FSE

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“Captain on the bridge!”

“At ease,” Kalmbach rumbled, exiting the rear lift.

The doors swooshed shut behind him, and the formidable-but-fluffy snow leopard padded forth, clearing his throat and tugging on his uniform-shirt before taking his seat in the enter of the room.

The bridge of the HCS Polaris, one of the last Borealis-Class vessels in service, was on the industrial side, somewhat narrow and elongated in shape.

The ship was returning from a deep space mission in the Uncharted Territories. It was from this region that the fearsome wasps had originated.

A war with them had broken out several years back, during which Kalmbach himself had fought. Formidable opponents. Single-minded, relentless. Aggressive. Ugly bastards, too, if he were being honest.

They had been defeated (barely, and at great cost, including the decimation of the Arctic foxes’ home-world) and hadn’t been heard from since, but the High Command was alertly monitoring for their potential return.

They were presumed to be in dormancy, generating a new Queen (the last iteration having been slain by Redwing Station’s current security chief). Locating their home-world was a top priority.

Rumors had it as an arid, windswept world, and that those who visited it … never returned.

Undaunted, Polaris had searched and scanned for months.

They weren’t the only ship assigned outside HC space (there was also Arctic, Solstice, and Yellowknife), but Kalmbach had been hoping to be the one to ‘strike gold’ as it were. Might finally get him that long-elusive promotion to admiral!

No success.

Eventually, in need of repairs and supplies, they had to find a friendly port.

Redwing Station.

The HC’s base of operations for this region.

Kalmbach stroked his chin.

He’d never been there, but its exploits were increasingly in the interstellar news feeds.

An ancient avian mega-structure mysteriously abandoned for centuries (and believed ‘haunted’ by the locals), the High Command had reclaimed and renovated it to serve as their furthest outpost.

The once-risky venture had nearly been derailed by a telepathic bat Syndicate, a local network of pirates, and sundry other threats, but was still standing, stronger and busier than ever thanks to its ragtag crew.

Bully to them!

Polaris, upon arrival at Redwing, would put in for repairs, replenishment, rest, relaxation. All those R’s. Afterward, they’d spend some time in the system providing backup to the Arctic in lieu of new mission orders (which Kalmbach was still waiting on).

Kalmbach scratched his spotted cheek, fighting a toothy yawn as he looked around the room. Perhaps he had arrived on the bridge too early? Of course, he’d only done so to avoid arriving too late, which was a bad habit of his. Big, padded paws fiddled with the pins on his blue-and-brown uniform shirt.

He usually kept his service medals hidden away. One didn’t wish to flaunt one’s success. Regulations said they could be worn, however. And when he boarded Redwing, he wanted to make an impression!

Leaning back in his chair, he decided, “Computer, a little fanfare?”

A chirrup and music began playing. Something with drums, percussion. And plenty of noble horns. Under the Double Eagle March. Full of pep and bombast. It kept his mind from brooding.

The cat’s ears flicked.

“Ah, that’s better.” The music invigorated him more than caffeine ever could. “Helm!” he called to the otter in the pilot’s chair. “Our course and ETA?”

A female sea otter, Darcey, with a pelt of scruffy, fluffy fur, tapped at her controls. Webbed paws dancing about. “We’ve entered the solar system, sir. Dropping to sub-light speed.”

The stars on the viewer went from streaks to slow-moving points.

“We should arrive at Redwing Station in half an hour. Give or take a minute.”

“Good, good.” Kalmbach leaned back in his chair, purring as the music reached a particularly impressive stage. He moved his paws through the air, as if conducting.

The tactical officer, Silas, a male okapi, saw this and chuckled. “What are our marching orders upon arrival? We getting shore leave?”

“Mm? Oh. I suppose that would be a good idea, wouldn’t it?” He looked to his first officer, Hudson, a strikingly handsome Prevost’s squirrel. His fur had a tri-color patterning to it. Jet black, creamy white, and vivid maroon. “What do you think, Number One?”

“We could use it, sir.” The rodent stood to attention and fluffed his black tail.

“Just try not to get into too much trouble, eh? Remember that asteroid depot we stopped a few months back?”

“She neglected to tell me she had a mate,” Hudson said, nose lifting indignantly. “And I find it unbecoming to ask. I am not a suspicious sort! If it were important, the information would’ve been given.”

“And to be walked in on?” Kalmbach added with a chortle. “You’re lucky our med-bay has a good dermal regenerator. His claws would’ve left some gnarly scars.”

“Nothing sharper than a feline’s touch,” Hudson lamented quietly, whiskers twitching.

“We do have an impressive pivot from finesse to fury,” Kalmbach noted, unsheathing his claws and inspecting them. Cutting as ever. Retracting them, he licked his fangs in satisfaction.

“I’m sure you’ve never gotten in such hot water, captain,” Darcey teased, looking ahead at the viewer.

“Felines melt in hot water. Or were you not aware?” Kalmbach joked, sidestepping the answer. His tail lazily drifted from side to side through the tail-gap in his chair.

Of course, in his time in the service (now approaching two decades) he had many stories to tell! Some of them laced with ribaldry, true. But he kept them close to his chest, only revealing them at certain times. Like, say, holiday parties when the wine was flowing?

Kalmbach was much in the vein of traditional captains. He tried not to fraternize with his officers.

Oh, ultimately, he had tacit … shall one say, ‘arrangements?’ With a few crewmen (and women) on the lower decks. The ensign in charge of the shuttle bay. A delta-shift engineer. Nothing serious. Just a way of blowing off steam. And, well … other things.

There was always the holo-suite, of course. But Polaris only had one of them. For a crew of one hundred twenty-three. It was in constant use. You were lucky to book a timeslot!

Being a traditionalist, Kalmbach preferred the ‘real thing’ anyway.

He knew some captains mated those who served under them (Kalmbach chuckled to himself at this double entendre), but there was an inherent dilemma in that: what if you had to order your beloved into a dangerous, possibly fatal, situation? What if you had to sacrifice them to save the rest of the ship? Would you be emotionally compromised?

The High Command had no regulations against it. They knew the feral instincts most beasts possessed, and traveling through space, confined with others? It would’ve been foolhardy to legislate. Things were going to happen, attachments or no.

Hudson turned to a beeping console. “Sir, I’m getting an internal alarm.” The squirrel frowned. “The plasma conduits feeding the warp nacelles are above temperature guidelines. Danger of over-heating.”

“Plasma is meant to run hot, is it not?”

“Yes, but—”

A second alert sounded at the helm.

Darcey furiously tapped at her touchscreens. “We have a leak. We’re venting plasma into space!”

The ship shuddered, and everyone lurched. The stars on the viewer slowed to completely still dots.

Kalmbach gripped the armrests of his chair. “Status!”

“We’ve dropped below sub-light speeds. Thrusters only. We’re starting to drift.”

“Stabilize.”

“Aye, sir. Stabilizing … I’ve stopped the rolling.” The helm panel beeped and trilled. The otter sighed and nodded. “We’re stationary.”

“Computer, cease music,” Kalmbach said, growling and standing up, ready to prowl should it be necessary. “What about the leak? Can it be sealed?” he asked Silas.

The okapi scuffed a hoof on the floor in frustration. “Eventually.” He was still reading the reports coming in. “The breaches … and there are several … will need to be repaired before we can go back to warp, but … I’ve, uh … ” His hands flew over the controls. “I’ve lowered emergency bulkheads where needed.” He looked up. “We can try to limp to the station on thrusters?”

“Thrusters? That’ll take days,” Hudson complained.

“Bother,” Kalmbach groused. He steepled his fingers together. “Why wasn’t this anticipated?”

“The computer would’ve notified us if it had detected any micro-fractures. They must’ve appeared suddenly.”

“Perhaps there was a failure in the early warning program? Files could be corrupted. We’ll have to do a full scan of the computer core, as well.”

“Just keeps getting better.” The snow leopard plonked back down into his chair, tail whipping about in a dangerous feline way.

“Could’ve been worse,” Hudson said, taking the ‘second in command’ chair by Kalmbach’s side.

“Casualties?” Kalmbach asked, holding his breath.

“None. No injuries,” Silas reported.

The snow leopard was relieved to hear this. “Time for repairs?”

Hudson replied, as he leaned in to read a console, “Engineering is saying … days? With a full team.” The squirrel’s tail fluffed about.

“We can’t sit here for that long. Not when we’re this close to the station,” Kalmbach said, slouching in frustration. “They’ll think it quite odd if we just park out here without word.”

“We could send a request for help?” Silas suggested. “They could have their runabouts tow us the rest of the way. Their engineering staff is much larger than ours, and repairs would take half the time with their help. I mean, we were going there for a tune-up anyway.”

“Hmm. True.” Kalmbach sat up straighter, then stood up again. This time, he did prowl about the bridge. Felines tended to pace when debating.

He was not too stubborn to ask for help, of course. But! All the same, he did take pride in his crew’s abilities. He could get over his ‘pride,’ of course. After all, he wasn’t a lion! Thank the gods.

“Very well! We’re all on the same team, aren’t we? Request immediate assistance. Oh, and use the teletype, not the radio.” He crossed his arms and smirked. “Let’s see if they know their stuff.”

Seldovia, at the communications console in Ops, the command center of Redwing Station, adjusted her silvery earpiece. The glamorous skunk squinted and shook her head.

Talkeetna, the first officer, saw this and padded over. “Something wrong?” the red squirrel asked.

“I’m getting a … I don’t know, really? It’s … beeps and boops and—” Seldovia frowned and shook her head. “Here, listen.” The skunk tapped some buttons and transferred the noise to speakers.

Talkeetna crossed her arms, fluffy tail arching behind her. “Hmm.” Her angular, tufted ears gave her a cute, pixie look. “It’s too structured to be random. Sounds almost like code.” She leaned in and tapped at Seldovia’s console. “Yeah, this patterning here? We had something like that back when I was a freight runner on Reverie. With all the pirates about, it was the only way to keep messages from being intercepted.”

“Yes, but what’s it saying?”

Whiskers twitching, Talkeetna asked the station’s A.I.. “Minuet?”

Minuet appeared behind them in an instant, in the guise of an idealistic holographic avatar. A snow rabbit doe dressed in an HC command-track uniform.

Talkeetna jumped.

“Did I startle you?”

“I needed the exercise,” Talkeetna said lightly, making room for the hologram and gesturing at the readouts.

Minuet tilted her head, her programming performing dozens of tasks a second. Her consciousness was everywhere on the station at once. In essence, she was the station.

“The message is teletype,” Minuet explained. “HC standard. Not typically in use anymore … except in blackout conditions.”

“They must really be in trouble,” Seldovia said, playing the message from the start.

“Or simply anachronistic,” Minuet said. “My readings indicate the hailing vessel is of the ‘old school,’ as you might say.”

“Aren’t you over five hundred years old?” Talkeetna teased.

“In computer years, that is practically embryonic.”

“Anachro-what?” Seldovia echoed on delay.

“What’s the message saying, Min?”

The hologram’s ears twiddled. “HCS Polaris. Engine failure. Far end of system. Request runabouts for towing. Need repairs upon arrival. Captain K.”

“Captain K.” A pause. “Who’s he?” Seldovia asked.

“No clue,” Talkeetna said, nimbly moving to the central display table. “But neither of us grew up in HC space, or went to the Academy, so … maybe we’re missing something?”

Both the squirrel and skunk were natives of the Uncharted Territories, where Redwing resided. They had been given ‘field commissions’ by Commander Graham, who realized early on that involving the locals in the station was for the benefit of the project.

“I got ‘it. Hmm. He’s a snow leopard. Twenty-year service record. Played in the Academy orchestra. The ship is Borealis-Class.” Talkeetna’s claws clacked on the controls. “Looks like most of them have been decommissioned.” Looking up, she said, “Tell him ‘affirmative, message received’ and that we’ll be there shortly.”

“Well, I don’t know how to reply in teletype,” the skunk said, smiling at Minuet. “Care to do it for me?”

“It is already done,” the hologram said.

“Damn, you’re good.”

“I know.”

The skunk, unable to resist, said with a winking smirk, “Bet Adak appreciates your ‘talents’.”

Minuet blinked.

Adak, a snow rabbit ensign who ran the stellar cartography lab, was the A.I.’s ‘organic’ lover. Her programming not only could approximate the sensations of sex on her end, but she had access to hundreds of techniques to pleasure him as well.

Talkeetna came to Minuet’s rescue by telling Seldovia, “Contact Landing Pads B and C. Dispatch two runabouts to retrieve Polaris. Then alert Chief Seward about the situation. He’ll need to put together a team.”

“He has quite a queue already. He was compla—” She stopped and corrected, “Telling me about it last night.” Seward was Seldovia’s mate.

“Polaris isn’t going anywhere. It can wait a few days if needed. We have space at the docking pylons. Have the runabouts tow them to Lower Pylon 3.”

“Aye.”

Minuet, clasping her paws behind her back, informed Talkeetna, “I’ve just replayed Commander Graham’s logs. This ‘Captain K’ had sent a request, ten days ago, to meet with him and Captain Aria. For a mission debriefing.”

“Yes, well … ” The squirrel clearly hadn’t known this. She waved a red paw. “Graham’s occupied. And Arctic is on the opposite side of the solar system right now. If it’s that important, he’ll have to talk to me.”

Minuet bowed, stepping aside.

In her ‘mind’s eye,’ she was watching visual feeds from the infirmary. Ambassador Annika was in labor. The ambassador was mated to the station’s commander. Both snow rabbits, this was their first kit.

The whole process (and the sexual spectrum to which it belonged) fascinated the A.I., but at the same time made her feel … slightly inadequate?

In spite of her dalliances with Adak, she could not procreate. As the only super-being of her kind, she felt the pang of loneliness and legacies lost should she not extend her essence.

Recently, she had begun making plans to secretly sow off-shoots of her programming into passing ships. They would go out into the universe and spread her presence and influence. She hadn’t told anyone about this, having a strong hunch that they would try to stop her. They would see it as a security threat.

The HC brass tolerated her because the station couldn’t run without her involvement, and they needed the station more than they needed to dissect her matrix.

But she could tell she made them wary.

Admiral Flint’s last visit had made that clear. He’d passively questioned her loyalties in conversations with Graham and Talkeetna on more than one occasion.

“The Ambassador seems to be in a great deal of pain,” Minuet announced, frowning in confusion.

“You shouldn’t spy on them.”

“I am not spying.” The hologram straightened her posture. “The infirmary is part of me, and they are in it. I am active twenty-six hours a day, how can I not observe?”

Talkeetna let it go.

“Why does it hurt?” Minuet asked.

“Mm?”

“It does not hurt to create the condition. Why does it hurt to resolve it?”

“Oh. Um.” The squirrel leaned against the center display table. “Well, I’m not in charge of evolution,” Talkeetna said. Noticing the look on Minuet’s face, she promised, “She’ll be okay.”

Minuet was unconvinced but nodded, then asked, “May I take my leave?”

“Sure.”

The hologram shimmered out of view, though Talkeetna knew she was still ‘here.’

From the comm, Seldovia announced, “Runabouts have been dispatched. They’ll have Polaris here in about an hour. Engineering has been notified.”

“Good,” Talkeetna replied, stifling a yawn. It was too early in the day to be tired. And, as Minuet had referenced, Redwing operated on a twenty-six-hour clock. “If you need me, I’ll be in Graham’s office, sipping heavily caffeinated ginger tea.”

After being towed to the station, Kalmbach had officially granted his crew ‘shore leave.’ He’d watched them (with some amusement) jump at the opportunity. Even the engineering staff!

This was just as well, as Redwing’s crew said they had more high-tech ‘tools for the job’ and could handle the situation themselves.

Within half an hour, Polaris was a ghost ship, its crew reveling in the fresh pleasures that the station had on offer.

His requested meeting with the Redwing high-ups had been deferred (the squirrel ‘second-in-command’ had offered a meeting with her, but Kalmbach really wanted to meet Graham and Aria. He rather admired the snow rabbit culture; fellow creatures of the ice!

So, the feline had some time to kill.

He blew out a breath.

It felt wrong, as captain, to leave his pride and joy completely unattended, so Kalmbach toured the bowels of Polaris. It was the least he could do to show his appreciation.

He and the old girl had to maintain their rapport, after all. He even talked to it along the way, though it declined to reciprocate. Now and then he would stop and swipe a finger to inspect for dust.

On his way past the engineering department, he heard loud, chaotic noises. Clattering, buzzing. Some bangs. Like pots and pans. Or, more likely, torches and hammers.

Entering the room, he clasped his paws behind his back and honed his senses. The warp core was aglow but the matter/anti-matter stream inside was not swirling given their docked state.

His ears swiveled. “Mm?”

Following the noises, he saw a bobtailed rump sticking out of an access hatch.

“Oh, my.”

Speaking of fresh pleasures …

Raising a brow, he waited patiently (ogling the view) until the rump’s owner, a snow rabbit doe (he could tell by the shapely hips, as well as her general scent), wriggled back out. Her tall ears twiddled. She turned sharply, a tool in each paw. Eyes wide.

Kalmbach could detect the spike in her pulse, which got his going, too. Goodness, did it. Putting prey on guard? And a cute, fluffy ice bunny at that? His predator strings were tickled.

Ancient labels to be sure. Predator, prey. Nowadays, they were civilized, part of a many-species coalition.

Yes.

But instincts?

Mm.

They hummed a more … primal tune.

Kalmbach showed his fangs in a ‘welcoming’ smile, stalking closer to her. His silver-spotted tail swaying about.

The rabbit’s nose twitched.

Bowing her head as she put her tools back in her kit, she cleared her throat and said, “Captain … I presume?” The rank insignia on his uniform indicated his status. There weren’t many predator captains in the High Command.

“Correct. Captain Kalmbach … at your service,” he replied with a nod of his own. He stopped before her, a good head taller, even accounting for those fetching antennae-like lobes. He had to clamp down on the urge to touch them. To stroke them. To chew on them. “You must be from Redwing?”

“I am. I’m doing a preliminary survey of the damage for our engineering teams. I … I thought everyone had left?”

“Not quite,” he purred. “As you can plainly see.”

She had no response for this.

“So! Pray tell, how are you finding my ship, Miss … ?”

“Mara. Lieutenant, junior grade.”

“Lieutenant Mara,” he echoed, voice rumbly, eyes admiring the wintry whiteness of her fur. He had an affinity for cold-natured creatures, being one himself! Oh, but she was just about the perfect morsel.

Locking eyes with him, blue to blue, she answered, “It’s very … quaint. I see Polaris still uses ODN relays instead of bio-neural circuitry?”

“You can’t infect ODN relays with natural viruses,” Kalmbach said smartly.

“They are slower, however, and more prone to hacking.”

“My ship is quite alive without the aid of biotech, thank you,” the snow leopard insisted. “She’ll talk to those that will listen.”

“Redwing will talk to you, too. Quite literally.”

The snow leopard tilted his head quizzically.

“You’ll find out when you go aboard,” she insisted. Returning to the open hatch, she gestured with her paws. “I apologize for the noise.”

“I would not trust a silent engineer.”

Mara smiled faintly, which was as emotional as she would get. Snow rabbits weren’t overtly expressive. “Much repair work will need to be done in the crawlspaces. Cracks formed in the hull plating when the plasma leaked. Have to scan and seal them all. You don’t want breaches forming at warp.”

“I would think not!”

“Because your ship is older, its conduits weren’t lined with the latest in anti-corrosive materials? When we refurbish them, we’ll install proper lining.” She paused, feeling like a spotlight was on her. Had the feline blinked once since arriving? “You’re lucky it blew out this close to us. Imagine if it had happened when you were deeper out?”

“We would’ve been in quite the pickle,” he said softly, licking his lips.

They locked eyes again.

Mara opened her maw and shut it, once again tongue-tied.

The cat’s nose suddenly tickled, as if he were breathing in a magnificent spice. He had the curious sensation of thinking he might sneeze, but he didn’t need to. It never came. The ‘tickle’ just inspired him to breathe faster. And the more he did … the better he felt.

She looked away, then back, realizing what was happening but playing it cool as only her kind could. “I estimate repair time to be … four to five days? The problems are isolated to Polaris’ drive section, particularly the engineering department going side to side across the deck from the warp core to the nacelles. But they are extensive. And you are in long line of ships requesting repairs.”

“Mmhmm.”

He was practically huffing now.

Great Maker, she was in heat, wasn’t she? Ha! Foolish bunny. Putting herself in a predator’s path in that condition.

But how lucky for me!

Surveying potential exits with her eyes, she continued, “In addition to the conduits, we’ll give the rest of the ship a lookover. Make sure other upgrades aren’t needed. Though, to be honest, there’s only so much we can do for a vessel with this many light years on it … ”

“They say you can’t teach an old dog new tricks,” the snow leopard quipped. How old was Mara? He was bad at estimating such things, but he was certain there was an age gap between them. No matter. “However, I am not a dog. Nor is Polaris. We still have some life in us yet!”

“The age of the ship doesn’t make me dismiss it. In fact, it impresses me.” Mara bowed her head. “I didn’t mean to offend.”

“You haven’t, I assure you,” he said, claws unsheathing in case she tried to hop away. “I was speaking in jest.”

She cleared her throat and stood to attention, noticing the claws. “I will put Polaris in our repair team’s queue, then. In the meantime, I’m sure you can take leave on the station. It has something for everyone.”

“Indeed. Though I can be a cantankerous kitty, and hard to please. I think I’ll remain where I am.”

“Are you … are you sure that is best? There are some new restaurants on the Promenade. A bar. The sector’s most advanced holo-suites … also, shopping, recreation … ” Mara trailed off, breathing faster.

Kalmbach took the baton and said, “I could do with some recreation.” A pause, and a hungry glance. “One can get stir-crazy after a deep space run.”

“Is there any remedy for that?”

“A simple injection does wonders, I find,” he said with a growing, rumbly purr, eyes sparking with euphemistic intent. Impatient, he began to lay it out. “It might be best … to show me Polaris’ problems yourself. My chief engineer will certainly grill me for an explanation, and I would like not to be ignorant.”

“Show you, sir?” She quirked a brow.

“I heard banging coming from the access tubes. Maybe you can show me what you were doing in there.”

She hesitated before saying, “That could get quite … involved.”

“I am very ‘hands-on’,” he assured, purring louder, skipping a beat before saying, “If it wouldn’t be an imposition?” His voice lowered. “Don’t make me turn this into an order, lieutenant … ”

Mara was frozen in place.

She knew if she went with him, she’d leave his ship pregnant. He knew it, too. He was relishing it.

Maybe, in fact, there were many little Kalmbachs already running around the universe! It certainly didn’t seem like this was his first time making such a proposition … no, he was too comfortable.

He’d done this before.

If she reported him, he’d claim he was ‘controlled’ by her pheromones. She knew how things worked.

Perhaps she’d been reckless, coming aboard being in heat? But she hadn’t realized the captain was a predator! A snow leopard! A battle ax. She’d assumed he’d be some prey critter she could handle.

Mara’s heart raced.

Kalmbach began to growl.

“Can … can you fit in an access tube?” Mara finally replied, paws shaking. Her heat was making her do this! She urged herself to hop away but her body couldn’t. Wouldn’t. She was on fire, and there was only one way to extinguish it. “To reach the junction I surveyed, we’ll have to crawl through them.”

“I’ve fit in tighter spaces than these,” he promised, nodding at the open hatch.

The innuendo made the rabbit shudder. “Very well, sir.” She placed the slightest emphasis on ‘sir.’ “Follow me.” She nodded and got on all fours and crawled into the conduit, bobtail flicking and rump wiggling as she disappeared from sight.

Kalmbach adjusted his trousers, looked around the department and followed his prey.

In an access junction, a small room with crawl-though tubes on all four sides (as well as the ceiling and floor, via ladder), the big, powerful snow leopard snarled as his proud, barbed penis disappeared into the shorter rabbit’s wet, hot sex.

They were in a very feral position. Fours. With his teeth grazing her neck. He bit down.

She quivered and maintained her calm demeanor … until he pulled his hips back.

The inward push had masked his barbs. The pullback? Caused them to flare, to catch against her impossibly smooth and sensitive vaginal walls, ‘scratching’ her.

The doe cried out in surprise. She’d heard about this feline-specific attribute, of course. Who hadn’t? But she’d never felt it before. It was … oh, it was—

“Oh, yes, those,” Kalmbach said with a chuckle, slamming back into her. Not giving her any time to respond, he pulled back again. “Quite fascinating.”

The bunny gasped.

“In most females, the hooks induce a false heat … mm … hmm! It tricks their bodies into … ah, ahh … inducing ovulation. But you’re already in heat. Aren’t you, dearie? Mmmm … yes. Ah … ha, hah! How many eggs, I wonder? Twins? Triplets?”

No reply.

But she was hearing every word, and he knew it. When she wasn’t moaning, of course.

Kalmbach steadily mashed his hips to her rump, losing track of time and all else, until he felt a growing feeling in his loins. A tingling, a surging, growing power, like lightning to be flung.

He panted and purred into one of Mara’s ears, “You … you’ll name one of the kittens after me, won’t you? It’s only fair.” The snow leopard growled, slamming into her, outright rutting her. “Say yes, or I will pull out … and your heat will consume you.”

He was bluffing, of course. He wasn’t about to blue ball himself. But she was even more addled than him!

She moaned. “I … yes. I … yes. I promise.”

Kalmback rose up off all fours, remaining on his knees. He gripped her hips and pounded her once, twice, three times more. “Oh … oh, yes, yes … oh, gods, yes!” he roared. Then the avalanche. The spray of white. Nothing uncovered, nothing missed.

She took it, all of it, gaping and lowering her shoulders to the metallic floor. Rump in the air, tail flicking. Whimpering, whining, wet as warm rain, sex in spasms in a successful attempt to milk the male dry.

The yowls from him, the erotic yelps from her.

In the most acoustically perfect area of the ship?

It was a symphony of sensual proportions for an audience of two.

Minuet stood in Doctor Barrow’s office, looking through the clear window and into the infirmary. Particularly focusing on Ambassador Aria, who was cradling a newborn rabbit to her bosom.

Commander Graham stood at her side, and they exchanged quiet, tender words.

Minuet could easily eavesdrop on them but decided not to.

Barrow entered his office. “Hey, Min.”

“Salutations,” the computer replied.

“It’s a boy! They’re still deciding on a name.”

“I see.”

The blue bat stopped and tilted his head. He was telepathic, but he couldn’t read the computer’s mind. She was an enigma to him. “Is something wrong?”

“No. I am glad the ambassador is okay. I have grown to consider her a … mentor, of sorts. She has been helping me to understand the ways of ‘organics’.”

Barrow nodded, sidling closer to the hologram. “It’s more than that. You’re looking at the baby. Almost … longingly?”

Minuet blinked and turned to the doctor. “What are you saying?”

“Nothing! Nothing.” He held up his wing-arms. “Just that you’ve been exploring and experimenting with sex. You’ve chosen to be female. Only makes sense you’d develop a, um … well, that you’d be curious about … never mind.”

The bat, even without telepathy, could sense he was getting far too close to the truth, and that Minuet really wasn’t willing or ready to discuss it with him. Perhaps that’s why she was shadowing Annika? What had the computer confided in her?

The infirmary doors swooshed open, and a member of Seward’s engineering staff entered. Looking around, she saw Barrow and entered his office.

“Can I help you, Mara?”

“I am in need of—” The lieutenant stopped short when she caught Minuet’s gaze. Focusing on the bat, she lowered her voice and continued, “I require an emergency contraceptive.”

Having read her mind, the bat was already preparing the dose. He didn’t ask her for details and didn’t mentally dig for them (though the image of a snow leopard was on the surface of her thoughts). Just nodded and pressed a hypo to her neck.

Mara closed her eyes.

The hypo hissed.

“There! That didn’t hurt at all, did it.”

“Um … not entirely,” the rabbit said, still feeling the effects of Captain Kalmbach’s barbs.

“You needn’t worry. It’s been taken care of.”

“Thank you.” She sighed with relief.

“If you need anything else, just let me know.”

Mara nodded, turned, and hopped away, leaving the infirmary.

When she was gone, Minuet asked, “She is in heat? Why did she risk having unprotected sex in such a condition?”

“Well … us ‘organics’ have less self-control than A.I.’s such as yourself.” The bat leaned against a console and said, “Maybe you should add a temporary ‘heat cycle’ into your program. Then you’d know what it was like.”

“That would undoubtedly disrupt my ability to serve as main computer for this station. I doubt Commander Graham would approve.”

“Probably not.” The bat winked before leaving. He needed to run some scans on the baby, as well as give some inoculations. “But I won’t tell if you do. Doctor/patient confidentiality.”

Kalmbach yawned a big, kitty yawn (sharp and dangerously cute) as he emerged from the shower and dried off, flopping into bed. Redwing window loomed outside his window. The stars beyond it. He’d visit the station tomorrow.

For now, he hugged a pillow to his chest.

The rabbit had been good, undoubtedly! More than good. It had been a while since he’d pounced a female in heat.

But there had been no time to cuddle. A true shame. She was on duty and, well … while fraternization wasn’t regulated by rules, it still wasn’t a good idea to get caught in public. They hadn’t lingered much post-coitus.

Kalmbach sighed, rolling to his back. He stared at the ceiling.

Being captain was a privilege and an honor. But it would be a lonely calling, at times.

“At least I have you, don’t I?” he said to his ship.

No response.

“Ah, don’t be jealous of me and the snow bunny, old girl. It was just a fling.” A pause, admitting, “A loud, messy fling, but … mmm … ” He purred in remembrance, yawning again. “Also tiring. I’m not as young as I used to be.”

But he still had it!

Whatever ‘it’ was.

As the snow leopard drifted off to sleep, he counted this as a victory.