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A Path of Thunder -- Part Four

"Alternate Realities"

The loud roar of the pursuing predator resonated loudly, punctuated by the breaking of small tree limbs. A myriad of jungle birds scattered in all directions as the hunter advanced through the thick vegetation. The scent of its prey firm on his nostrils, he doggedly persisted in his chase. He ran past a small river, wishing he could stop for a drink, but the water there would do him no good; it would not quench his thirst.

Darkthunder panted and sweated, his body getting increasingly tired from the exertion. He had run for what seemed like hours; the warm and humid air - which he would otherwise welcome - now wore him to the point of exhaustion. His body felt heavy and tired, quite unlike he would on a regular hunt with his pack. Unlike any of his regular hunts, alone or with his pack, this time he was not the pursuer, but the prey.

A familiar feeling of defeat crept into the back of his skull. He was against a much powerful opponent, one with a single-minded determination to catch the prey, unlike the cooperative efforts of any terrorclaw pack. Still he kept running, unwilling to give up. Defeat was not a feeling that went well in the mind of terrorclaws. Even if he was not being one at that moment.

Darkthunder pushed vines and bushes aside as he made his way through the thick jungle vegetation. Leaves and branches scrapped against his body, sometimes snapping back to hit him in the back. The jungle suddenly cleared; about a hundred paces ahead, the walls of a sheer cliff rising straight towards the sky stopped his run.

Trapped.

He gave a terrified glance upwards, to the steep, ragged walls. He cursed; were he in his real, hunter body he would have a much better chance to climb up to safety. Right then, his spikefrill avatar was too heavy and considerably less agile, making his chances of successfully climbing the cliffs very slim. He looked desperately for an escape path, any portion of the cliff that his thick, fingers could hold onto.

Time ran out. Darkthunder put himself in a defensive posture just as the computer-generated bushes parted, revealing a large, burly deathjaw. A faint message flashed in his subconscious, to alert him his experience was not real. Still, the whole experience stimulated his senses to levels not far from what he would feel in a real setting.

Darkthunder shook his head, just as he had seen spikefrills do in real life. Weights on his virtual reality helmet made it feel as if he really sported that bony structure in his head. The gloves and straps on his body limited his movements, making him feel his body was thicker and heavier than normal. He wondered what he was thinking when he chose a spikefrill as his avatar; the limitations of his virtual body were quite frustrating.

Showing his real self inside Overworld would have given him away instantly. While he had spotted a few terrorclaws during his virtual explorations, the way they acted and moved only showed they were not hunters, much less real terrorclaws. At first, it gave him the desire to ditch his fake spikefrill self, and try to organize them into a pack, but then decided against it - a virtual terrorclaw that behaved too close to the real thing certainly could only be one himself.

Being in the place of prey gave him a completely different outlook on the chase and hunt. The whole experience certainly beat the tedium of waiting for his next orders from the Patrol.

His virtual opponent roared in challenge. Like Darkthunder, he wore no clothing; an impressive set of thick, dark and heavy genitals hung between his stout legs. There was only for one specific use for them, a goal that the virtual deathjaw single-mindedly pursued since the start of the program. Darkthunder tried not to focus on them, and instead on the upcoming fight.

"You have no escape again, spikefrill," the deathjaw said in a deep voice. "Surrender your body peacefully this time, and I will spare you the pain."

"You will have to fight me if you want it," Darkthunder said in a defiant tone, trying to make his voice come with the inflection a real spikefrill would have.

The deathjaw spread his legs and positioned his body to attack. He swayed his hips, making his thick, meaty member slap against his thighs. "So be it."

Darkthunder watched fascinated for a second as his enemy lowered his torso, held his arms close to his chest and charged. Even after having fought this opponent several times before, the move never stopped to fascinate him. If this deathjaw was not one outside Overworld, he certainly played a very convincing one.

Waiting until the last second to make his move, Darkthunder jumped out of the charging predator's way. Unable to stop his momentum, the predator craned his neck towards Darkthunder and opened his jaws wide. The jaws snapped shut very close to his neck with a loud clack. Once again, the terrorclaw had to make a conscious note and remember that he was not fighting a real opponent.

Darkthunder turned to see the deathjaw as he deftly avoided crashing against the cliff, using his momentum to turn and charge again. The "spikefrill" made a dash back into the thick vegetation, head down to part the bushes with his frill.

He barely managed to advance more than a couple hundred paces. Darkthunder yelped as his right leg seemingly moved on its own, causing him to fall down. He looked back to see the deathjaw holding tightly with both hands, dragging him to a small clearing in the vegetation. Darkthunder struggled, trying desperately to break free and pierce the virtual deathjaw with the virtual horn in his snout. Once again, he failed to use his digital body just as nature would have intended if he had been born a spikefrill.

Within seconds, the deathjaw had him pinned to the ground and reduced to obedience. Darkthunder growled as the straps prevented almost any movement from his real body.

As Zaron had told him, the Overworld program had also been designed one of several recreational venues for Patrol soldiers and officers to use while off duty. Designed originally as a virtual training system, it displayed a virtual reality environment that was a composite of each user's preferences and imagination. Just like other technologies used through the Archosaur Domains, it did not take long before users found ways to relieve some sexual fantasies.

Even although somewhat baffled at first, The Patrol Command was nevertheless surprised at the inventiveness of their troops, and quickly saw there even were some benefits in the practice and recommended Overworld for such uses. It certainly was preferable to having soldiers fall victim to the other vices they could encounter in the few planetary pleasure resorts that operated legally within the Domains. The Overworld programmers, on the other claw, felt insulted at seeing their creation treated not much differently than a sophisticated sexual device.

Darkthunder gasped as the deathjaw proceeded to touch his tail hole. He sweated cold at the same time he struggled to stroke his own erection. The virtual deathjaw soon started raping his fake spikefrill body, seen in quite graphic details as Darkthunder turned to look where his tail was. Darkthunder changed the camera angle in his visor, seeing the scene playing from another viewpoint. He growled with pleasure as the deathjaw's thick cock buried savagely into the computer-generated image of his spikefrill body. Darkthunder moaned, sending his "pain-filled voice" over the headset.

A few minutes later, a roar came from the headphones, as the deathjaw shoot his hot seed into the spikefrill. Darkthunder wished for the virtual world to be more real; while the programmers finally relented to allow any erotic uses of their creation, they had steadfastly refused to include programming that allowed users to attach peripheral devices to their genitals that would give them a stronger level of realism.

Both saurians panted from the experience. Darkthunder finished stroking his erection; a puddle of his own cum now lay on the floor of the room he was using. The deathjaw rose to his feet, dripping saliva and cum as he pulled hard from inside his victim. He grinned triumphantly and laughed.

"You lose again, my little bitch. When will you realize that your flesh is nothing but a way to satisfy my desires?"

Darkthunder turned to face his tormentor. "One day it will be my time, you fiend."

The deathjaw laughed. "You really think so? What's the score now?"

"Shit, I stopped keeping track after the fifth time you beat me." Darkthunder laughed, unable to concentrate anymore on the role-playing. He rose to his feet, staring at his grinning "foe".

Darkthunder's heart raced a bit. He had never asked for his opponent's real name, much less which station or ship he was stationed. The terrorclaw knew the deathjaw only by his virtual name - Bakkun. He wished nothing more than to meet this carnivore in person, see him in the flesh. Whoever this deathjaw was, he was an excellent hunter.

The deathjaw took three steps back and grinned toothily. Even after having "violated" his opponent, his member stood hard, pulsing as every heartbeat sent blood coursing through it. "What do you say? Care for another hunt? You'll lose again, you know."

"You think so? All right, you're on!" Darkthunder squawked, almost in his typical terrorclaw voice as his large toe claws clicked as they hit the floor of his room, twitching with anticipation.

The deathjaw paused and cocked his head, jaws slightly open as he stared at his opponent with a rather curious look, as if trying to see beyond what he was seeing on his side of the virtual environment. An instant later, he was back to his usual aloof manner. "You seem... rather determined."

"Almost since the time I hatched," Darkthunder said, grinning. "It's why I stand where I do now."

The deathjaw sneered. "Oh, really? You sure sound cocky and presumptuous. You're either a recent recruit, or commander of a starship. The former I can excuse; the latter, I'm surprised if your ship is still functional."

Darkthunder said nothing for several heartbeats. His feathered crest bristled at the sudden resentment he felt towards his antagonist. The display, however, went unseen by whoever this artificial deathjaw was. He suppressed an angry growl, lest he revealed his true terrorclaw nature.

"I am more than capable of doing my duties to the Patrol, and I would be happy to show you in person, outside of this stupid virtual spikefrill body."

The deathjaw flashed a toothy grin. "Yes, I'm sure you would. I'll give you another chance to show me. Although I'm afraid your virtual ass will just get abused again. Not a bad outcome for me, of course. Choose your battleground."

Darkthunder smiled. "You're on. I choose the -"

The jungle and deathjaw disappeared in a mass of static before everything went dark, then replaced by the bare walls of the hall he had been inside the whole time. A message flashed in his visor, alerting him of a call waiting on his communication console. Darkthunder growled furiously, cursing at the interruption.

The face of General Zaron appeared on a screen. "Commander Darkthunder!"

"Sir!" Darkthunder put himself on attention, forgetting he was not wearing his uniform. Or any clothes, for that matter. Or even what he had just been doing.

"Commander, I have been trying to locate you for the past three hours. I hope you have a good explanation for -"

Darkthunder could see the deathjaw's snout move slightly downwards, eyeing him intently. A faint smile crossed the General's face as the deathjaw finally realized what had been taking the terrorclaw's attention. "So you've been using the Overworld program. And having a good time, no doubt about it!"

The terrorclaw's crest flattened with embarrassment as he realized some part of him was also standing at attention. "Sir, I wasn't... um -"

Zaron let out a soft, guttural rumble from his throat as he chuckled. "Now, now, Commander; don't lie to a superior officer. You know that is a serious offense."

"Yes, sir," Darkthunder said meekly, mortified from his embarrassment.

"At ease, soldier. I'm pleased that you heeded my recommendation, though I did not imagine you would take to those other uses to the simulation. The real thing is much better, as you probably know."

Zaron paused; his face changed to its usual look when the deathjaw discussed official matters. "I'm afraid you will have to put your fun on hold for some time. The Tarrakhan has been outfitted and ready to go back into service. We have just sent the calls to the entire crew. We need everyone to report for duty within three hundred hours."

Darkthunder breathed slightly easier as he stared at Zaron's image, although he moved slightly to hide his genitals. While otherwise he would have no compunction about being seen in the nude, the suddenness of Zaron's appearance made him feel vulnerable. "Mission debriefing, sir?"

"Just another routine patrol. Your ship is assigned initially to patrol the Ssartori system and all other systems in a twenty light-cycle radius. You will meet the Dak-Sstahil; Commander Kre'y'nak will update you on any significant points before you relieve him and his crew of their duties. From there you will proceed on a course the High Command will determine based on your findings and progress. Your mission is scheduled to run for at least five hundred days."

"Five hundred?" Darkthunder asked, seemingly surprised.

"You have an objection to that, Commander?"

"No, sir... it's just that, routine deployments are hardly half that long."

"You're certainly aware we have had some problems in the Kilaaharan system."

Darkthunder nodded. "Yes, sir. If I recall correctly, us archosaurs made contact with the native species, who have just achieved very limited Tachyon-flight capabilities."

"Indeed. The Kilaahars are a very proud avian species. In the last few days, they have begun to challenge the authority of the Archosaur Domains, despite knowing we outnumber them more than a hundred thousand to one. Fighting them would be ridiculously easy, but that doesn't mean we desire to see such a needless waste of life. We are trying hard to get a diplomatic solution and do not anticipate that the situation will get worse, but the Archosaur Council is ready to declare a state of war if the natives continue to challenge us. As we speak, a sizeable part of our fleet is heading that way to serve as a deterrent and ensure this conflict does not deteriorate into a very costly war for the Kilaahars."

Having located the parts of his clothing, Darkthunder began putting them on as he spoke to Zaron. "I have kept informed about it, sir. I'm surprised that you have not interrupted my leave to join the forces there."

"You are a good officer, Darkthunder; I'm sure a terrorclaw would be eager for some combat to purge up stress. However, you have yet to fully prove yourself as the type of ship commander that I can send to war. We must keep our regular patrols even when war may happen on the other side of our territory. You have proven very successful routing those smugglers from their hideouts. Do you have any concerns or objections?"

Darkthunder could not help feel slightly disappointed. "None, sir."

Zaron nodded. "Your crew will be informed to report themselves for duty. A full listing of your mission is already in your command console at the Tarrakhan. Please proceed immediately to your ship and begin preparations. You will leave no later than the designated time. May the Path of Maia be your own, Commander."

The image on the screen disappeared, quickly replaced by the logo of the Patrol.

Darkthunder sighed. Just as he had found an activity he enjoyed partaking on. He regretted placing his virtual hunts on hold. He looked at the clock on his visor; he probably still had an hour or two left, enough for another quick run. He reconnected to Overworld and quickly scanned the list of connected users. The deathjaw had logged off.

Curse your lousy timing, Zaron, he thought. Of all times to interrupt, it had to be when the terrorclaw was finally having some fun. Unless... The terrorclaw shook his head as he finished dressing. No way could it have been the General.

He growled as he walked out of the simulation room. The thought kept nagging and eating at the back of his mind.

- * - * -

The quiet, near still waters of the large pool glistened under the warm lights of the tall roof. Grell was rather surprised and pleased to find the large pool deserted. The few times he had to enjoy such facilities, they were teeming with all sorts of archosaurs. It was all the better; he wanted nothing else but to let his mind drift. Even if the calmness were not to last, it was a welcoming end to the break in his duties. The Patrol had called; the Tarrakhan was leaving for another mission.

He still had one more day before he had to report for duty. It was more than enough time to enjoy a few additional pleasures.

The armorback sighed with some content as he slid naked into the water. He floated on his back, immobile for a short while before he began to swim leisurely with slow movements of his arms and legs, more out of enjoying the feeling of water flowing through his skin than the exercise. He had had more than enough of the latter.

He tried to let his mind drift, just as his body was doing on the water -- to displace the thoughts of what he had been doing not long ago. He had tried to find an explanation beyond what seemed obvious. He was not sure if his suspicions were correct, if he had really come across what he thought he had experienced.

Grell wondered when it would be the best time to come forward.

He had to. Efforts to deny or bury the feelings only caused the beast to grow larger in his mind. It was like a predator with sharp claws and teeth, slowly and cautiously stalking his mind and heart, never knowing when to relinquish the hunt. Except that said beast's prey seemed like a highly improbable goal - no, impossible was more like it. Yet the desire was still there, its voice becoming more thunderous with each passing day. Brakkus' absence was probably letting his own voice finally speak the truth.

A sense of anguish and guilt burst into Grell's mind. He had not abandoned his best friend in whatever infirmary the medics transferred him after the Tarrakhan returned; Ty-Grich had been extremely adamant that the groundthumper remain completely isolated until Brakkus had recovered from most of his injuries. Darkthunder had even filled Brakkus' position in the bridge with a snouthorn Corporal, pending any further news about whether Brakkus would ever be fit to return to his duties.

Grell longed for his friend. His presence was a comforting oasis from the two carnivores in charge of the ship. Right then, he could care less about the other aspects of his relationship with the groundthumper; he missed the constant good-natured taunts and barbs only that soft, deep and gentle voice could give. Quite unlike that small, dark feather duster barking orders.

Grell snorted as visions of the terrorclaw moved once again to fill his thoughts. Feathers that swayed softly in the air, while slit pupils in those greenish eyes stared intently at him. A muscled, lithe body that sometimes moved with a hunter's swiftly with a grace that only a small hunter seemed to possess. There was also that handsome, tapered tail that often swayed ever so slowly whenever the hunter planned his strategy, resting atop two small, firm buttocks most certainly overdue to have some thick rock-hard cock forcefully split them apart as it plunged deep inside into that puckered tailhole they guarded.

Oh, yes... how much would that terrorclaw scream from pain and pleasure as he found himself taken, forced for the first time ever to be submissive under the weight of the much larger armorback. Screams turning into whimpers as Grell gave him no mercy, taking him repeatedly, thrusting constantly and furiously, and filling the terrorclaw's guts with load after load of hot cum. And again, and again, non-stop, as Darkthunder begged for rest, and -

Grell turned swiftly to float with his back to the air, hoping nobody had noticed the hard, vigorous erection that had taken over him. He cursed silently while hoping there was no one swimming below the surface to notice.

Just then, the armorback noticed a peculiar shape swimming below the surface. Arms and legs drawn close to the body and tail, it swam slowly and leisurely, propelled only by the strong, undulating motions of his body and tail.

Kakkuttek, Grell thought. What are the chances to be in the same pool as this surefire boner killer?

Mercifully, the longjaw had his back turned towards the armorback, completely oblivious to the presence of his antagonist floating above. After a short while, the longjaw began to head for the surface for some air; only the tip of his snout and his eyes broke the surface as he exhaled, then floated leisurely with arms and legs spread apart.

It was a strange coincidence to find the longjaw at the same, empty pool. It definitely worked to his advantage; he could talk with the longjaw without having others around listening.

"Kakkuttek!" Grell called the longjaw's name a couple times before the saurian turned an eye to look at him.

The longjaw frowned, obviously displeased to see the armorback swimming noisily towards him. "What are you doing here, armorback? What the fuck do you want?"

"We need to talk."

"'We' is too many saurians. There's nothing for us to talk about."

The longjaw growled and submerged. Below the surface, he made haste for the edge of the pool. He pulled himself up, spraying water over a wide area as he landed on all fours. Water flowed copiously down his body and onto the floor, as he got upright to grab his towel and walk away from the pool and towards a changing room.

"Kakkuttek! Wait!" Grell shouted as he swam in the same direction, his larger body unable to move as fast. He pulled himself out, likewise spraying water, and almost slipped on the puddle left by the longjaw.

Grell followed the other saurian, running to catch up with him. "You stupid longjaw! Will you give me even a chance to explain myself?"

"You've more than explained yourself for years, Grell!" Kakkuttek said without turning to look back or stopping. "Now go someplace where my senses can't locate you!"

Grell lunged for the longjaw's tail, holding it firmly and gently. "Damn it, Corporal! Stop right there and listen to me!"

Kakkuttek turned and tugged hard to release his tail from the armorback's grip. His throat bulged as he growled loudly in a display of intense anger.

"If you know what is good for you, you won't touch my tail ever again!"

Grell lifted his hands in a gesture of apology as he fell back three steps, astonished by the sudden display of rage.

Kakkuttek pointed an accusatory finger at the armorback, his words loud and somewhat unintelligible from the anger apparently seething inside him. "And I told you before - don't pull that rank bullshit on me, Grell! Until the Commander calls us into service, you will treat me as your fucking equal!"

Grell tried desperately to think of something to say to defuse the situation. "All right, all right. I'm sorry, I'm sorry! Now will you please let me talk?"

Eyes narrow with anger, Kakkuttek slapped his tail furiously on the floor. "What is it? What is so important that you now wish to speak to me so desperately?"

"Listen, I just wanted to -" Grell began before Kakkuttek cut him.

"No, you listen to me! You and I... we have known each other, we have gone together for a long time, since our days in the Academy. I still remember when you arrived; your arrogance could be smelt a thousand paces away. You wasted no time getting into fights with the other cadets. Pulled into detention on your second day, even. But where everybody saw another troublemaker with a chip on his shoulder, I saw a troubled saurian - someone who had gone through as much shit in life as I had. There is a difference between you and me, though. I saw there was much to gain by following proper protocol and respect for those above me."

Kakkuttek waved his arms somewhat frantically as he continued. "I counted you as one of my few friends, even if you were as much of a jerk back then as you are now, because apparently you needed someone to listen to your grudges." He paused to shake his head slightly. "No, I take that back. You are an even bigger jerk now than before!"

"That's enough, longjaw -"

"No, it is not! It is not enough! You almost got your life thrown away in jail, and the same arrogance that got you in trouble came very close to have your sorry ass kicked out of the Patrol and back inside jail. Possibly forever. You finally had enough sense to change your ways, but that was not enough for the review board. Had it not been for a few who risked their reputation because we believed you deserved a chance, I would not be here trying to put some sense into that microscopic brain inside that bony head!"

The longjaw continued, not giving Grell a chance to retort. His voice broke slightly with some emotion. "Maia knows how many times you've pissed off the Commander, and he still thinks your skills are worth keeping you in the Bridge. Meanwhile, I have bent over backwards trying to be an important member of this ship, and yet they denied me a chance to be in the Bridge, even temporarily. I would like to think that that somewhere inside you is the capability of understanding, but you can't because you were born a loser."

Grell growled. "You are calling me a loser?"

Kakkuttek looked around, and then back at Grell. "I don't see anyone else in here. Do you?"

Grell figured he probably would never be able to get a word edgewise, so it was probably best to let the other saurian finish venting.

"You... have no idea how much it hurts to be mocked. Just because I have encountered a few impediments to move forward in rank doesn't give you the fucking right to bully me, or believe I don't deserve the same respect that you ask for yours. And if that were not bad enough, you stole -!"

"Stole?!" Grell finally shouted, confused and somewhat angry. "What the fuck are you talking about?"

Kakkuttek hesitated, as if thinking how to phrase his next words. He breathed slowly and deep for several instants; his nictitating membranes flicked the last remaining water away from his eyes, or perhaps the humidity that was forming in them. He shook his head slightly, perhaps deciding he had said enough. Holding what Grell thought was a somewhat proud stance, he finally gestured for the armorback to speak. "I believe I have made myself clear. Now speak your mind and let me be."

"Thanks," Grell said, somewhat sarcastically. "I'll admit that this bad blood that's being going on between us is my fault in part -"

"Only in part?" the longjaw quickly interjected.

The armorback grunted softly, annoyed. "All right... maybe most of it. Satisfied?"

"No. But it's a start."

"Don't make it so difficult, toothy jaws. Listen, I just want to make amends for anything I may have said or done to offend and disrespect you. I know it was all uncalled for. You're right; I've been a jerk... because I was doing something I know you have not been able to remedy. And I want to apologize for that." Grell bowed slightly in a gesture of respect to the longjaw.

Kakkuttek remained silent for a few seconds before he nodded softly, apparently satisfied with the gesture. "Apology accepted."

"Thanks. I regret to say that it took somebody else to allow me to see that I have been speaking with the opening below my tail rather than the one in my head. I wanted to thank you."

The longjaw remained impassive for several heartbeats. "There is nothing you have to thank me about."

"I do. You... saved my friend."

"Again, there is nothing to thank me for. I was just looking after another fellow soldier. That is the way of the Patrol; you fight and protect your fellow soldiers. I cannot let rancor and hatred get in between my comrades and myself when they need me. Even if those comrades prove to be big, stupid, horny jerks." The longjaw smiled slightly, flashing some of his teeth.

"You're pushing your luck, longjaw."

"Let me have my fun. It's fair enough, after the things you and Brakkus said to me."

Grell tried to ignore the jabs. "Yes, and even after all that, you visited him at the sick bay. That was very thoughtful of you."

Kakkuttek shrugged slightly; his voice turned somewhat solemn. "I came to offer blessings from my River Lord to help him recover. It doesn't matter whether other saurians follow Him or not; He welcomes all saurians to bask on the banks of His River." Kakkuttek paused. "How is Brakkus doing?"

Grell sighed softly. "I don't know. Ty-Grich has kept him isolated while we have been out on shore leave or having our recurrent training. I don't speak for Brakkus when I say that I want to apologize, from both of us. But I'm sure he would agree. If he comes back."

Kakkuttek let out a long, soft growl. "How pitiful. You should have done that a long time ago, rather than wait until after I saved your cock warmer." He turned to look directly into Grell's eyes. "What if Brakkus had not been shot? Or if I had done nothing? Would you be here to tell me you're sorry? Or what if the mammals had shot me instead? Would you had tried to save my life, or dance while they shot my body to be consumed by the closest star?"

Grell turned slightly to look away. "I'm not going to make any excuses for my behavior. But what would it take me to show you that I am truly sorry? Do you think I would go through this much trouble if I thought trying to get my apologies through your thick skull is a pointless waste of time? I know my apology is way overdue; some people would say better late than never."

"Maybe for some situations, but that is not how I feel right now. Still, I appreciate your effort and apparent desire to right some of the wrongs I have felt. Maybe now I will find some respect... from the people that matter in my heart." He spit out the last few words as he turned to walk away.

"Kakkuttek? One more thing?"

The longjaw did not answer, only turning to look at Grell.

"I know how you've been feeling about Brakkus and I having such loud... um, fun in our room. Maybe... if you ever have the need, we could... you know, bring you to spend some time with us. Brakkus discussed the idea of having a threesome some time, and -"

The longjaw shook his head vigorously. When he next looked at Grell, his eyes had narrowed slightly in anger. "My business is not with you. Don't think you would make me a favor by appealing to my desires for some sexual intimacy."

The longjaw draped the damp towel over a shoulder before he turned and walked away, his voice trailing as he left.

"Just leave it at that and let me be."

- * - * -

The strong scent of spiced, cooked meals flowed into Darkthunder's nostrils as he walked into the mess hall. The terrorclaw growled softly with contentment, and began to salivate in anticipation of the upcoming meal. Even if he retained his primal terrorclaw inclinations to eat his meat raw, he had missed the meals he could have aboard his ship.

Like other parts of the ship, the room was far less crowded than normal, as a good portion of the crew had yet to return from wherever they had gone for their leave, and many of those already in the ship were already at their posts or spending their time in personal matters, leaving the mess hall nearly deserted. Only a handful of saurians, mostly soldiers with some scant civilians, occupied the tables and chairs. Even then, Darkthunder never lingered for long; he always took his food and headed back to the privacy of his quarters to eat alone.

The terrorclaw knew it only furthered any misconceptions the crew may have about him, and created several false ones. He preferred them to the reactions he was sure to get if he were to have his meals in their company. Herbivores - and even some carnivores - tended to vacate the area immediately around him; terrorclaws were never much fond of manners and propriety when it came to eating. Eating alone only made him long for the days of his pack.

Darkthunder disliked that other archosaurs thought of terrorclaws as barely more than a species of primitive savages that had somehow been recently "discovered". The Archosaur Domains had barely "hatched" from the collective egg of its foundation when terrorclaws decided that the restricted ways of civilization ran against the ways of the Packs, and that their species was better off living on their own. The Domains granted terrorclaws full use of one planet, where the small hunters quickly established their own territories and adapted to live in harmony with their new world. Separate from the other archosaur sentients, the sickle-clawed hunters kept living as they had almost since the Hatching of their species from Maia's Egg.

Since that day, only two terrorclaws had willingly sought the promises that the vast expanses of the Archosaur Domains seemed to offer. Most unusual, both had been born to the same clutch.

That was as far as Darkthunder allowed himself to contemplate. Even if he now owed allegiance to a vastly different "pack", his ties were stronger to the Ssrash-Mahr by way of his birth. The commander was not to deny his own proud heritage, even if it meant having to eat alone every time.

Soldiers in the mess hall saluted him; he returned the salute, more out of protocol than real camaraderie towards him. He could feel a bit of tension, their conversation quieting down just as he had entered the room. The terrorclaw made his way towards the counter, where a lone snoutcrest cleaned and otherwise tried to make some pastries more visible.

"Ah, the hunter in command has arrived," the snoutcrest said. "Welcome back, Darkthunder."

It was not sheer coincidence to have a team of carnivores tending to the feeding of almost two thousand saurians. Among archosaurs, the best cooks came almost invariably from predator species. Mainly because a considerable number of leaf eaters were unable to prepared meat-based meals without the compunction of where it could had come from, or feeling disgusted at the smells.

"Hello, Rrayekh," Darkthunder said, smiling at the always affable snoutcrest. "Ready for another tour of duty with this crowd?"

Rrayekh snorted softly, as if resigning himself to some unpleasant fate. Even then, his jovial expression changed only in the slightest. "You already know the answer to that, Commander. Your soldiers certainly put the 'mess' in 'mess hall'. They're lucky that my crew and I are just civilians contracted by the Patrol. Otherwise I would dump their snouts in the grub they eat."

"And yet here you are."

"Indeed. Glutton for punishment, that's for sure."

"You mean there is something besides your own cooking?"

"How can I explain it? Your Patrol... it promised experiences and sights I would had never achieved on my own, unless I joined as a soldier, or I had millions of denarks to blow on travel. Sure, they made it clear there is a small, latent risk that the ship could have a serious malfunction and strand us somewhere, or blow up in the middle of a tachyon jump, or some rouge faction could attack and destroy it." Rrayekh shrugged, as if dismissing those possibilities as insignificant.

The snoutcrest gestured at the walls that surrounded him. "This vessel has more than delivered on that promise. And I don't mean whatever fame this hunk of metal may have collected; that has no importance to me or my crew. We have forged friendships that go beyond this ship. They go further into making our lives better. I consider myself lucky, Commander. Very much so."

Darkthunder reflected on those words. He found it slightly disconcerting that a civilian was apparently getting a more fulfilling personal life out of the Patrol than he was. Of course, Rrayekh did not have the limitations of military duty, nor had to pay attention or respect to the ranks of those he talked to every day.

It made little difference overall. Darkthunder was pretty much a loner, living for his duty to the point of excluding almost everything else, even a personal life. He wondered what made him so; back in his world, he never spent a single day in solitude. A recluse terrorclaw would have found himself having to live and hunt completely on his own. For being born and lived as a pack animal, Darkthunder had certainly become an anomaly. More than his dark skin and feathers had already made him.

Darkthunder turned to see Rrayekh smiling at him.

"I know some of your crew will disagree with me, but I feel a bit better now that I have a fellow carnivore at the helm of this ship."

"I can understand your feelings in part. I have much respect for what Prion accomplished. Still, it would be a mistake to try to walk the exact same steps he covered already." Darkthunder made a quick signal to indicate he was not willing to discuss the subject in public. He was aware that there were plenty of ears eavesdropping on their conversation.

"Understandable." Rrayekh waved a claw at the steaming food containers ahead of him. "So what will it be for you today? The usual?"

"Yes. Double portion, however, if possible."

"Can do," Rrayekh said as he began to put together the chunks of meat and other stuff that would make the terrorclaw's meal. "Triple if you wish. You look like you're starving today."

"I've spent some time running some... simulations, at the suggestion of a superior officer. The exercise has left me rather hungry. I feel like I could eat a whole groundthumper if I could. Figuratively speaking, of course."

"I heard you had one in the sick bay on the way here. You could had put him out of his misery and gotten yourself something to last for a while."

"Don't tempt me," Darkthunder said as a subtle smile formed on his scaly lips. "Although your crew probably would not had appreciated if I had dropped him here to have him cooked."

"Maybe not. We get our share of pain from groundthumpers. Finicky eaters, the lot of them."

Darkthunder rubbed a hand against his lower jaw. "Hmm. Do you think then it's not too late to ask the medic to reconsider?"

Rrayekh grinned. "See? That is what I meant when I said I like having a carnivore leading this ship. You seem to share my sense of humor, Commander. Almost all of the rest of your crew is too stodgy to have a good talk. This Patrol of yours must be doing something wrong. I mean, you all do one hell of a good job keeping the Domains safe. Socially speaking, however, many of them are as good as the non-sentient cattle you and I eat."

"It is a matter of perception. Some people... are rather reserved."

Rrayekh nodded as he closed a large metallic container before handing it over to the terrorclaw. "Here you go. Warm and steaming, like a freshly made kill."

Darkthunder smacked his lips as he took a big whiff of the scents coming out of the container. "You sure know this terrorclaw very well. I think I will have some of your desserts today as well. I've been eager to try them for some time."

"By the First Egg, you weren't kidding when you said you were hungry!"

"You make it rather hard to stick to my diet. Maybe your crew is the main reason why many officers want to command this ship."

Rrayekh grinned. "Flattery won't get you that many extra sweets, Darkthunder. We carry only so many rations until we resupply." He passed a smaller container with two pastries inside. "These are some of my best ones. But you'll have to work out a bit to burn them off."

"That won't be a problem. I had one of the upper level exercise decks converted into a private room only for my own use. It now resembles the jungle where I lived. I need the space to purge some stress through an occasional hunter trance. Even go after some small prey."

The snoutcrest lifted his neck upwards in surprise. "Now that sounds like a pleasant perk for you."

"It is. I'll have my first run shortly after departure."

"I bet it must have made a few of your crew rather upset."

"Some say that rank has its privileges. It was not my idea, however. My commanding General was rather persistent that I have such an area, and he ordered the work done during our shore leave. If my subordinates don't like it, they can take it through the chain of command, up to him."

Rrayekh nodded softly. "You terrorclaws are such an unusual and fortunate species."

"Why do you say so?"

"Your species continues living closer to our origins. And even though you personally have joined the Patrol and all of archosaur society, everyone talks about how you strive to keep close to this primal nature that your species still adheres to."

"So they actually talk about me something other than how much I seem to push and scream at them?"

The snoutcrest smiled. "Yes, there is that, too. What I meant was that, sure, I like my meat just like you. Yet our society has left me highly domesticated, so to speak." The snoutcrest patted a slightly large belly to stress the point. "I don't think I could hunt even a lizard."

Darkthunder smiled. "Come with me to the deck sometime and I'll show you a thing or two."

The snoutcrest's two crests turned slightly red as he trilled with surprise. "I thought the upper decks were off-limits to civilians."

"I would be escorting you, so it would not be a breach of Patrol regulations. Besides, my terrorclaw pack would be extremely pleased if I can instill some of our ways in other archosaurs. But I must warn you that terrorclaws can be highly demanding of their pack mates."

Rrayekh smiled. "No need to warn me. Your crew is proof enough."

Darkthunder smiled back and bowed slightly in respect before he turned around to head for his room to eat.

The exchange had pleased him. It was not often that he actually took the time to converse quite informally with other people in his ship. He never seemed to make the time for it, always involved in one way or another with the duties and responsibilities to run his ship.

He was always busy being too much of a Commander. Too much time spent as a terrorclaw, and not enough as an archosaur. Perhaps Zaron was right. He needed to change. Perhaps if he did so, he could open himself to some pleasant experiences.

Including the things he probably wanted the most.

Darkthunder was almost all the way to the exit when he noticed a lone trihorn in a corner, his back to the whole room, staring at a half-empty glass and bottle on his table. He was out of combat uniform, but Darkthunder still recognized him quickly. The terrorclaw approached quietly until he got close enough to catch something more than just the soldier's scent.

"Corporal Garios?" he called.

The trihorn turned to salute his superior rather half-heartedly before he went back to his drink. Darkthunder caught a strong whiff of fermented oats emanating from the bottle, and realized the trihorn was partially drunk, if not completely so.

The terrorclaw pulled a chair to sit on. "Mind if I join you for a minute? I promise not to eat my food in your presence."

The trihorn gestured for Darkthunder to sit as he took another sip from his glass. "It's your ship, sir."

Darkthunder looked directly into the half-glassy, green eyes of the trihorn. "I'm sorry to be meddling in, but the Tarrakhan will be in active service in less than fifty hours. You don't seem to be in a state to perform your duties adequately."

"I'm aware of it, sir. I'll be at my post. Just... like I've been inside this ship, since we arrived."

The feathered crest shot upwards half way, as it was prone to do whenever something surprised its owner. "Since -? You mean you never left the ship?"

"Leave and go where? Sevran is no longer with me."

Darkthunder's crest dropped as the terrorclaw realized why Garios was drinking. "I'm sorry. I had no idea that you are still grieving the loss of your friend."

"He was more than a friend, Commander. We were mated."

The terrorclaw nodded, somewhat at a loss for words. "Forgive me again. I didn't know your relationship went that strong."

Garios growled. "Yes... strong. As strong as I would enjoy his tail and he would enjoy mine." He turned to focus his eyes on the terrorclaw, but failed somewhat. "Do you know what it is to lose a lover, Commander?"

"No, I do not," Darkthunder said softly. "I've never had anyone in my life. Someday, maybe, if I am lucky."

Garios nodded. "Yes... someday." He took another swig of his drink. "I heard Sergeant Brakkus survived."

"Yes, but barely. His injuries were serious, but he was fortunate we got to him before they proved fatal."

"That must make his fuck buddy happy." The trihorn closed his eyes. "But why did he get to keep his partner, while Sevran is now forever gone from me?"

Darkthunder placed a claw gently on the trihorn's forearm, holding it down just as he was about to drink again. "Neither the Patrol nor I played favorites that day, Garios. The medics in the field said there was nothing they could have done. Sevran died almost instantly. I don't know if this is any consolation, but his suffering was also very brief." He released his grip on the soldier's arm after Garios let go of his glass.

Arms crossed on top of the table, the trihorn lowered his snout as he shook his head. "I lived alone for many years, sir. In this wide part of the galaxy that we live, it felt like a blessing to have found someone like him. Our fortunes were not good, so he thought he could get us a better future in the Patrol. I decided to follow him here. I did everything I could so we always had the same assignments." Garios paused; when he next spoke, his words came hard and almost incoherently. "And now... to have him taken away from me... so soon and so painfully." The words choked on his throat, and he began to weep.

Darkthunder clamped a claw gently and firmly on Garios' wrist. "I can't think of anything I can say that will ease your pain. And I don't think I am one to pass judgment over your apparent refuge in your drink. But this is the Patrol. We did not join under promises of a long and easy life. We joined on our own desire to keep our worlds and our archosaurian kind safe. We are privileged our society gives us the freedom to love those we may wish, Corporal. Be it a male or female, our own species or any other soul that our hearts find. Other societies are not as understanding. That is one of the many things we fight for, Corporal."

The trihorn lifted his arms, holding an imaginary weapon placed to his head as if he were looking through a viewfinder. "I'm ready to fight again, sir. I've been waiting... to shoot them. Those mammalian killers."

The terrorclaw's eyes narrowed slightly, his crest flattened somewhat as he spoke. "I won't allow you to rejoin that fight, soldier."

The trihorn lifted his head to look at his superior, concern etched indelibly on his face. "Sir...?"

"I have no place in this ship for impaired soldiers. You are confined to your quarters until the medical team can detoxify your body and certify you are ready to resume your duties. After that, it will be up to me whether you will be deployed for any ground operations."

"Sir... no, please... I want... I need to -"

"There will be no reprieves, Corporal. If my pack is not ready, I will dispose of the weak and the infirm. Is that clear?"

The trihorn nodded. His eyes glistened with humidity from upcoming tears as he tried to speak. His lips expressed what his throat would not. Yes... Sir.

Darkthunder remained silent as Garios lowered his snout, and tears finally streamed down his snout. He got up quietly and waited a few seconds before speaking again. "Later on, if you wish to reconsider your service to the Patrol or this ship, I can arrange for you to be transferred to another vessel or station, or even discharged with honors. Please seek me out whenever you are ready to make a decision."

Garios nodded softly, not even wiping his tears as his head sunk to his chest.

The terrorclaw grabbed his food, then turned around and left quietly.

- * - * -

"Starting Initial Program Load modules. Impulse engine systems are coming online. Safeguard systems and redundant backups now fully online."

Darkthunder tapped the controls on his chair's left armrest as the navigator went over the pre-flight checklists, checking out every status report and acknowledging by voicing his confirmation.

It was somewhat comforting to be back, serving the Patrol in the ways he performed the best - inside a ship, surrounded by his crew. His familiar pack was around, other than the plateback that now occupied the chair reserved for the commanding Armory officer. Even if Brakkus was not present, it did not seem at all different from when the Tarrakhan arrived at the station after the previous tour of duty.

Running the ship had already become routine, and slightly tedious at that. Where before as a Lieutenant, he watched his Commander take a ship almost entirely from the start of a tour of duty until its completion, the responsibility was now totally his own. The newness and the excitement of the position had since softened; he had already melded the duties of a Commander with his thinking and actions. More likely, the terrorclaw himself had molded himself into the Patrol.

He had evolved.

Darkthunder hated the word. Not in the proved sense of animals adapting and changing to their surroundings; the whole of archosaurian species had changed from their original, primal species. He himself sported a signal of evolution in his prominent feathered crest. Other terrorclaws had been born with much smaller feathers in their heads, but Darkthunder's were rather prominent. Along with his skin coloration, his pack mates saw him as one that was to walk paths never before threaded by other terrorclaws.

It was the start of a change - a signal that his species walked paths much like some birds living in several planets. At least, that was what some scientists seemed all too willing to mention whenever they first caught sight of the rather unusual archosaur.

Rrayekh had described the situation better - domesticated did indeed sound like a more fitting word. His ways had certainly changed considerably to follow the rules of the Archosaur Patrol and the rest of the archosaurian society. Darkthunder shook his head as he tried to have the thought perish under the sickle claws of his psyche. He was a terrorclaw, and always would be. He would adapt to live with other, much softer species. However, his mind and indomitable terrorclaw spirit - he would never give those up.

"Impulse engines and systems now fully online," Grell said with his usual unemotional voice whenever he was at his post. "Initial Program Load starting for Tachyon systems."

"Acknowledged, Sergeant," Darkthunder replied. "Lieutenant Arokh, what is the final report on personnel units?"

"All units have reported one hundred percent staffing," the eyeridge said after checking his station. He paused and smiled slightly. "Impressive. One would imagine there would be some reassignments."

Either that, or Zaron made true on his promise to force everyone to stay on board, Darkthunder thought. He felt slightly uneasy thinking what the Patrol Command told any soldier who may have had requested a transfer. Darkthunder wanted a willing crew, not one scared witless into staying.

He continued working his console when a thought suddenly dashed into his mind. He blinked his eyes at the same time he turned quickly to check his own screens.

"Hold that thought, Arokh. What does Armory says?"

"One hundred, sir."

"How can that be possible? We are still missing -"

A deep voice resounded in the Bridge, interrupting his words. "Permission to enter the Bridge, Commander."

Darkthunder turned to look at a familiar groundthumper wearing his Patrol uniform and standing at attention near the doorway to the Bridge. He wore a special mechanical brace around his legs and hip to assist his walking. A small, padded plate containing some sensors and a small screen was attached to his head; it also concealed the better part of a large scar. Ty-Grich stood right next to him, holding a medical tablet.

Every saurian in the Bridge turned towards the voice. Even more so Grell; the armorback looked on with a mixture of extreme happiness and surprise.

Darkthunder smiled. "You have a rather curious timing, Sergeant Brakkus. Permission granted. Welcome back."

The armorback waited until Brakkus walked slowly to his station before moving over to embrace his friend in a tight, warm embrace.

"Whoa... easy with those arms, armorback!" Brakkus said, gasping slightly as Grell continued his hold on him. "My body is still sore."

"I'm sorry!" Grell said apologetically, his voice slightly choked with emotion. "Good Maia, I've missed you!"

"More like missing the holes to park your meat," Keana said softly to herself. The terrorclaw's keen hearing did not miss the words; Darkthunder glanced at her and waved a hand, wordlessly asking for silence. Slightly embarrassed, the thumbspike assented and returned to her station.

"Will you look at that," Grell said as he walked around his friend while looking at him all over. "They rebuilt you. Although you should have asked Ty-Grich to work on your face when he patched you with that screen. You're still ugly."

Brakkus stuck his long tongue out at Grell. "Speak for yourself."

Darkthunder turned to speak to Ty-Grich. "Is he cleared for duty, medic?"

The fleetfoot nodded and handed over his tablet to the terrorclaw. "Yes, Commander, although I recommend that he does not work unsupervised for a while. I conducted some tests on his cognitive faculties, and all came back with excellent results. I could not keep him in bed any longer than you could stop being a hunter. However, I would like to ask your permission to conduct some tests. That small unit attached to his head will monitor his brain activity for the next few days; I would like to keep some records of his progress, and even alert me to any possible changes or conditions I may have missed. The data could prove useful in future cases like his."

Darkthunder poured over the data in the tablet as he listened. "Excellent thinking. You have my support."

The fleetfoot bowed slightly. "Strenuous physical activities are still out, Commander. So keep him in the Bridge and his room until I can clear him for full combat."

"Your word is authority, medic. Consider it done."

"Aaww, come on, you long-necked balloon!" Brakkus said as he craned his neck to look at Ty-Grich. "Why did you have to tell him that? I still have a score to settle with those mammals!"

"I'm afraid that will have to wait, soldier," Darkthunder said, smiling subtly. "Don't worry; we'll make sure to leave plenty for you to use as target practice."

"All right, sir. If you say so."

Ty-Grich continued speaking as Darkthunder looked at the information in the tablet. "All tests seem to indicate that his mind suffered no serious damages, and it has healed faster and better than even I anticipated."

"Of course he's fine," Grell interjected, grinning. "You can't damage what doesn't exist."

"Hey!" Brakkus brayed as he slapped his friend on a shoulder. "Is that why you wanted me back? You had nobody to pick on?"

"That and more."

Ty-Grich turned to look at Grell. "I regret to inform you that your friend's body still needs to heal. So the same limits against extreme physical activities extend to your bedroom."

All saurians chuckled. Except for the armorback; he snorted loud in apparent displeasure.

Brakkus said as he walked slowly towards his old seat while flashing a slightly toothy smile. "So you are the one they sentenced to take my place in this dungeon. I should have known. You certainly have made good work in the Armory, Maleek."

"Thank you, sir," the plateback said as he stood up and saluted the groundthumper. He then offered the seat for Brakkus to occupy.

"Keep your station, soldier," Brakkus said as he waved a hand in dismissal. "I will just monitor your work and offer input if you have any questions, per the medic's orders." He pointed at the terrorclaw with a thumb. "Although I'd say that if old feather head wants you here, you certainly must be doing very well."

"Yes, sir," the plateback said, beaming at the praise.

Ty-Grich chirped to get Darkthunder's attention, who had been watching the conversation. "If you will excuse me, Commander, I need to brief my crew on their duties before our departure."

Darkthunder nodded and saluted before he handed the tablet back to the fleetfoot. "Carry on, medic." He waited until Ty-Grich left the Bridge before he addressed Keana. "Patch me to the whole ship."

"You are on, Commander," the female thumbspike replied after a few seconds.

Darkthunder waited a minute to give every crewmember time to get ready to listen before speaking. He got up from his commanding chair to address his crew. He found out that somehow the words came better if he was on his feet. Perhaps it was his nature as hunter and pack leader - strategy was done while on the prowl.

"Crew of the Dak-Tarrakhan, this is Commander Darkthunder. As we head out for another tour of duty, I am honored by your service and dedication, not just to the Patrol, but also to this ship and myself. Back in my homeworld, the highest honor that a pack can grant to their leader is to choose to stand by him for every hunt, ready to follow. My species has a word for that - t'kr'e'gavrek. The closest I can translate that is "faithfulness to the soul". Not to your own, but to the one who guides you. I give you thanks for that honor.

"Even as we continue forward, I'm aware that there are perhaps some misunderstanding and resentment that need to be cleared, and even more that still needs to be learned, from both sides of the command chair. I hope that all of you will give me the chance to continue learning, and to continue earning your trust and respect.

"I would also like for us to pause and remember those who were unfortunately taken away from us in during their service. They all made a promise to their fellow citizens, and lost their lives while they made good on their word to carry out that promise. May they follow the Path of Maia into the Great Fields."

He paused, letting his words stand alone for a few heartbeats. He hoped that the words made their way to the trihorn in his confinement.

"As of three hours ago, the High Command confirmed our departure for the Ssartori system. I'm sure most of you are surely relieved to know we won't engage in the Klannarran conflict."

A soft murmur in the Bridge punctuated the commander's words. He let it pass; he echoed their sentiment in his own silent way.

"Still," he continued, "because of the war, our diminished presence in some of the systems we will watch over could mean higher threats from smugglers and the other scourge we have been fighting. They certainly will feel more brazen to try even stronger attempts to conduct their illegal business. I will need everyone in this ship to be prepared for the possibility of more frequent and intense combat with these outlaws.

"The ship will depart after I sign off. Jump to Tachyon space will follow within three hours. Walk the Path of Maia, archosaurs. Darkthunder off."

He signaled to Keana to cut the transmission before he turned to the navigator as he sat back on his chair. "Sergeant Grell, coordinates for our first stop are in your console. Take us out when ready."

"Yes, Commander," Grell said as the Bridge filled with the soft hum of the impulse engines systems coming to full operational status, followed by the pneumatic hiss of all tethering cables as they disengaged. "Detaching and retracting cables. Starboard thrusters on; ship is now moving away from station, five hundred paces per second." He continued working the touch-sensitive controls as the ship began to turn. "Turning fifty degrees to port. Distance from station, two thousand paces. Engaging impulse engines. Moving forward at ten percent thrust power."

"Impulse engines on, confirmed," Darkthunder replied.

Once again, the Commander remained seated while his crew conducted their usual maneuvers and status announcements. He listened to his crew's verbal exchanges at the same time he paid considerable attention to their species. As much as he missed being among terrorclaws sometimes, Darkthunder was proud to have such a diverse group of archosaurs under his leadership.

His attention drifted to his left, to the armorback and groundthumper exchanging witty barbs at each other at the same time they handled their duties.

Darkthunder hissed, the air escaping his lungs in one long, soft exhalation. He felt strongly against the mere presence of his navigator, yet there was the resignation that Grell was certainly the best saurian for the post. Even if he disliked the navigator, he could not ask for the armorback to leave the Bridge any more he would like his own crew deserting him in droves because they felt dissatisfied with a terrorclaw at the helm.

The animosity was certainly mutual. Grell had expressed his distaste for "hunter smell", just like Darkthunder disliked the strong body smell of the armorback. Yet there he was, back on his post, performing his duties as if the late Prion were still in command of the Tarrakhan.

The armorback got up from his chair for a brief instant, exposing his almost nude back and butt to the terrorclaw. Darkthunder caught himself as he shot a sly glance at Grell. The Patrol had to make concessions for species like Grell's, and the platebacks like the late Prion. The armorbacks had to wear a special uniform because of their spiked bodies - he wore barely more than a vest in front that ended in a cup around the crotch, and straps to keep everything in place. His firm buttocks were partially visible as well.

Darkthunder wondered if Grell had borrowed a vest from some smaller armorback, as his mighty, muscled chest protruded slightly from underneath the top part as well, giving only a very slight hint of the pierced nipples. He wondered how much more massive and magnificent it must look like when the armorback flexed those muscles during physical training.

Darkthunder growled softly as he pulled himself out of his thoughts. You have a ship to run, you foolish terrorclaw. Stop ogling the other males. And that armorback, of all species.

Yet in spite of his efforts, his eyes and attention kept wandering back to the armorback. He had to admit that Grell's well-built physique was something he could not help but admire. In some other archosaur, it would be an ideal type of male to have for a partner. Darkthunder growled; as much as he disliked the navigator, he had to admit that Grell was quite close to that ideal. Grell was certainly a desirable male.

There was no end to the talk by other crew members about how much Grell bragged having Brakkus please him orally, shooting load after load of thick armorback semen down the willing groundthumper's throat. From what he had seen, Grell's massive member would certainly fill a terrorclaw muzzle almost completely. Darkthunder pondered how it would feel if such a strong male bedded him. Those large, bulging arms would have no trouble controlling the smaller terrorclaw to do the armorback's bidding in the privacy of a room.

Thoughts drifted into Darkthunder's mind as he imagined Grell holding the feathered head into place with both hands, making the predator whimper while forcing Darkthunder to suckle just as the armorback's loins pushed that hard, hot member inside and out. He would have no choice but to swallow load after copious load of armorback cum shot deep into his throat.

It certainly would not end there. The armorback also would have an easy time pinning Darkthunder down on a bed, while those same stout loins worked to push that thick and long meat rod deep into a tailhole definitely not built to accommodate such a massive member. Darkthunder chirped softly with pleasure at the thought of Grell making him scream from pain and pleasure as the walls of his tailhole and rectum forcefully spread wide apart, while the armorback drove his huge member inside and out, fast and hard, over and over until his innards begged for mercy. On and on, hour after hour, taken roughly and hard and mercilessly, screaming from painful pleasure as thrust after savage thrust pushed him deep into the bed, while the armorback ignored the terrorclaw's whimpers and soft pleas for mercy and rest, filling his insides with hard, thick meat spurting loads of hot armorback cum, while his own balls and cock ached for a release, and -

Darkthunder returned to reality as he heard his name spoken loudly.

"Commander," Arokh said, a curious look etched on his snout. "Is there something wrong?"

The terrorclaw glanced slightly down towards his groin; a painful pressure alerted him of his tight pants stretching from the most massive hard on ever to take hold of his member. He felt the humidity from a copious amount of precum smeared against his left loin, and completely noticeable through the fabric of his pants. He sent a silent, quick blessing to whichever engineer decided to place the command chair higher on the Bridge, with the consoles blocking his body from the chest down.

"Sorry, Lieutenant. My terrorclaw instincts took a bit over as I was... contemplating a future course of action. Nothing... to worry about. Do you have anything to report?"

Arokh said nothing, but gestured towards Grell's station.

"Sir," Grell said, seemingly a bit nervous at how the terrorclaw was looking at him. "Tachyon engines are at full capacity, earlier than anticipated. We are ready for the jump."

Darkthunder nodded. He felt hot sweat running down his neck and spine, and along his genitals. "Acknowledged. Engage engines."

The acceleration pushed them against their seats for a small fraction of a second as the inertia dampers kicked in. The star field disappeared, replaced by multi-colored streams of light of Tachyon space.

"Ship is stable, Commander," Grell announced after a few seconds. Proceeding on our programmed course."

The terrorclaw chirped softly, glad that his current ordeal came to a merciful end.

"Make sure we are on target to our destination, Sergeant. Arokh, you have the chair. I will be in my briefing room for the next two hours checking for any updates to our first assignment. Please see that I am not disturbed."

"Yes, sir," Arokh said, his voice denoting some confusion.

Darkthunder invoked a minor hunter trance to increase his agility. He jumped out of the command seat, turning in midair to land with his back to the rest of the Bridge crew. He sprung back to his feet immediately upon landing, not stopping for even a heartbeat as he hurried towards his personal room a few paces away.

He was completely nude mere instants after the door closed. He stuffed his shirt in his snout to muffle his screams. His three-fingered hand worked furiously on his hard cock as he masturbated feverishly and non-stop until he climaxed, shooting his seed forcefully onto the floor, where it splattered into a wide area. Panting and sweating, Darkthunder kept a tight grip on his still hard and eager member.

The terrorclaw continued stroking. He would climax three more times before he finally collapsed from exhaustion, the smell of his sweat and musk filling the room to saturation.

- * - * -

Brakkus walked slowly into his old quarters. Besides the persistent soft hum of the ship's engines, only the soft whirrs of his walking gear filled the room as he entered. He looked somewhat forlornly at his surroundings. His few possessions were still right where he had left them. He hobbled his way to a shelf holding some small trinkets he had collected throughout the countless worlds visited in his years of service.

Grabbing one, he walked slowly towards the large bed that for long had accommodated both him and Grell, and sat down. The scene of much snoring, talk, and hot, rough, intimate action. He stared at the window, watching the colored field of the Tachyon space while twiddling the trinket somewhat half-mindedly with his fingers. His small nasal crest resonated slightly as he took a deep breath to catch the familiar scents of the room. The area around him was certainly clean, but the essence of passionate times still lingered.

"Good Maia, I've missed this bed."

"Just the bed?"

Brakkus turned to look at Grell, still standing at the entrance, watching the scene unfold. The armorback seemed slightly concerned, perhaps even afraid.

"Of course not," Brakkus said, his voice soft. "You too, you big oaf. Staring at Ty-Grich jumping around doing his shit turned boring very quickly." He patted a spot on the bed close to him. "Sit down. I'm not some automaton about to go berserk on you."

Grell nodded, and sat gently and quietly next to the groundthumper. He stretched an arm and draped it around Brakkus' shoulders while holding onto one of Brakkus' hands with his free one.

"You probably would like to know that Arokh and Darkthunder didn't do it. As far as I know."

"I hope you are not lying so you don't have to pay me."

"I am not. On my armorback honor."

"Like that is worth anything." Brakkus chuckled.

Grell smiled. He looked deep into the groundthumper's eyes. "How are you feeling?"

"Quite well, thanks! I'm not about to die here. Not any time soon, at least. We just got here from the Bridge, remember?"

"Yes... it's just... that I see you walking. You're obviously in some pain. And I can't think of anything other... than that day." Grell closed his eyes.

Brakkus moved his neck so that he rubbed his snout against Grell's own. "Hush. Don't punish yourself. There was nothing for you to do. And I am here, alive." The groundthumper sighed. "Barely made it, but I'm here."

Brakkus felt Grell holding tightly on his hand as the groundthumper continued talking.

"It was bad, Grell. I did feel that blast searing my head, followed by a horrific pain running down my spine and to every muscle in my body. I heard you scream my name, and I started to tumble down. Everything after that was just complete darkness. Screams. Muffled voices. I hallucinated many times. Each time, I saw myself still in combat, sometimes alone. No matter how much I would defend myself, the mammals would always get me, and then... they jumped to feast on my body.

"The last time, I'm again in combat, alone, and I see Darkthunder approaching. I thought I was saved, but then he turns and shoots me as well, and starts ripping me with his claws and eating my insides. And I am conscious while he is killing me. And then -

"Everything goes dark again. My last dream... I see Kakkuttek leaving a flower on my body as he prays in some strange language. I can't forget his eyes. Sorrowful... and longing for something. When I finally wake up, I find myself in the sick bay, alive and feeling like a thousand of my pre-sentient ancestors had trampled my body, and with the largest mind fuck of my whole life. Ty-Grich and his nurses are going about, hurriedly working and sometimes injecting me with all kinds of painful, thick liquids.

Brakkus sighed. "And then... quietness. My whole body relaxes. I am awake, but I can barely hear anything and there is like a thick fog blocking my sight. I can only let my mind drift, and wonder if that is what it felt before I died for real."

Brakkus turned to look at his friend. "I looked and looked... but I never saw you, Grell. Not until you showed up in the sick bay."

Grell sighed and lowered his snout. "I thought you were gone. I really did. And despite what Ty-Grich said at the sick bay, I... was afraid... you were not going to make it." He paused to regain his composure. "You probably would not be here if it weren't for Kakkuttek. He made his way towards where you had fallen, when the rest of us really believed you were already gone. He staunched the flow of blood long enough for Ty-Grich to take over. He even visited you at the sick bay before I did."

Brakkus looked directly into Grell's eyes; the look in the armorback's face told him Grell was speaking the truth. "For real?" He paused for a few instants. "I guess I'll have to thank him when I see him next."

"Good luck on that. I already tried. He was very defensive, and bitter. I have no idea what will take to make that longjaw happy."

"Sex, perhaps?"

Grell lifted his shoulders and arms in a gesture of cluelessness. "Didn't work, either. But there has to be something he likes."

"You mean besides water? His ancestors were river creatures. Maybe he likes aquatic food."

"You may be onto something there. We could ask Rrayekh what sort of food Kakkuttek likes. There has to be something that -"

Brakkus smiled, looking at Grell as the armorback stopped, startled as Brakkus' left hand brushed gently against his groin. He turned to look at Brakkus, who looked at him innocently.

"What?" Brakkus asked, smiling.

"Did you even hear what the medic said, long neck?"

"Sure did. He said you couldn't fuck my tail. He didn't say I could not have you in my mouth." Brakkus continued holding onto Grell's crotch, feeling the thick meat getting harder under the vest.

"Brakkus... please... now is probably not a good time."

"Why not?" Brakkus asked, flashing a toothy grin. "Did you find other saurians to impale with your meaty tool and make them scream, and kept you so busy that you don't have anything right now to give me?"

"No. I kept busy putting my old ways to some use. But... you won't believe what happened."

"Save it for some other time, my meaty saurian."

Grell breathed deep and fast as he watched his friend unbuckling the straps that held his vest in place, finally leaving him completely naked except for his armbands and footwear. His massive cock shot upwards, once free from its prison. Grell growled with pleasure as Brakkus gently stroked it and his balls as the groundthumper smiled.

The groundthumper said nothing as he opened his jaws, and gently placed them around Grell's cock. Wrapping his lips and tongue around the hard flesh, he began to move his head slowly up and down the thick, stiff shaft.

Grell began to tremble and twitch, obviously aroused by the sensations. "Oh... shit... Brakkus... ahhh..."

The groundthumper stopped suckling to look into the eyes of his partner as he continued stroking the armorback's cock. "Did you miss this, hmmm?

"Yes," Grell said, softly, his mouth half-open as he drooled somewhat. "Oh, Maia... yes."

Brakkus smiled and began licking the length of his friend's shaft, down towards the massive balls. Grell snorted and growled louder.

The groundthumper felt the thick grip of one of the armorback's hand at the back of his head, gently forcing him to go down on the stiff cock. Brakkus opened his mouth again, and began to take the whole shaft into his mouth and throat. He let out a soft whimper of pleasure, then started moving his head up and down, slowly building his pace.

Brakkus growled with pleasure as he began to smell the crotch of his friend, getting sweaty and musky. He knew the scents; his partner had done little else other than one or two masturbation sessions. Even better, he surely still had a lot of cum inside those balls and prostate. He rumbled with delight at the thought as he struggled to free his own cock from the clothes we wore while continuing to suck the armorback.

He felt two thick hands grab hold of him and gently set him sideways on the bed. He let go of the cock in his mouth to see Grell's head now close to the groundthumper's crotch. Almost immediately, the armorback's lips closed around Brakkus' member.

"Uuuhhh..." That was all that Brakkus managed to moan before he began working again on his friend.

Brakkus felt the delightful sensations starting to build in his member, just as he continued sucking off the armorback. Good Maia... it had been so long... the path to healing so hard... it almost seemed it worth for this one moment. He wished his body were not so achy and sore so he could have -

The groundthumper paused as a sudden burst of pain coursed through his head. Feeling nauseous, he pulled the hard cock out of his mouth and began coughing hard.

"Oh, fuck!"

Grell growled. "Brakkus?"

"Shit... shit! Another one!" Brakkus gasped and moved his neck and head away from his partner.

"Another?" Grell asked as he looked on, his voice somewhat full of concern. "Brakkus, what's wrong?"

Brakkus pressed the fingers of one hand against his temple. "Nothing! Just little flashes of headaches. Shit, shit... it's right here between my eyes now! It won't last long. There... it is going away."

"Headaches? Shit, maybe you should ask Ty-Grich for some stronger drugs for them."

"No, no. I am fine. Really." Brakkus rubbed the dimple between his eyes for a few instants. When he next opened his eyes, Grell was staring straight at him, a slight tinge of anger in his expression. "What?" the groundthumper asked, slightly exasperated.

"You should not be here."

"What do you mean?"

"Here in the ship! You should had stayed back at the station, where they could -"

"I got discharged, remember? I'm fine."

Grell growled loudly. "Like hell you are! Get yourself back to the sick bay, Brakkus! Right now!"

"There is nothing wrong with me, I'm telling you!"

Brakkus brayed with anger as Grell pulled him from the bed and started dragging him to the door. He wrestled against the armorback's strength, holding his ground despite his condition.

"Leave me alone, Grell! Fuck, let me go!"

Grell eyes narrowed with extreme anger as he continued fighting his friend. "You are coming with me!"

"Leave me... alone! Dammit, you asshole! Let me go!"

After some struggle, Brakkus managed to get a hand free. Before Grell could react, the groundthumper pushed his nails against the armorback's right flank, one of the few spots where armorback skin was not as thick. Brakkus pushed hard, digging his nails in until Grell let go from the pain.

"Ahhh! Brakkus... you son of a bitch!" He turned to resume his fight, and found the groundthumper in a defensive position, arms to the sides and front, nails at the ready. Snorting loudly, Grell backed away.

"Leave me... alone," Brakkus said, his words partly blocked by his own growls.

Grell waved his arms wildly. "Fine! Don't go to the sick bay! If this is the thanks I get for caring about you, then go ahead and fuck yourself! Just don't call me if you start having seizures or whatever you got coming to you, because I'll just let you fall and die!"

Brakkus let out a snarl of desperation. "You don't understand! I couldn't stand that place any longer. Therapy and exercise, exercise and therapy. That fucking fleetfoot would not let me do anything else!"

The armorback rolled his eyes upon hearing his friends. "And what else did you expect after getting shot? A vacation on a plush resort with servants to suck your fat dick and cater to every whim you may have had?"

"Of course not, you dumbass! But definitely something that didn't make me feel so fucking worthless! And then news started circulating that the Tarrakhan was getting ready for another tour of duty. And I... I just lost it. I had to get out." His body slumped slightly. "I was hoping that by becoming active again, I could push the discomfort away. But it hasn't been that way. Not yet."

"Not yet." Grell shook his head slightly. "You're an idiot. A stupid, brainless, dim-witted, foolish groundthumper!" Grell shouted.

Brakkus sneered. "Shall I hand you a language slate so you can find more words to insult me?"

"I can't believe you're willing to risk your health and your career just because you are too impatient to heal properly! And you thought that you would be able to hide it forever?" Grell pointed a finger at the plate attached to Brakkus' head. "Once Ty-Grich finds out, you bet Darkthunder will hear about it as well! You may as well kiss your years of service goodbye. You've single-handed validated all those jokes about pea-brained groundthumpers doing stupid things."

Brakkus frowned slightly, feeling mortified. "Please don't make me feel any worse than I do right now."

Grell threw his arms in a gesture of apparent defeat and frustration. "Then don't stick around, because I'm considering you for an award for valiant stupidity in service!"

Brakkus lowered his head in shame. "I thought you would be so happy to have me back, that you would support my efforts."

Grell stared at his naked companion before he grabbed his uniform and started getting dressed again while Brakkus watched in silence. "Don't wait for me. I'll look for any work I can do around the ship."

The armorback did not turn to look back as he paused at the doorway on his way out. "I like you, Brakkus. I really do. But I'm not going to support your self-destruction."

"Then don't. But please... don't tell the Commander. Let me fight this. I beg you." Tears began flowing down his face. "Please."

Grell sighed. "Very well. I won't tell anyone, for now. But by the time I see you again, I hope you have allowed Ty-Grich to examine you."

The pneumatic door closed softly behind him. Brakkus drew his legs close to his body. Laying his neck on his knees, he closed his eyes and began sobbing softly.

TO BE CONTINUED

© Kaa Bakensobek