FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Story reminder: all characters in this story engaging in sexual activity are at the legal age of consent.

Nazrella flexed and panted as Envoy slid back into her without any resistance. Droplets of their joint arousal peeled away with every smooth thrust that pistoned into her stretched nether-lips and took off as glimmering little spheres in the air.

Floating in the zero-gravity cot was one thing about space travel Nazrella really missed from her days crusading about the galaxy as a representative of the war consultants. Planetary gravitational fields were so strong Galactic Federation technology wasn't quite able to replicate the experience terrestrially, however in space with the selective gravitational field of a starship, the system could suspend the sleeper so perfectly in the air. But aside from being a perfect position to sleep in, there was nothing like a nice long fuck while suspended in the air.

Without having to put any strain on his arms or legs to hold himself up, Envoy clamped his hands on Nazrella's wide, sleek hips and put all his effort into the long hard strokes that slammed his flared head into her core with every thrust. The flare kissed her cervix tenderly at the height of each thrust, eagerly driving his meaty piston into her wet, fleshy tunnel with soppy noises that complimented the acoustics of Nazrella's moans pealing off the bare walls nicely.

They had been in transit for a few days now. The Ravenside orbital hyperspace gate had deposited them in Terra's orbit, a little beyond the moon. The Terra hyperspace gate was positioned far beyond where the Terra insurrectionists could reach with relatively simple ballistics. Once the planet was secure they'd move the gate in closer to shorten transit time and begin colonisation efforts. For the time being, the long and slow process of running between the gate and the planet surface on sub-light propulsion was tolerated.

Besides, Nazrella had the perfect way of passing the time.

Envoy was breathing hard from effort. He'd spent into his mistress three times in the past two hours already, and could feel his balls tightening for a fourth eruption. Nazrella just kept her tail coiled up against his back and her nails set into his furry shoulder blades, tugging him closer and flexing her body against his wantonly. She'd greedily swallowed up every load so far, up into her womb and down her throat and now her pussy wrapped about his thick, long member once more, lubricated by a mixture of her saliva and a sixth orgasm, Nazrella was ready for more. She showed no signs of slowing or tiring, keening his name out loud as she threw her head back and arched her spine.

A long tremor ran up from the tip of her tail all the way to her luscious hips where she convulsed for a long moment, her body trapped in an agonising dance of bliss. Envoy slammed forward, hard and deep once more and his shaft swelled inside her, stretching Nazrella's sensitive, shivering canal to the point of breaking. But Nazrella screamed for more.

"Yes! Yes, my pet! Give it to me! Fill me!" she groaned huskily and Envoy had little choice but to obey.

Not that he'd deny his mistress even if he could.

He clenched as if holding back, then released with a wheeze. A long torrent, just as powerful as his earlier orgasms sprayed up into Nazrella, hosing her serpent womb with his thick, fertile seed. It was hot and sticky in her core and made the aristocrat coo with delight, her lips stretched in a rapturous smile, eyes blissfully shut and her hands sliding down the sleek naked scales of her emerald body. She could feel Envoy's fingers desperately set into the firm curvature of where her ass would be had she been totally humanoid. She wished for more humanoid logistics, so Envoy might be able to slip a finger into her anus and massage her inner muscles as she came down from a shivering orgasm. As it stood however, with her anus hidden discreetly between her scales further down her tail, it would have taken much more effort for Envoy to reach.

She made a mental note for Envoy to experiment with some positions on her later. Perhaps there would be a way for him to give both her sensitive holes the attention she so often craved. But it seemed that might be an endeavour for another day.

She noted how poor Envoy was heaving, eyes fluttering, and his body totally spent from that last orgasm.

"Are you alight, pet?" Nazrella asked, gently stroking a hand over his firm chest.

Envoy quickly nodded, not wanting to show an ounce of weakness. "Of course, mistress. I'm just a little winded. You are so gorgeous, I can't help put everything I have into you."

She smiled and licked his lips. "You always know what I like to hear."

Reaching out she touched the glyphs glowing on the side of the cot and they were lowered into the conventional pillows laid into the bottom of the alcove. The private quarters were by no means fit for an aristocrat such as Nazrella, rather tight and spartan with hardly a shred of regal decoration. But such was the way with space travel. Things were kept functional rather than fancy.

As they set down, Nazrella rolled Envoy onto his back, and with some effort managed to lift herself off his cock. The length had gone flaccid, but the sheer size of it left the member quite firm inside her slit. It popped free with a wet sucking sound before flopping onto Envoy's abs, glistening with a mixture of their juices.

The scales around Nazrella's vulva slowly closed as her gaping walls of silky flesh collapsed. She felt empty and incomplete, but unfortunately she couldn't go about her day with Envoy's delicious cock stuffed in her cunt all the time. If there were a way she would have figured it out by now.

"May I take my stims, mistress?" Envoy asked, and sliding out of the cot, Nazrella nodded.

She swiped her hand over a wall-display and checked her messages while Envoy opened his personal bag. He hadn't brought much from Ravenside, just his prescription stims and a few changes of clothes. He didn't own much more.

"Good news," Nazrella announced as Envoy cleaned up and dressed. As she was talking the Vyper pulled a sleek silk dress over her head and plucked at the taut fabric until it hugged the sleek curves of her body properly. "The captain upheld my desire not to be bothered and has been holding in Terra's orbit patiently. We are cleared to board the shuttle and head to the surface whenever we are ready."

They gathered their things and headed down to the hangar bay where a sleek dart-class shuttle was waiting for them. The pair had not left Ravenside alone, and waiting of them was a squad of about a dozen Dren soldiers Nazrella had requested from General Nextra. In no particular rush, they busied themselves with loading equipment on a secondary transport which they would ride, war-supplies and all to the rendezvous later on. Until they joined Nazrella on the surface, her security detail would consist of several synthetic soldiers that were typically deployed on campaigns such as these.

Whereas male Dren made excellent servants within the Galactic Federation, the violent nature and apex-predator evolution of Dren females made them excellent warriors. So much so, their species held the monopoly of the Federation's special forces division. Deployed in only the most dire situations, such as the bombing on Ravenside, General Nextra had agreed upon Nazrella's request for their presence on Terra. This situation with Da Cubz was spiralling out of control and Nazrella was sanctioned to solve the problem by any means she saw fit.

It was an allowance Nextra could grant Nazrella in good faith. She wasn't the type to go and abandon the tenets of the Federation just because the going got tough.

Once the duo settled into the gravity couches aboard the shuttle, the ramp closed up and the synthetic pilot fed power to the engines. They skimmed across the deck, then out the gaping hangar bay and into space beyond. Envoy barely felt it happen, hardly registered the turbulent entry and he only realised they were on their way to the surface when the pilot turned its head and chirped cryptically.

The aural binary translated to: "Entry complete. We are making our in-atmo descent now."

Curiously, Envoy slipped out of the gravity couch and made his way to the flank of the ship where he touched one of the glowing glyphs on the hull.

An overlay of light formed a square along the wall and a viewport revealed the crystal-clear view projected by one of the external cameras. The thick grey cloud cover turned to a white mist before they plummeted out the underside. The frothing, roiling waves of the frigid Atlantic Ocean crashed into the rocky shore of Skirra far below as they made a fast approach on the wind-swept coastline of the familiar nation. A lush green but soggy countryside rushed by, the flatter coastal areas decorated with gorse and overgrown hedges sectioning off farmland turning rockier and hillier inland. Kilometres of land swept by before they pivoted to one side and began a slow descending turn towards a familiar spot of grey along the east coast of Skirra.

"You were native of this land, were you not?"

The soft question pulled Envoy from his trance and he turned to Nazrella. She was watching him carefully, her slanted eyes searching him for emotion. Envoy was usually quite easy to read, but in that moment he remained stone-faced while nodding gently.

Looking back out the viewport, he noted the shuttle had dropped closer to the earth, shattered remains of a city fallen into disrepair and decay sliding past beneath them. Even in its dreary, emaciated state it was easy to recognise Haven city. Under the grim, overcast sky and the sticky drizzle soaking the cityscape, Haven was as dreary as he remembered.

"Glad to be home?" Nazrella asked, again gently. There was something in her voice, almost a tense anticipation for what he might say.

Envoy looked at her again, smiling this time. "My home is at your side, mistress."

Nazrella seemed to let out of breath of relief, then seductively slid closer, running her slender fingers across the side of his face. "Good answer." They shared a chuckle, before she added, "I'll be sure to reward you later."

The shuttle slowed and pivoted with barely a swoop of their stomachs before the craft set down in the operating base of the Galactic Federation. Descending the ramp, Envoy hardly recognised Concourse Mall with all the additional sensor pylons, communications arrays and observation nodes attached to the glass and steel building.

Several gunships and recon vessels stood on the repainted parking lot that operated now as a landing strip and shipping yard. Envoy knew the synthetic soldiers of the Federation were the most effective occupying force as they needed only minimal maintenance and supply when compared to biological entities. But every facility like this employed small groups of Vypers as administrative staff. Nearly a hundred of them dotted various outposts and bases across the planet, requiring a steady enough stream of supplies to brought from Galactic Federation space and into orbital depots before being shuttled to the surface.

Two Vypers waited for them at the foot of the shuttle's embarkation ramp.

The first was as tall as Nazrella, though not at all as curvy or attractive despite her royal genes. Princess Xabi was recognisable in her eyes for the most part, the same purple irises as her mother, Empress Nahadra and a similar skinny build. Unlike her mother's regal red scales however, Xabi sported a dark tan sort of desert-like pattern, probably gene-altered colouration considering her deployment to an active warzone. Similarly, she didn't wear the same sort of formal garb as Nazrella, decked out instead in silvered armour that protected her body from enemy fire.

The other armoured Vyper was General Viphi, whose profile Envoy had heard all about on the flight over. He had to say, her appearance matched what Envoy had imagined after hearing the dossier of violence and ill-temper. This Vyper was short and built thick and muscular, fitting into her sleekly designed armour a bit better than the princess. Though she had nothing on Nazrella when it came to looks, a fair share of scars breaking up the black camouflage colouration in her scales with angry gouges of red flesh.

Both greeted Nazrella with a formal salute.

"War consultant," General Viphi began. "It is an honour to finally meet such a distinguished member of your office."

"General, the honour is mine." Nazrella bowed her head to the officer. "You should know the office of war consultants has been closed down for a long time now."

"You'll forgive me if I ignore that particularly idiotic part of our history," the general said with a chuckle, then beckoned them towards the mall's entrance.

"How is the situation at the moment?" Nazrella asked.

The general seemed ready to answer, then glanced at Princess Xabi and grunted a concession. Envoy could tell in the way they looked at each other they'd just come out of a disagreement and were tip-toeing - so to speak - around one another.

"The situation is stable," Xabi put confidently.

Viphi grunted, earning a sneer from her fellow Vyper.

"It. Is. Stable," she said with emphasis, then rocked her head from side to side and admitted, "Though the general's disdain for the assessment is understandable. Our campaign on Terra has built up to be the longest insurrection the Galactic Federation has ever had to deal with. Though the Drakken uprising was shorter and significantly more violent, we are sad to report the situation on Terra is becoming more of a drain on resources than any other planetary absorption in the past."

"The Terrans are rather stubborn," Viphi said. "We've rescued more than enough of them for a stable and diverse gene-pool in the Terran servant community. We could just cut our losses and begin terraforming."

Nazrella stopped in her tracks and gasped at the utterance of such a terrible thing. Even Envoy understood and looked aghast. Terraforming involved stripping a planet down to its most basic state, then started the process of making it liveable again from scratch, generating a primordial world that the Federation could then fast forward artificially into a viable colony. But the process, as one might imagine, killed all living things left on the planet.

Xabi sneered again, hissing venomously for good measure. "That is not necessary! Some of them see sense."

The general rolled her eyes. "Empress, here we go again. Your little pet project was a failure."

She was about to say more when Nazrella interrupted them both with a loud cough. When both of them looked to her, she eyed them sternly. "Would one of you like to update me on what it is you are talking about?"

Viphi crossed her arms and looked away, while Xabi sheepishly cleared her throat and faced the aristocrat.

"I had opened a channel of discourse with one of the Terran groups holding out on Skirra. We traded them supplies and weapons."

"Why would you do that?"

"So they might lead us to the insurrectionist group. It was working!" Xabi added quickly, defensively. "Their leader, Callie, had put together high-quality breeding stock and provided us with newborns easily capable of being marked for house or carnal servants! But everything was torn down when the insurgents burned down the settlement in some sort of raid."

"Let me guess. The insurgents got away with it too." Nazrella set her hands on her hips. "So now your plan failed and the insurgents have replenished their military supply."

"To an extent. The general and I have been...disagreeing on what to do next."

Nazrella's brow arched. She'd expected the situation to be bureaucratic and disorganised, but this was borderline ridiculous. You had the general with rash ideas held back by uncertainty, and a princess on the other end of the spectrum with good ideas but no sense of follow-through for when things went wrong. She had no idea the office of war consultants had left such a leadership gap in operations such as these.

Perhaps General Viphi was right, dissolving her office had indeed been an idiotic step for the Federation.

"This Callie and her fellow Terrans. You said they were of high quality breeding stock?" Nazrella asked, earning nods from both princess and general. "Good. Focus your efforts on rounding them up. At least if we breed them in Federation space they'll be better cared for. Now on to the subject of ousting the insurrection known as Da Cubz."

"Using Terrans against each other was the only strategy we could come up with," the general admitted. She was clearly a veteran of many battles, but it seemed this was the first time she was placed in charge of folding a whole planet into the Galactic Federation. "The insurgents are adept at hiding and highly resourceful."

"Not to worry. During the Drakken uprising war consultants were able to oust insurrectionists by..."

Nazrella's trip down memory lane was interrupted by a blast. It echoed in from afar but held enough volume to startle all of them. Nearby synthetics rushed to arms to soundlessly secure the perimeter while Envoy edged a little closer to Nazrella. She placed a hand on his shoulder protectively as her keen eyes scanned the skyline. And there she saw it, the telltale plume of dust rising over the rooftops barely a kilometre away.

"That's not one of ours," General Viphi said, eying the rising smokestack. "Our patrols are not in that quadrant today. That must be insurgents. Perhaps some sort of test? We saw the like during the opening days of our campaign."

"Show me," Nazrella said suddenly, making the other two glance at each other oddly."

"That might be quite dangerous, mistress," Envoy said, voicing their silent concern. "Da Cubz will be in that area."

"I know," Nazrella said with a small smirk. "In fact, I'm hoping for it."

Turning her gaze back to the skyline, she started moving back towards the idling shuttle. "If I am to defeat our enemy, I must see them. I must see exactly what they are made of..."

~~~~

Moments Earlier...

Slick watched the rubble strewn street for a second, then satisfied all was still quiet settled back down in the debris he'd dug out into a reasonably comfortable chair. The partially collapsed basement put him just below street level in the comforting concealment of shadows, while the remnants of the building creaking uncomfortably above his head sheltered them from the typical Skirra summer drizzle.

Beside him Suture and Buster sat up slightly to look across the street where a scav team of Cubz were raiding a corner store for supplies. And kneeling directly across from Slick was Blitz.

The tiger shark was staring at him, searching the human for something while leaning on her long rifle like a crutch.

After a long moment Slick finally shrugged. "Am I wearing something of yours, Blitz?"

"Is it Malaise?" Blitz asked without beating about the bush. "She's your age. Pretty too. Though I wasn't aware you were into bigger girls."

Slick rolled his eyes with a subtle little groan. This had been the state of affairs for nearly a week. Their friendship well and truly repaired, Blitz filled most of their conversation trying to suss out who it was Slick was romantically involved with. Sometimes for hours straight she'd hound him, just rattling off names of girls among Da Cubz along with justifications for her ludicrous accusations of physical attraction. The funny part was, Blitz though Slick was so vain she hardly even paused to consider the girl he was seeing might not even be physically attractive.

Dream was of course the hottest girl around - in Slick's humble opinion of course, but then he might have been biased.

"No, I'm not sleeping with Malaise," Slick groaned. "She's not my type."

He hoped everyone listening in understood the admission had nothing to do with the fact Malaise was like a foot-and-a-bit taller than him. 'Big girl' in the context of Malaise had nothing to do with weight. She was an anthro horse, they just didn't build 'em any other way.

"Well, who is your type then? Heirloom?"

Slick scoffed. "Heirloom is married."

"Bullshit."

"To her jewellery," Slick clarified, and understanding, Blitz gave a nod of agreement.

"If you ask me, Blitz," Suture chimed in, smiling as she looked Slick over, "I think Slick has been slinking off to Eden to see Callie when nobody's looking."

Even Buster cringed at that suggestion, while Blitz giggled. Slick on the other hand looked deeply offended.

"Wash your mouth out with soap," he grumbled, making Suture laugh.

"Oh, c'mon Slick. I remember you had a crush on her in school."

"Times change," he snapped, earning a dismissive wave from Buster.

"Guys, how about you mind your own business?" the tiger interrupted. "Where Slick puts his genitalia is none of your business."

Slick offered his friend a gracious bow. "Thank you."

Smirking, Buster added, "We all know he jerks it to old pictures from Callie's Instagram."

"Hey!"

Blitz and Suture were laughing quietly among themselves, throwing a few more theories around as Buster smirked into Slick's glare. Then it happened.

As if the Gods of fate decided the four of them were having too much of a good time, Da Cubz were thrown another curveball as the storefront beside the corner store exploded. the four of them ducked low as a gout of smoke and dust rushed across the street and snaked into the basement. The shockwave shook in their chest cavities and the building above them groaned in protest. For a terrifying moment Buster thought they'd be buried alive, but there was little more than a thin drizzle of dust sliding down his neck. their hideout held fast. But the scav team across the road weren't as lucky.

When they scrambled up to street level, Slick and buster saw the entire building across from them was gutted. There was a vertical crater where a fast food restaurant used to be, and whatever had exploded had taken part of the corner store with it.

The windows were blown out, much of the furniture now lay smouldering or shattered in the street. And moving in the thick brownish haze of dirty air the duo could see vaguely humanoid figures stumbling about as the scav team recovered from the explosion.

Slick was already out, scrambling from the basement and with his AR-15 doffed in one hand he sprinted across the street. Buster was not far behind, but struggled to keep up as he turned to gesture Suture to stay put.

"Blitz! Cover the street!" he called over the ringing in his ears the explosion had left before dashing after Slick to look for their friends.

Slick was in the thick of it in seconds as usual. His rifle dropped down into a horizontal position, the butt against his shoulder and the peak of his cap pulled low over the top of his EOTECH. He fully expected the silhouettes of Fed synths to start materialising, and with his thumb he flicked the AR-15 into semi-automatic while his disciplined index finger waited patiently on the trigger-guard.

Figures did resolve in the haze, but quickly realising he was looking at a kneeling figure too small to be any gear-head, Slick quickly canted his rifle away, then swung it onto his back. Just ahead the reptilian features of Ruckus resolved. His heavy flack was dusty and studded with shrapnel and debris. There was blood soaking his right sleeve and more glistening on the dull scales on one side of his face. His eyes were wild and distressed, standing out against the soot and dirt caking his features.

The gecko was knelt over Pester. The cat was moving, but didn't sit up as Ruckus told him to stay put and looked up.

"Slick!" he yelled louder than he intended, clearly shell-shocked and still getting his hearing back. "It's Pester, he's hurt!"

Dropping to a knee, Slick slid between the rubble to Pester's side and gave the boy a pat down. He was clearly messed up, covered in dust and dirt. Some shrapnel peppered his left leg, soaking his jeans in glistening red. One particularly daggers chunk of metal was sticking out of his flesh, but it seemed some of the blood around the wound was already coagulating. He wasn't free flowing, which meant no major arteries had been severed. At the same time they didn't want to start pulling chunks of metal out of him until Suture had a good look, in case they did more damage than good.

"Forget Pester, nobody likes Pester. Are you good?"

"Oh, thanks," Pester groaned as Ruckus nodded affirmative.

"Good. Help me get him up."

Pester cried out with pain as the two boys heaved him to his feet, then half stumbling, half limping, they carried the cat between them towards where Suture and Blitz were waiting. Suture immediately disobeyed Buster's commands by meeting them halfway. Blitz cursed as she broke cover as well to better sweep the street, but the hazy cloud enveloping them made it hard for her to make out anything beyond a few metres.

By the time they set Pester down in the basement for Suture to take a look at his injuries, Buster joined the with Stitch and a girl from the scav team. Stitch was best off among all of them, still caked in plaster dust where the walls that saved him from the main blast and resulting shrapnel had obliterated all over him. The girl was pretty rough like Pester, a broken leg it seemed by the way it was twisted awkwardly.

"The hell was that?" Buster demanded as Blitz backed into the basement after them, remaining on stag in case the Fed patrols they feared might arrive came knocking. Slick in the meantime ran back outside to search for the rest of the scav team.

"Unexploded IED, I think," Ruckus explained. "Must be leftovers from the opening resistance against the Feds."

Pester gritted his teeth as Suture was dressing some of his lesser gashes, the ones that weren't embedded with metal. "I dunno what your definition of 'unexploded' is, but I'm pretty sure we just fucking exploded."

"What set it off?" Buster asked, to which Ruckus shook his head with a shrug.

"I dunno. Bad luck I guess."

Buster grunted. "Lot of that going around lately."

In the meantime, Slick moved back down the slope of rubble leading down into the basement, and everyone present couldn't help notice he was alone. There was a dark look in his eyes that made Buster deeply uncomfortably.

"Any others?" he asked.

Slick paused, then shook his head.

Cursing, Buster slid a notepad out of the reserved pouch on his tac-vest. He kept immaculate records of all Cubz who left Haven Metro Station on operations - and grimly by extension those who never made it back.

He angrily struck lines through the names of Cubz no longer with them and stuffed away the notepad again. It was frustrating. Enraging. Not the type of problem where you could say 'good' and make the best of a bad situation.

Making the best of this situation ended in all kinds of darkness Buster wasn't ready to face right now.

He had to power through though. If not for his own sake, then for Pester's. for Suture's. for every one of Da Cubz still breathing. So, he rallied his thoughts, dusted off then half-cocked his AK-74U to make sure a round was chambered.

The plan was simple: Bug the fuck out and get the wounded back to the safety of Haven Metro Station. The plan had it's fair share of complications though.

"We got company," Blitz called, interrupting Buster's attempt to organise them.

He turned and joined Blitz and Slick by the entrance to their little cave of safety. Things were about to get very unsafe as a shadow slid over the street, and the jet wash of alien propulsion engines sent the dirty smog scattering down the street with a distinct whoosh.

The shuttle holding over the blast zone was different from the saucers. The same kind of sleek design with eldritch running lights projecting the trio sensor spotlights across the debris scattered asphalt below. But this craft was long and sleek like a flattened-out dart with razor like edges, stubby stabilisers with pronounced engine nacelles that pivoted like the turboprops on a tiltrotor craft.

Slowly the alien shuttle began to descend between the buildings with ease, the pilot even managing to put an odd sidelong tilt on the craft so they'd fit. A ramp descended from the belly and figures leapt down onto an abandoned, blasted out car like an additional step as the wide vehicle struggled to reach all the way down to the street.

"That's new," Slick muttered with irritation, taking aim at the synths leading the way out.

As they hopped onto the car, plastic and glass crunching under their feet as they descended and began sweeping the street, Buster reached out and pushed Slick's rifle down with a subtle shake of his head. Glancing at his friend, the human tutted, but made no motions to disobey, instead understood the need for subtlety and pulled back to hide the others.

While Slick and Blitz helped Stitch and Ruckus find Pester and the injured girl a good hiding place deeper in the basement, Suture and Buster watched the synths secure a semi-circle before one touched its antennae like ear and gave a firm nod.

Receiving the transmitted all clear, the rest of the crew disembarked, and as the last figure landed on the deck the shuttle started pulling up to provide aerial overwatch.

The first two figures were somewhat familiar to Buster but made Suture gasp with surprise. The alien snakes had distinctly feminine curves and stood a little taller than the average Terran. Their scaly features complete with cobra-like hoods were fierce, a ferocity enforced by the high-tech body armour moulded to the curve of their hips, waist and breasts. Keen eyes behind the glowing holographic eye-protection scanned the street beyond their wall of protective synths.

The first snake out was one Da Cubz had taken to calling 'Naga.' She'd been one of the Fed creatures Slick and Buster had spotted by the mall during their recon some time ago. Her slight, skinny body and desert colouration like a Saharan Sidewinder was impossible to mistake.

The second was quite a bit different. Much curvier with a hourglass-shaped torso and emerald scales that shimmered almost hypnotically. She was wrapped in less armoured garb, her attire seeming much more regal. Buster was willing to entertain the thought of many snake-like creatures such as these leading the synths on campaigns across Terra. They certainly seemed to carry themselves like a boss, swaggering with a sultry sway like they owned the place.

But what was most upsetting about this reveal was the third figure joining them. Kneeling before he delicately slid off the car roof he'd hopped down on, the Terran horse shaded his eyes while watching the shuttle ascend to its hold-position. The boy was not much older than Buster or Suture, and built like your average Terran equine.

The anthro horse had dark brown fur and a well kempt chocolate coloured mane of hair. He was clean, spotless and well-groomed when compared to the likes of Buster, and was clad in form fitting matte black attire emboldened by a purple band about his upper arm. Some kind of rank or insignia among the Feds, Buster had no doubt.

This Terran was no captive as he walked close to the emerald snake like a loyal puppy. The word 'collaborator' sprang into Buster's mind. It would be the first time, since he'd never seen a Fed and a Terran stand side by side. Synths usually just darted and carted them without even thinking about it.

And the way the equine listened in as the snakes spoke, looked around and offered a few comments of his own in the same alien language, there was only one thing the horse could really be. A consulting traitor of some sort, selling out his own planet, his own species to the Feds.

After a few moments of deliberation, the horse suddenly turned and looked directly at Suture and Buster hidden in the shadow of the crumbling building above. He pointed, and in mechanical lock step two synths broke formation to lead the way forward.

Buster and Suture glanced at each other to make sure they were thinking the same thing and quickly peeled back to go hide.

The synths slid down the slope of jagged rubble then snapped up their tranquiliser guns. Headlamps flicked on and they did a horizontal sweep of the basement. They advanced after a brief pause, thudding heavily with no regard for stealth, crossing the room and checking the dark corners.

Like before, one of them gave a firm nod and touched the side of its head, buzzing out an all clear before the Terran horse descended into the basement himself.

Envoy wasn't going to pretend to know how these rebels calling themselves 'Da Cubz' operated. But he knew their sort. Their kind had been on the news every other day when he still lived his meaningless life on Terra. _Terrorists_the media had call them back then. Idiots with no regard for the greater good seeding fear and

Envoy's regard of the sort hadn't changed much now he lived with his mistress. That's what these Cubz were. Terrorists. Cowards. Striking out of the shadows, then retreating back into them before they ran into trouble. If Envoy were one of them, and he vowed that would never be the case, this was where he'd hide when the light of the Federation illuminated them. A dark little basement, good sights on the streets and those moving through.

But the basement was empty. Sensing there was no danger, Envoy waved off the machines, sending them back to Nazrella and Xabi's side. He turned watching them go pensively. He was pondering on why the explosion had occurred. There were no Federation assets in the area before now. So, was the explosion some sort of accident? A test of improvised explosive devices like Viphi had suggested?

Nazrella would know more, Envoy figured, but he still paused to think about it. He wanted to be as helpful as possible. His mistress was relying on him to be her second set of eyes, her additional brain to bounce ideas and plans off of. He had to try and get into the war-waging mind-set, despite being far detached from the warrior class of person, and try to imagine himself as one of the cowardly insurgents...

As he was pondering however, Envoy was totally unaware of a shadow descending from the ceiling behind him.

Dangling upside-down from the rafters hidden in the pitch darkness above the horse's head, Buster straightened up, hoping nothing would fall out of his pockets and give him away. As it was he was moving as slowly as possible, so not to make any sound, and with the blood rushing to his head the snarling tiger ever so gently pulled the pistol from his holster.

Bringing the M1911 up to his chest in a two-handed grip, Buster then slowly drove the weapon out and took aim. There was very little margin for error though, as the end of the eccentric silencer affixed to the muzzle, a long rectangular sound suppressing device, stopped just an inch short of touching the back of the horse's head.

It took every ounce of effort to just take his time and make sure he did this right in one go. Buster wanted this fucker dead. Still reeling from the death of five Cubz, five young kids his age who would still be alive were it not for the Feds invading Terra, Buster was seething with fury. The spiral of frustration and anger didn't stop there though. He started thinking about friends and family. Kids from school who were gone now. People he'd known and seen on the street. Adults who made up every day life... his parents...

Opal. He hadn't dared think of the name in a long time and now it only served to escalate his temper.

So many Terrans dead. Gone. Wiped from existence because the Feds invaded and installed themselves as owners of a planet they had no right to claim. And there he was, this equine, this piece of shit Buster was ashamed to call his kin, helping the fuckers who had killed and kidnapped so many of their people...

Buster's finger tightened on the trigger. He felt the first pressure point under his finger, then the second. Another ounce and the hammer would strike the firing pin, the suppressor would make a whisper of the gunshot and a bullet would pass through the horse's brain, ending his life like how the Feds had ended so many Terran lives. He'd be just another casualty of war. A statistic - he was barely worth the digits recorded on paper.

Buster stopped though and eased off. Again, there was that effort. A push of discipline, this time exerting itself to stop him from killing the horse. The idea forming in his mind resolved, and Buster did a reverse of his motions.

Reeling his pistol close to his chest, he swung back for some extra momentum, then curled forward and pulled himself back up into the rafters - disappearing into the darkness just as the horse turned around totally oblivious as to how close death had been to locking its fingers about him.

Seemingly satisfied, the equine moved off and ascended back to the street to join his alien friends. Meanwhile, Slick and Suture helped Buster climb back into the rafters and exchanged glances through the darkness. Buster slowly holstered his weapon again, careful not to make too much sound of metal scraping on plastic, then drummed his fingers thoughtfully on the holster.

Noticing the habit, Suture asked, "What are you thinking?"

Buster shrugged, still eying the spot the horse had almost died on. "I'm not totally sure yet... but I might have a crazy idea."

~~~~

"Operation: Boy-Toy."

Da Cubz packing Buster's operations centre were silent bar for Slick, who laughed from where he sat somewhere in the back.

"I'm sold on the operation name alone! Tell me more!"

A ripple of amusement passed through the sizeable strike force gathered before Buster, who stood in front of a mission board that had numerous maps, pictures and battle plans tacked to it for the presentation. The group of Cubz was the largest strike force he'd gathered since the 13-Hour war, bigger even than the Monster Mart raid. He'd need the numbers and the varied skill-sets for what he was planning to do.

You don't kick a hornets nest unless you have a big-ass can of Raid.

"I'm proposing an assault on the Feds," Buster continued to say. "Let's kick 'em in the teeth a bit, show 'em who's boss. But at the same time I don't want us to pointlessly raid one of their outposts. We're good for supplies at the moment, so we need a solid objective. I suggest we expand our range of delinquency to kidnapping."

A few broad grins indicated some of Da Cubz were liking this idea. The impression was that they were going to take a crack at the Galactic Federation's command structure. That would be a leap and bound towards defeating them and kicking them off Terra. And so far all of Buster's raids had been solid. Da Cubz were ready to follow through on whatever insane plan he'd concocted for this operation.

"Let's look at what we know about the Feds. We know they're responsible for the 13-Hour war, where they killed all Terran adults with the hope of leaving cubs like us helpless. We know they're rounding us up, taking us alive. We know Callie was trading them babies for supplies, indicating they want live Terrans, preferably young.

"And despite knowing all this, we don't know why. Adding to the confusion is the fact we spotted a Terran in cahoots with the Feds.

"I don't know about you, but I wanna know what the fuck the Feds are up to. So I suggest we break down language barriers by capturing that Terran collaborator and then waterboard him with piss until he provides some answers."

Some more laughter as Buster handed a stack of magenta folders to Suture, who split them with Malaise before the girls started handing them round to the Cubz present.

"So how do we lure our objective out? Ruckus helped me test a theory," he said with a thankful nod to the gecko sitting nearby. "We set up rooftop IEDs on known saucer patrol routes and ambushed them mid-flight. Three ambushes were successful and took down the patrolling fliers. The troop response was varied each time, but there were three constants."

He went to the mission board and pointed at a picture they'd snapped of the alien shuttle. "This hyper-nimble flier shows up. And on board are these two fuckers. This bitch, designated 'Snake Queen'" - Buster pointed to the picture directly underneath showing the emerald coloured regal looking snake, then to the picture of her Terran lackey directly beside - "And her little 'Boy-Toy.' They showed up each time and ran an assessment of the scene, like some kind of consultancy service. I have no doubt Snake Queen is some sort of counter-insurgency expert, so if she's given too much time to study us, the Feds will figure out where we're hiding, and they'll fucking have us."

A nervous tension hung in the room for a moment. But Buster's smile did not wane.

"We're not going to let that happen though. Because we're going to kill Snake Queen and capture Boy-Toy."

Buster's smile was shared by everyone in the room now. A few of Da Cubz whooped and whistled. Slick and Pester in the back let out a joint "Hoo-ah!" like they'd heard on their favourite movie time and time again.

Inviting them to open their folders, Buster pointed at the diagrams and team colour designations dominating the other half of his mission board. "We're going to use a modified 'Shoot 'n Loot' template like we did when we raided Monster Mart. You're all familiar with Liberty Park, right?"

Plenty of nods all around. Even those who had never visited the park before the 13-Hour war now knew of what the green space in the heart of Haven had been turned into. A concentration camp, to be entirely frank. Once Terrans were darted and captured by synths, Liberty Park was where they were sent for processing before they were carted off on saucers shooting up into the sky, never to be seen again. The only assumption they had was that Terrans were being taken offworld. Anyone who was taken to Liberty Park was never seen again.

And now Da Cubz were going in voluntarily, backed by extreme violence of action if Buster's attack plan was anything to go by.

"Liberty Park Zoo is being used as holding pens. That will be where the main strike force hits." Buster pointed it out on the mid-section of the park map, directly north of a compound the Feds had erected on the southern edge. "The main strike force will operate under the name 'Blackhat.' Stitch, you'll be in charge of that detachment. You'll be motorised, so hammer in hard and fast, grab any Terrans you find on the way then bug out as soon as fucking possible." As Stitch gave a firm nod, Buster turned to Blitz and Ruckus. "You'll have support from 'Longshot,' led by Blitz. I'm giving you and your peeps the Barrett."

The idea of getting to pop shots at Fed synths with the fifty-cal sniper rifle made Blitz shudder with joy. Her expression dropped a little when Buster revealed a caviat.

"I'm only allotting you forty rounds."

"Whaaaaat!?"

"Suck it up. The rest of our limited high calibre ammo is going to Ruckus." Turning to the gecko now, he told them, "You're on heavy support duty. Fifty-cal machine guns and mortars for 'Firebug.' Bang on operation go-time you're going to unleash thirty seconds of hell down on Liberty Park. That will be Blackhat's queue to get in gear," he added to Stitch. "While the Feds are scrambling, you guys bust in and do your thing."

"This looks like a lot of noise," Suture noted as she flicked through one of the mission folders. "More like a distraction than a battle plan."

Buster gave a toothy smile. "Exactly." Turning he pointed at a set of golden arrows indicating two-man movement on the south side of the park. "While shit is going down in the north, Slick and I sneak into the Fed compound on the south and clear it out. Liberty Park is pretty scant for landing zones, so my money is on Snake Queen putting her shuttle down on the compound roof while the landing strips in the zoo are getting hammered. As soon as that bitch touches down we'll drop her and grab Boy-Toy.

"Everyone, be sure to read your documents thoroughly as backup escape and evasion plans are detailed in there as well."

As Buster finished up, Pester raised his hand obnoxiously. He could only ignore the cat for so long before letting him ask, "Buster, what the fuck? My name isn't on any of the rosters."

"That's because you're hurt," he explained, indicating the bandages on Pester's leg. "You're staying here."

"To do what? Play with my dick while you guys have all the fun?"

Buster sighed and rubbed his eyes for a moment. "No. Because - God fucking help me - I need you to run the place until I come back."

Pester frowned, realising the immense responsibility, and power, being laid on his shoulders. He smiled deviously as the prospect ran through his head. "Oh... cool!"

With that bit of unpleasantness out of the way, Buster eyed the faces of his chosen strike force. The best and brightest Da Cubz had, all packed into one room. And even then he had to make sacrifices and leave perfectly good and capable Cubz behind. Because the grim fact of the matter was, this could be a suicide mission. And if none of them came back, at least Da Cubz would have some good bodies to keep going with. Suture, and to a lesser extent Pester, to name but a few.

"I'm not going to sugar coat it, guys," Buster began, making Slick laugh.

"You never do, dude."

They laughed. Even Buster made the effort to smile, and nodded. "True. But this could be it. This could be the turning point of our war. But to make that turnpike in our favour, we gotta go down a bad road. A dangerous road. We might not come back from this."

He let that hang for a moment. Silence. Nobody was smiling. Nobody laughed. Everybody watched, hanging on Buster's words, eager to know what would come next.

He didn't disappoint. "My old man was a SEAL. He led men in and out of battle for most of his life, and he rode me like he rode his subordinates when he retired to spend more time with his family. Everything had to be right by him. It had to be perfect. Nothing short of perfection would ever do. I always thought he was being a hardass, thought that the military had simply programmed him to be that way, and I just accepted it. And now, only now, among all this adversity, with death, and failure, and darkness all knocking at my door do I realise something with a sober clarity I've never had before.

"He was trying to teach me something. He was trying to teach me to stand up straight. To face adversity with a full fuckin' heart. To be the man that others reach for when the wolves are at the door." Buster glanced at one of Da Cubz, an anthro wolf sitting in the front row. "No offence, dude."

"None taken."

"If we die doing this. If we fail. Then so fuckin' be it. At least we didn't just roll over." A few Cubz nodded. "At least we didn't just hide in our hole and take it. At least we didn't let the Feds just come in and take our planet, our world, our home!"

"Yeah!" a few shouted. Others jumped to their feet and pumped their fists in the air.

"At least we show the Feds, and whoever comes after, that we won't just be pushed over. We're gonna show them that we aren't going anywhere! And we're going to fight them for every inch! Every life! Every body left in the street!" Cubz were whooping and roaring. Even Suture was on her feet. "Let's get out there and tell these fuckin' assholes: here we are! Come fuckin' get us!

"Who are we!?"

"Da Cubz!" they all shouted.

"What are we!?"

"Too stubborn to die!"

Pumped, roused and excited to potentially meet their makers, Da Cubz gathered their things and set out to prepare for the mission. There were weapons to clean and zero in. Ammo to gather. Mags to load. There was plenty to do and only a little time to do it. Even Buster had a long list of chores to go through before go-time.

Despite that, he paused to give Suture his time when she pulled him aside.

"Got a minute?" she asked.

"Only for you," he promised.

She smiled, despite her grim thoughts, then said, "I hate to be a killjoy, but one of us has to be an adult." She started counting off on her fingers, starting with her thumb. "Synths showed up and started netting kids. So, we resisted." She counted across her fingers as she continued with her points. "Synths came back armed with tranquiliser rifles. So again, we resisted by shooting back and hitting them with IEDs. Feds responded and sent in saucer patrols restricting how we operate wireless communications and vehicle movement. We get desperate and hit Monster Mart. Feds respond again by deploying gunships.

"Buster, every time we make a move, the Feds escalate. If we do this, if we hit Liberty Park, the Feds will retaliate. And we have no idea how. They might start resorting to lethal tactics."

"You're not wrong," he agreed with a nod. "But we're never going to know unless we get more intel. Without intel we can't fight back. We either die grabbing that Terran so we can beat some answers out of him... or we all eventually die starving in a hole."

The same way Buster agreed with her, Suture agreed with him. There were no facts she could present for him to put off this mission, and to be frank Suture didn't really want him to put it off. She understood this had to be done, consequences be damned. Da Cubz were outnumbered, outgunned and had to fight smart, little battles. This was one such battle.

Leaning forward, she trapped the tiger with a hand on his shoulder, so he wouldn't pull away and planted a lingering kiss on his cheek. "Just please be careful, Buster."

He swallowed, stunned for a moment, staring into the canine's eyes. Then nodded firmly.

~~~~

Slick normally worked on his rifle in the armoury. It made things easier with the larger workbench and a wider range of accessible tools.

Unfortunately he need to range his rifle, so he needed some space. One of the quiet platforms was perfect. He'd set up a paper target in a stand and trapped his rifle on a vice to minimise sway. He then wedges a laser dot in the wire cutter muzzle of his AR-15 and carefully worked the screws on his EOTECH, calibrating the dot with accuracy up to about 75 metres. The projected laser was a little faint and tiny, so Slick made a few generous estimations and made sure to pack a nickel in his gear so he could make adjustments on the fly if he had to.

Not the best practice, he had to admit that, but he didn't want to go doing live fire tests in case the noise was detected by the Feds and Operation: Boy-Toy ended before it even began.

Even while focused on the task at hand, Slick heard Blitz before she spoke, her heels clicking on the platform as she approached.

"Hey. You good?" he asked, glancing at the tiger shark's bare legs casually.

Blitz nodded, sinking to the ground beside him, sitting sidelong with her legs bent out to one side. "Yeah. You?"

"Excited." Slick smiled proudly. "It's been a while since we put the Feds on their heels. I just wish synths had expressions so I can gloat."

Blitz laughed, then looked down range as Slick put his eye behind the holo-sight to check his adjustments. He hardly offered her a second glance, Blitz noted. And that hurt a little, considering the effort she'd gone through.

Slick didn't even notice the way the tiger shark wasn't wearing her usual fighting gear. She was dressed more like how she would have before the Feds invaded. A dark floral pattern beach dress with a short skirt and a deep V-neck that offered a naughty sneak peek at her cleavage and the lacy red bra she wore underneath.

She'd even done her makeup outside the usual gothy kind of eyeliner she normally opted for. A soft shade of red blushed her cheeks, a glossy sort of wet shine across her lips and a dark blue hue over her eyelids drawing attention to all her best features. She was rather stunning when she scrubbed off the wasteland grime and changed out of her baggy paramilitary outfit. She even traded her combat boots for a pair of high heeled pumps, still clean and glossy for lack of use.

It had taken her nearly half-an-hour to get ready to confront Slick like this. Buster' speech about this possibly being their end had gotten her thinking. If she was going to go out, she wanted to go with no regrets. And that meant telling Slick the one thing she had failed to do in the two years she'd known him.

But now, sitting all prettied up beside him, Blitz suddenly realised she was terrified. She could go toe-to-toe with synths at long range attempting to overrun her, and not bat an eyelid. and yet trying to say three intimate words to a boy she liked...

Gulping, Blitz looked Slick's rifle over. She couldn't help thinking about his 'other' rifle and how it might feel between her legs, sliding up into her wet, yearning cavity.

With a slight flutter of her eyelashes she tried to focus and noted the heavily modified weapon. Slick had installed the keymod rail with the vertical foregrip and hand stops along with an aggressive muzzle himself. He'd swapped out the default stock and the grip for something a little more ergonomic. He'd installed ambidextrous fire selectors, mag releases and a trigger bolt-release lever, and for good measure mounted his trusty holographic sight, as well as an offset scope rail to which he sometimes mounted a night vision scope for those late-night walkabouts.

Blitz remembered the day they'd raided the gun store during the founding days of Da Cubz. Slick, having been an airsofter and amateur competition shooter like his mom before the invasion, had been like a little kid in a toy-store. It had been kind of cute at the time, and perhaps the first time his antics had pulled at Blitz's heart-strings a little.

"The AR-15 is looking good. Is that a new cocking lever?" she asked, noting the standout red anodized charging lever at the base of the stock buffer tube.

"Yup." There was a pause before Slick added off-handedly, "Is that a new dress?"

She exhaled. "You noticed."

"Kinda hard not to. I can see up your skirt," he joked. "What's the occasion?"

Blitz gulped. This was it. Time to ante up. So with a deep sigh, she shuffled a little closer to Slick, gauging the kissing range as if she were lining up a long range kill-shot, and started to say, "There's something I've been meaning to say, Slick. I'm not sure how, but..."

Blitz paused and screamed internally. Why can't you just say it!? Tell him! Tell him you fucking wuss!

She dug her fingers into the ground and tried to force it out. However, as she opened her mouth a new set of footsteps rang across the empty platform.

Turning to look, Blitz recognised the newcomer. Dream, the anthro tanuki who took care of the younglings in the creche. A pretty girl, as was custom for girls from the orient like her. She hardly ever needed to dress up to look nice, and approaching Slick as he jumped to his feet in greeting, dream was quite simply clad in what might pass as a school uniform. Simple white blouse, plaid skirt and black knee socks with black shoes. She didn't look anywhere as fancy as Blitz did, in her own humble opinion.

And yet where Slick had hardly reacted to the shark's arrival, when the tanuki walked in he leapt to his feet and waved smiling. Blitz climbed to her feet, with quite a bit less agility as she was still adjusting to the height of her heels.

"Hi, Slick," Dream greeted with her dazzling smile and closed the distance between them with a little hop. The lighter girl landed neatly in Slicks arms and their lips locked together in a kiss.

A self-conscious one for Slick, Blitz noted as she realised too late who it was Slick was seeing. At the same time, she couldn't help admitting he had good taste. Dream, she knew, was as kind as she was pretty. And the tiger shark admitted that the pair made a cute couple.

As they broke their kiss, Dream offered Blitz a small smile in greeting. "Hi, Blitz. You look nice."

She swallowed, then blushed as she rubbed her arm. "Uh. Thanks."

"I just wanted to wish you luck in case I don't catch you later," Dream said, oblivious of the way Blitz was staring. "I trust you'll be careful tomorrow?"

Slick nodded. Then with a sidelong glance he threw Blitz an odd frown. She was staring at him the same way she had in that basement a few days ago.

"What?"

Blitz cleared her throat and quickly shook her head. "Oh! Nothing. It's just... you're a cute couple."

Slick gave her a dubious look, though Dream took it at face value. "Awww. Thanks."

Thinking she was the hottest thing down in Haven Metro Stration didn't just refer to Blitz's looks. She considered herself the fastest, coolest girl for miles around. She was, even by Buster's admission, their sharpest long range shooter. She'd nailed synths from perpendicular angles of movement up to almost a kilometre away. The narcissism was justified.

But all her quick wits in the face of battle counted for nought as she was rooted to the spot as Dream pressed forward, quite suddenly. For a terrible moment she figured Dream maybe knew Blitz was crushing on her boyfriend, trying to make moves. She expected Dream to jump and strangle her.

What she did took Blitz totally by surprise.

Standing on the tips of her toes so they were at the same relative height, Dream leaned forward and kissed the tiger shark on the mouth. it wasn't a friendly light peck either. Blitz was immediately lost in the softness of her lips, the taste of her saliva as their tongues wrestled for a moment, and she could feel Dream's breasts, only slightly larger than her own press against her bust.

Dream went full into it like she'd done with Slick too. With the boy watching dumbfounded, she wrapped a hand about Blitz's neck and ground their bodies tight against one another, locked in passionate, heated embrace for a protracted moment.

But before Blitz could catch her wits and press back to fully enjoy the smooch, Dream pulled back, eyes fluttering open as she smiled.

"Please bring my boyfriend back to me," she said softly.

Blitz licked her lips, then swallowed hard. "Uh... sure thing."

Flashing Slick one last glance and blowing him a final kiss, Dream turned and left. She didn't need a sultry sway to her hips or a seductive strut to hold their attention. Both Slick and Blitz stared as Dream left them, and even after she disappeared the pair continued to stare.

Blitz eventually cleared her throat. "Slick?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm very suddenly quite gay for your girlfriend."

"You can wait your turn."

###

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