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The computer-alarm (a soothing, repeated ‘beep-a-beep') had woken them up. Maybe earlier then they would've liked. About fifteen minutes ago. Up, out of bed. Bathroom. Then to the kitchen. Orange juice, and ... drifting back, back. To bed. Like a dream. Still feeling too sleepy to really be in a respectable upright position. Best lay down, yeah? And best nuzzle whilst laying. And maybe that nuzzling got a little out of paw, out of control, but ...

... bound to, really.

Always did.

So that now, they were intimately touching, tangled in the early-ember moments of space-faring morning, in the navy-blue sheets, cool and strewn. Their bodies hot. Writhing together like animals in the glowing dimness.

Sensual silhouettes in their dark bedroom.

Oblivious to the racing, warping stars.

Only, yes, their flying hearts.

" ... mm-m." Sliding by slick, silky ... inches. Succulent. Slow and sensual. " ... o-oh, you ... lovely, lovely bird," the toned, naked kangaroo cooed, happily, approvingly, dragging his tongue across her downy, feathered nape. Licking her. He licked his wife. Up, up, to the back of her autumn-golden head. Where he planted a big kiss. Eyes lidded, half-shut. Working his s-so sensitive penis, with a deft, panting hip-bump, as deep as he could. Oh. Into the welcoming warmth and w-wet ... wet. Warmth. Wonderful, wasn't it? His brown fur seemed to stand on end.

A lazy, little chirrup. Soft, sing-song. Sing-song. On her bare belly, tongue hanging out of her conical, mellow-colored beak. Letting Briscoe, hugging from behind, do all the work. Y-yeah. She really didn't mind if ... h-he wanted to ... do it all ... her notched tail-feathers raised, pinned between her back and his chest. Her talon-feet stretching. More than once, she'd nicked holes in the sheets during breeding. With her talons. They had to replicate new ones more often than she cared to admit.

His humps were firm. Steady, s-steady, in and out. Slipping and dipping in and out.

C-chirp.

His long, super-sturdy limber-tail, it raised and balanced. And then fell with a thump as he pushed his big, big foot-paws off the mattress. "U-uh ... " Pushed his hips forward and down. "Uh ... " A sigh, slowing, suddenly savoring, holding that position for about three seconds before easing up and repeating. Repeating. The gap soon back down to two seconds, and then one. O-one ... singular, steady motion, again, uninterrupted, his ‘essence' coated in the nectar of hers, glistening. And he screwed his face as his (essence) began to tingle from the base upward, ‘til the whole thing was ... t-tingling ... he was close. Oh. Close. He began to hump with urgency, with near desperation.

Which caused the bed to creak, the headboard (which wasn't actually made of wood, but still, what else were you going to call it) ... it rattled. And Seurat's body, too, was moved, rocking into the sheets in such a belly-arching way. That her hardened nipples were rubbing against the fabric with non-stop intensity. The same for her clitoris. And the roo, knowing this, kept his body snug to hers. With every motion he made, there was little separation to be had between their forms. They were glued together, fused together, and careening toward a unified firework, the shared, bond-building reward of passionate spouses.

He got his ‘reward' first, as he ... o-often did. He had stamina, sure. Wasn't the problem. Willpower was. So hard to want to ... resist getting ‘there.' There. To this, this, orgasmic bliss, as he whined! Penis jerking hard. He felt the twitches, the firing spurts. Helpless little bursts, again and again, of roo-semen.

Beak clacking, breaths whistling in and out of her ‘nose-holes,' she ... s-sighed. Feeling him lose it. And she sighed again, taking a half-minute longer. But she bucked her hips against the bed. Grinding her clitoris to the sheets. "H-m-m ... mm ... " And, then, y-yeah ... she got it. She got there. Signaling out with a rapid series of high, twitter-y notes, her sex fluttered, shook, and ...

... milked him. She milked him, with a few wet dribbles. And he whined further, huffing, mouthing above her shoulder blades. " ... o-oh. Oh." He shook his head, weakly, in a good kind of disbelief. He was a doctor. He knew how and why sex worked, biologically. But it never stopped him from being blindsided by the actual experience. The actual emotional, mental experience. He was a fur, dammit. He never got tired of it. And he so loved his pretty, pretty bird. He was whispering this, mumbling it out loud, against her neck: " ... pretty bird." A breath. "Pretty, pretty bird."

She melted beneath him. Even more than she already had. Responding, in weak, hazy breaths, " ... oh, you got a ... you still pack quite a wallop, roo ... " A shiver.

" ... mm, do I? Hope that's good," he went, paws rubbing up and down her sides. "Hope that's extra-good for you."

She nodded comfortably. Audibly panting. It had been good for her, y-yeah. It was.

Her breathed of her comforting scent. "I love you, Surry." His fond nickname for Seurat.

" ... I love you, too," she responded. With an unseen smile. Big, big smile. "Now, uh ... you gonna get off me? So I can turn around and kiss you good and proper?"

A chuckle. "Only if you promise to give me some extra beak." Kissing a bird was very different from kissing a mammal, being that they didn't have lips. You had to ‘know' how to do it. It took practice. But he'd had plenty of it.

"You'll get extra beak," she promised.

Another chuckle, pulling out of her. With a sigh. And, uh, much messy ... dripping wetness. Lifting his hips and most of his body, propping himself up.

She quickly went to a wing-stretching shimmy. Rolling onto her back. Bending her legs and keeping them apart.

And he lowered back down, bare, furry belly to bare, feathered belly. Lip-locking with her hardened, orange-y beak, tongues touching. Tip to tip. For five, ten seconds. Longer. Until a smack-sound. And he whispered, again, flush with afterglow and not able to help from being a bit sappy, " ... I really do love you, babe."

Bringing a talon-hand to his face, caressing his cheek, and meeting his eyes from so very close, she whispered, "I know you do." A warm pause, and her winged arms wrapped around his back. "You know how to make this bird sing." Her downy, talon-tipped fingers traced the tattoo on his back. She knew where it was. By memory. And she traced every little pattern.

He closed his eyes as she did this, beaming proudly, reveling in her blanket-wrap hug. And kissing her again, tail raising and then lowering with yet another harmless ‘thump.'

"But, uh, I just noticed something ... "

"What would that be," was his cheek-nibbling mumble.

The goldfinch, eyes skirting to the windows, neck tilting slightly, said, "The stars have stopped moving. We dropped out of warp."

The roo looked up. Blinking.

"Probably means we're within range of the bee-pod. I'm in the charge of the shuttle-bay. I gotta be there when he docks."

A little nod. "Means we can't shower together, I take it?"

"You know if we do, it'll take too long. We'll get distracted. I'll just hop in for a minute, get a real quick clean ... then I gotta flap off. But," she said, beak-nipping at his chin, "I'll see you in an hour. Little less. At the staff meeting. It's a breakfast meeting, right? Cause I'm hungry."

"I thought I'd satisfied you," he teased.

"Heh ... food. For food."

"I'll bring a bowl o' sunflower seeds and crickets for you," he assured. A hug, propping himself up. And rolling off her body. To his back. "Surry ... "

"Mm?" Seurat went, sitting up, stretching her winged arms to the ceiling.

"Sing for me? In the shower?" A pause. "So I can listen from here?"

A shy glance. "You know I feel silly singing in the shower."

"You just admitted I make you sing, though, so ... please?" he asked. "I'll make it up for you."

"How?" she demanded, playfully.

" ... more lovin'? Later?" he went, grinning boyishly, mischievously. Thumping his limber-tail on the sheets. Flashing his big, big foot-paws. His strong legs. "Standing up. I'll hump-hop you ... ‘til you see the stars moving again. Even if they're really not."

"H-heh! Eh ... silly roo," she went, swinging her legs out of bed. Standing up, and sauntering to the bathroom door, tail-feathers ruffling. Rump swaying. The doors swished open. And she tapped a button next to it (to ‘lock' it in an open position). Pausing. "You will?"

"Uh-huh."

Well, then. She cleared her throat. Warbling in a quick, tiny tune-up. "Just don't fall back asleep, okay? You get too ‘soothed' by it."

"I'll keep awake." He put his arms behind his head, sprawling out on their bed. Such a lazy roo when he wanted to be. But his charm made it a tolerable lazy.

"You're incorrigible," she said, clicking her tongue. Eyes gleaming. And, disappearing from view, turning the sonic shower on, she began to sing.

"Lieutenant," was the brief, simple greeting. Without looking up.

" ... eh ... Sub-commander?" the red squirrel said, slightly confused. As she entered the near-empty conference room. It was 0900, exactly. Well, maybe a minute past. "I thought there was ... " Adele looked around, awkwardly, trailing off and twitching. Bushy tail flittering like a banner searching for a breeze. Voice growing weak, she picked back up with, " ... a meeting? Or something?" I know there is. I'm not THAT crazy, Adele told herself.

"A meeting of the senior staff ... " Eyes busy reading.

" ... yeah, that's what I ... "

" ... at 0930."

" ... thought. Oh." The rodent put her paws to her cheeks. Rubbing absently. Oops. "Okay." She stood in the doorway for a moment. Not knowing which way to go. But, ultimately, it would be more awkward to just walk away, so she ... you ... you sorta have to stay, you know. I mean, right? Anyway, you know you're gonna have to confront her at some point. Annika. About things.

The prim and pretty snow rabbit was sitting at the head of the sleek, white table. The end of it. Alone. She looked down, still, at a computer pad. Tapping a blunt-clawed, furred finger. Tap-tap. Beep ... ba-beep. Reading up on sector intelligence reports and border patrol scans. Aside from the derelict bee ship, there had been no incursions into snow rabbit space. But the yellow jackets could very well have stealth technology, and ...

" ... uh, so ... " The squirrel was slowly wandering around now, actually holding the tip of her bushy tail. In her paws. Like it was a ‘safety blanket' of sorts. She ended up leaning her belly against the back of a swivel-chair. Leaning, easing back. Leaning again. Blowing out some air. A forced smile. Which, at first, showed too much buckteeth. Tone it down, Adele. You're so bad at faking things. "So, what are you doing here, then?"

"My job."

Adele opened her mouth to say ‘oh,' but just ... bit her lip and nodded. Fake smile fading. "Mm-hmm," she went, slowly. "No, but I meant ... " Why won't she make eye contact with me? She knows. That's why. Obviously. She's adept at gathering intelligence. She probably knew five minutes after you and the Captain ‘did it' in the science lab. " ... well, I don't know what I meant," she said lamely. "I'm normally late to meetings. Not early." She shifted her body weight from one hip to the other, and then back again. "Surprised to find you in here, all by yourself."

"Denison was sleeping in." A pause, raising her brow in not-so-secretive satisfaction. "I exhausted him last night." The snow rabbit finally looked up, proudly. To drain a mouse of his scurry? Well, that was something!

" ... you ... " The squirrel let the words drawl out, at first on her tongue, like molasses. " ... you exhausted him?" Not getting it. And, then, almost immediately: " ... oh. Okay." Should I say congratulations? She's implying they've mated, right? But what if they didn't, and what if they were just playing basketball in the holo-suite or something, and then you'll sound really stupid if you congratulate her, and ... just say ‘okay' again, okay? "Okay," she in verbal response to herself. And to Annika.

"So, I left my quarters, and came here. Seurat and one of my deputies are greeting the bee when he docks. I was not needed, and I had tactical reports to catch up on. This seemed a peaceful place."

"What about breakfast? You weren't hungry?"

"According to our good Doctor ... " And the way she said it indicated that she didn't take the kangaroo too seriously. " ... this is to be an ‘eat and greet' ... which I took to mean that we will be having breakfast during the meeting." She looked back down to her pad for a second, commenting, "Most captains would not allow such a thing. But Peyton is a fairly casual leader." And, of course, the addendum of, "As I'm sure you've discovered."

The squirrel twitched at that. Visibly. Eyes darting. She flushed beneath her reddish-brown fur.

"Your heat is over? Are you relieved? Proficiency in engineering was affected by your absence. The engines will benefit from your touch." Changing subjects, only slightly. Not pussy-footing anymore. And keeping her eyes on the rodent.

A weak nod. Whiskers twitching.

"It is a maddening time for a femme. Heat. That much is certain. A ‘pleasured pandemonium,' if you will." She sounded empathetic. But it was hard to tell.

" ... yeah, it's pretty intense," the squirrel agreed, distractedly. Trying to sound normal.

"I hear the Captain helped you through it? He helped me through two of mine."

A further pained twitch. She didn't want to be hearing this. She didn't want to know what Peyton had done. Yeah, he'd done it. Yeah, she knew, but ... she didn't want to KNOW that she knew, you know? It made her feel less special for some reason. Made her feel bad. "S-sub-commander, uh ... look," the squirrel said, breathing deep. Letting go of her tail and wringing her paws together. "I don't need to tell you what happened. You seem well-informed."

The snow rabbit said nothing. Her ears twiddled in that logical way.

"But Peyton ... I mean, the Captain," she amended, swallowing, " ... he didn't do anything I didn't want him ... uh, to do." A pause. Well ... okay, that first time? Had happened way too fast. Too quickly, in fact, to know if she'd rationally wanted it or not. But the subsequent times? She'd known what she was doing. Even in her biologically ‘intoxicated' state. " ... I was glad for his help. It meant a lot to me." And, oh, also: I may not have scurry, but I got ‘scamper.' Squirrels got scamper. And he took it right out of me plenty of times. And it was freaking great! But, uh ... she didn't say that out loud.

"You have feelings for him?" Annika inquired.

"That's none of your business." The squirrel's paws moving, her body turning. She walked a few paces away, her tail to the snow rabbit. "Why are you doing this to me?"

A raised brow. "I do not understand the ... "

" ... question? You're the one questioning me. Look. I just ... I know you have problems with him, but leave me out of it." She turned back around. Breasts heaving a bit beneath her uniform. Her breasts not as big as Annika's. She noticed that. It made her a bit self-conscious. Why would the Captain want me over ... over that? Over her? Or anyone like her? I'm just a rodent.

"I am not worried about him," Annika assured, as if Adele was missing the point.

"No?" A defensive huff.

"No. I am worried about you," Annika said.

A blink of surprise.

"While you were under ‘quarantine,' I did take Denison as my husband. Firstly."

Might as well say it this time, Adele. Now that you know it for sure. Be friendly. "Congratulations."

A polite head-bob. "Thank you." The snow rabbit cleared her throat. "Secondly, as a result, and having been pursued by him for over a month ... I have come to know rodents. I know what they are like. And I know what male snow rabbits are like. I do not want you to get hurt. That is all."

"I think it's a lot more complicated than that."

"A good motto, to be sure. If not clichéd." A breath. "Whatever you may think of me, I am not a jealous sort." A pause, starting to shift in her seat. She didn't like to admit this. " ... I am, though ... rather dominant. Controlling, even. That can be mistaken for jealousy. I do not take failure well. I have trouble letting go." Not just of furs, either. Not just physical things. But scars. Wounds. Memories ...

" ... I don't know where you're going with this." Adele felt pretty blank. She'd never had a problem with Annika before getting involved with Peyton. She didn't want to have one, now. But the Sub-Commander wasn't the most endearing individual aboard Majestic.

" ... I have decided to ‘let go' of our Captain. I decided this four weeks ago. Physically, anyway." A momentary silence. "But mentally, it took a lot longer."

"So ... " A head-shake. " ... what? I have your ‘blessing'? That's kinda pretentious."

"I am not giving my ‘blessing' or my ‘permission.' You may do what you wish. I am simply telling you ... that I am pulling for you. You have my support. As a friend. And, whether you like it or not: I know Peyton. As a result, I can help you."

A swallow. "H-help me? Uh ... " Eyes darting.

" ... you wish to keep him, correct?"

" ... yeah, but on my own merits," the squirrel stressed, desperately. Letting her guard down. "Not because you helped me with ‘inside' information. I don't want this to be like that book with the ... the fur with the long nose, and the poems, and the ... " She couldn't think of the name. " ... like, me being clueless, and you feeding me lines offstage. To make the ‘star' fall in love with me." A pause, twitching with vulnerable suspicion. "Have you been talking to him?"

"No more than usual. We are the two highest-ranking officers on the ship. We both work on the bridge. We see each other every day."

Adele rubbed her face, sighing. Oh, my gosh. They've probably talked about me. What did they say?

Annika rubbed her own neck. Sighing. "I meant no offense. I realize you can be insecure."

A sudden glare.

"Am I off-base?" A raised brow.

"It doesn't matter if you ... if you know someone has a weakness. Weak traits. It's not polite to mention it."

"The truth is more honorable than lying," she said, logically.

"You're hip-to-hip with a mouse, now, right? Maybe he can teach you a thing or two about ‘finesse'."

"My apologies. I meant no ... personal attack." She sounded sincere, too, as she said this. " ... I just ... "

Adele finally took a seat, slowly ... elbows resting on the edge of the table. She looked down at the tabletop while her angular ears cocked. And listened to the snow rabbit. Putting her head in her paws. Sighing.

" ... I just ... am just saying." It was rare that Annika was at a loss for words. She was quiet for a moment. "I have never been in love before. It does things to you."

"Yeah ... " It was whispered with understanding. Adele knew. A hesitation, before saying, honestly, "I always thought you and Denison would make a good couple. I mean, you seem like you could help each other. Puzzle pieces, you know? Make a bigger picture together ... then when apart?"

"A lovely sentiment." The snow rabbit closed her eyes for a moment, and then reopened them. "I have been wondering if it can change a fur. Love. Or heal one, even ... I have been wondering how much it power it has. Thus far, I am uncertain. Only that it seems to be both tortuous and lavish. Denison is quite cute. And, as a lover, extremely sensitive and eager-to-please ... but he is quite fragile, emotionally. His heart is delicate. I worry my cruder impulses may damage it. May damage him."

"I wouldn't worry about it. As long as you're faithful to him ... as long as you remind him that you love him, too." The red squirrel breathed in through the nose. "Love is whatever you allow it to be, I suppose," the squirrel replied. "Whatever you want it to be. I imagine Denison, like me, like most rodents? Wants it to be very sweet and wide-eyed and storybook-romantic. Traditional. Most importantly: spiritual. Maybe you want it to be more contemporary, more casual, but ... you can find a middle-ground."

"A middle-ground." An eye-smile. "Logical," the snow rabbit said, approvingly. "But love is not something one can control."

" ... no."

"And, therefore, it unnerves me some ... I am not the easiest fur to get to know. My persona in public can be harsh. Demanding. In private, I can be softer. I can be feminine. I take on different degrees of ‘decorum' depending on the social environment. I believe that is true of all of us, but especially true of me. I have walls. They are hard to storm."

"But a mouse got through the cracks, huh?"

"Yes. Persistently ... with a knack for wriggling. He got in last night." An eye-smile. Sort of. "And I believe it was the best night of my life."

A shy smile. "That good?"

"He may not be endowed like a rabbit, or have a rabbit's stamina, but ... as I said: he is sensitive. With a sensitive touch to match. And is extremely eager-to-please." A pause. "He made me feel new things. And I rather believe, from his reactions, that I made him feel the same."

"You, uh ... h-heh, don't need to elaborate. I'll use my imagination." The squirrel held up her paws in a ‘stop' motion, before lowering them. Beginning to relax some, as the conversation went on. As it became friendlier. "That's kinda sweet, really. I never figured you'd be the type to go around gushing like this. Do not rabbits gush? Do they glow?"

"I am not gushing." Annika licked her lips.

"You seem quite pleased with yourself, though. You're really quite taken with him, aren't you?"

"I would not have mated him, otherwise."

Adele nodded slightly. " ... yeah."

"But, anyway ... I am not your competition," Annika said, getting back to the original topic. "I do have issues, yes. With him," she said, of Peyton. "I believe I will for some time. I cannot say that it makes me entirely comfortable, what you two are doing, but ... I would be hypocritical to condemn it. Considering what I am doing with our Ops officer." She had to admit, next, that, "Mostly, I suppose my issues are with myself. But those are the hardest issues to confront."

"Tell me about it," Adele whispered. She knew all too well, yeah.

Annika looked out the window, and then back to the squirrel. "To be honest, I was rather shocked ... when I heard. Rodents rarely breed outside of mate-ships. They have very strong spiritual beliefs on the matter. Denison would not so much as admit he wanted intercourse with me ... though I know he did. But he would not even admit it until I gave my devotion. Let alone actually do it."

" ... I know ... it was an accident." Oh, gosh, that sounds so lame. The squirrel's eyes watered. She closed them, rubbing them. "I wasn't trying to ... " A breath. Calm down, girl. " ... I don't know. It just happened."

" ... heat ‘quarantine' is mandatory."

"I know. I know! I ... I was pushing it. I don't know. I was stupid. It happened," she repeated. She swallowed. "But once it did?"

" ... you did not wish it to stop," Annika finished, for her, at a whisper.

A nod. And then another one. "Even though ... to be honest, yes, it makes me uncomfortable. It hurts a little. Knowing that I went against my own ... my own faith. And knowing what he's done? Who," she said, sheepishly, "he's done. I mean, all the femmes on my engineering staff? Have been with him? How am I suppose to look them in the eye, now? I don't have their brazen rabbit-y sense of ... " She trailed. " ... that rabbits have. I can't handle it."

" ... I suppose your being able to look them in the eye relies on you being able to look yourself in the eye," Annika provided, with impeccable logic.

"Well, sometimes, I can't even do that."

"Why not?"

A shake of the head. " ... it's too early in the morning to be talking about stuff like this." Her way of saying: please, let's drop it.

"Very well," Annika agreed, gently. But only after a hesitation. And she began to turn her eyes back to her computer pad when ...

" ... I want him to love me, because I've fallen in love with him," the squirrel blurted out, not dropping it after all. "I want him so bad. I really ... when he bred me? That first time? I was in heat, sure, and anything was gonna feel great, but it felt GREAT-great. Like nothing else." She was almost panting, now. She had to slow her breath. "And he ... he's so confident, you know? He's so sure of himself. He's so handsome and strong and laid-back. It's, like, you know ... how you and Denison fill each other's gaps? Make each other stronger? It's the same way with me and him. At least ... at least, that's what I think. I'm so twitchy all the time. Nervous, awkward, needy. Insecure. He's none of those things. It's like he puts me at greater ease. He makes me feel fun and attractive and good." A deep sigh. "And even ... stupid things: I like his scent. I like his eyes. I like how ... I just ... " She trailed.

"He is quite charismatic. There is something about him that eases one's ... pains," Annika agreed. "Many femmes fall for him. None, thus far, have been able to keep him. He strays because he knows he can. Because he knows he is universally wanted. He always hops back, but ... it is it not enough." She obviously spoke from experience. "It is never enough for those who cannot let go."

" ... are you telling me," the squirrel said slowly, "that ... that, what? I need to let go of him?" Her eyes watered.

"No. That is what I did. And I found someone better ... for me. Better for me. For you?" A head-tilt. "Maybe there is no ‘better'. Maybe he is truly the one. Maybe your non-traditional coupling is Fate's way of better-inducing a traditional mate-ship between the two of you. What better way to get two opposites to stick than to throw them together before they can think about it? Because, honestly? Had both of you thought it through before it happened? You probably would not have done it, and ... you would not be in love with him. And et cetera."

"But you and Denison didn't happen like that. And you're kinda opposites."

"No. But Dension nibbled away at my exterior over the course of months. You were not nibbling at the Captain's. Or anyone's. Perhaps God realized this, and ... understood that, in your anxiety, the only way to get you into a romance was to nudge you into one. Because you do want to be in one, correct? You were just too isolated to make a move?"

" ... I ... I don't know." Whiskers twitching, she tried to think this through. "Yeah." A slow inhale.

"Forgive the question, but ... have you bred outside your heat?"

"Yeah. Yeah, uh ... this morning." Blushing hot beneath her fur. She rubbed a cheek. "He woke me up. But, uh ... and we did it. And then Admiral Flint called on sub-space, and he hopped back to his own quarters to take the call. I haven't talked to him since then. But that was, like, an hour ago." A sheepish pause. "That's why I'm early. He told me the time of the meeting when we were ... "

" ... in the midst of ... "

" ... yeah. Yeah. I, uh, was distracted. I don't think I heard right."

An eye-smile. "Few would."

"But the point is: I wasn't in heat. And I STILL felt the same way ... emotionally, you know? It's not just the heat that made me clingy or attached to him. Not just instinct. It's something real for me. I really like him."

"Then I ask you: what is the problem?"

"I'm not sure, uh ... I'm not sure ... "

" ... how real it is for him? That is the issue, then. Your feelings on the matter are well-documented. But what of his?"

"I know he enjoys it. I know he's fond of me. But does he LOVE me? He hasn't said. And I told him that, when he does, he can kiss me on the lips. We haven't kissed on the lips yet ... not this whole time. He's kissed me everywhere on my body, literally, except for there. He tried, once, but I knew he was heady on my scent. It wouldn't have been genuine. So, I stopped him."

"Rest assured ... we do feel. My species. We can love. Just in a different way. He has, perhaps, not realized this yet," Annika soothed.

"What'll make him realize it?"

"Persistence."

"Like Denison did with you? I'm not that type of fur. I ... Denison's a dreamer. You know? He pines and swoons and ... "

" ... and?" Annika asked, ears standing tall.

" ... and I'm a little more grounded. I don't have poetic ammunition to launch at Peyton all day, every day. I can't break through his barriers like Dension did with yours. And Peyton's different than you. It wouldn't work with him, anyway, even if I was the type to, uh ... do that."

"A probable truth. Then, perhaps, he must lose you. In order to realize a love exists."


 A blink. A stutter. "W-what? Lose me?"

"Not permanently, but ... at least in threat. In theory. You see, I do not think Peyton understands what it is like to be lonely." A quiet breath. "Not like you and me, or Denison." Annika whispered. "Denison offered to take my loneliness away ... with warmth. With gentility. With ... nice things. Very nice things. And I, in turn, am taking his away. Our loneliness replaced by a shared fullness. A light." Pause. "You need for Peyton to offer to take your loneliness away. But how can he do that when he, himself, does not know what it is like to be alone?"

The squirrel sniffled. Rubbing her face. A brief nod.

"He's always had his ... partners. Rabbits. All over him. He has never been isolated, on a planet far from home. In a cell. For countless days He has never known true separation from that which gives joy. That which gives meaning. He is not wracked with anxiety or self-doubt." Her words were very autobiographical. But Adele could relate to much of it. "I am not stepping outside my jurisdiction when saying these things? You and I have more in common than one would think, correct? At least in terms of ... what we have felt. Not necessarily actual experiences, but ... "

The squirrel didn't respond at first. " ... it's not that I'm shy. I'm just socially awkward. Even anti-social, and ... " Don't qualify or quantify the situation. Just answer the question. " ... yes. I've known loneliness. I've never had anyone all over me. Anyone at all. I've been so lonely that I cried ... j-just ... hurt. It hurt." A pause. "But if the only way to make him realize how much he needs me is to leave him? That's a risk I'm terrified to take, cause ... "

" ... you are afraid of what you may discover? That you may ‘lose' the gamble? And end up back where you started? While he loses nothing?"

Her eyes watered. And she pawed at them, weakly. Lip trembling. " ... I ... I don't wanna lose him, though ... I don't ... " A breath. "Dammit, I'm crying. Again. I'm so weak."

"You are far from that. You are simply very emotional. You are incredibly blessed."

"Cause I'm crying?" the squirrel asked, rubbing her face. Sniffling. And only halfway looking up.

"There have been times where I would have given anything to cry. To release the sadness ... but my species cannot cry."

"No tear ducts?"

"The expression of emotions fierce enough to cause crying," she explained, "would ‘crack' our freezes. Open a floodgate. It would lead to a feral state. That is why our emotions are genetically restrained. We feel. I feel the same emotions you do. But they are suppressed, felt through a filter ... and they cannot be expressed in shouts of laughter. Or in tears. They can only be expressed in subtlety."

"Oh. Eh ... of course. I knew that." The squirrel licked her lips, awkwardly, and opened her muzzle. And then closed it. And then opened it again, having ceased her sniffle-squeaking. " ... thank you for opening up like this. With me. I mean, I was afraid of you a little bit. I was even mad at you. I don't know why, but I was. But maybe we're not that different."

"Maybe not."

Adele smiled, shyly. No longer looking at the Sub-Commander as some rabbit who'd shared Peyton's bed. As competition. But, instead, as ... a friend?

"It is my conclusion that you have no reason for despair. In regards to the possible outcomes of your liaison with the Captain."

"No?"

"I noticed Peyton's prized possession is missing from the ready room wall. I have a good idea of where it went," she said, knowingly. "He may, perhaps, love you after all ... he just does not know how to say it in words. He is much better at showing it with gestures."

"Like sex?" A bashful look.

"Yes. But for a rabbit? That could still be considered ... ‘showing it'. It a strong gesture for us. For any fur. Sex is the ultimate expression of romantic love. The ultimate act of selfless giving."

She flushed. Gestures. Yeah, that medal? That was such a sweet gift. She'd worn the medal to bed the last two nights. She'd been so proud to have it. " ... I need him to say it, though. I don't wanna guess or intuit. I need to finally, ultimately KNOW ... cause this isn't just about him loving me. It's about mating. Staying with me. Living a life together. That requires more than, uh ... unspoken cues." A swallow. "You get that, right? Denison needed more from you than cues. You had to say it, right? He needed you to say it, and you did?"

Annika nodded. " ... I did end up saying it. Yes." A pause. "I did not know words could feel so clean on the tongue. As those words did."A deep breath, adding, "It is different for every couple, though. Every pair. And, admittedly, I am no expert, myself, so ... " She wasn't sure what else to add, except, " ... but I do hope this has helped. Our discussion."

"It has."

"And I wish you happiness," the snow rabbit added, with a little nod.

"And I, uh, wish you ... like, all the same." Is this the part where we're supposed to ‘best friend forever' hug or something, Adele wondered? But Annika made no move to do so. And Adele, twitching awkwardly again, was fine with that. And then she realized, " ... there's something else. That you should know." She should know? Why? More like: something you need to get off your chest. Or, uh, breasts. " ... just don't tell anyone. Please?"

"Alright," the snow rabbit said, curiously.

"You have to promise."

A dainty nod. "I do."

And Adele quickly explained the ‘bet,' the friendly ‘wager' between her and Peyton, and whispered, "I don't wanna join the breeding party. I can't. It's so totally against my faith to do those things, and I ... I just couldn't live with myself. Peyton can do it. You know, that's him. I couldn't handle it." A breath. "And, anyway, I get too attached. I'd get jealous. I'd break into pieces." A pause. " ... you don't think he'll really hold me to it. Eh, do you ... Sub-Commander?"

" ... Annika."

"Annika ... I mean, do you? You've known him longer than me?" She let out a breath, closing her eyes.

"I do not believe he will, no. He cares for his crew. And he would not force one under his command into a situation that would be to their detriment. Especially if he had a strong attachment ... a love," Annika said, "for them."

A sigh of relief. Well, at least that as something. But ... " ... I've gone on too long. I'll, uh ... we'll end up breeding later. Me and him." It was too pleasurable to turn down. And it made, at least for a while, every insecurity and loneliness start to melt away. " ... I'll try and talk to him, and I'll ... uh, I'll him I need a decision soon."

"Love has no timetable, Adele. Just remember that. The moment of utter clarity that happens when you realize ... you're both in love? That it is real, and eternal? It will catch you by surprise." A head-tilt. "It caught my by surprise. He offered me blueberries," she said, semi-secretly, of Denison. Eye-smiling. "That is when it happened for me. And it was certainly not something planned or time-tabled. It unfurled quite naturally."

"Blueberries? I detect a boatload of cuteness behind that confession."

"Much cuteness, yes. A boat could not hold it, though. For it would capsize."

A giggle-squeak at the cheey joke, tail shaking in mirth. "H-heh. Eh, that's ... that's good," Adele admitted. Cheesy jokes! "Heh ... you really are mated to a mouse, aren't you?" A grin.

And a not-so-subtle eye-smile in return.

" ... but where is the snow?" the bee was asking, as they left the shuttle-bay. "I had most wished to throw a snowball at a fur. The notion is most tickling."

"What?" Seurat went, frowning, staying slightly behind the bee. She wasn't about to standing in front of something with a stinger like that. Especially when he appeared to be ‘off his rocker.' They were beginning to meander, more slowly than the songbird would've liked, through the corridors of Majestic. On their way to the conference room just off the bridge.

"This is a snow ship, yes?"

"A ship sanctioned by the snow rabbit government, answering to the snow rabbit High Command. Doesn't mean it's made of snow, or ... that it snows in the corridors."

"But it could, yes? Should one want it?" The bee raised his voice, as if trying to speak to the computer. "I ask for access to environmental controls! I ask for the flurries!"

"Quiet," Seurat hushed. "We're on a residential deck. Some furs are still in bed." Yeah, in bed. Probably not asleep, but ... she chose not to mention that. No need to give their guest any ammunition in regards to furry stereotypes.

"The computer ignores me," the bee said, confused, antennae waving.

"Sorry," was the bird's terse, negative response as they rounded a gently-curving corner. Padding across soft floor. Since furs were generally bare foot-pawed at all times, ships had carpeted floors throughout. Much easier on one's ‘pads' than metal deck-plating. Much more comfortable, too.

"Why does this tall-ears follow us?" the bee asked, twisting around. Gossamer wings flitting. Seeing the security guard. "With his quietness and hopping feets?"

"Protocol," Seurat said, simply.

"Mm-m ... what else does he do for guests? Aside from follow them from behind?" A sensual buzz.

The snow rabbit guard raised an enigmatic brow at that, but said nothing.

"I'm not even touching that one," the goldfinch said. If words had eyes and could roll them, then hers would've been doing just that.

The bee, straightening, waggling his stinger, said, "It has not escaped my notice. Of your discomfort."

Seurat didn't say anything. Just gestured with a winged arm as they approached a lift. The doors whooshing open. "After you."

"Do I cause discomfort-making?" he pressed.

"Birds and insects ... don't really fit together. As a rule. It's pretty universal. I'm surprised you're so comfortable around me."

"Why so?"

"Cause you sting us, suck our blood ... give us viruses. Steal our eggs. And we eat you," she said.

"Eat me?!" His stinger raised, defensively. Dangerously. "I should like to see you try!"

The guard-rabbit pulled out his phase pistol. Without a word. Squinting, aiming at the bee's stinger. "Shall I stun him, ma'am?"

"Calm down. Both of you. Look, I didn't mean ... that's not what I meant," she said, sighing, as the guard-rabbit joined them in the lift. And the doors swished up. "Bridge," she said to the computer. Being that the conference room was just off the bridge. On A-Deck. The lift began to whir and travel.

"I am sure I do not know," the bee buzzed, "what you meant. The bird brains. That is what you are." A dismissive wave of a spindly arm. "You go eat worms."

"I do NOT eat worms." She grinded her beak. "I meant, like ... I eat bugs, okay? Not sentient bugs. But, still. It's just weird for me. It creeps me out."

"It is no fault of mine that you feel as a creep. Perhaps you should see a doctor," he said, misunderstanding.

"I'm married to one, pal," she countered, smartly. "I'm sorry, but I'm just used to having my insects on plates. Not larger than life and intelligent and talking to me in turbo-lifts." Not the mention that every major insect encounter had been bad for furs. The war with the wasps. And now the yellow jackets up to no good? "I wouldn't feel so uncomfortable if you were, like, a lightning bug or something. But you've got a stinger bigger than my head just glistening all pointedly ... " She trailed off. " ... and those caution colors? Make me feel cautious. That's what they're designed to do, right?"

"Lightning bugs enjoy flashing too much," the bee remarked, only partially answering her. "It is quite crude."

"Always seemed harmless to me."

"They flash to get the love-make. Not to be pretty."

"So, bees don't enjoy ‘doing it,' huh? Find that hard to believe."

"Believe what you will. I make art and honey. Light and sweetness. I was hoping to throw snowballs and have much and many hugs here. Apparently, I was mistaken, and this is a ship of cranks."

"I'm not cranky. I got laid half an hour ago. You just make me uncomfortable," she said, again.

The snow rabbit guard, pistol holstered, perked notably at the breeding reference, bobtail beginning to flicker energetically.

"And I'm NOT a diplomat," Seurat continued. "I'm not good at greeting dignitaries or whatever. The only reason I'm doing this is cause we don't have a counselor or ambassador onboard, and the Captain ordered me. We're just a patrol-ship. Not a cruiser or a frigate or whatever. Just patrol ... "

"I give you discomfort? And now you are making me the same," the bee said, sternly. "I demand you give an apologizing."

A pause. Before she asked, not giving him one. "You're not gonna sting me, are you?"

"Our stingers are the last resort."

"You would say that, though, if you wanted others' to keep their guards down. If they only thought you were gonna use your stinger as a last resort ... they wouldn't be anticipating a sting, would they?"

"Are you saying I am fabricating?" His compound eyes refracted every bit of light available to them.

"I'm saying that I don't trust that your stinger is so ‘useless'. Wasps can use their stingers repeatedly."

"I am not of the wasps."

"No ... and I'm not a ‘bird brains'."

"You are a bird, and you have much crazy brains. I think that is near the truth."

A sigh! " ... the guest is always right," she offered, sarcastically. The lift stopped on the bridge, and Seurat muttered ‘thank God' under her beaked breath, gesturing with a winged arm. "This way ... "

"If the yellow jackets do not want war," Peyton asked, turning slightly in his swivel-chair, "then what do they want?" He glanced outside the windows, at the stationary stars, before swiveling the other way and looking back to the bee. Raising a brow. "Territory? To make a political statement?"

"Nothing so ... boring," the bee offered, "as that. They wish for the mischief-make." His mandibles, or proboscis, or whatever it was that made up his mouth (Peyton wasn't exactly sure) were slobbering all over a halved kiwi.

"Mischief-make?" Peyton echoed, charcoal-tipped ears standing tall. "You mean ‘trouble'?"

"Fun troubles. Yes." The bee scrunched his features and nudged the kiwi away. No, this would not do. "They wish to be entertained. To, first, interfere. And then, how do you say ... sit back? And watch." A head shake. "Most annoying things. Much unlike bees."

Seurat rolled her eyes, beak clenched shut.

"Is there a pattern to their interferences?" Annika pressed, sitting between Peyton and Denison. Sitting up prim and proper. She hadn't really touched her breakfast. Not even the carrot cake. She was too fascinated by the security implications of possible insect encounters. Her mind already feverishly working at defense schemes.

"Random is. As does. It is a total game to them."

"Some game," muttered Denison, whiskers a-twitch. He shuddered, nibbling on a piece of cheddar cheese. He was still traumatized by what he'd seen on the bee ship. It was too horrible to think about. Nibble-nibble. Too horrible. Nibble. Mm ... cheese.

"One day, they will contaminate furs' water supply ... other days, they ionize atmospheres of many a colony. Full moons. Then they see how the furs or bees do the reacting. Like we are their specimens. They like to harass us bees for the most. But, obviously, when they boarded our ship ... we were ready for them."

"Ready for them?" Annika pressed. "Doubtful. A single yellow jacket took out your entire crew. That indicates one of two things: either they are extremely powerful, or you were extremely unprepared."

"The ship was of my brothers. Perhaps they were distracted by other problems. I cannot say. Only that, had the yellow jackets boarded my ship, and come eyes-to-eyes with me ... " He shook his spindly limbs, in a show of vengeance. " ... bees is not all honey-sweetness. I would have played a piece so mad at them! On my cello!"

"Somehow, I doubt that would have proved dissuasive," Annika said, so dryly as to almost be sarcastic. Noticing, out of the corner of her eye, that Seurat looked extremely agitated. Did she and Briscoe not get to breed this morning? If so, why was Briscoe so relaxed? Perhaps it is the bee ... yes ... birds and bees. I shall have to make sure they do not come to blows.

"But I hit their souls. Where it counts, yes?" he stated. "All theoretical. They do not attack artist bees. Only workers and drones." A huff. "They think that artists are not important enough to merit!"

"Why's that?" Briscoe wondered aloud.

A hesitation. A buzzing, gossamer-flitting squirm. " ... because the hive-mates do not care for the artist bees. The yellow jackets know they will not get a reaction if they go for the likes of me. And what is the fun of them playing their mischief-makes if the ‘players' are not reacting?"

Denison whisker-twitched again. " ... that's kinda sad," he said, aloud. In his soft, airy voice.

"Yes. As I say: I may look charming and wonderful to be company with, but all is not honey-sweetness for me."

Peyton chomped on a carrot. The sound causing everyone to look his way. A head-tilt. "Now that I have everyone's attention ... may we return to topic?" He looked to the bee. Chew-chewing, and swallowing. "I had a conference call with Admiral Flint this morning. He seems to think that until the yellow jackets actually DO interfere in snow rabbit affairs, that we are not obligated to do anything. He does not wish to engage in preemptive strikes. We have had enough of those over the years."

"It is not preemptive," the bee insisted. "They have stricken us!"

"I know that. Your species, yes. But our species is still healing from many conflicts. We are incredibly wary about getting involved in another unless our paws are forced. And, thus far, they have not been. Not that I am unsympathetic to your ... being bullied," he said, diplomatically.

"The yellow jackets have never entered snow rabbit space before. At least not according to High Command intelligence," Annika said, backing up the Captain. And pressing the bee. "Why would they choose to do so now?"

"They wish to test you," the bee said.

Peyton, elbows on the table now, leaned forward. "Test?"

"They know of your reputation. The foes you have vanquished. You are most curious ... the preys who will not break. And, then, so comes their game into the picture: to see if they can break you. That is where they aim to have their fun. Once they do, and once they win ... they will lose interest and move on."

"Who says they're gonna win?" Briscoe asked, defensively.

"They have not lost before," the bee reasoned.

"Neither have we," Annika stated, fiercely.

"Then perhaps a stalemates is in order," the bee said, waving his arms. "I do not know."

"Why not keep going for the bees, instead of new targets? Taking on too many species at once would spread them pretty thin, right?" Seurat wondered, aloud.

"They do much go for us, yes, but ... not solely. Cause they require us for the pollinations. That is something that they cannot do. Or, at least ... they are too much ‘the lazy' to do." A head-tilt. "They need us. But, still, they do harass. Just to show who's dominant."

" ... what about the Federation?" Adele wondered. "Are they at risk? Should we warn them? I know they have a few ships ‘on loan' in and around snow rabbit space. Luminous and Solstice, right?"

"The Federation is of no threat to anyone. As it stands now, the snow bunnies are the primary power in the quadrant. Most species outside ‘fur' space ... the bugs, the lizards, the fish, the sort. They understand this ... that, should they wish to venture into ‘fur' territory? That they must go through the snow bunnies, and ... " A frown-face. " ... why do you all do the squinting at me? Do I have kiwi fruits on my mandibles? Nasty things. I wish for the strawberries. I demand them!" He began to buzz, tapping the tabletop audibly.

" ... they, uh, don't like to be called the B-word," Denison said, shyly. "It's ‘rabbits.' Snow rabbits."

"Whatever for? Bunnies is most cute to speak, yes?" The bee began leaning forward, fishing for more fruit. He picked up an apple. And then rolled it aside ...

... Adele catching it before it fell to the carpeted floor. She gave a quiet, shy glance to Peyton ...

... and he returned it. Briefly. Noticing that Adele, as chief engineer, had been giving little to no input so far. Not even asking about yellow jacket technology or anything, which should've been interesting to her. She seemed incredibly preoccupied.

" ... shall I stun him?" Annika was asking Peyton. "I do have my phase pistol with me."

" ... mm?" The Captain blinked, looking away from his current sort-of-lover. The red squirrel. To his old lover, the svelte first officer. "Uh ... no. Not yet," he said, only half in jest. Still squinting. Becoming preoccupied, himself. He forced his mind clear.

"You may be calling me whatever you like. I do not half care," the bee insisted, raising his head. Finding not a strawberry, but a peach. Peaches, yes. That would do. "I am here to be of help. If you do not want it, I can leave." He leaned back and began to slobber all over the peach. Which was still whole, fuzz and all. A red globe.

"You must understand our situation," Peyton offered. "We are not able to get involved in conflicts for the sake of them. Until we KNOW we are at threat ... and not by mere hearsay," he added, "then we cannot risk getting involved."

"You need the proofs? You saw it ... my brothers' ship. Do you not think it was in your space for a reason? It would not have gone so far off course unless it was steered or pushed into your territory on purpose. It was a sign. They wanted you to find it. And why? Cause their mischief-making isn't fun if the ones being played with ... do not know who their player is."

Peyton and Annika exchanged glances. And it was Annika who said, quietly, "That has a slight level of sense to it."

"Yes," the bee buzzed.

"So, how can we stop them?" Dension asked. "Like, for good? Without fighting?"

"The yellow jackets? You cannot. You can simply thwart each new attempt for them to gain entertainments from you ... but they operate in hit-and-run. In mobs. There is no central authority to attack. They are very much like wolves in this fashion."

"You mean, they don't have a Queen?" Peyton asked.

"They have a Majesty. But she is a dark Majesty. And she cares not what her hive does. They have many hives, in fact. Run by smaller majesties." A head-shake. "It is complicated beyond your understanding. Suffice to put it: the yellow jackets are bombastic. They like to carouse. They are hot-headed. Very much so." And he had to add, again, "Much unlike bees."

"And what are bees like?" Seurat asked, unable to help it.

"Dancers, makers of sweetness-es. And arts."

"So, where's our honey, then? Didn't bring us any? We're not worthy of it?" It didn't sound too polite, the way she said it.

"I must have forgotten them from being a ‘bird brains' ... "

" ... you two," Peyton interrupted, not needing to say anything more than that. He may have been a laidback, casual Captain, but he was still the Captain. And you didn't want him angry at you. Seurat knew this. The bee didn't, but ... was smart enough to sense it.

"Well, maybe we can't stop them conventionally," Briscoe said, "but if they're really that hot-headed and unstable, maybe we can turn the tables on them. They don't want war, do they? Necessarily?"

"They are not unified enough to wage a war. That would require all of their factions working together. It will not happen."

" ... I'm confused," Denison said, quietly, rubbing his head. Ears swiveling and whiskers twitching. Not actually from confusion, but from anxiety, mostly. But he couldn't very well say ‘I'm anxious' out loud. That would've been bad.

Beneath the table, Annika put one of her paws on her husband's thigh. And scratched her fingers a dainty bit.

The mouse blushed ... but did begin to calm.

"Go on, Doctor?" Peyton asked, intrigued. But also picking up on the fact that there was some sort of bodily contact going on between Annika and Dennison. It made him feel a pang. And he glanced at Adele again. She caught the glance and looked down, blushing. They were sitting too far away to touch, and even if they hadn't been ... would Peyton have been touching her so affectionately?

"Well, you know ... they want to play games with us?" Briscoe said, not clued in to the relationship-tensions occurring on the other end of the table. "And their victims normally don't play back? How ‘bout WE play back. I mean, it wouldn't be that hard to mess around with them. Mm ... spam ‘em with re-directed comm-calls. Lure them into nebulas and let ‘em get lost in there. Harmless stuff. We don't have to to stoop to their level and be unethical. We can just be annoying. Falsify our ship signature and pretend we're a mining ship. Looking for a made-up element to mine. Tell them that the wasps or someone ridiculous personally said they'd hook us up." A head-shake. "I don't know. Stupid stuff. Maybe the key to discourage the annoyers is to annoy them back."

"And what if the annoyers get more annoyed?"

"That's the point. Like the bee here said: once they've maxed out the entertainment value, they'll move on. If it's not entertaining for them to bug us anymore? Then they'll stop."

Annika raised a brow.

"They can't risk war with us cause they're not unified, and we can't afford to go to war with them cause we're still rebuilding, so ... it's just two sides bugging each other. Get them so annoyed that they'll be forced to go find someone ELSE to annoy ... someone out in uncharted space. Other bad insects. Uh, not bees, of course, cause they're not bad ... begging your pardon," the doctor said, to the bee. "I don't know. I'm just saying. I come from a tribal culture, myself. That's what I'd do. If you can't reason with them: then they get what they give."

"An interesting take, to be sure," Peyton said. "I see no reason we can't be annoying." A slight eye-smile. "Does anyone else?"

A few light giggles. But no verbal response.

"I will confer with Admiral Flint for permission. But," he stressed, "we are still not making any preemptive moves. Aside from the bee ship ending up in our space, there is no proof that the yellow jackets are aiming to bug us. If and when they do decide to ‘mischief-make' ... we will launch a response. But not until then. In the meantime, I recommend we stay on yellow alert for the next few days? Just in case? Agreed, Sub-Commander?" He looked to Annika.

She met his eyes. And nodded lightly. "Agreed."

"Well ... there it is," Peyton said, after a moment, with a slight wave-of-paw. "Dismissed. Bee, the guard outside the door will assign you to quarters." And, as everyone began to file out, he looked to Adele. Almost saying her name. Almost stopping her. It was on the tip of his tongue ... but it didn't quite make it out. He just watched her go. That beautiful tail arching behind her.

And Peyton sighed, scolding himself as he looked down at the smooth, reflective tabletop. The plates of food still scattered about. You should have said something. Even a simple ‘see you later.' Did you see the way she was twitching? It seemed more noticeable than usual.

Annika, lingering behind, was leaning in the open doorway. And suddenly asked, "Do you need help cleaning up?"

A blink. Realizing only now that his fellow snow rabbit was still present. "Uh ... yes. That would be welcome." A nod of thanks, and an irksome, "I do not know how, after every meeting, I get left with this task."

"You should leave the room more quickly," was the eye-smiling tease. As Annika moved to pick up a plate. Just one. Bringing it, with her snow-pretty, charcoal-padded paws, back to the food processor. "She is very much in love with you. Adele, I mean. As I once was ... "

"Yes," was the simple, whispered affirmation, as the male snow rabbit gathered the silverware. Ears bending over. Bobtail mostly still.

" ... but, after speaking to her, I truly believe her desire for you is stronger ... and more spiritually pure," Annika added, "than mine. She craves you physically, of course. When she mentions ‘breeding' with you, her expressions light up. It would be comical if it were not so cute ... but she is also in deep emotional need. She also desires you for your company. Your demeanor. Your personality. All of that being said?" Another plate was picked up. "Logic would dictate there is only one course of action for you to take."

Peyton wasn't sure what he was supposed to say to that. Only, putting the silverware in the processor and fetching some half-empty glasses, " ... I am still making up my mind." He sounded quiet, though. Like he knew, deep down, what he should do. But couldn't quite make himself to it. Maybe he just needed one more nudge. Maybe he was so accustomed to the view he currently had (as an open-breeder, untied and unfettered) that he couldn't get off the fence. Because once you got off? You probably weren't gonna be able to get back on, even if you wanted to. It was, in a way, a risk. Wasn't it? Love? Was such an incredible risk ...

" ... understood," Annika said, simply, turning to leave. As they'd soon finished their task. She paused, though, waiting for him. "I am your friend, correct? We are close? No matter what? I care about what happens to you ... and to her."

A gentle nod, not making eye contact, scanning the table to make sure it was spotless. It was. Not so hard a mess to deal with, after all, perhaps. And, taking a deep breath, he nodded again and hopped back to the bridge. Annika following. The conference room doors swishing shut behind them, and Majestic soon returning to warp.

Back on patrol.

Eyes, hearts, and sensors ...

... all peeled for mischief.