't eat, you die," was all Field responded. "And if you can eat food that comforts you, that makes your life easier, that gives you hope and purpose ... then I'll eat of it. And I'll believe it."
"It has no substance."
"Faith, love, and hope ... have more substance than a million tangible things."
"But substance is space, and they only take up so much space because they're ... "
Beep, beep ... beep-beep. The scans were done.
The mouse exhaled through the nose, closing his eyes. Glad for the reprieve. How did one argue with someone like the rabbit? How did one win such a debate ... with someone like that?
"Well, mouse, the computer does clarify ... that you are, indeed, insane." A devilish grin. "I'm sure Wren will be happy to share that with Admiral Silver."
"I'm sure," Field replied, squinting. Sitting up. Leaving.
"Have a good day, mouse."
"Yeah ... "
Admiral Silver was prowling the bridge. Staring at crew-furs. Watching them go about their work. He paused at tactical, looking over Rella's shoulder.
"Is something wrong?" Rella asked.
"Your laser turrets are out of alignment."
The squirrel squinted. Whiskers twitching. "By ... zero point five percent. That's within the margin of error."
"There should be ZERO margin, Commander. Close it."
She wanted to sigh. Wanted to ... but just nodded. "Yes, sir. I'll do that right now."
"I would hope so." The wolf, paws and arms clasped behind his back, turned ... and paced a few steps away, speaking aloud. To no one (yet everyone) in particular. "I've looked over the battle logs. Last time you fought, you were outgunned."
"We were facing three ships," Rella injected.
"Smaller ships."
"They had better weapons!"
"One of the rules of nature," the admiral said, undeterred, "is that the bigger the predator, the stronger he is. I refuse to believe three minuscule ships could overwhelm Luminous. She's the most advanced ship in the fleet."
Adelaide, from the Ops console, rolled her eyes.
Ketchy, at comm, twitched and tried to look busy
"I will not have this ship being destroyed because of recklessness. Were this vessel being run by predators, I would not be having this conversation. They would know what to expect. They would know," he continued, "how to handle themselves and their responsibilities."
Rella flashed a look at Wren, who was near Adelaide. Leaning against the bulkhead. Rella widened her eyes, as if saying ... are you going to just stand there and take that? Say something!
Wren locked eyes with her, and then moved his eyes to the wolf. "It's a funny thing, Admiral. I was ... reading the fleet news the other day. Apparently, one of the ursine wings ... they lost two ships to an ion storm. I'm just grateful the crews got out in time."
"Meaning?"
"Well, it's just ... ion storms are so smart, you know? They can really sneak up on you, being as big as they are and moving as slow as they do. I'm sure every predator dreams of fighting one."
The wolf squinted. Quiet.
"I wouldn't dare question your judgment in front of others. In private? Yes? But I wouldn't do it in front of your crew. I ask that you not question me in front of mine. I know predators are big on toughness and all, but I would hope that doesn't preclude manners and common sense."
The wolf's ire was drawn now. He changed course, walking (almost stalking) to Adelaide, looking to her. "Word has it," he said, looking to her but speaking to everyone. "That this crew is ... fraternizing ... with each other. Fleet regulations strictly prohibit romantic entanglement between superiors and their subordinates. It creates a conflict of interest."
"Who told you that?" Wren demanded.
"So, it's true?" the wold accused.
"I didn't say that. I asked who told you."
"I have my contacts ... "
Wren cursed inwardly. There were only a paw-ful of predators on Luminous. Three felines, two foxes, and one wolf. The wolf. He must be one of the Admiral's "inside furs."
"And I want it stopped."
"With all due respect, Admiral," Wren replied, stressed the word "admiral" ... " ... what happens here ... is my business. Our business. Not yours."
"I don't care if Luminous is a deep-space vessel. It's still required to adhere to fleet rules. In ALL things."
"Really?"
"Yes."
"Because, if I recall fleet rules correctly, the ship's doctor has the power to relieve anyone from duty if he deems them 'unfit' ... I would say your hostility borders on unfounded paranoia and ... perhaps stems from some kind of brain malady. Perhaps we should run some scans. It's only fair. You made Field take them. What about you?"
"You're pushing it, squirrel. You're coming dangerously close," the wolf whispered, "to the edge. Your reputation back home is sketchy. At best. No one believes the things you've told us. No one believes your encounters with shadow furs, with ... anything that's happened to you. They believe you're taking this ship on a joy-ride through space, doing everything and anything you want. And, frankly, from what I've seen, how am I to convince them otherwise? Half your crew is yiffing the other half."
"Pardon me for being so crude, Admiral," Wren replied, locking eyes. Keeping his gaze steely. "But I believe that's true of every ship in the fleet. We're furs. If one half isn't fucking the other, then I would worry. You can't police that. Not in a civilian population. Not here. I do ask my crew members use discretion. I do ask they not let it interfere. But I'm not stupid enough to think I can stop it from happening."
"So, it IS happening?"
"Yes. As it undoubtedly is on your ship."
The wolf stepped right up to Wren. Nose-to-nose. Admiral Silver was taller, bigger, stronger. Was a predator.
Wren, inwardly, quivered. Prey instincts telling him to bolt, to take a defensive posture, but ... he stood his ground. He would only win this by standing his ground ...
And, unexpectedly, the Admiral grinned a toothy grin. And clasped the squirrel's paw in his. And squeezed it as he shook it (almost crushing the paw ... to where Wren visibly winced). He chuckled and let Wren go, and nodded with quiet approval. "You've got fire," he admitted. "For prey. You haven't run from a thing I've said. Most prey would." He took a breath. And his smile faded. "But that doesn't change the fact that the other admirals and the Council ... they are not readily swallowing your reports. They want answers."
"They're not the only ones," Wren whispered.
Silver squinted. Nodded. "I'll take my leave of you. Good day, Captain."
Wren nodded with ceremonious stoicism. "And to you, Sir."
And the Admiral went for the lift. Leaving.
Upon which ... the entire bridge crew let out a breath of relief. And Wren sank against the wall, rubbing his forehead. And flexing his crushed paw. Feeling a bit of a headache coming on.
Rella watched the Captain, smiling to herself, biting her lip and blushing. And looking away right as he opened his eyes.
Wren saw the motion, however. And blushed to himself, going back to his office. He needed a glass of ice water. Now.
It was the end of the day. The Admiral's ship had un-docked and left, heading in the opposite direction. And Field, off-duty, was with his mate. With Adelaide. His bat ... his beautiful ...
"You shouldn't let him bother you."
"Hmm?" He looked to her. He was on his side in bed, curled up a bit. She was standing a few feet away, grooming her fur.
"The doctor. He's like that with everyone."
He hadn't told her about his conversation with Kody. She had seen it in his mind. There were no secrets from her. Not that he had any to keep from her, and not that he would ... but it was a bit intimidating, in a way, to have her in his head ... and to be able to go into hers. No barriers. Completely vulnerable and open. This relationship was built on complete trust. Anything less than that ...
She stopped her grooming and went to the bed. Sitting down. Putting a paw on one of his ears. Giving it a tiny tug.
"Hey," he whispered, smiling ...
"Hey, what?"
"You're tugging on my ear ... "
"I know," was her response. She did it again.
"You're trying ... to get me to giggle. To get me to laugh."
"Yeah?" Another tug ...
He nodded.
"Think it's gonna work?"
He giggled. "Yeah," he admitted. "Yeah ... " His voice fell to a sighing whisper. And she was snuggling up to him now, her back against his chest. Both of them still dressed (though casually). The mouse sighed into her neck. Nose there. In her fur. Feeling like this was one of those times where he could just melt, could just cry.
She flitted into his mind ... like a lightning bolt. Zapping in, such an infusion of energy. Such a brightness. And Field physically shuddered. Actually shuddered. As if he was being shivered by a nerve-tickling thunder. And he exhaled sharply.
"Flow back into me," was the bat's whisper. "Make us into a circle."
The mouse, eyes closed, tried to relax. And let it happen. Tried to let it happen. It wasn't something he could consciously wrestle with or think about. It was something he had to channel. It was like a fire. Like how an artist, when creating, or a writer, when writing ... how they would lose themselves. And, afterward, they wouldn't know how they had done what they did ... they had just ... let go. And it had happened. It was a gift.
To Field, it happened now ... he let go. And felt his mind flow back into hers. Like liquid. Merging, melding, swirling ... and her turn to shudder, as if wracked by little spasms of thunder. The impact of such a union!
The mouse could feel what it was like to be her. To be a bat. To be ... in the sky, in the air. To fly! Oh, to fly! The memories of flight. Flying by the moon. Flying by night. The wading in the clear streams, resting between flights. Weightlessness. He felt that in her. Felt her pink, smooth fur. The feminine touch. The scent. Everything ... bent on warmth. Bent on loving the mouse. Whom she had chosen. Whom she had been led to ...
And she, in turn, could feel the mouse's fear. Could feel how mice, more than other prey ... dealt with sharper fears. Struggled with greater worries. Had such lapses in confidence. How their faith got them through every darkness, and when their faith was attacked, it was an affront to them ... why the doctor had, earlier, so upset Field ... she could feel how grounded he felt. How grounded he was. And yet how his imagination was larger than anyone's. How his innocence absolutely defied the reality of what he'd endured. How it should've been dead. How he should've been dead. But how he was here. How mice were resilient. And how much he deathly needed her. How grateful he was.
"Adelaide," Field breathed ... breathe, breathe. Slowly, he did breathe.
"Yeah ... "
"Spread your ... wings."
She did so. Quietly. Opening her wings.
And he FELT it. He felt flexing wings ... as if he WORE them. As if they were his. He was feeling her physical sensations. And knew that she was feeling his. He snaked his thin, ropy tail ... and she giggled with closed eyes. Unable to do that with her own tail. Reveling at feeling a tail moving behind her, as if it were growing from her spine.
The feelings overflowed from them. Emotional. Physical. Mental. Spiritual.
The whole spectrum of sensation boiling, boiling over, spilling ...
... to a kiss.
She turned, twisted, sucking his lower lip ... haphazardly.
Huffing, the mouse rolled with her ... until she was beneath him.
They spoke with their thoughts ...
Adelaide ...
Yes?
When we sleep, can we ... share our dreams ... in our dreams, I want to feel what it's like to fly. Dream of flight.
I'll try ... she gave a mental giggle ... but it's hard to choose your dreams ...
I feel like we're living one.
She giggled audibly at this. A giddy, girlish giggle. Saying (aloud) between kisses, "You're so ... passionate, darling. So unabashedly romantic ... "
He just blushed. And, between dreams, kissed. Pressing lips, wet and soft and warm ... to hers. Kissing. Holding it for several seconds. Before breathing. And kissing again. Sucking slightly, and her tongue (longer and more versatile) wormed between his lips. Touching his. He wriggled his tongue against hers. Feeling swept away. Suddenly beyond the reach of the shore. The tide was drawing them into this, and there would be no stopping it ...
They fumbled clumsily at each other's clothing ... undressing, wriggling, worming. Squirming. Giggling as they did so, feeling silly. And feeling heady.
Until Field was sliding, slithering down her pink, waiting form. Her wings spread and on the bed. And same with her legs. Open ...
He put his twitching nose down there.
She flushed, swallowing. "Heh ... your whiskers ... tickle," she managed.
He flushed, ears filling with blood and increasing in sensitivity. Even picking up their heartbeats. And he could feel her anticipation. It mingled with his.
And her sigh ... greeted him. As he gave a lick with his tongue. A haphazard, random lick. From the bottom of her slit to the top. Nothing detailed. Just a lick.
He did it again. And began to use his lips to nibble-nibble ... began to use a stray paw to touch her most sensitive spot ... as his muzzle buried, tongue slipping, wetting ... the intimate act of doing this leaving him erect. Mouse-hood dangling between legs. He was on his knees between her open legs, leaned over, hunched over her ...
And she mentally urged him on ... and her paws, her wings went forward ... behind his head. Paws holding to the back of his head. Scruffing his fur. Stroking the bases of his ears. Stroking ... shivering ... squeaking ...
Inching closer and closer to ...
... climax!
She tensed and drew in baited breath, whimper-squeaking in high, high pitches (almost beyond the range of the mouse's hearing). She arched at her spasms, as the wetness touched the mouse's tongue. He shivered, himself, at this, and huffing, hardly realized he was pawing himself. Hadn't realized it until he felt his seed spurt to her fur. White, warm, wet. Clingy. And he collapsed on top of her, their fur matted, now, with seed and sweat, and ...
... Adelaide breathed. Smiling.
The mouse's smile was shyer. And his eyes were closed. And the bat rolled him to his side, so they were both on their sides. Both recovering (from their own releases, and from each other's ... having felt, due to their bond, each other's climaxes in tandem with their own).
Field's fur was flushed. He felt hotter. "Mm ... "
"Shower?" she whispered into his ear.
He nodded quietly. That would be nice. It would be so nice.
And Luminous continued on its course. Surviving today's scrutiny. Heading, this time, for a planetary system two days away. Wondering what memories would be made upon arrival ...