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The Dark Horse returns for Season 5, with a long-awaited threat emerging and some old friends, uh... coming back together.

Okay, hey, we're back! Season 5 of the Dark Horse serial takes a new path: there's one overarching narrative for the five episodes this season, at least for the A plots and at least in theory. An old enemy has returned, you see, and that means it's time to make friends. Particularly if you're a coyote :P Thanks to Spudz for editing help and Kawauso for illustrating it :P Patreon subscribers, this should also be live for you with notes and maps and stuff.

Released under the Creative Commons BY-NC-SA license. Share, modify, and redistribute--as long as it's attributed and noncommercial, anything goes.

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Tales of the Dark Horse, by Rob Baird S5E1, "Intruders" Stardate 67333

"This is the extent of the Terran Confederation. Our border is quite far from here. That's actually what brings us to the sector we refer to as the Rewa-Tahi. We're on a mission of peaceful exploration. Where possible," Maddy amended.

The two aliens on the other side of the table conferred briefly between themselves. "It is not often possible, then? When we've heard the name of your ship, it's often with reference to your weapons."

His tone of voice had been--at least, in the judgment of the universal translator--somewhat harsh. The translator softened the words of his companion. "Of course, we understand that not every first contact is as peaceful as ours. The Qelluf and the Saheel are also explorers. Ambassador Tamul reflects concerns from the Qellufi Senate."

Dr. Beltran, who'd mostly been paying attention while staying quiet, tilted her head. "Does this mean those concerns are not shared by the Saheel?"

"We haven't been contacted by others from your region, unlike Tamul's kind. The meeting was with a Qellufi... task force?" The Saheelish ambassador directed this question at Tamul, who hissed an affirmative in reply. "Encountering them near our border with the Parixians."

"Others from our region?"

The Qellufi were short, stocky reptiles, and Tamul was compelled to climb up on the table to indicate a location on the map May had shown. "From here, according to them. Beyond the trading range of our vessels, to be clear: we have no direct knowledge of their origins."

May looked at Beltran. The leopardess betrayed no emotion, suppressing even the urge for a nervous swallow. She made a quick chittering sound with her teeth--a symbol of respect for both cultures on Saha-Qelf. "May we have a short recess, ambassadors? Our ancient history expert can present a selection of our art and music to you. You had expressed interest in that, I believe..."

While the two ambassadors left, May hung back. And, with the door closed, she tapped her communicator. "Commander Bradley, report to conference room one immediately. Bring Ensign Bader with you."

"Yes, ma'am. We're on our way."

Captain May stared at the map. "Is it true, you think? They wouldn't make that up, of course. Right?"

"Nothing that we know of them inclines me to think they would be intentionally duplicitous, captain. I imagine they are... curious about our part of the galaxy, in the same way that we are curious about theirs."

"Not just us." The Akita growled. "I guess we knew this day was coming, though."

Dave Bradley and Leon Bader would, presently, understand what she meant by that. On arrival, though, the retriever and their shepherd tactical officer were still in a fairly good mood. "Where are the ambassadors? And why are you not with them?"

"Lieutenant Parnell is explaining the finer points of 'progressive rock,' a concept more intriguing to Ambassador Tamul than it is to myself. I believe the captain wished to discuss an offhand comment made by Mr. Tamul, however. And I should definitely be here for that."

"The Qellufi say they've been contacted by someone else from our side of the border. According to their star maps, the visitors came from here. Pictor."

Bradley's ears swung back. "Then they've crossed the demilitarized zone. That's a treaty violation."

"If Star Patrol intelligence is correct," Bader reminded them, "it's one violation among many. Long-range surveillance points to substantial rearmament on behalf of the Pictor navy." They'd known that, though, ever since the_Agamemnon_ brought the unsettling order that they were to prepare for an invasion everyone seemed to find inevitable.

"Nothing from the Foreign Ministry, Dr. Beltran? Have we made attempts to contact the Synod?" Beltran explained, to everyone's dissatisfaction, that the_Dark Horse_'s isolation kept them in the dark about the latest developments--but that, as of the most recent update, the Pictor government had been refusing to communicate. Bradley kept his ears pinned, sighing quietly. "What are they doing here, then?"

"Possibly, the same thing we are: negotiating alliances."

Ensign Bader gestured back towards the galactic map. "Or non-interference agreements. Our strategic disposition assumes that any renewed Pictor invasion would come from the same direction as before, through the Edra sector. If they moved through the Rewa-Tahi to strike... say, Ademixia or Deshal, we'd be caught flat-footed."

"What are my our options, doc? Can we tell 'em who the Pictor are?"

"It would, indeed, be logical to do so. The Pictor will be newcomers to the Rewa-Tahi, captain; with luck, your reputation will help."

A sigh puffed the Akita's muzzle. "Right. 'With luck.' Ensign Bader, make sure our tactical sensors are configured to detect the Pictor."

"Yes, ma'am. I'd like to begin tactical drills, as well. At the very least, Petty Officer Smith and I should start simulated engagements."

The Akita sighed again because, paranoid as the shepherd sounded, the suggestion was nothing if not prudent. "Go ahead. Tell Ms. Smith we might be encountering the Pictor, too. But keep it to yourself, beyond that--you too, Dave. You're dismissed."

It was for the previous conflict with the Pictor that the_Dark Horse_ had been commissioned--and it was at its end that she'd been mothballed for two hundred years. Why now? Why choose to end centuries of peace now_, of all times?_

And, it didn't escape her notice, with the_Dark Horse_ herself too far away to lend support if the Star Patrol required it. She fretted at length, until at last the two ambassadors returned. They tumbled to the change in her mood at once: "Something troubles you, captain?"

"You mentioned that others from my region were in your space. It... gave me pause. I wanted to know how best to proceed--what you should be told. We know the people of which you speak. They're called the Pictor. A martial, imperial power in our area of the galaxy."

"Like the Uxzu Dominion?" Tamul asked.

"Yes, albeit more interested in the acquisition of territory. Our last encounter with the Pictor was in the 26th century, when they invaded Terran Confederation space for the final time. Following the peace treaty, our interactions have been untroubled, if rare. But we hear rumors that they're rearming, and their presence here means they're in violation of that treaty."

"Your affairs are, of course, internal," Ambassador Tamul said.

"Yes. I'm just saying why I'm a little... concerned. That's all. Perhaps they've changed. Perhaps things are different now, and they're exploring peacefully, like we are. I mean, I hope so. I just don't know what to make of this news." Because even if they_were_ exploring peacefully, the fact remained that a treaty enjoined them from doing so, and they were ignoring it.

Ambassador Nav looked pointedly at her Qellufi counterpart. "You say 'internal.' But... consider the Uwanu. What does 'internal' even mean?"

"I take your point, and I'm sympathetic to it," Tamul replied. "But this is a matter for the defense council."

"Your defense council. For how long have we served together, Ambassador Tamul?" He was quiet. "More than three decades. We don't know what this Captain May or her empire truly wants--not from her words. But we can, I think, learn from their actions. If those years of our friendship don't rise to the level of granting me that respect, ambassador, perhaps consider the twelve hundred years our own people have lived in harmony. You need to act."

"I can't. Not even for you. Your words fall on my deaf ears."

"More than three decades," Nav repeated. Tamul stared straight ahead, making no sound but for a quiet chittering, and the Saheelish ambassador's expression became curious. "I see. Captain May, I don't think these newcomers_are_ peaceful. They sought out a military task force. In my judgment, it's why they contacted Qelluf and not my people. Tamul suggests the Qellufi Defense Council is involved, which goes beyond simple first contact. And I believe they are also seeking out the Dominion. A meeting has been scheduled in the Ravud system."

Felicia Beltran spared a glance at her computer, whispering to May: "it is in our charts, captain. A few days' travel from here."

"Ambassador Tamul should not tell you this, and I shouldn't tell you it for him. But, like many, we're aware of your efforts in this sector against the Uwanu. You've earned the benefit of the doubt, as Tamul understands. And would, certainly, agree with were he listening now. Our thirty-eight years together were irrelevant--he is merely reflecting the...diplomatic complexities of this development. Please, let him know I meant no slight."

"Of course," Maddy said, not_completely_ following the exchange that had just transpired. "Is he... asleep?"

Tamul's head turned. "I was meditating. We should conclude this meeting, if it is convenient for you to do so. I already have plenty I should talk to my superiors about. Captain May, it was a pleasant conversation. Ambassador Nav: likewise, though that goes without saying. As it has for each of our previous thirty-nine years. Enough time together that the Defense Council might trust me to give you an audience with them..."

***

"They are nervous. Between Qelluf and Saheel, the two powers control barely twenty planets in a dozen systems. The Saheel are all but pacifists. Both countries will fear being embroiled in this."

"They're not the only ones." May tapped her communicator. "Bridge. Lay in a course for the Ravud system and prepare to engage at flank speed as soon as the diplomatic shuttle has left."

"Aye, captain. Uh. Captain? Ensign Bader asked me for the last performance report on the engines. He wouldn't tell me why, though. And normally Lieutenant Parnell would sign off on that, but--"

"Do what he asks, ensign. I'll explain more when I'm on the bridge." The Akita closed her eyes for a moment. "What should we do, doc?"

Terran explorers first encountered the Pictor Empire in 2484. The First Pictor War broke out in 2490, and though it was brief it augured the century of conflict that followed. They had attacked again in 2526 and been turned back by the time of the 2530 ceasefire--then returned for another two-year, low-intensity war in 2550.

And then the Fourth War, beginning with an ambush in 2568 that had pushed the Terran Confederation back from two entire sectors by the mid 2570s, when the_Dark Horse_ had been first commissioned. Then, as the Rocinante, she saw the tide begin to turn...

Even the scrupulously charitable Diplomatic Protocol Codices described the Pictor as aggressive and hostile. They were a monoculture within their own space, and traded only under apparent duress with the civilizations around them. The galaxy was their birthright, and having it denied struck many Pictor as a great injustice.

Which was why the two centuries of peace following the 2591 treaty were so important. It was one of the proudest moments in the Foreign Ministry. Not only had they kept the Pictor from attacking again, they'd even kept the Pictor_talking_--occasionally.

The Synod had gone ominously quiet, and long-range surveillance detected signs that the navy had been reconstituted. All of this was, of course, in violation of the treaty, and the Foreign Ministry did not seem up to the task of doing anything about it. Beltran shook her head. "We should inform the Admiralty of what we know."

"And the Dominion? We won't get new orders from Admiral Mercure before the Pictor have a chance to meet them. I don't want the Pictor compromising our relationships in this sector, doc. But... I also don't want to start a war by interfering in another country's politics."

"In that, I believe, you would be justified. But I promise, captain, I will do what I can to advise you--starting with reviewing everything we know about the Pictor, and what might have changed since 2591."

"Make that a priority," May ordered. And, without having heard anything to settle her nerves, she made her way to the bridge.

"Captain on deck. The diplomats have just left, and we're ready to depart on your orders." Bradley, too, was reserved. Rika Srivastava and Siraj Ahmed, working the CCI station, had noticed the change in the retriever's mood--their captain's set jaw only heightened the tension.

May decided it was a bandage best ripped off quickly. "Spaceman Ahmed, give me the shipwide radio."

"Ready, ma'am."

"This is the captain speaking. We've just concluded talks with some possible trading partners. In the course of that meeting, they revealed that the Pictor Empire have entered the Rewa-Tahi sector. This is a violation of the 2591 Treaty of Amity. We can't allow it to stand. I will not allow it to stand.

"According to our partners, the Pictor are planning to meet with the Uxzu Dominion in a system called Ravud, not far from here. We're going to beat them there, and we're going to warn the Dominion. And, if the Pictor_do_ show up, we're going to remind them that their presence in this sector is illegal and unwanted.

"It may come to fighting. I hope to God it doesn't, but it might. You shouldn't have heard rumors, because this information was reserved to senior staff." Probably they had--her officers trusted their reports the way May trusted them--but it was best not to admit that. "The Pictor have cut off contact with the Confederation, and they've begun rearming.

"I have no choice but to assume their intentions are hostile. In the coming days, I will ask you to do your utmost to prepare our ship for whatever lies ahead. You'll meet that challenge, of course. But as you work, consider the stakes. Two centuries of peace are at risk. And if the Pictor are on a war footing, we might be the only thing between them and the Terran Confederation. Thank you all, and good luck."

She dropped into the captain's chair, and ran her claws back along her temples. Dave rested his paw on her shoulder. "We've got this, Maddy."

"Do you believe that?"

The retriever tightened his grip. "If you do. Yes, of course."

She let her paws fall to the armrest of the chair, glanced over at her first officer, and gave a hollow laugh. "Then I do. Have Lieutenant Munro ready the_Tempest_ and leave for Earth at maximum speed. Tell the Admiralty what's happened and what we're going to do, and return at once."

"Send anyone with her?"

"We can't_spare_ anyone. The ship's barely got enough crew to stand two watches at full alert. No; it'll have to be on her. We've all got a lot to do. Ensign Srivastava, engage the hyperdrive. Forty-two megajärvi."

Srivastava looked over her shoulder. "Forty-two, ma'am?"

"Five marks over our rated maximum, I know. We'll have to drop out when we launch the_Tempest_, anyway. Time is of the essence. Do it, and we'll pick up the pieces later."

***

Captain's log, stardate 67337.5

There are no signs in hyperspace of any capital ship traffic around our destination, and long-range scans haven't raised any red flags, either. Maybe this will prove to be a false alarm. Maybe we're too late.

Either way, the crew has performed exceptionally given the urgency of the situation. But we're running on adrenaline, and we can't do that forever.

"Coming up on the Ravud system."

"Action stations. Go to state red and prepare for contact. As soon as we leave hyperspace, I want our shields up and our tactical scanners on full alert."

"Shields and weapons are standing by," Leon Bader reported immediately. "The point-defense systems are configured for anti-ship operations. We're ready."

May glanced over her shoulder at the German Shepherd. "I can only hope so. Helm, take us out of hyperspace."

As Parnell guided the_Dark Horse_ back into normalspace, Spaceman Ahmed stared at his sensor console, willing any sign of activity from it. "Nothing, captain. The system appears empty. If it's inhabited, none of the planets are showing any signs of intelligent life."

Lieutenant Commander Bradley wanted to be thorough, though. "Scan for indications of recent starships. FTL drives, weapons discharges--anything?"

"No, sir. The scope is dark."

"Stand down to state gold. Keep the weapons in active-standby and the sensors on full alert. The moment_anything_ changes, I want to know about it." Madison stood, taking a few steps closer to the viewscreen from the same impulse Ahmed had felt. "You're sure there's nothing here?"

There was not, and no starship chose that moment of dramatic irony to appear. Of course, May knew that they also didn't know_when_ the meeting was to take place--nor even if the rumors were accurate in the first place. All they could do was wait.

She retired to her quarters and went back to reviewing Star Patrol's tactical information on the Pictor. In the 2570s, their battlecruisers had been massive and well-armored but lightly armed, serving mostly as carriers for a host of smaller ships.

Those ships formed the real Pictor threat--eighty meters long, fast and maneuverable, designed to get in close and ram enemy vessels so that they could be boarded. Sabel Thorsen, chief of security, was a "contingency unit" meant to be activated in such an emergency.

By the time they'd woken him up, accidentally, the_contingency_ was two centuries obsolete. She couldn't guess at what else they might not know about their erstwhile foe. Had their tactics changed? Their aims?

The door chimed. "It's unlocked."

Dave took this to meant that he was permitted to enter, and was surprised to find the Akita stripped to a robe tied loosely over her undershirt and either unaware or unconcerned about this fact. "You were... heading to bed?"

"Yes. For the last two hours."

There wasn't anything strictly_immodest_ about her attire, but he still closed the door hastily behind him before handing over his computer. "Report from the detailed sensor sweep Spaceman Ahmed conducted. Nothing in this system but dust."

"Good..." She took the computer, setting it distractedly aside. "Maybe they were wrong."

"Or the meeting was rescheduled." Dave's eyes wandered. "Battle of Akopesh II. 9.4.2571. Light reading?"

"Part of the Second Edra Campaign. Before we were using stardates, even. Here."

We had deployed to protect the refinery. Long-range scans picked up incoming when they were four light-years away. All indications were that we were only up against a small flotilla. We had the numeric and strategic advantage. We thought.

"Commander Cruz, of the_Leyte Gulf_. Their operational objective was to protect the withdrawal of a mobile refinery while they reconfigured it for FTL travel. By this point in the campaign, most of the Edra Sector was under threat."

"Vulnerable supply lines," Dave guessed.

"Yes."

Three cruisers emerged from hyperspace and started launching their attack ships. The admiral told us to prepare for boarding actions. At that point, Captain McCoy directed myself and the Brasilia to protect the Second Squadron's flank. Everything immediately became chaotic, and when one of the Pictor cruisers changed course for the refinery we had a difficult time disengaging.

My ship was the first to obtain a firing solution on the Pictor. We disabled their flight bay, but... they kept on course. There was nothing we could do to stop them. Their armor just soaked everything up. On the recording, Cruz's voice became unsteady. My tactical officer reported that their reactor had become unstable, either damage from us or from the engine being driven too hard. But after the collision, there was nothing left of the cruiser or the refinery. So... did it matter?

"It was a big ship to give up, but... with the loss of the refinery and Admiral Sokal's flagship, the Terran Defense Force abandoned half the Edra. It was the first time we saw the Pictor use those tactics. Pretty effective."

"And that's why we're here."

"What do you mean?"

"The_Sovremenny_ class was designed as a direct response to Pictor tactics in the fourth war. They're fast, tough little ships--nimble for their size. They have to be. Subpar point-defense grid, limited torpedo complement... but put a Pictor squadron in front of one, and those particle beams would really do a number on 'em."

"But they weren't much good for anything_other_ than fighting, right?"

"No," Dave admitted. "That's why they were all retired. And, mostly, forgotten. Save for one specimen, assigned to an iconoclastic Star Patrol officer."

May gave a soft, tired laugh. "And that's why_we're_ here?"

"Something like that."

"I hope the_Dark Horse_ is still up to the challenge."

"She will be. So will the iconoclastic Star Patrol officer," Dave promised. "But you should probably sleep while things are quiet. And maybe they'll stay that way."

***

"Contact! One ship, dead ahead, at half a million kilometers. I don't recognize the configuration, but it's triggered the alert Ensign Bader set up."

This is it. May set her jaw. "Action stations. Hail them."

Even from half a million kilometers out, the Pictor battleship_felt_ massive. Its bulk dominated the forward viewscreen, and every new scan only increased the clarity of the image. "Their weapons are powered," Spaceman Alexander reported. "Radiation signatures match what our computer knows of Pictor targeting arrays."

"And our hail?"

"No res... wait. We're getting a reply. Audio only, ma'am."

"You're a long way from home," Captain May began. "And on the wrong side of the demilitarized zone. Has there been some misunderstanding?"

"Indeed," came the growled answer. "You Terrans misunderstand the control you have over other cultures unlike you. And our ruling class misunderstands why we ever felt the need to humble ourselves before you."

"I can't renegotiate the treaty with you. But if you have problems with it, you should bring them to the Confederation."

"We intend to. And we don't intend to surrender our dignity to you meddling Terrans again. This time, it will be different."

She glanced down at her computer, confirming the ship's combat-readiness. "Maybe it doesn't have to come to that. Let's start over. I'm Captain Madison May, of the Star Patrol cruiser_Dark Horse_. I suppose you're in this sector on a similar mission of exploration."

"No."

"No?"

"The_Uhultiran_ is in this sector as a demonstration that the Pictor Empire is not a client state of the Terran Confederation. And I, Admiral Melsar, am here to ensure the sector understands it perfectly. If you're waiting for us, you know we intend to meet with the Uxzu Dominion."

"Allies of ours. That's not likely to change."

"Our intelligence suggests the Dominion is a fractured state. But they understand strategy, and they understand power. Do you?"

Felicia Beltran was on the verge of reminding May that the sentiment was, if crude, not inaccurate. A curl to the Akita's muzzle warned her off. May's claws dug into the armrests. "Extremely well. I think you'll find our exploration of the Rewa-Tahi gives us a very_clear_ perspective. If you don't wish to create a diplomatic incident, I suggest you withdraw back to your space. I'll counsel the Star Patrol that we resolved this peacefully."

"Your suggestion is noted."

Mitch Alexander provided the unsurprising explanation for Melsar's curtness. "They've taken an intercept course and they're charging weapons."

"Full power to shields. Admiral Melsar, we don't have to do this. Stand down."

There was no reply.

"Captain," Spaceman Alexander raised her voice, in so doing explaining why Admiral Melsar didn't answer. "Two ships have emerged from hyperspace, ninety thousand kilometers off our bow. They're Uxzu dreadnoughts--one of them appears to be the_Kedagh_."

"Hail them."

"I'm trying, but our comms are being jammed. They're opening a channel to the_Uhultiran_. I think we can listen in..."

"Pictor," a new voice called out. "When you said you had worthy prey for enemies, we could not have imagined you meant the Terrans. Intriguing. Most intriguing..."

"Welcome. You must be Enforcer Nethak? You're just in time to witness the weapons we spoke of, on these... 'intriguing' uninvited guests." Speaking to the Uxzu, May noticed, her tone had shifted--becoming commanding and firm. "We'll make short work of them, don't worry."

"You'll do no such thing," the second Uxzu captain countered. "I knew there was more going on here. Safe your weapons, Pictor."

"And you are... Overenforcer Xabok, I believe? We're taking back what they've stolen from us. The honor--the pride. You understand those things. You understand what we have to do."

"Some would say ending centuries of peace by sabotaging alliances forged in blood is, itself, dishonorable. We know the Terrans well."

"Then you know their failings. Their incompetence. Their_weakness_."

"Certainly enough to see why they'd consider_you_ foes, yes."

The first Uxzu spoke up: "Tushagh anitek, Xabok. Meh javan, kegh turel."

"Kegh pash! Enforcer Nethak, the matter is settled."

"Is it?" Melsar asked--rhetorically, presumably, for it wasn't likely she had any better idea of what had been said than the Star Patrol. "You're going to have to make a choice, Xabok. The future of the Dominion will depend on it."

"We already have.Back off, shut down your weapons, and leave our space immediately."

The battleship didn't change course--ninety seconds more and they'd be in effective range of the_Dark Horse_'s particle beams, although Admiral Melsar didn't seem to mind. "Don't err in siding with this pathetic excuse for prey."

"Was I unclear in my instructions? As I told Enforcer Nethak, the matter is settled. Cease your pursuit of the Terran and depart."

"If you won't join us, this is an internal matter of the Pictor--"

"Cease. Your pursuit."

"You have no right to--"

"Get away from her, you bitch."

Leon Bader's universe became suddenly and conclusively more interesting. "Captain, the_Kedagh_'s weapons are online and they've begun launching fighters. The second Dominion ship is also going to a high tactical alert."

"So much for resolving this peacefully. Firing solutions on the Pictor, please."

The_Uhultiran_ had started deploying its own contingent of assault vessels--three squadrons of them, at least, and more by the second. Bader took the initiative to bring a map of the space up on the forward viewscreen. "Which ones, captain?"

"The battleship. Target their flight command infrastructure." This she had learned from Commander Cruz, of the_Leyte Gulf_. "Helm, attack pattern Echo-Three."

"Yes, ma'am." The attack maneuver was designed to keep the_Dark Horse_ at the longest distance possible where their weapons would still be effective. It kept them away from the Pictor assault ships, yes--but it also made it more difficult for Eli Parnell to get them into a position where they could see the battleship's 'flight command infrastructure.' The wolf managed as best she could. "Framing in twenty seconds. Three on primary. Optimistically."

"Twenty seconds," Leon confirmed.Difficult shot. "Helm, switch interlock."

"Tactical interlock... set."

In the brief window when he had fine control of the ship's thrusters, Leon aligned them to the target and fired. "Limited effect, captain."

The first wave of Dominion starfighters had now begun to engage the Pictor, but in a one-on-one fight the larger, more powerful assault ships had the Dominion outclassed--and the odds were much worse than one-on-one. "Bring us closer," May decided. "Target whatever Pictor you have a clear shot on and engage at will."

"Understood. Nineteen ships have broken off and are on an intercept course. Twenty-four thousand kilometers out and closing."

"Ready the point-defense grids and stand by to secure internal bulkheads. If we're boarded, we vent those sections to space. Dave, coordinate that with Sabel. Flight ops--"

***

A minute later, Jack Ford was in space. Five seconds after that, the tactical subsystems had adjusted to what was going on and the coyote's ears twitched in his helmet. "Dark Horse, Charger One. The second wave is fifty-three assault ships. I make... maybe twenty Dominion fighters engaged with them."

"We need to hit the battleship's targeting systems--disable them long enough for the Dominion to overwhelm them with torpedoes. At this range, their jamming is preventing us from obtaining a clear firing solution. But if we get close..."

If they got close, the assault ships would turn their attention on the_Dark Horse_ and the Star Patrol cruiser wouldn't be able to handle all of them at once. "Copy that. We're committing. Charger Two, take position. Let's get in fast."

Commander Kamyshev said nothing for several seconds, though he matched Jack's acceleration and course. "The manual says we can out-turn those missiles at close range."

"Their delta-v budget's shit," the coyote confirmed. "But we have to figure these are better than what the manual has." The Battle of Sogak Forge, final confrontation of the previous war, was--after all--two hundred years in the past. "Angie, tactical analysis. Compare the Pictor missiles we're seeing now to the data from Sogak and broadcast it on this net."

"Please wait, captain," the AI's pleasant voice requested. "Analysis complete. Instantaneous acceleration: forty percent improved. Turn rate: seventy percent improved. Mass and explosive yield have both increased by approximately two hundred percent."

"So... don't get hit?" Kamyshev summarized.

"Good advice." And honestly, Angie's data heartened the coyote a little--he'd been expecting something much worse. Perhaps the Pictor assumed that, with overwhelming numerical superiority, it simply wouldn't matter.

And perhaps they were right. Kamyshev seemed to have the same thought. "Holy Christ, boss. I'm picking up seven hundred missiles currently active. Every time one hits or gets trashed, there's two more to replace it. I can't even tell who's shooting at who half the time. This is a shit show."

Jack felt the same sense of being overwhelmed; the tactical sensors had been completely saturated. But they had a job to do, and he decided that focusing on it might help. "We'll manage, Charger Two. Eight thousand kilometers to target."

"Copy that. Eight thousand. Defensive systems: online."

The coyote double-checked his own jammers and decoys. "Get sixty klicks distance off my beam and we'll start calculating a firing solution."

Between the two scout ships, they would--hopefully--be able to burn through the Pictor's attempts at scattering the_Dark Horse_'s targeting scanners. Kamyshev confirmed that he was in position. Then: "we're making friends. Tally four ships inbound, 1-2-5 mark 7, three thousand kilometers."

"I see 'em. Cover me." The Pictor were off his port wing, and slightly to stern; Jack was in any case in their firing line before Kamyshev. "Should have a solution here any time..."

"Missile launch! Thirty tracks; forty seconds to impact."

God damn it. He tensed his paws on the scout's controls. There! "Dark Horse, Charger One, I've identified the target. Transmitting coordinates to you now."

"Got it. We're at a bad angle, though. Eli--what? Okay, Charger One, we're repositioning. Hold that lock as long as you can."

"Uh-huh. Sure fuckin' thing." Jack took a deep breath--the missiles were closing fast--and keyed his transmitter. "Understood. I'll do what I can. Charger Two, little help?"

"Can you go evasive?"

"Not right now." Not until May managed to salvo the particle beams.Speaking of which. "Any time, Dark Horse..."

"Ten seconds!"

Kamyshev crossed the coyote's stern, switching off his jamming system and firing the scout ship's maneuvering thrusters to give the missiles a more appetizing heat signature. Two-thirds of them took the bait. That still left eleven, closer by the heartbeat.

"Firing!"

Light flared on the surface of the battleship's hull, but Jack only saw it subconsciously--he'd already snapped the Type 7 around, leaping at full throttle in a sideways dodge that took him off the missiles' course by a few kilometers at most.

"Their defensive array is down. Nine Dominion fighters are taking up attack positions."

"I see it,Dark Horse. We'll do what we can to clear a path." Two dozen Pictor assault ships were positioned between the Uxzu and the Uhultiran, not to mention the four others currently lining up for another shot on the two Star Patrol scouts. "Charger Two--weapons free."

"Two's engaged," the snow leopard said immediately; he was on the tail of an assault ship, angling the Type 7 to give their missiles whatever advantage he could. "Firing."

It hit just ahead of the engine, and though the Pictor vessel carried on regardless, this was merely inertia: the hit was enough to disable it. But each Riverjack only carried six missiles, crammed into an internal weapons bay--they were meant as scout ships, after all, and not for combat.

Kamyshev paid that no mind--he was on to the next target immediately. The ship evaded the snow leopard's missile, but not the quick snap-shot Jack added to finish the job. And now the Pictor were wising up to the two Star Patrol scouts, shifting focus from the Uxzu attack wing. "Charger Two, defensive."

Two assault ships were on the snow leopard's tail, and Jack saw the telltales of missile guidance systems. "Come left and I'll try to cut 'em off."

The other Type 7 broke into a hard left turn, thrusters glaring just as both of his pursuers rippled a missile salvo in his direction. "Missile launch! Fuck--decoys ain't working, Shamrock."

"I--"

A whooping scream on the radio preempted the coyote, just before the dark form of an Uxzu starfighter sliced between Jack and his wingman. Two of the missiles impacted its side, to no great effect; the rest scattered, their sensors scrambled by the near-miss. "Welcome to the hunt, Star Patrol! Voqha squadron is ready for our assault!"

"Got it. We'll cover you. Charger Two, take the left wing. Prioritize missile interception."

"Roger, Charger One."

Spaceman Alexander checked in from the_Dark Horse_. "Charger, the second Uxzu ship is launching fighters and moving to engage the Pictor assault at 6-5 mark 8-0. At least some of the Pictor craft are changing course to meet them."

"Took 'em long enough. Angie, sector block at 6-5 by 8-0, two hundred milliradians at three thousand kilometers, friendlies in active combat."Understood. Target acquisition within that sector is subject to restricted ROE. "Thanks, dear."

"Shamrock, seven hundred kilometers. Their defense grid is starting to burn through my countermeasures."

"Same. Stay on target." Angie highlighted a trio of incoming missiles, dead ahead; Jack nudged his scout ship, squeezing the trigger to meet them with a short burst of railgun fire. Two more met the same fate. Then another three. "Voqha squadron, what's your status?"

Cackling rang out on the radio. "Three ships disabled. We are six left.Plenty. The maximum range of our torpedoes is 447.206 kilometers."

"Four--right." That was the universal translator dropping the ball on interspecies unit conversions. "Got it. Thirty seconds or so?"

"Yes," the Uxzu pilot replied in a pleased hiss. "But we'll need to engage at closer range. No less than 12.52 kilometers."

"This is Charger Two. Jamming's completely ineffective now. They need to hurry up here, or we're gonna--fuck.Fuck, they just lost another ship. We can't take all these missiles by ourselves, boss."

I know that. "Stay on target. We do what we can."

"Christ almighty." The_Uhultiran_ was clearly visible from a hundred kilometers away, its ominous ram bow perpendicular to them and its defensive guns glittering like flashbulbs. "Ninety kilometers. We can't evade at this range, Shamrock. If they start hitting us with point-defense--like that--damn it! Forward shields at seventy percent. I'm having trouble getting a solution on these missiles in time. Any closer and we're gonna have real problems."

Privately, Jack agreed. But they had a mission to do. "Cut the chatter, Charger Two. The Uxzu know what they're doing." He switched radio frequencies. "Voqha squadron, are you engaging--"

"Look at the size of that thing!"

The pilot sounded impressed and, with all four thousand meters of the_Uhultiran_'s length bristling with weaponry, Jack could sort of understand why. "But are you engaging it?"

A snarl answered him, and then a chittering alert from Angie identifying two hundred and twenty-four new contacts. A second later the Uxzu bombers fired again, then broke in different directions to evade any retaliation.

Before any_verbal_ reply from the Uxzu the missiles started to hit, exploding in a brilliant ripple along the Pictor battleship's side. Angie had tagged the location of various subsystems--fire-control radars, defensive batteries, hangar bays--half of which dimmed while the AI tried to determine whether or not they even still existed.

"Charger Two," Kamyshev called in. "That really did a number on 'em, boss. I think they're running for it--those energy readings look like an FTL drive coming to full power."

"What about their assault ships?"

"What about 'em?"

***

Ensign Bader watched the marker blink out; it did not return. "The Pictor capital ship has entered hyperspace, captain. The Uxzu are engaging the remaining assault vessels."

Madison May nodded. "Both ships?" The second Dominion vessel had been slow to join in the fight, for some reason--but Bader confirmed that it, too, was doing its part. "Good. Engage at will. CCI, can you raise the_Kedagh_?"

"Of course, ma'am."

What was left of the battle slipped from the viewscreen, replaced by the grinning face of Overenforcer Xabok Garra. "Ah! A pleasure to see you again, tiny hunter! And in such fair circumstances."

"Something like that. It's always an honor to... share battle with you, Xabok."

"Not much of a battle, at this point. When we've finished cleaning up, though, you will come aboard. We haven't seen one another in far too long."

First they had to recover the two scout pilots. Ford and Kamyshev both looked exhausted, and when the latter dismounted from his Type 7 he turned to examine the ship as if surprised it was still in one piece.

Gratitude was one reason Maddy met them on the flight deck. "Damned impressive, if I say so myself."

"All in a day's work," Ford muttered; he would, he knew, dream that night of blaring alarms. "I made it back with one missile. Konstantin's completely spent. And we've only got a few railgun rounds left apiece. I'll start working on a full after-action report as soon as I've had a chance to shower."

"Actually, ah, that'll have to wait. Xabok Garra wants to talk to you."

Ford tilted his head. "To me? Why?"

"I don't know, captain. But we're due aboard as soon as we can get a shuttle off."

"I'm not really... presentable."

Back on deck, with the stress of the battle fading and sturdy deflector shields between them and the outside world, Kamyshev was beginning to relax. He flashed teeth at his commander. "Look on the bright side. If you fly the shuttle, nobody's gonna want the copilot's seat. Stretch out..."

"Thanks, Bubbles." Ford sighed heavily. "Enjoy_your_ shower for the both of us, huh?"

***

"We must..." Xabok leaned closer to the Uxzu standing next to her, who stretched up to whisper something into her ear. "Yes. Thank you, Sholdeni. We must_apologize_ for certain... events."

"You didn't know who the Pictor were. We had no reason to explain..."

Xabok patted the box, sharp claws rapping over its edge. "But amends are in order. These are the bones and pelt of the useless_coward_ Enforcer Nethak, for you to do with as you wish. Am..."

"'Ambassador,'" her companion said. "That is their term for the title."

"Yes, of course. Talkperson Sholdeni can help you in reconstructing the skeleton, if you'd like to pose it."

May eyed the box uncertainly. "We don't... uh. We don't have a lot of use for, um. For skeletons. Unfortunately."

Sholdeni straightened up--though, even at full height, he was shorter than Xabok and well aware of it. "I had suggested this might be the--"

"And yet we are gracious hosts," Xabok interjected. "His remains are yours. You're a creative people, after all! You'll make something extraordinary!"

"Yes. Right. Thank you." Maddy looked over to Felicia Beltran for help. "Dr. Beltran, your... opinion?"

"This is_their_ talkperson, Sholdeni," Xabok explained. "A peculiar woman."

The leopardess, conditioned by years of diplomatic training to ignore being called 'peculiar,' considered a few different strategies. Polite rejection wasn't getting them anywhere, and explaining that the gift wasn't entirely_tasteful_ wouldn't play, either. "I have... many ideas."

May blinked. "You do?"

"His pelt would be sacrilege on your shoulders, captain--an insult to you and your deeds. On the other hand, the waste processing facility could use a new carpet. It is always leaking, and the stench of his cowardice might not be so... overpowering there."

"Right," the Akita muttered. Xabok Garra's own head had tilted curiously, with the hint of a smile on her huge muzzle.

"I have always admired the carvings of the Ralruten, made on the remains of their fallen. The bones of Nethak's limbs would be a suitable canvas for a retelling of this battle. And think--just_think_--of how proudly our own warriors could wear an amulet made of his claws. How sharp they must be," she suggested, looking directly at Xabok. "From disuse."

"Sharp, indeed!" Xabok, who did not understand_exactly_ what was going on, nonetheless beamed in open delight.

"Personally, I can picture with pride the sight of his ribs and skull formed into a throne. I am no such warrior, Captain May. But as someone who has spent her entire life in service to the Terran Confederation, and understands the value of keeping one's alliances--who would never dream of such an insult as was visited upon us--I would at least request I be allowed to address you when_you_ sit in that throne."

"Ah... well." May cleared her throat. "This isn't_quite_ where I expected your ideas to go."

She thought of extending her own claws and then remembered that they, too, were rather sharp_from disuse_. "Unfortunately, I do not believe we can take this gift, Xabok."

"I give them to you, though! I give them to you freely, my friends."

"Yes. But the dishonor and insult was not truly to_us_, Xabok. It was to you, and to the Kolash Pride. You were his targets. Any retribution should properly be your reward. Now, it may be that you would offer us this remarkable opportunity as friends, and if we had anything so valuable to exchange for it I would instruct May to do so at once. Save for one other complication."

Xabok looked at the leopardess with open skepticism. "A complication? To friendship?"

"If there is conflict with the Pictor, the Dominion may play a part. That part will owe its origins to the battle here, today. Matriarch Kenra should know all of this,including the craven hesitation of one of her own--and the consequences. She might need to explain it to his line. She might wish to make an example of him. I do not know--I cannot guess--but as this question is one for the Dominion to answer, I request that you wait for Kenra's blessing before we take this thing off you."

Xabok turned to Sholdeni. "Your thoughts?"

Sholdeni wanted to wither under her gaze, clearly, but confined his reaction to a slightly pinned right ear. "Kenra is wise. She--"

"Not about the matriarch. Fool," Xabok snapped. "You said the Terrans might not want this gift because of their own culture. Instead, they reject it because their talkperson sees our own clan strife better than_you_ did. They would take it gladly, were it not for that."

"Sholdeni is not wrong," Felicia assured the Uxzu captain. "There are some soft-hearted Terrans who might even call it... barbaric. They do not understand the frontier. Nor the Dominion. Captain May, however..."

With a light at the end of the tunnel, the Akita coughed. "I'd love a skeleton. So much you can do with... skeletons. And Jack, well, y'know. Pilots. You know how those can be."

"Been out here a long time without trophies," the coyote said, trying to sound natural. "We could take, uh, part of it? Like a finger-bone or somethin'?"

"When Kenra approves," Xabok promised. "Your talkperson is astute. In the heat of the moment, my desire to make this right blinded me. And you, Kachik--you have Kenra's ear. You know her well. Is this the proper course?"

"Yes. Though as for_trophies_." Kachik's teeth glinted. "The dark one comes with me. We have affairs to settle."

Jack's ears lifted. "Affairs?"

But Xabok was on to other things: "I'll leave you to that, then. The rest of you, come along. There_are_ things to discuss."

She hastened off--or, rather, the length of her stride forced the Terrans to walk quickly lest they be left behind. May cast a glance over her shoulder at the coyote. "She won't kill him, right?"

"Not on purpose. They met during our campaign against the Laughing Prince. And they're pilots, after all; you know how those can be." Without explaining further, Xabok brought them into a tall briefing room.

Two more Uxzu were waiting; Xabok introduced them as Subenforcer Kosht, a strategist, and Lashman Janbi, a cook. Commander Bradley, slightly less distracted than May by the diverse assortment of skulls adorning the room, cocked his head. "Cook?"

"One of our primary motivations for trade is the acquisition of new and interesting spices. Foods. Recipes. Next to Enforcer Sholdeni, nobody here knows more about our foreign relations--and I have my doubts about Sholdeni." The diplomat remained impassive at the insult. "But he may yet redeem himself. Lashman?"

Dave glanced at Felicia, who leaned close enough to whisper. "Lieutenant Commander, more or less. Senior officers give orders; lashmen ensure that they are carried out."

"Sometimes they have greater aspirations," Xabok added. "Janbi Sarban came from the mines of Pajda. He's risen quite far. Now, Janbi. These Pictor."

"They're unfamiliar to our space. Nobody we trade with had ever heard of them. We learned of it from an arms merchant, who said the Qelluf might know more. And..."

"He's dead," Xabok growled.

Janbi inclined his head. "Thankfully. Enforcer Nethak reached out through the arms merchant and was told these 'Pictor' had powerful starships and might be interested in an alliance. Nethak is--was--from a family disposed to expanding the borders of the Dominion where possible."

"Unlike Janbi--and enlightened souls such as myself," his commander added quickly. "They see other cultures as inferior. Little more than subjects. Janbi told me, and I invited myself to the meeting in Ravud."

"We're grateful for that. You said nobody's heard of the Pictor over here?"

Xabok looked at the cook expectantly. "I'd only be speculating. The--"

She slammed her paw on the table. "Mojaq. Chovte sul tah. Sumshan, Janbi."

"Bolokh," he replied hastily. "The Qelluf share a planet with the Saheel. Pacifists--very strange; I don't claim to understand it. But, despite this illness, they are our leading source of belhana. It comes from the Kotep, who acquire it from Zuria. Zurians only process the crop, however; it's grown on Zudy and Taral. Taralish exports have ceased in the last four months, supposedly because the Risu are selling their entire fertilizer capacity to a secretive culture far from Taral, known as the Biktor in Taralish. I won't explain the difficulty we had finding new supplies. Suffice it to say--"

"Risun 'fertilizer' is also a potent catalyst for small rocket motors, and extremely explosive." This came from Subenforcer Kosht, the strategist. "We've stopped using it because of the danger of unintentional detonation. In the quantities demanded from the Risun, it must be employed by warriors who have--somehow--tamed its problematic nature."

"Nethak saw opportunity," Xabok finished, and spit angrily. "Kegh pash."

Maddy had, to that point, been following along. "Why does the universal translator stop working? Do we not have that language in the database?"

Beltran looked at her wrist computer. "I do not know, captain. It is Uxzu, but the falling tone implies..."

Xabok glanced between them. "You don't understand?"

And, at once, Beltran did. "It is a metaphor, captain. They are speaking in metaphor, for which we do not have the reference."

"So? Shouldn't it just... sound like when Sabel does? Kind of nonsensical English?"

Dr. Beltran liked the spitz well enough, but his_creative_ use of aphorisms consistently flustered her. "You speak English, captain. I am from the Tamaria colony, on Esmaralda. The dialect there is a mix of Spanish and Arabic. Trust me, the universal translator makes no coherent attempt at conveying Sabel's intent. I have to turn it off and use my own English skills, poor as they are. Kegh pash must mean..."

"A common story," Xabok assured the Star Patrol. "Collecting the teeth of a slain_voqha_ beast is a rite of passage, as you know. But since it is easier to kill an Uxzu than a voqha, if one was without honor, one might do that and claim credit for the beast itself. If they are found out, naturally, their pride feeds the teeth to them, where they dissolve into a fatal poison. Over the hours of their rather unpleasant demise, the pride hurls insults to remind them of the fate that waits them in the afterlife."

Beltran had been following along, or trying to--as you know was overselling their knowledge of Dominion culture somewhat. "Kegh pash is the... howl of agony from the criminal in the center of a circle formed by their former packmates, compared to the howl of triumph on having returned from a successful hunt."

"Exactly. I'm surprised you don't have something similar in your culture..."

***

"A glorious day. An exciting day! Do you not agree?"

"Exciting, for sure. We don't fight much."

Kachik shook her big head. "Most unfortunate. Anything at all since our last encounter?"

"A few minor scrapes. The Wanesh, mostly."

"Scum. And uninspiring prey," she added. They paused alongside one of the starfighters, its wing scorched by close impacts. "Your 'Pictor' at least put up a struggle. I look forward to meeting them again."

"Their tactics aren't entirely dissimilar from yours. Lots of smaller ships, although they tend to use boarding parties when they can. Their ranged weaponry is historically fairly limited."

"Nethak, I think, was_seduced_ by this. By the image of their... martial prowess. What, though, is prowess without honor? And we have won no small amount of that, today. An alliance preserved! A common foe bested! Ha!"

"Right. I..." Kachik was_very_ close to the coyote; she leaned down, sniffing at him carefully. "Hey. Sorry, but... I came right here. I haven't had a chance to shower or anything."

She laughed, dagger-sharp canines bared. "So did I. Some things should not be put off--some things should be done while they're fresh in our memory."

"I was planning on writing up my report, but Overenforcer Xabok requested my..." A heavy paw fell on his shoulder, and he grunted with the effort of keeping his balance. "Presence."

"Not Xabok Garra. And we are here."

She implied that they'd reached their destination, but it proved to be a large steel hatch, unlabeled in any script the coyote would've understood. "'Here' being..."

"The barracks."

"You didn't really want to review the, uh... the tactical conclusions of the battle, did you?"

Kachik grinned fangedly, and shoved the door open. "Some of them. Do you still have that--can you still do that thing where your cock..." The Uxzu held her paws together, then spread them slightly to demonstrate.

"Do I still have a knot? Is_that_ what you're asking?"

"Yes! Thank you! Sholdeni wasn't helpful. He doesn't know the important things. Is that still possible?"

"It's... part of my physiology. Yes. I still can. It's not_too_ surprising that your diplomat wouldn't--"

"Nonsense. It's exactly the kind of thing you'd want to know beforehand, if you're meeting someone new. Sholdeni is a fool. Now--off. Get those off." Kachik was pointing at his uniform, and she pointed more sharply at his failure to immediately comply. "We don't have all day."

I guess this is diplomacy? the coyote thought to himself, unfastening his flightsuit. "There's normally a whole bunch of... y'know, dialogue... some kind of setup..."

"Do you not want this?"

"I didn't say_that_, just--"

"We talked! We discussed the battle, and I asked if you had a... knot... and now you're going to prove it. Good." He stepped out of his suit and, at once, the alien shoved him back and into the nearest bunk.

Her muzzle pushed into his ebony chest-fur, and she inhaled before letting out a deep, wordless rumble. Then she was over him, and Jack couldn't have escaped even had he wanted. He heard the thump of her uniform sliding onto the floor, and her scent filtered into his brain, and...

And, alien as it was, there was something_pleasant_ about it. Tantalizing, even. Not merely exotic but alluring, and he wasn't particularly surprised when Kachik's deceptively deft fingers found swelling hardness at his crotch. She squeezed, not especially gently, and the coyote groaned. "So, Terran..."

"Mm?"

"How does your kind prefer this?"

"On your back?"

She grunted. "On_my_ back? With you doing all the work?"

"What? Don't think I'm up to--"

Her arms circled him and she rolled, pulling the coyote down and atop her. "Then," she purred. "You have_much_ to prove, boastful one..." Her thighs parted, settling him between them, and it took no more than a gentle, searching thrust for his tip to nudge into place.

"Do you not want this?"

Kachik chortled, having her own words thrown back at her. Her claws tweaked his ear. "I'm giving you a..." Her words caught as he rocked forward, giving her more than a teasing fraction of his cock. "A chance. Earn it."

She was every bit a warm as he remembered, her slick insides uncharacteristically soft and inviting for the martial Uxzu. Fortunately she took him with an equally familiar growl, as he slid the rest of the way in, and her claws served an effective counterpoint to the satin heat all around him.

"No--again," Kachik ordered, when he hilted and held still to enjoy the moment. The coyote's hips swiveled, nearly the whole of his long shaft slipping free, until he drove forward and the alien hissed at the depth of his penetration. "Better.Again."

He rammed into the shaggy-furred Uxzu, bucking roughly between her spread thighs--harder each time until she finally groaned in satisfaction and her claws relaxed. Jack tensed, shuddering without the distraction from the sodden, steamy pressure of her gripping cunt.

Fortunately he regained his wits before she noticed the pause: a moment to catch his breath and he was back to hammering her, plunging his stiff cock fully into the alien warrior, shoving against her with a squelch that grew sloppier by the second as their fur collided.

Huffing in shorter and shorter pants, her squirming hips pushing greedily to meet the coyote's swift pistoning, Kachik let him set the tempo of their coupling. Little by little, though, the coyote felt her movements strengthen, growing more pointed, more purposeful...

She grunted, arching up so his next thrust was heavy and full, burying the canid deep in her snatch, and the way she jerked under him Jack realized his knot was thick enough for the alien to feel distinctly working its way into her. On a hunch he pulled back only enough to slip it from her, then hilted again, shifting from side to side to press the solid bulge against her folds.

Kachik's grunt turned into a gratified snarl, and a hoarse exhortation in her own guttural tongue. Ever the gentleman, Jack did what he could to resist the urge to tie her, to rut into her and hold there, to hump the Uxzu in those hard, deep, mating strokes with no goal but making sure she took his knot...

His ears were back with that effort, but he kept it up, working the swelling base of his cock through her increasingly taut lips in a steady rhythm. Even though she was starting to shudder and rock her hips to accent the deepest part of each jolt that claimed her. Even though even getting his knot in her was proving difficult now. Even though his own climax was starting to demand attention.

Even though, he kept fucking her until Kachik's shuddering took a tense, trembling character. She seized up, a bellowing wail ripping from her blunt, open muzzle around long, well-used canines, and while she pulsed and clenched on him--before she could make use of those teeth, or her claws--Jack groaned and pushed in as hard as he could.

A moment of slick, uneven resistance and he sank forward, flush against the enveloping heat of her strong body. He hitched rapidly against her thrashing hips, knot throbbing wider until his peak hit in a dizzying rush of pleasure and his long shaft flexed with the first gush of coyote seed he pumped into her.

His paws were at her shoulders, her sides, clutching her thick pelt desperately as he bucked through orgasm, the spurts of his cum swiftly adding up to a sticky warmth he felt spreading over the tip of his cock, deep inside.

He fell against her chest, and the crushing strength of her arms held him fixed there. Every few seconds another aftershock seized him, pressing their hips close for the wet pulse that followed, but they were weakening now, coming further apart...

His breathing, finally, slowed as well. With the urgency gone, Kachik's scent again drew his notice. Now there was nothing alien about it, though, just the heady, blended musk of a successful mating to mix with his sated lassitude.

"Impressive..."

Jack was on the verge of replying when it struck him that the voice seemed slightly too distant, and perhaps a touch off in pitch.

"Isn't he? Commendable, even." That was_definitely_ Kachik's voice. He lifted his head to find they'd been joined by four other Uxzu, all of them regarding the pair curiously. "This is what I was telling you about..."

Credit to the wonderful Kawauso; original here.

"Is it technological? Is there something we could trade?"

That had been the first Uxzu to speak; a second piped up after her: "or steal?"

"No. Not technological. I'm a pilot from the--"

"Yes, yes. We've heard. We've heard the story many times." The one who'd suggested stealing stepped closer, until a growl from Kachik warned him away.

"He's mine."

"Technically, I'm--"

"And he's occupied, Haxil. Get your own."

Jack coughed. "I feel I should repeat that I belong to... myself, mostly. Captain Ford. Jack. Uh. And I didn't know this was an audition, at the time."

"His commander is generous, and honorable. Speak to her, Haxil. Ask politely."

The coyote's ears had pinned to the point of disappearing. "That is a_bad_ idea."

But Kachik simply thumped his back, as she might a wayward pet. "They're a little vocal, but I think it's worth it. The Terran huntress will understand."

***

"You could have told us. You could ask anything of the Kolash Pride, captain," Xabok Garra insisted. "But I understand why you wished to keep us insulated from your own politics. I'm just glad I was here to see what it was those fools were up to."

Xabok had invited May, alone, to the_Kedagh_'s bridge. The Dark Horse was posed on the viewscreen, with the Dominion ship cutting a clean, sharp shadow across its hull. "Do you know if they've spoken to others in the Dominion?"

"I don't. It won't matter. They will meet the same reception. You're allies. We stick together--and I'm not the only one who would tell you that. The Pictor will learn, too. If not now, then the next time you meet them in battle."

May's eyes returned again to the shadow, though, and the dizzying expanse of stars beyond it. "We're just one ship, though."

Xabok grunted, and her paw came to rest heavily on the Akita. "No. Not here, you're not. We'll see this through."