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Swarming forward, the pirate ships fired at Redwing Station, energy beams sparking against the station’s shield bubble.

Captain Aria followed the action on Arctic’s main viewer.

“How strong is the hostiles’ energy output?” she asked Elim.

“Not as strong as ours. But with as many ships as they have? It’ll add up quickly. The station’s shields have twenty minutes if they aren’t repelled.”

Aria nodded tersely. “Mirabelle, swing us around. Elim, arm quantum torpedoes.”

Arctic’s tactical officer raised his brow, even as he followed the order. “Starting out with quantums?” They had a much higher yield than photons, but there were fewer in the ship’s armory.

“We must come out with a show of force to earn their respect,” the captain told her mate. “If they respect us? They’ll focus on us as much as the station, which buys more time for Solstice to arrive as backup.” The High Command cruiser was still in transit.

Mirabelle, at helm, said, “We’re within range. They’re ignoring us.”

“Change that. Elim?”

The snow rabbit buck locked onto the swarm and fired. Blue, glittering torpedoes, like shooting stars, arced through space and detonated in brilliant fashion.

Pirate ships were tossed by the shockwave, one of them bouncing off Redwing’s shields and exploding. A few others limping away with plasma leaks. The ones that had emerged unscathed? They suddenly found Arctic a lot more interesting.

“They’re coming for us,” Elim said calmly.

Aria leaned forward in her chair, telling Mirabelle, “We’re done waiting for the fight. Pursue the rest of the horde.”

Sparks flew, the stellar cartography lab quaking and momentarily tilting as a pirate ship careened off the station’s shields.

Ensign Adak mewed in fear as he tumbled to the floor, his precious 3D star maps flickering in and out of view. All the information was saved and backed up in multiple ways. He wouldn’t lose all that hard work. But what normally seemed such a noble pursuit? Now was loaded with irony.

He’d taken this assignment to illuminate the Uncharted Territories, and now its worst elements were attempting to wipe him, and his friends, off the very maps he was making!

Winded, the snow rabbit buck pushed himself back up and crawled to the chair at his station. Returning to his seat, he looked down at his white-furred paws. They were shaking.

The room rocked again.

Adak closed his cool, blue eyes, pulse racing out of control.

Deep breath!

That’s it. Slowly.

Hold.

Exhale.

Repeat.

Did that help?

Adak opened his eyes, nose twitching.

No, not really.

Snow rabbits came from a harsh, icy world, and had evolved to suppress their stronger, fiercer emotions. One couldn’t form a civil society if one were in the constant grip of existential mania.

Today, they were the most-numerous (and influential) species in the multi-species High Command, a coalition of prey-centric planets that had risen to become the quadrant’s preeminent power.

But they were still prey.

And the universe was still full of hunters.

Zzzzzip!

Adak’s ears twiddled at a noise behind him, the familiar sound of energy crackling into something tangible. Spinning his chair, he came face-to-face with a snow rabbit doe. Not a ‘real’ one. A holographic avatar.

“Minuet,” he acknowledged, with a tilt of his head.

“Adak,” she replied, mirroring his gesture.

The station’s sentient computer, Minuet (or Min), was his frequent … well, lover. Perhaps mate? That wasn’t exactly clear. She was using him as her ‘guide’ to organic behaviors. But, in the process, he had developed an attachment to her. Did she feel the same for him? Could she ‘feel’ like he could feel? How could one be mated to a machine?

The complications went beyond anatomy.

Adak wouldn’t be assigned to Redwing for the rest of his natural life. He’d eventually be ordered away. Since her programming was bound to the station’s computer core, they would be ripped apart. Logically, anything permanent was doomed to failure.

And yet …

Why worry about the future?

It is not guaranteed.

What do you feel for her today?

What do you want right now?

They made sustained eye contact.

The computer’s holographic body, buxom, perfect in every way, was adorned in a uniform much like Adak’s, with the rank pips of ‘lieutenant-commander.’ (Graham had taken issue when she’d originally given herself a rank equaling his own.)

She clasped her paws behind her back. “I have been monitoring your heartbeat, Adak.”

“Oh?”

“It has risen noticeably since the attack began.”

“My survival instinct has been triggered,” he acknowledged with a nod. “I am not adept in life-or-death situations.”

“It has further spiked upon my appearance.” A head-tilt. “Explain?”

“The first acceleration of my pulse is due to a ‘fight or flight’ response. And the second … ” A hesitation. “Our time together has created a physical trigger that … well, it is the opposite.”

“Yet it is having the same effect on your body as this ‘survival instinct’,” she said.

“I would … I would not rush to that conclusion,” he said, squirming in his seat.

Minuet’s avatar quirked a brow.

He drew a breath. “I suppose it depends on how technical your definition of ‘survival’ is.”

“I am an artificial intelligence. I view everything technically.”

The room rattled again, star maps blinking erratically.

Seemingly oblivious to this, Minuet’s uniform shimmered out of existence, leaving her naked. Voluptuous, ripe. Perfect.

Reveling in her own aura, she sauntered toward the ensign.

Adak, trying to control himself, said, “We are currently in a fierce battle, Minuet. Your attention is surely needed … elsewhere.”

“Must I always remind you that I am capable of performing multiple tasks per micro-second?” She straddled her lover’s lap. Arms around his neck, nuzzling her sniffy, twitchy nose to his. “As your uniform is not holographic, it will have to be removed physically. Remove it, ensign. That is an order.”

“Isn’t your ‘rank’ self-given? I do not think you can give me orders,” he countered lightly, barely clinging to self-control.

She eliminated his reservations entirely by whispering into his ear, “I did not order you erect. Yet you are.” She kissed up and down the furred, long lobe. “Do as I say.”

It didn’t take long for Adak’s pants (underwear inside them) to be around his ankles, and for his shirt to be on the floor. To be naked with her, to run his paws through her soft, wintry pelt.

She felt so real. Realer than real, if that were possible. Her holographic matrix was incredibly sophisticated. Body warm, as warm as fur and blood.

(There was a reason why Redwing’s holo-suites were so popular.)

She began to grind against his lap, gyrating, rubbing her loins to his.

“Ah, ah … ” Adak said, reaching down to aim his smooth, ultra-sensitive glans, to wedge it between her silky folds.

Minuet took over from there, sinking down onto his thick, six-inch cock.

Adak huffed, eyes squeezing shut.

The computer could not honestly say Adak was her absolute number one priority (that would be maintaining defensive systems, shields, and life support, keeping the station’s populace intact, and thereby ensuring her continuing autonomy; a hostile takeover would likely mean the end of her freedoms), but as he filled her, she whispered into one of his tall, distinguished ears, “You will see stars by the time I am through with you … and I do not mean on your maps.”

“What are you doing?” Seward asked, spotting another snow rabbit, an apparent member of his own team, accessing … the shield matrix generators? Why would anybody be doing that?

In a control room above the central core, or ‘Engineering HQ’ as it was colloquially called, Seward was monitoring station’s systems and coordinating repairs and emergency power boosts with Minuet. His repair teams were all over the station putting out ‘fires.’ Some of them literal!

“I am checking on the status of the shields, Chief,” the other rabbit answered.

“I am monitoring them myself,” the station’s chief engineer said slowly, quirking a brow. Seward tried to place their face. “You were assigned to Repair Team Four,” he recalled. “They are shoring up the plasma manifolds in the habitat ring. Why are you not with them?”

The crewman didn’t answer, his eyes intently focused on the readouts before him, fingers flying at a blur over the touchpad.

Suspicious, Seward asked, “Tell me, crewman … where are you from again?”

“Tundrune, of course,” he replied. That was the name of the snow rabbit home-world, and the current High Command capital.

“What city?”

No answer.

“What—”

The crewman spun around, snarling in a very un-snow rabbit way and delivering a vicious kick-punch.

Seward barely avoided it, dropping, rolling, and kicking back, connecting with the crewman’s plant leg.

A yelp! The crewman teetered and fell.

Seward crawled toward the master display table.

The crewman pursued, claws digging into Seward’s leg. Tearing the fabric of his uniform, piercing through fur. Deep enough to draw blood.

Seward winced and whimpered but fought through it. He was used to pain. Too much so. He had almost lost that very same leg in the Wasp War. In fact, still had a faint limp.

But he was stronger, now. He had a good job. A loving, beautiful mate, a former princess who somehow chose him above anyone else. He finally had his life back together after so long!

He was not going to lose it now.

Curling his fingers around his phase pistol (which he kept tucked under his desk ‘just in case’), he turned and fired at the crewman. Heavy stun at first. But it didn’t seem to have an effect.

Seward took a punch to the muzzle, his nose broken and bloodied. He swung back, using his good leg to kick his attacker away. Re-securing his weapon, he switched it to kill. And fired.

The crewman shrieked and fell limp.

Seward heaved for air, adrenaline surging. Ruby red beads of blood dripping off his whiskers. He then watched as the crewman’s body shimmered, snow rabbit form fading to reveal a smooth, colorful reptilian body.

“Fuck,” Seward cursed. Standing up, winded, he slapped his comm badge. “Ops!”

“Go ahead,” Graham said, bracing himself as the Operations Center shook.

“This is Seward. I was just attacked by a shapeshifter. A chameleon.” He paused, panting for breath, grunting with pain. “The Scalies … have infiltrated the station.”

Eyes went wide with alarm.

“Is it alive?” Graham asked.

“No. I had to use the kill setting to subdue it. It was going to kill me otherwise … ”

“How did you know it was as an imposter?” Annika asked curiously.

“I was with Sheila when we discovered an initial chameleon spy months ago … I knew the signs. Plus, it claimed to be reinforcing the shields, but I could tell it was trying to deactivate the shield grid entirely. It seemed unaware that Minuet had caught on and was fighting him.”

Minuet’s voice piped in with, “That is correct.” The universe’s best multi-tasker, she didn’t sound at all like she was currently having hot sex with a junior officer below decks!

“Then I asked him where he was from. He didn’t have an answer. Out of options, he attacked me and—”

“Are you okay?!” Seldovia asked, the skunk sick with worry.

“Nothing Doctor Barrow can’t fix, my mate.”

“If there’s one shifter?” Talkeetna said, skipping past the romantic moment. “There’s more.”

“The dragon tech,” Herkimer whispered squeakily, eyes going wide.

Graham’s posture tensed. The mouse was right. That was their ultimate target. “Tell Sheila to get to the science lab. Now!”

As the lights flickered, a supernova was building in stellar cartography.

Minuet rolled her snowy, bobtailed rump, hips flush to her lover’s. The super-advanced computer was flummoxed by how absurdly simple this act was compared to the complexity of the reactions it produced! It did not make sense to her programming. Which made her crave it even more. She wanted to understand. Wanted to process it. Again and again and—

“Uh, uhh,” Adak groaned, kissing, slobbering at her breasts. His paws were all over her backside.

Minuet’s avatar shivered, the physical sensations translating into code that her programming could accurately interpret.

Adak tried to buck upward beneath her, but her body weight grinding down to him prevented it.

With inexhaustible energy, she did all the work, leaving Adak to mew helplessly and clutch to her back. Her body, her pacing, her technique. Everything was perfect. Her wetness made his cock glisten, clear juices dribbling down to his white, swelling sac.

The friction was so smooth, so hot.

Oh, yes!

How could she be an illusion when she felt like this?

Wasn’t the real her surging through circuitry? Disembodied, intangible? Did he love her more for that ancient, impressive, almost scarily powerful mind? Or was his lust for her artificial body the driving factor in this … entanglement?

Mind or matter?

Which is it?

He wasn’t a philosopher.

He could only register how she felt, how she made him feel.

Their muzzles meshed in a hungry, twisting kiss, lips sliding and suckling, meshing and smacking, mirroring the actions and even the sounds of their fusing genitals below.

“M-m … mm! Mmh! Minuet!” he cried, indicating he was close.

Minuet nodded, her eyes half-open as she stopped bouncing. Flush to his body, she began to roll her hips again. Grinding, pressing, steering his cock around.

Adak mewed!

Minuet reached down to rub at her clit, her avatar arching, muzzle pointing to the ceiling. She barked!

The lights flickered again.

Sparks flew from various consoles!

The deck tilted slightly.

Adak briefly wondered if those things were really because of the attack? Or was it her orgasm rolling through the station’s systems?

The computer, for her part, could not differentiate.

She only knew bliss.

Her sex in spasms, clenching, milking on her male’s deliciously thick member.

Adak, fingers curling into her fluffy, white rump, gasped. He slumped fully back in his chair, toes curling, legs stretching out. “Oh … ohh. OH!”

Minuet hugged the male, helping him through it.

“Ah, ah … ”

She placed a paw above his heart.

Panting, he placed a paw on the breast above hers. “I love you,” he breathed. “You … you don’t have to say it back.”

“Without you,” she answered, “there would be a hole in my programming. I believe that hole is where my heart would be … if I had one. I suppose, upon further extrapolation, that means … I love you, too?”

Adak hugged her tight and close.

She hugged back.

If they were destroyed today?

What a way to go!

Fay heard phase pistols being fired in the hallway. Screams. Grunts. Thudding noises.

Swallowing nervously, the pink-furred bat gripped her own pistol. The one Sheila had given her. What setting should she put it at? One? No, no … um … four? No! Five. Maybe six? Heavy stun. Yeah. Yeah, that was good, wasn’t it?

Don’t think like them. You’re not ‘normal.’

You’re a bat.

She tapped into her powers.

Extending her telepathic tendrils out the door, into the hallway, trying to get a read of who was out there. The guards. Two of them were incapacitated. Were they dead? She didn’t have time to check, because her mind clued onto a third guard. Still alive. He was approaching the lab door.

On cue, the door opened.

The guard tried to walk through.

He bumped into a forcefield.

“Let me in,” he said. “The pirates have boarded. I’m the only one left out here!”

“Sheila told me not to lower the field,” Fay said, trying to read the snow rabbit’s mind. Their minds were slightly vague on the surface, but they were very active the deeper you dug. But his mind was shrouded even as she pushed into the center.

“I’m as good as dead out here! I can help protect the lab better from the inside.”

Fay hesitated.

Withdrawing her tendrils from his mind, she snaked them up and down the corridor. Aside from the two other guards (clinging to life, in urgent need of medical care), there were no active brainwaves in this section of the deck. Everyone was at their stations or hunkered down in quarters.

The guard squinted, realizing the bat was using her powers to get a truthful read on the situation.

The pirates had not boarded.

The guard wasn’t really a guard.

He didn’t have time to wait around. Standing back, he aimed his phase pistol at the door’s controls and fired. Nothing happened. He fired again. Again. A sustained beam.

Finally, the control panel erupted in smoke and flames.

The forcefield should’ve gone down.

But, after a brief flicker, it remained intact.

“What the—” The guard huffed.

Unbeknownst to him (and Fay), Minuet, even in the afterglow of orgasm, had detected the attempt to circumvent the forcefield apparatus and her programming rushed in to activate all available backups.

At this point, Fay tried to contact Sheila.

“Fay to—”

Static.

“Fay to Ops!”

More static.

The guard had a portable jammer device on his belt, its blinking, colorful lights strobing as he kept firing at the door.

Minuet valiantly fought to keep the force-field up.

But it ultimately winked out.

Fay swallowed, backing up, wing-arm pointing straight at the guard. Phase pistol humming with coiled energy. “Don’t come in here! I’ll shoot!” She swallowed. “I mean it!”

The snow rabbit then did a very un-snow rabbit thing: it smirked. Widely. Advancing forward, it shrugged off the threat.

Fay fired!

The shot hit the rabbit’s shoulder, leaving a smoldering mark. Impervious, it kept coming.

The bat tried to use her telepathy to subdue the guard, but its mind … it was different, hard to manipulate.

It wasn’t mammalian.

How was … ? But he … ? What?

Confused, the bat was tossed aside like a rag doll.

She chittered, hitting the floor and rolling into a bulkhead.

“I would kill you,” the intruder monologued, “but much of this dragon tech is psionic. It requires telepathic energy to activate. That’s why you’ve been assigned to study them, correct?”

Fay, purple eyes searching for her weapon, didn’t answer.

“You will help us.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said. Who was ‘us?’

The snow rabbit smirked again, looking over the carefully laid out draconic ruins. He ran his fingers over them. “This is our legacy. Left to us by our ancestors. You warm bloods,” he said judgmentally, “have no right to wield their power.” A reluctant sigh. “But as we have lost the telepathic gifts of our forebearers, we need intermediaries to assist us.”

“Y-you’re … you’re a chameleon! You’re a spy for the Solidarity.”

“Don’t worry,” it said cooly, “we will drug you into compliance. You will feel good as you help us regain our place as the quadrant’s foremost authority.”

Fay’s wings trembled.

“Now, I know one of these devices is a portal device,” he said, of the dragon artifacts before them. “You will activate it. Then you will move all the items in this room, as well as you and me, to the lead pirate ship.”

“What if I say no?” she replied defiantly, still on the floor.

The not-rabbit approached her, kneeling down. He ran a paw over the bony struts in her pink wings. Almost sensually, but without any feeling. “So very delicate. Mm. I imagine if these connecting bones in your wings were to snap … one by one, into very little pieces … it would be truly agonizing.” He paused, radiating a cold fire. “Would it not?”

A cold chill raced down the bat’s spine. Her purple eyes watered.

“Comply, warm blood. Or suffer.” He tilted his head. “The choice is yours.”

“Hi, there,” said a third voice. Standing in the doorway.

The intruder’s head turned in time to see Sheila. Its eyes widened, but it was too late.

Sheila fired her phase pistol. It was set to kill.

The intruder shrieked, flung backward and to the floor. It shimmered, the false snow rabbit body morphing into that of a now-dead chameleon.

Fay shrieked, backing away from the chameleon and instinctively reaching her telepathic tendrils into Sheila’s mind.

The hare let the bat in.

She wasn’t an imposter.

It was really her.

The hare padded forward and kicked at the chameleon’s body dispassionately. “We’ll get this to Barrow for study.”

“How did you know?” Fay asked, heart racing. “That I needed you?”

“Minuet,” Sheila said simply, leaving it at that. She paused and added, “But even before that, I felt … something.” Her grey eyes darted about. “I guess I’ve been so intimate with your kind that I’m now sensitive to your mental energy. I felt your distress … ” The hare seemed uneasy with this new development.

What did it mean?

Would it get worse?

There was probably no way to reverse it, now.

Regardless, “No one threatens to hurt my friends and gets away with it.” Not sociopathic jaguars like Advent. Not egomaniacal reptiles. No one. Her life’s mission was to kick people’s tails into line.

“I’m your friend?” Fay said with a sweet, fanged smile. “Really?”

Sheila extended a paw to the bat and helped her to her feet. “Let’s keep that to ourselves, hmm? I have a reputation to protect.”

“Of course,” Fay said, still smiling.

“Think you can protect this place a while longer? I gotta get my injured guards to Barrow.”

“I can’t do any worse than I just did,” Fay reasoned.

“Status of the pirate fleet!” Aria barked, the bridge dim and smoking. There was a whooshing coolant leak somewhere in the back.

Torpedoes from Redwing’s turrets flashed by on the main viewer, connecting with a target, which spun out of control and exploded.

“Eighteen … now, nineteen of the fifty-two ships destroyed,” Elim replied from tactical, “and another fifteen crippled or retreating. But there are still nineteen actively engaging. Our shields are at ten percent. The station’s shields are at twenty-five. We are cutting it close if we wish to survive this.”

An alert trilled on Elim’s console.

“The pirates have caught one of the Syndicate wingships with tractor beams. They are … towing it away?” he announced with confusion.

“What do they want with a Syndicate wingship?” Admiral Flint asked, with Ensign Kaplan at Ops. “I thought they wanted the station.”

Aria quickly put it together. “The pirate leaders have been replaced with Solidarity spies. They are after the dragon ruins on the station, yes, but they need psionic power to unlock them.”

“But they haven’t stolen the tech on the station … have they? They’re getting ahead of themselves.”

“Redwing’s shields have been raised since the pirates arrived,” Elim confirmed.

Aria continued to extrapolate. “It is highly likely that they already have dragon tech from other planetary systems. From their own finding or from the pirates’ general stash. The dragons’ galactic reach was extremely wide.”

Kaplan said, “We’re being hailed by the second wing-ship.”

“Onscreen.”

A male blue furred bat appeared, his bridge in a similar state of disarray as Arctic’s. It was Marcus. One of the Syndicate’s leaders. “They’ve captured out sister ship! We think they want our officers for—”

“We know,” Aria said, cutting the story short. “But our shields are perilously low.”

“We must do something!” Marcus said.

The bridge went quiet for a moment.

Even Admiral Flint was at a loss for what to do.

Then Elim’s panels lit up. “There’s another ship coming in,” he announced.

Aria tensed. “Put in on viewer.”

Mirabelle, at helm, pointed to the ship which had just exited warp and was immediately diving into the fray. “It’s the Solstice!”

Solstice bullied its way through the remaining pirate ships. A heavy cruiser, Solstice was twice as big as Arctic (designated a tactical striker) with double the crew compliment. While it didn’t quite have the raw teeth or maneuverability Arctic had, it was coming in with fresh shields and fully armed weapons banks.

The pirate ships, already weakened by Arctic’s strikes, attempted to scatter, hastily attempting to divert resources from engines to shields. But it was too late.

Blue beams shot out from Solstice’s saucer section, the fresh entry unleashing a salvo, puncturing pirate shields, sending one ship careening into another.

An explosion!

A cascade of them, bright and vicious.

Freed from capture, the Syndicate wingship spun around to take refuge behind Marcus’ vessel.

One of the bigger pirate ships picked its way through the fray.

“That’s Arem’s ship,” Elim said. “It may be retreating. Shall we pursue?”

“Negative,” Aria said. As much as she wanted to, given he was the ringleader and likely a chameleon spy. “Redwing is our priority.”

“Now receiving a message from Solstice,” Ensign Kaplan announced.

Aria gestured with her paw to put it through.

“Captain Aria,” greeted the warm, confident voice. Captain Advance. A roguish kangaroo rat. Sandy-tan fur, brilliant green eyes, and a tufted tip at the end of his tail. “Admiral Flint!” he noticed. “An honor to finally meet you.”

Flint, taken by the flattery, bowed his head. “Of course. You arrived in the nick of time!”

“We were cutting it a bit close, weren’t we? Heh.” Advance shifted his weight from side to side, almost hopping in place on his muscular (for a rodent) legs. “We nearly burnt out our engines getting here. My chief is throwing a fit. You know how squirrels are.”

“In more ways than one,” the Admiral answered lightly.

Advance smirked.

“Captain,” Aria said, interrupting the boys’ circle-jerk. “If you would run off the remaining pirate ships, that would be most helpful. The wing-ships and Arctic will secure the station.”

“Can do, ma’am. Sir,” he added, nodding to Flint.

The channel was cut.

“Mirabelle,” Aria said, sighing, leaning fully back in her chair, “When the pirates are cleared out, prepare to dock at Redwing Station. Tell Oliver and Assumpta,” she said, of the mated snow rabbit and snow leopard team that ran main engineering, “to ready all repair teams.” A pause. “We’re in no condition to resume our normal patrol route. We’ll probably be here for a few days.”

“Aye.”

To Elim, Aria looked over her shoulder (the one facing away from Admiral Flint’s current position) and gave a quick, non-verbal look.

Elim nodded. They had come up in the ranks together. And, what’s more, they were mates. He knew what that look meant.

Fifteen minutes later, with the pirates defeated and retreating back to their depot and Arctic preparing to dock with Redwing, Aria was in bed with her two mates.

Her uniform was on the floor. Not even folded or anything. Just crumpled to the side.

“We … ah, ah, don’t have long,” she told them, on all fours. “I have a meeting with … mmf … ” Her breasts bounced around as Elim mounted her from behind. “With Flint, Graham, and Advance in half-an-hour.” A top command-level conference, on Redwing. To discuss the ramifications of today and what happened next.

“A shame,” Elim said. “After a good fight, I have enough appetite to go for hours. Don’t I, Ross?” he asked their third partner, reaching for him.

“Yes, Elim,” the plain-brown mouse breathed, effeminately swooning into the other male, brought by his arm into a passionate kiss. Arctic’s chef, Ross ran the mess hall.

Elim groped Ross’s ropy-tailed ass.

The mouse squeaked into his maw.

The three of them had a long, complicated history.

Back when Aria and Elim were stationed on Orbital 9, a space station during the Wasp War, they had begun a dalliance. Aria had then rescued Ross, a mouse who may not have always been a mouse (the apparent victim of impressive genetic modification) and saved him from further trouble. Shielded him. He’d been so sweet and innocent. So grateful. So curious.

One night, she gave herself to him.

When Elim found out, he’d been hurt.

Aria, unable to decide between them, had guided them into a polyamorous arrangement. They’d been hesitant at first. But, today, the two males were arguably closer to each other than she was to either of them! On account of her captain’s duties being so time-consuming. They simply had more free time to spend together.

But, no mistake, they loved her dearly, and she loved them with an equal passion.

Aria would always be the core of their trio.

“Mmm,” Elim moaned, lips smacking from Ross’s, the rabbit’s buckteeth grazing the mouse’s chin. He panted hotly, humping Aria all the while. “Would you … mm, mm! Would you like my seconds, mousey?” He scratched his lover’s neck.

Hanging all over the strong buck, the mouse nodded. “Yes!”

“Mm, then get ready to take over. I’m … I’m c-close,” the rabbit whined, pulling his paws away from Ross to put them on Aria’s back. He stroked her body. She was as beautiful as the day they’d met.

Aria, panting hotly, lowered her head to the bed and raised her rump, flicking her snowy bobtail. She reached an arm down between her legs and rubbed for her clit. “Mm, hmm!”

“Ah, ahhhh!” Elim cried, slamming home. He hung his head, eyes screwing shut. “Ah … ah … ” A little puff of air with each ejaculation. “Ah.”

Finally, it stopped.

He sighed and patted Aria’s rump (she mewed, still rubbing herself), slowly pulling out. His cock, wet and covered with his own seed, bobbled as it began to lower and shrink. The buck shuffled aside, clearing the way for Ross to take his place.

The mouse, at five inches, was an inch-and-a-half shorter than Elim. But he wielded his tool with eager emotional heft, immediately thrusting, pounding, angling into Aria. He knew what she liked, and he let her have it.

Elim laid beside Aria, cooing, “I was hoping you’d have climaxed by now, my dear.”

“I know. Ah, my … body and mind aren’t fully in synch.” She compartmentalized herself during tense battles. It was hard to quickly undo. “I trust you two can … remedy this?”

Elim nodded thoughtfully. “Ross?”

“Mm, mm? Y-yeah?”

“Don’t hold back. I weakened her defenses. It’s up to you to punch through. Our mate is carrying such a heavy burden today.” He scooted in to nuzzle noses. “We need to alleviate her of the pressure.”

Aria looked into Elim’s eyes. “You know me so well.”

“Every part of you,” he said bluntly, kissing at her face. “I could be court-martialed for—” Kiss. “Revealing all the intimate details. Such as that stray black spot of fur on your—”

“Mmh!” Aria smiled lightly, her clit buzzing, her sex starting to tighten. “Ah, ah, please avoid that. I’d hate to have to find a new … first officer … to fuck.”

Elim mewed with mirth, kissing her again. This time on the lips.

Behind them, Ross’s ears swiveled, listening to their entire murmured conversation, but he didn’t add to it. He was too distracted. That tended to happen when you were buried in rabbit pussy. And given Elim had just filled her to the brim? Well. It was more than messy.

Each fierce, energetic hump came with a ‘splat!’ and a ‘splurt!,’ Elim’s seed churning inside her and seeping out in a foamy mixture that clung to the mouse’s large balls, which swung and slapped at her body.

It was so hot.

She was so hot. And smooth and snug and—

Aria came.

With a bark, a cry, her claws tearing into the sheets. Her pussy clenching rhythmically around the mouse’s cock. Her body sung with pleasure, bliss surging through every nerve, every vein, making her gape dumbly.

Ross squeaked!

He buried in her, slumping forward onto her back, hugging her, reaching around to grab her breasts. His balls jumped with each twitch of seed he shot into her. Time stopped. That felt so good! He never wanted to leave this room. Or her. Or him.

He never wanted to be parted from either of them ever again.

Ever emotionally honest compared to their snow rabbit aloofness, he blabbered, “I … I was so scared. Alone in the mess hall. I’m always … always think something’s going to happen to you, and I’ll never see you again.”

“Mousey,” Elim breathed.

Pulling out of Aria, the mouse went into the other male’s arms.

Aria then sandwiched Ross in a rabbit hug, whispering to him, “We aren’t like normal prey. Elim and I. We’re fighters.” It’s why they were the ranking officers on a tactical striker. “We will always be here for you. And always protect you.”

Ross wriggled around to face Aria and cuddle into her, now.

“I love you, my boys.”

“We love you, too,” they said in unison.

Aria sighed.

They laid there for a minute in silence, so warm, pelts so soft, listening to the hum of the ship’s engines.

“I must shower and depart,” Aria said, regretfully extracting herself and sitting up. “That was incredibly gratifying. Thank you.”

“Indeed,” Elim agreed.

Ross just beamed goofily.

“You two may continue to unwind. It has been a stressful day.”

“Well, I should head to the mess hall early and start prepping for the evening meal,” Ross mentioned. “Especially with the food processors taking a hit during the attack, more people will need a set meal than usual.”

“I will begin seeing to tactical repairs,” Elim said. “I shall see the three of you tonight?”

All three of them brought their noses together, brushing whiskers before pulling apart.

Aria had made both love and war today.

Her preference wasn’t in question.

“The Scalie Solidarity unofficially declared war on the High Command today,” Admiral Flint said ominously, standing at the head of the conference table, his paws clasped behind his back.

Dawson, the admiral’s devoted snow rabbit aid, sat nearby and tapped at a computer pad, recording the conversation, taking notes, and being ready with any information his boss would require.

“How are we going to respond?” Commander Graham asked.

“They would like us to declare war ourselves. That’s their whole motus operandi, if you will. They make passive-aggressive, covert moves, trying to push opponents into the first act of open aggression. Then they can play the victim and maintain the upper hand in public opinion.”

“We won’t take the bait, of course?” Aria said, freshly cleaned and dried, with a new uniform on.

“No. Never mind that there is less than zero appetite back home for sustained conflict. We are only a few years removed from the height of the Wasp War and have just now rebuilt to pre-war levels.”

“But we can’t let them just—” Talkeetna chuffed with annoyance. “Get away with this! So, we just wait around until they attack one of the HC’s Core Worlds? Use that dragon tech, which they probably have some of already, to open a portal above a major city and blow it to pieces … and then claim there was no proof it was them?”

“I agree, Lieutenant-Commander,” Flint said, nodding at the red squirrel. “It’s not ideal. But my power is not unlimited. I have to answer to the Council.”

Dawson looked up, as if he wanted to protest that. He handed Flint a pad.

Flint tapped at it, reading a bit. He transferred the information on the pad to the viewscreen on the side wall. “This is a chameleon.” He gestured at the image. “They aren’t the most numerous species in the Solidarity, but they are the most dangerous.”

“Um, venomous snakes? They’re pretty dangerous,” Captain Advance said, leaning back in his chair. A rodent from a borderland desert planet, he had some stories to tell. “You ever wrestled a lady cobra who’s had one too many at the bar?”

“Are you saying you have?” Amabassador Annika asked, quirking a brow.

Advance just held up his paws, as if to say ‘I don’t like to brag.’

The Admiral made a face, waiting for the others to go quiet before continuing, “The two we thwarted today, along with the chameleon your chief of security uncovered months ago … makes for at least three infiltrators on Redwing in the past year. It is highly probable there are more. And while the Solidarity may settle for whatever dragon tech the pirates scavenged from elsewhere, we still have the largest single haul ever found.”

“Which has to remain in the UT, on Redwing, per our peace agreement with the bat Syndicate,” Commander Graham reminded. “The tech requires telepaths to fully operate, and they are telepathic. They wish to further study it.”

“Can they be trusted?” Flint asked bluntly.

“Yes,” Annika said.

Flint gave the pregnant Ambassador a look. “Mm.” He gave Dawson his pad back. “We have a bat on our side. Doctor Barrow. Why is he not involved in this project?”

“Because he’s busy running the station’s infirmary.”

“Tell him to delegate responsibilities to his nurses when applicable. He’s to attempt to activate the tech and report back to me on its capabilities. I want to know what we have in our arsenal.”

“Sir,” Talkeetna asked, “Would we ever use the dragon tech against our enemies? Or presumed enemies?”

A hesitation. “If push came to shove. But,” he assured, holding up a paw, “it won’t come to that.”

“Famous last words,” Aria said dryly.

“If both sides were to use dragon tech on each other, it could lead to mutually assured destruction,” Annika said softly, putting a paw on her very pregnant belly. “We must prevent this at all costs.”

“I don’t see how we can,” Advance said. “The dragons had tech on hundreds of worlds. They had a vast network. Sure, they’ve been gone for a millennium, but their stuff is still out there. We can’t secure it all. And we kept the Solidarity from getting their bat slaves today, but they could pick off bats one by one, here and there … feel like this whole situation is a ticking time bomb.”

“How much of dragon tech is weapons-based? Were they an aggressive society?”

“They had a galactic empire. Mammals were their subjects. Sometimes, their food,” Flint stated. “That sounds aggressive to me.”

“What my mate means,” Annika injected, “is that surely we can focus our research on scientific technologies, to enhance our sensors, engines, food production? We can strengthen our society without focusing on the—”

“We focus on the benign aspects while the Scalies race to find the worst of it?” Flint replied. “That’s quite a risk, Ambassador.”

“Trust often is.”

“Well, I don’t trust them. And neither should any of you.”

“Didn’t the dragons destroy themselves with their tech? That’s a big red warning sign to maybe leave it alone,” Advance said.

“There is no evidence they destroyed themselves,” Graham said. “They simply … vanished. There are theories that they evolved into a higher non-corporeal plane.”

“Yeah, and my mom was a flying squirrel,” Advance said with an eyeroll.

Aria blinked.

“That was a joke,” Advance explained.

“I thought jokes were supposed to be amusing?”

“Alright,” Flint scolded, clearing his throat to get eyes back on him as he sat in a chair beside Dawson at the end of the table. “There are no easy answers here.”

Annika, ever the peacemaker, had to add, “But there’s no reason to assume the only option is all-out war with the Solidarity. We had a long, tense Cold War with the Arctic foxes once, and it ended peacefully.”

“Only because they lost their planet to the wasps and had nowhere to turn but us,” Advance reminded.

“I’m just saying: resolutions are not always what we expect.”

“But,” Flint insisted, “We must prepare for everything. Agreed?”

Some nods

Some grumbles.

“I suggest a constant yellow alert. Redwing Station’s importance continues to grow. Not only tactically, but as a diplomatic and financial outpost for High Command interests.” The admiral nodded at Graham for his paw in this.

Graham bowed his head.

Annika put a paw on her mate’s arm.

“I am reassigning Solstice to this sector,” Flint told Advance. “Luminous will take its place at the border. Arctic will remain here as well. We have a few other ships in deep UT space on reconnaissance. Yellowknife and Polaris.”

Both were mapping the region while hunting for the wasp home-world. The wasps always had a Queen in waiting. Always. They would rise again, and the High Command needed to be ready for it.

“When in range, they will serve at your beck and call. Captain Aria, you are to have ultimate tiebreaking authority in the region when it comes to multi-pronged decisions between yourself, Advance, and Graham, and whoever else.”

“Aye, sir.” The former tactical officer gave Captain Advance a steely ‘how ‘bout that’ look.

Advance blew her a kiss.

“Arctic will maintain tactical patrol duties, while Solstice will assist ‘locals’ with varying concerns. It’s time we made even more friends in the Uncharted Territories. We may need them soon.”

“Sir, how does one ‘make friends’ in a safe for work way?” Advance asked, not so innocently.

Talkeetna stifled a giggle, looking down at the tabletop.

Flint, not as amused, said, “Help rebuild planetary infrastructure, provide medical assistance, that sort of thing. Be a friendly neighbor. Redwing will be your base. Check in frequently but … don’t be afraid to take initiative and look around.”

“I’m well-known for the size of my initiative,” Advance bragged.

Aria and Graham exchanged a look. The two of them got along swimmingly. The kangaroo rat? He was a brash wildcard in the mix. He was going to get in trouble, wasn’t he? They only hoped they didn’t have to bail him out.

“What about the pirates?” Talkeetna asked. “Even if the Solidarity pulls their spies out of there, there’s still some left. Scattered and wounded. They’re gonna be pissed off we beat them so soundly.”

“Arctic will handle them,” Aria promised.

Flint nodded, paws on the table now. “I think that about covers it?”

“How are you getting back to Tundrune, sir?” Graham asked. “I presume you aren’t setting up permanent base out here.”

“No. Luminous will cross the border and retrieve me, take me—and Dawson—into High Command space, where we will jump to a faster executive transport to take us the rest of the way home. It will be week-long journey, but … I must say, my time here has only shown me how right I was to make this venture a priority,” Flint humblebragged. “Evidence of what I bring back will impress the HC Council.”

He paused.

Evidence.

Like the colorful eyes of that petite and pretty, snow-white mouse he couldn’t make himself forget? He saw them in his sleep, sometimes. Purple and blue and hot pink. What did it mean? Every time he thought he was getting close to figuring it out, he drew blanks.

They’d had sex, but … the rest of their time together was a little blurry? Probably just the stress of the battle. He had a lot on his mind.

Yes.

That was it.

When he got back home, breathing the crisp air of Tundrune, things would be clearer.

Flint realized they were all looking his way, waiting for more. “I believe that’s all. Thank you for your performances in the line of fire today. You are the best of the fleet. When I’m gone, I will keep in constant touch via communiques.” He stood up and nodded. “Dismissed!”

“I’ve always wanted to explore your guys’ Promenade,” Advance said smoothly as he hopped up, giving Talkeetna googly eyes. “Maybe someone can give me a tour?”

“I’ve already got a date. And a mate,” she said, walking past him and brushing her tail against his face.

Advance swiped at his whiskers. As rejections went, that was pretty tame! He chuckled and left the room.

As they filtered out behind him, Annika walked past Graham and whispered in his ear, “I fear we may have to rescue Captain Advance from himself at some point.” He was going to unknowingly sleep with a warlord’s daughter in heat or something like that.

“Is that a bet?” the Commander asked lightly.

Annika waddled after them, nodding to Flint as she left. “Until we meet again, Fleet Admiral.”

Flint took the ambassador’s paw and gave a chivalrous shake. “Indeed. Good luck with your kit.”

“Thank you.”

Soon, Flint was alone in the room with Dawson.

“Luminous will be here in two days, sir,” Dawson said. “What do you wish to do until then? I have drawn up a preliminary itinerary, and—”

“I think I need a drink,” the authoritative rabbit said simply. He stood and patted Dawson on the shoulder. “You have the rest of the day off. We’ll reconvene in the morning to discuss this further.”

“Oh. Um. Aye, sir. Thank you, sir,” Dawson said, blinking as Flint left the room.

As he walked down the corridor to the lift, Flint paused. “Minuet?”

The station’s A.I. chirruped. “Yes?”

“I’m looking for a mouse. Name’s … Aurora? She made quite an impression on me, but I can’t locate her anywhere. Did you observe her leaving the station?”

Minuet had, indeed, observed all of Aurora’s activities on the station. Hypnotizing Flint, implanting myriad triggers in his bunny brain while having sex with him multiple times in multiple positions. Getting extremely classified access codes out of him. Aurora leaving Redwing with the dangerous jaguar Advent in a stolen runabout bound for a pirate base.

But Minuet couldn’t admit to knowing this, having been blackmailed by Advent to cover it up in the first place.

Apparently, when Minuet had sex with Adak, her multi-tasking abilities, while very impressive, were occasionally liable to miss a small detail or two … like missing how Aurora was compromising the admiral until it was too late to come forward about it, not without facing restrictions for not alerting anybody.

And Minuet, who had spent 500 years locked inside a void, would do anything to avoid being restricted again.

“Minuet?”

“I am sorry, Admiral. I do not know where this Aurora ended up. It is possible she made a discreet exit before the pirate attack.”

“Yes. Makes sense. Mm … well … carry on!”

Minuet watched Flint go.

At the same time, she watched Advance flirt with a random passerby, Doctor Barrow examine a chameleon corpse, Seward repairing a hull fracture, and Fay trying to make Sheila laugh (and failing). Herkimer and Talkeetna were grabbing a bite to eat. And her holographic avatar was now showering with Adak in his quarters.

Redwing was her home.

Redwing was her.

And she was glad the creatures aboard it had prevailed today.

She could only hope they would be so fortunate in the future.