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Maddy and crew, including the new arrivals, visit an Uxzu planet for the first time. Other things also happen for the first time.

Continuing the plotline of this season, this follows up on the battle in the season opener, with May trying to convince the Uxzu of the threat posed by the Pictor Empire. Along the way, the new crew learn their way around, and some long-needed stuff finally happens. 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 S5E3, "Cultural Exchange" Stardate 67383

Captain's log, stardate 67383.2

We're in orbit of Garakhav, one of the homeworlds of the Uxzu Dominion. Kenra Tellak, matriarch of the Kolash Pride, wishes to discuss strategy with regards to our recent encounter with the Pictor Empire. I am told the whole of the Dominion is on alert.

Dr. Beltran will present the information from our Admiralty. I've also asked Captain Ford to come with me, in the hopes that his recent combat service will lend some perspective on the Star Patrol's disposition.

Personal log, addendum, stardate 67383.2

Somehow this looks exactly what I would've expected.

According to Dr. Schatz, the science officer, Garakhav was in most regards an ordinary, inhabitable planet. The equatorial regions were temperate, wet enough for cultivation, and the Uxzu had put them to overwhelming, if haphazard, use: from space, the land seemed tessellated with small plots, none more than a few hundred hectares in size, bounded by straight lines that formed a dense transportation network.

Where the transportation ended, so did the farms--a stark boundary between crops and wild, abandoned prairie. Highways stretched from the farm belt north, into the expanse, joining the jagged, geometric contours of the cities where most Uxzu resided.

"The planning is..." Barry trailed off, because there did not really appear to be any plan to the city below them. Their sensors picked up four million life-forms living there: Chaxen Kolasha was the largest settlement on Garakhav, the capital of the Kolash Pride, and--apparently--at least a thousand years old.

But it looked to have been constructed via a millenia of dropping whatever halfway-fit from orbit. The buildings were angular without pattern, no two of them the same size and few facing the same direction. Only the spaceport had any sense of order or reason to its design.

"I believe I can route you from the port to your destination," Barry decided; the map on the computer all but ordered the Border Collie to give his captain a spool of thread for making her way back. "Whenever you're ready to depart."

The Akita nodded. "No time like the present, right?" She tapped her wristband communicator. "Captain Ford, Dr. Beltran, meet me in the shuttlebay. Commander Bradley, you have the bridge."

"Good luck, Maddy."

With another nod she was off, and Bradley settled back to look at the planet below them, his captain's home for the next few days. He wasn't especially bothered that she'd taken Jack Ford instead of him as her senior advisor: the discussion would largely be strategic in nature, and the retriever didn't really see himself as a warrior.

Even the new particle beams--May had asked him to test them in her absence--could be thought of primarily as an experiment. Whenever they were ready, as Barry had told the captain about her own newest adventure. "Engineering, this is the bridge. When do you think we can try out our new hardware?"

"Sakata here. Lieutenant Hazelton has a team working on it now, sir. She estimates another two shifts worth of work. Twelve hours, give or take."

"Thank you, Mr. Sakata. Let me know if that changes. Bridge out."

***

"Overenforcer May?"

"'Captain.' 'Madison,'" the Akita suggested.

The Uxzu tilted her head back and forth, and May had the distinct impression she was being measured in terms of mouthfuls. "You're smaller than I expected, but word of your feats travels swiftly. This is the city of Chaxen, the greatest in all of the Dominion. We're honored to receive you and your party. I am Senjun Khernaq, of the Kolash Pride. Matriarch's Blade, 3rd Rank. Overenforcer Jakhta conducts operations at the naval base here. Subenforcer Mirsho is a Terran affairs specialist, and Subenforcer Najan is responsible for security."

"A pleasure to meet all of you. Dr. Felicia Beltran is a diplomat, and Captain Jack Ford is the commander of my ship's auxiliary group. A combat pilot."

"So we've heard. Subenforcers Mirsho and Najan will guide you to your destination. I will not be able to accompany you, and nor will Jakhta--but we simply couldn't pass up the opportunity to meet such illustrious warriors. I hope your stay in Chaxen Kolasha is a productive and memorable one."

Beltran filed away the exchange. Dominion military ranks weren't precisely equivalent to their Star Patrol counterparts, but the Matriarch's Blade was a flag officer of some degree, and 'overenforcers' were very much like captains. They had ensured that May was accorded the honor of being met by her equals.

The Akita herself didn't pick up on this subtlety; neither did Jack, who was more interested in what the Dominion might have 'heard' about them, and the coyote in particular. But there was no time to dwell on this: they were being escorted to a waiting vehicle, crewed by an alien who said nothing when Subenforcer Mirsho growled a destination into its ear.

"We'll guide you back, as well," Mirsho promised. "But in case we don't, it's really quite simple. Put the two stars of the golden beacon in your peripheral vision and go straight until the scent of the Tarkuss Marketplace is stronger than the scent of the river. Then turn until you're facing the third silver beacon, and head in that direction until the stars are a finger's width apart. You'll see the entrance on your right, down the canal."

Jack Ford quickly called up the holographic map they'd been given, with the path defined in a jagged set of road segments. "Quite simple," he said. "Pardon the, uh--indiscretion, but is that how all navigation works here? Y'all don't have street names?"

Mirsho grinned broadly. "I'd been told about how polite Terran culture was, but I didn't know you named your streets. What does that accomplish?"

"It tells you where you are, for one."

"But we already know that!"

Subenforcer Mirsho, it turned out, had many thoughts on Terra, and the Terran Confederation--its history, and its relationships with the nations on its border, and even the design of its starships. The discussion held all the way to their destination: a straight-walled edifice, surrounded by old trees that left the entrance in shadow deepened by the coming nightfall.

Kenra Tellak wouldn't arrive until early the following morning: Mirsho and Najan stayed with the party through dinner. And, when the three were directed to the quarters prepared for them, Mirsho followed Captain May, holding the door open. "Hopefully you find this sufficient--it's the least we could do, really."

The room was large, and probably passed for sumptuous to the Uxzu despite lacking no real furniture other than an outsized bed. It did, however, come with a balcony that looked out on the city from two hundred meters up. "It's fine. More than fine, subenforcer. Thank you."

"Thank you. We're truly honored to have you here. And... well, me, I'm happy to meet someone from Terra in person."

The Akita let curiosity get the better of her. "It seems to be a bit of a fascination of yours, if you don't mind me saying."

"It is. There's much in Terran culture to commend itself. I think of a lesson from your history--gleaned from the cultural databanks you transmitted to us. And so, through the night, went his cry of alarm, to every Middlesex village and farm--a cry of defiance, and not of fear. A voice in the darkness, a knock at the door, and a word that shall echo forevermore. He was a hero of yours, and not for reasons of his success in battle."

"Who?"

"A man named Paul Revere, the commander of something called a horse. He navigated his horse to villages in danger of impending attack, warning them so they could be ready to fight. I think, perhaps, you might be that voice in the darkness. You have been before."

The Akita, who wasn't entirely familiar with the story--a full millennium before her time as it was--nodded anyway. "We'll see. I value our relationship with the Dominion."

"And you bring us insight. To tell you the truth, I sometimes think we've lost our way, a bit. We shouldn't have needed your help to retake Antuja. We shouldn't have given it up in the first place." Mirsho paused, his ears twitching. "Maybe you don't have the answers. You don't even have a horse--do you?"

"There weren't any where I'm from."

"See? But who knows." He chuckled, the laugh a husky, hoarse growl. "My mate indulges me. She's very fond of you."

"Your mate knows who I am?"

"Overenforcer Xabok Garra, commander of the Kedagh. I'm one of her husbands. She knows my... my interest in Terran matters, and thought I might benefit from meeting you."

"She's here?"

"No. Busy on patrol, now that the fleet is on high alert. But she sent me here purposefully. I suppose I should ask more bluntly: is there anything else I can do for you? Any companionship you require?" His great, broad head tilted, watching her expression. "Or I can find my own quarters."

"Uh. Wait. You, ah... you planned to share mine?"

"Xabok thought it had potential. For our cultures' relationship. Don't let me impose, though, if you're not comfortable."

Mirsho was standing quite close to her. Maddy couldn't decide quite what the Uxzu meant by 'potential,' nor 'companionship.' And if her mind wandered too far, it was possible for unanticipated lines to be crossed. "Would you be insulted if I had to think on it, Mirsho?"

"Of course not." He bowed. "Until tomorrow, then, huntress. Goodnight."

***

"How much longer?"

"Twenty minutes, sir."

Dave raised an eyebrow. Shannon Hazelton's engineering crew had pulled two of the Dark Horse's four particle cannons apart. Cables snaked untidily through the firing chamber, half the access panels were open, and every few seconds a computer flickered to life, sputtered, and gave up.

The cannons were mated pairs, and Hazelton had promised Bradley it would be straightforward to modify both cannon one and three--the lower two, which Hazelton incorrectly assumed Dave hadn't noticed were located closer to where she kept the damage-control drones.

The exact details of synchronizing the power systems and installing the experimental equipment were a bit mysterious to Bradley. What the retriever knew, however, was that the beam's firing chamber looked like a mess: a mess intended to control 1200 terawatts of energy without any troublesome failures. He cleared his throat. "Twenty minutes?"

If you leave us alone, Petty Officer Kimura thought. The red panda, with only a few days of Dark Horse life under her belt, hadn't yet come to any conclusions about the ship or its crew. She assumed Commander Bradley was like any other officer: unambitious and dull. "Yes. Twenty minutes, sir."

"Lieutenant?"

Elbow deep in a temperature-cycle controller, with her fingers feeling around for the thermocouple, Hazelton spared a glance in the retriever's direction. "Sir?"

"You can be ready in twenty minutes?"

"If the power grid doesn't fail when we reinitialize it." The raccoon briefly considered other things that could go wrong, and just as quickly decided there were many such quibbles Bradley was better off not knowing. "I don't expect it'll be a problem."

On balance, Bradley also thought there were things he was better off not knowing. "Try not to blow anything up," he ordered, and left them to their work.

What Kimura promised could have been too good to be true: a vastly improved rate of fire from the beam weapons, and no rise in power consumption to to match. Lieutenant Commander Munro vouched for the red panda, though, and Research Center Leonardo was a storied institution.

And Hazelton had gotten them through more than their share of scrapes with the Dark Horse in one piece. Dave returned to the bridge, acknowledging Leon Bader's announcement of his entry with a nod. "Anything from the surface, ensign?"

"No, sir. The captain suggested that their talks might run into the evening, though. Still a few hours away."

"Let's have some good news for them. Helm, prepare to break orbit. Adjust course to 1-6-0 mark negative 2-5."

Empty space, just as Rika preferred it. The dhole checked the computer's thrust calculations and brought the Dark Horse around on its new heading. "Ready, sir."

"Zero your angles and take us out, ahead one-third. CCI, hail the Dominion. Let them know we'll be conducting some weapons testing if they want to observe."

Which, of course, they did. The Uxzu were nothing if not predictable. Dave grinned. "Fine. Ensign Bader, I expect nothing but a fine performance. Load tubes one through eight with Class 6 target drones. Program a narrow dispersion. Twenty thousand kilometers, dead ahead."

Leon didn't know much about what the new engineer was up to, but it involved the particle beams and that was more than enough to satisfy the shepherd. He made short work of the request. "Ready, sir."

"Fire all tubes. CCI, confirm you have telemetry. And please adjust Mr. Bader's course by a random factor in speed and maneuver. Transmit the course parameters to the Dominion so they know where to look."

Mitch Alexander, staffing the CCI console, knew what Bradley wanted at once--he was shaking things up a bit, making sure Leon had to work for his firing solutions. The Abyssinian's tail swayed enthusiastically. "I've shifted their paths by between five and fifteen percent. I'm sure it won't be a problem, ensign."

"So am I," the shepherd answered at once. "Commander: your orders?"

Leon had, as an officer inclined to a fiercely martial tradition, taken more strongly than anyone to Bradley's promotion. The retriever suppressed a smile. "Make us look good to the Dominion. Engineering, this is the bridge. What's the status of the experiment?"

"Standing by. All data is within..." Hazelton paused. "Well, hit it. No. Hit it. On the side! Do I have to do everything myself? TJ, talk to the XO--look, what kind of ringtail are you? You know these old--"

Dave cleared his throat. "Spaceman Wallace. How's it going down there?"

"Pretty good. Power readouts and temps are nominal, dude. Just double-checking something with the pre-igniters on cannon three. It'll be fine, though. We'll just leave that one at regular settings and use the port-side cannon. Go ahead."

"Just to confirm: beam one is online. Beam three will be online, but without Ms. Kimura's modifications?"

"Yeah. I think so, dude. We got a handle on this."

The first officer chose--correctly--to believe this meant either that the ship's particle beams were unlikely to explode or that the engineering staff was confident they could deal with any explosions quickly. "Tactical, bring the particle beams online. CCI, give us SA on primary."

Mitch switched the forward viewscreen from showing the empty space in front of them to an abstracted view of the tactical situation, with the eight probes highlighted and markers for a dozen curious Uxzu warships on the approach. "Ready."

"Contacts are designated Mistral-1 through -8, sir. Weapons in active-standby."

"Ensign Bader: firing solution on Mistral-1 with one of our unmodified particle cannons. Helm, attack pattern Echo-3."

"Course laid in. Target is sixteen thousand kilometers and dead ahead of us, taking constant evasive maneuvers."

"Ensign Bader?" Dave prompted. "You may fire when ready."

Leon checked the computed solution against Srivastava's course, and the probe's attempts to stay out of the firing line. "Ready, sir. Helm, switch interlock."

Chandrika lined the Dark Horse up as precisely as she could from her own station. "Immediate framing. Tactical interlock set."

From there, the shepherd took fine control of the maneuvering thrusters, realigned the ship--a few fractions of an arc-second; Rika had done her job well--and fired. "Target destroyed, sir." And, because it was a test, he continued: "sixty percent of the beam was on-target for the full duration of the pulse. Measured intensity was one hundred percent of normal. The probe has disintegrated."

Dave grinned. "I thought they were supposed to be evading, spaceman. Increase the path deviation, please. While she's at it: firing solutions on Mistral -3 and Mistral-6, using both starboard beams--helm, find us a good attack pattern. Destroy them when you have it."

The dhole saw at once he'd picked the two probes that were furthest apart; she reversed the ship, backing them off to minimize the angular distance. "Yes, sir. Attack pattern Echo-5 laid in. Immediate framing, unlimited on primary, between one and two seconds to realign on Mistral-6. No--between two and four seconds. Range increasing."

Ensign Bader concentrated only on the display before him. Spaceman Alexander had--quite naturally--taken Bradley's order as a challenge, and the probes kept throwing a wrench into his calculations. "Ready. Switch interlock."

"Set."

"Firing." As he'd been trained to do, he swung the ship towards the second target before seeing what had become of the first; fired again. Damn it. Fighting inertia, Leon pointed the Dark Horse back at the probe, knocking it out with a third shot. "Both targets destroyed. The first shot missed Mistral-3 by a hundred meters. Second shot was thirty percent on Mistral-6 for the full pulse. Third shot was ninety percent on Mistral-3. Measured intensity on that one was forty percent of normal."

"Problems, ensign?"

"No, sir. The capacitor banks hadn't fully recharged, but considering we're only firing on probes I felt we would do sufficient damage without a full-strength beam."

"Won't always be 'only,' will it? Last time, then. Bring the new weapon online. Target all remaining probes, attack pattern Beta-4, and fire when ready."

"Course laid in. Five targets identified. Framing in three, unlimited on primary, one on all secondaries."

"Confirmed. Switch interlock."

"Tactical interlock set."

As before, Leon focused on each new target in sequence as soon as he'd fired the particle beam. And as before, not all of them hit on the first try. "All probes destroyed. It took seven shots. Measured final beam..." His ears twitched, and his eyes widened. "Final beam intensity was a hundred and thirty percent of normal. Initial beam intensity was one-seventy."

Dave was also impressed. "Not bad. Bridge to engineering. We've finished our firing test and it looks good from up here. Anything we should know?"

"Bit hot, dude, but nothing else," TJ answered. "Chief says the... ah, yeah, the focusing array's--"

"Gonna melt, commander," Lieutenant Hazelton finished, over her own radio. "Dial the beam intensity back until we have a chance to put more cooling on the focuser. Everything else is cherry. I like this new petty officer."

"Glad you've made a friend. We can keep testing at lower power?"

"Sure, if you want."

"Thanks. Bridge out."

***

"You know what they say, though: the more things change, the more they stay the same. Problem is, as I understand it, we've been a bit short on direct information about the Pictor. Dr. Beltran?"

"Correct," she confirmed. Jack Ford hinted at a significant problem with the Foreign Ministry's intelligence: where the Pictor were concerned, two centuries of quiet had lulled everyone into complacency.

"So if they've been attacking their neighbors, we wouldn't necessarily hear about it. And we wouldn't know if they'd learned to refine their strategy, like we did."

"Sort of." Jack shrugged lightly, and nodded, so May took over and kept going. "Ships like mine were designed to counter the Pictor. They're fast, maneuverable, and able to hit them at long range. The problem was, they weren't good for much else. After the last war ended, the Star Patrol began putting more emphasis on missiles."

Kenra Tellak grunted. "Easier to saturate your prey's defenses that way, yes."

May was finding Tellak, in general, to be even more focused on battle than Xabok Garra had been. "Yes," she agreed. "But also more precise against maneuvering targets. Variable-yield warheads let us tailor the impact to only what would be needed to disable a ship. The Star Patrol mostly fights pirates these days."

"A shame. But, if you're right, that might be changing. These Pictor remind me of the Wanesh, a little. But more advanced, certainly, and more dedicated. I can't deny that our losses in the engagement were heavier than we would have projected."

"All together, we were only three ships against... well, there's nothing like that superdreadnought in the records. I checked, and it's almost five times more massive than the flagship we faced at Sogak."

And, she went on, Star Patrol's surveillance of the Pictor Empire was unfortunately limited. When prompted, Dr. Beltran confirmed this again: they suspected the Pictor were rearming, but nobody knew how many ships could be fielded.

One of the Uxzu--Enforcer Kanamar, introduced as a respected tactician--thumped his paw on the table, requesting permission to speak. Kenra Tellak nodded her huge head slowly. "You." Kanamar pointed straight at Jack Ford. "They say you fought bravely. Voqha squadron succeeded only because you were able to disable the cowards' jamming system."

"We did what was necessary, sir." Not that I relish a 'part two,' Jack didn't bother to add: it was not a particularly Kolasha sentiment. "As your fighters would."

"As they failed to do. My calculations imply we might need to expend three hundred missiles to land one hit. Even worse than the Losivada, matriarch, and without numerical supremacy we might struggle to destroy our foe."

"And the Pictor fight back," Tellak agreed, before noticing the way the Star Patrol visitors looked at her. "The Losivada trespass through Dominion territory with regularity. Their freighters and colony ships ignored the demand that they stop for decades--protected by sophisticated countermeasures that were..." She looked around the table again, and narrowed her eyes. "Unreasonably effective against our missile technology."

"We ended their invasion six years ago by destroying one of their ships," Kanamar elaborated. "It took a coordinated effort by most of the Kolash battlefleet, and the willingness to aim our missiles without guidance. Nearly all missed, and the ship absorbed a staggering amount of damage before we were able to disable and board it."

Kenra Tellak scowled at the recollection. "So, you see. Do you have better luck with these Pictor, and their jamming?"

"We've only met them once," Captain Ford pointed out. "It will take time, and better data on their sensors, before we can come up with an answer. The Terran Confederation has been considering a reconnaissance mission into their territory, which might give us that kind of intel. But it's complex."

Tellak listened to a short explanation of that complexity, and then called a short recess to the meeting to consult with her advisors. In the now-deserted room, May looked at the two other Terrans. "What do you think?"

"They aren't the kind to back down from a fight, captain. And they wouldn't tell you they're worried, but I reckon the size of that huge-ass ship and the tough time we had taking 'em down gives the Kolash a good reason to consider what they're getting themselves into."

The Akita had been sensing the same thing--the same tempered belligerence, even from Kenra Tellak herself. "Agreed. Doc?"

"It is, perhaps, even more complex. The Pictor Empire sought out the Dominion, captain, after all. Now that the Kolash have rejected their entreaties, a new opportunity emerges. They might seek an alliance with one of the other prides."

May's ears considered drooping; she made herself hold them up. "A pride that might not be as powerful now, but could regain their status with sufficiently well-armed allies."

"Precisely. Even if they do not, fighting the Pictor will necessarily weaken the Kolash fleet. The matriarch should be considered wise in hesitating before creating that vulnerability."

Maddy was accustomed to thinking of the Dominion as reliable allies, but the leopardess raised a worryingly good point. "Jack, can Dr. Beltran and I have a minute?"

"Of course."

When they were alone, the Akita turned to face Beltran. "Why didn't you say any of that earlier?"

"It is a challenge to their honor. And, captain, I am here only as a formality. I can provide information about the Foreign Ministry, but the decision will ultimately be yours to make."

May shook her head emphatically. "I asked you here because I want your opinion, doc. Diplomacy may not be their strong suit, and maybe they don't see you the way I do. But I respect you."

"And in all sincerity, Captain May, I appreciate that."

"I believe that the Pictor pose a threat to the Rewa-Tahi, just like the Laughing Prince did. A different kind of threat, maybe, but I think... if given the chance, I think the Pictor would take the whole sector."

With its enlightened emphasis on cooperation and peaceful solutions to the various problems of the universe, the Terran Confederation had also come to think that most cultures would eventually agree. Beltran, for that matter, agreed, and for the most part May's actions in the Rewa-Tahi sector had proven that most ties could be forged, eventually.

But their wars with the Pictor were an obvious and inescapable counterargument to the Confed's record. Their long, ensuing peace had, perhaps, only served to convince Terra that she was right all along: that despite the hundreds of millions of lives lost, the Pictor Empire had eventually decided a diplomatic approach was right.

Dr. Beltran was expected to repeat this talking point. The leopardess smoothed her dress down, and folded her paws in her lap. "Yes. Their inclination towards power and the acquisition of territory seems to be all but insatiable, captain. The resources of this sector might prove to be important for their ultimate goal of redeeming their honor by conquering the Terran Confederation."

"Kenra Tellak needs to know that. I can't make the argument convincing, doc. Jack and I are fighters--that's why they invited us--but we can't make that case. You have to. You have to speak on behalf of what you know, and we don't."

She kept her paws still. "Yes, captain."

"Will you?"

"You... shall have the best of my effort."

***

He was considering launching a few more probes, but Mitch Alexander interrupted first. "Sir, we're being hailed."

"Put them through." Mitch announced the channel was open although, in fairness, the sudden appearance of a looming Uxzu face--fangs bared in one of their unsettling grins--had already told them all that. "Commander Bradley, of the Star Patrol cruiser Dark Horse. To whom do I have the pleasure of speaking?"

"Already it is pleasurable?" The other captain rumbled a friendly chuckle. "Enforcer Toval. The Sardavagh is one of the Kolash Pride's unsung heroes. Like you, of course, we are warriors."

A note, courtesy of Mitch Alexander and her scans, appeared at the bottom-right of the viewscreen: ship is 2m tons w limited weps. cargo hold is radioactive. mostly scrap. "Fierce warriors," Dave replied. "Like all of the Kolash Pride."

"And you: you're shooting at little robots. Practicing against the Naltabik, Dark Horse?"

"Testing a new weapon that might help us against an old foe. We've found a way to improve the recharge rate and power efficiency of our particle weapons. Our enemy relies on boarding actions with many light attack ships."

Toval tilted her head, considering the new information. "An honorable strategy. But if these are the reason so many of my pride have been recalled to meet with the matriarch, I doubt they're honorable at all. You say they use 'light attack ships'? Are your tiny robots a suitable replacement?"

Where is she going with this? It was a question shared by most of the bridge crew, and although Leon Bader was starting to get an idea Bradley didn't think to ask him first. "We're testing our targeting scanners, mostly, and the new technology itself. Further tests can come later."

"I have a hold full of outdated Xakat-class bombers. Surely these would be more... appropriate? Perhaps you would like a new... challenge."

"We've powered down the weapons for now. But I'll keep your offer in mind."

"I imagine your matriarch would be pleased to know of how well the new system performs in battle, though." A new message from Spaceman Alexander: more ships incoming. we have an audience.

"Wait one, please, enforcer." He brushed his paw over the communications control to mute the transmission, and hailed Shannon Hazelton. "Engineering, bridge. Can we reactivate the particle beams?"

"Bridge. We've got a power crossover open and half its guts sprawled on the deck. Weapons are offline, commander. Why?"

"The Dominion just showed up. They'd like a demonstration." No, that's not quite it. "They have doubts about its effectiveness, and I think they're hinting we're not up to a bit of friendly... sparring? She seemed pretty tickled that we were testing it on probes."

"The hell do they know?"

Dave shrugged, although the raccoon couldn't see him. "I'll let them know that we need to repair the system. Another time, maybe."

"Sounds like they think can insult us? With their goddamn... ugh. You ever seen their tech, commander? Bell: get that crossover closed up. No, no--just fuse all the bypasses. The main line'll hold. We can replace 'em later. Two minutes, commander. Let me get to work."

In general, Bradley liked to think of himself as a calm and considered dog: a staid counterpart to Madison May's untidy energy. But if Hazelton gave him the option, he shared her desire to take the Dominion up on the offer. And so, after giving her the requested two minutes, he hailed the Uxzu. "Enforcer Toval, we're bringing our weapons online now. Let's see what you've got."

She disappeared from the viewscreen. Instead, angry-red icons started filtering onto the map. "New contacts, commander. Twelve--sixteen--thirty-one--forty-seven..." Mitch bit her tongue, waiting for the scanners to make sense of it. "Seventy-eight new contacts, sir, all Xakat-class heavy bombers. Their thrusters are starting to activate."

"Uh, just in case: lifesigns?"

"No, sir. They're unmanned. But they're starting to maneuver. Bearing 3-0-2 mark 0-2-4, thirty thousand kilometers and headed right for us."

"Helm, back us off. I'm sure they're accelerating faster than us, but let's buy some time. Engineering: status report."

"That crossover didn't like what I did to it. I'm rerouting through the main grid. Ventral cannons will be online in the new configuration in... two minutes."

"You said two minutes three and a half minutes ago."

"Time is relative. Time required for engineering problems is definitely relative. Let me try it now--suka!" The transmission stopped.

"Fire in the lower cannon space," Mitch reported. "The Uxzu are twenty-five thousand kilometers out and closing."

"Away damage-control drones. Engineering: you alright down there, lieutenant?"

"Singed. Had worse. We're shutting down the dorsal beams and using that power for the new ones. You can bring 'em up now. Please do, actually. I want to make sure nothing happens."

"You heard her, tactical. Weapons."

Leon tried, as ordered, though it would take him some time to understand all the implications of the new changes. "Online and standing by, sir. Everything seems to be nominal."

"Twenty thousand kilometers, sir."

Dave gritted his teeth. He was not looking forward to backing down from the captain of a garbage scow. "Lieutenant Hazelton, are we going to explode?"

"You're fine. I'll let you know if that changes. Out."

Let's do this, then. "Adjust course to put the targets dead ahead. Tactical, do you have firing solutions?"

He'd known that Leon was already working on them--it was the shepherd's nature to do so. And, for Ensign Bader's part, hitting the bombers wouldn't be difficult: it was their quantity that mattered. "Aye, sir. Ready when you are."

"Fire at will, beams one and three. All maneuvering restrictions are unlocked on my authority."

"Attack pattern Beta-8. Ready for framing and interlock."

Rika understood why he hadn't separated the two: the ships were right in front of them, fifteen thousand kilometers away, and time was of the essence. "Immediate framing. Interlock set."

"Firing. Hits on all eight targets. CCI, assessment--helm, same pattern, new targets--ready framing and interlock."

"Sir." Mitch didn't really like calling the shepherd 'sir'--he got a bit too much pleasure out of it--but like Srivastava, she realized why he was being so clipped. "Commander, all targets destroyed. Significant vaporization and... holy crap--sorry--uh, final beam intensity was 30% over normal."

By the time she'd finished her report, another eight bombers had been destroyed. The sixty-two left were less than ten thousand kilometers away. Bader listened to the Abyssinian, dialed the beam power back, and changed the input to the firing computer.

Warning: you may want to check the number of targets you have provided.

He ignored the friendly reminder. "Engineering, this is tactical. What's the thermal buffer on the particle beams?"

"We're hot, shep. Maybe twenty?"

"I need all the headroom you can give me. I want to try something."

"You want to try something?" Hazelton laughed and, even over the communicator, the bridge crew could almost hear her knuckles crack. "TJ, vent the reactor cooling loop at junction 120 and open the cross-connect to the forward section. I'm bringing emergency systems online. Thirty seconds, shep. You got enough time?"

"Yes, ma'am." They'd be cutting it close, but then, what was the alternative? Running away?

"Cooper, Bell: get the other drones forward and rigged for fire suppression. Travis, I need--thanks, that looks good. Bridge: we're ready."

"Helm. Attack pattern Beta-62, ready for framing and interlock."

"Immediate framing. I... don't... know on secondaries--uh--interlock set!" She wasn't sure she'd even heard the shepherd correctly, but from what she'd experienced, the Uxzu captain was quite likely to have ordered the bombers to try and ram them, and they were problematically close.

"Firing!"

The field manual specified a four-second interval between shots as the fastest the beams were capable of. Petty Officer Kimura, in setting up the experiment, said she could decrease that by a factor of ten.

Leon dropped the interval to 200 milliseconds.

At ten shots every second, he was limited more by the precision of the ship's thrusters than by the cannons themselves. All the same, the next five seconds saw thirty bombers destroyed. Another five seconds and only a dozen remained--along with a temperature alarm flashing on his console.

Like the other warning, he ignored it.

"Interlock released. CCI?"

Spaceman Alexander scanned the final assessment. "Sixty-two targets destroyed in twelve seconds, sir. The fire-suppression system is not sending data, but all damage-control drones are currently active."

Bradley lifted an eyebrow. "Not sending data because it's disabled?"

The Abyssinian could make a pretty good guess about what had happened. "I think just the part of it that sends reports to my console. Do you want me to hail Lieutenant Hazelton?"

"She's probably busy. What about the Dominion?"

"Message from the Sardavagh. Her captain says that she is intrigued to see that we weren't just boasting. Not sure why she doesn't want to say it in person."

"Also probably busy." Dave grinned. "Good work, everyone. I'm going to see if Hazelton needs a hand. Ensign Bader, the bridge is yours."

***

May closed the communications channel, and Mirsho stepped forward, his head tilted inquisitively. "Good news from your ship, huntress?"

"A successful test of our weapons. Apparently we've made an impression on some of the other commanders." Commander Bradley had sounded, to May's ears, especially chuffed with this; she couldn't tell if it was purely pride, or if the retriever was pragmatically interested in convincing the Uxzu of the ship's prowess.

Mirsho nodded. "They're always curious to see how our allies perform. And to evaluate that performance against our own. We have a... some cultures might say that we have a rather singular focus."

"Perhaps. But you're an honorable people, and it's served you well."

The Uxzu said nothing. He stepped past May, and she followed him to the balcony of her quarters, looking out over the city. With nightfall approaching, lights had begun to turn on, picking out the spiderweb of roads that linked the various parts of Chaxen.

He hadn't broken his silence. "Sir?" she prompted. "Mirsho?"

"Can I speak openly? And you won't tell Xabok?"

"It... depends, doesn't it?"

"Nothing sensitive. At least, not strategically. Nothing she doesn't know, either." He gave a soft, quiet chuckle. "I wonder if my people have become too content in their ways. Too focused on their role as predators. Has it served us well, Captain May?"

"You've lasted longer than the Terran Confederation has, if I understand my history correctly."

"Yes. But the Uxzu rose to power in a fragmented time, when the hunt was easy and the prey were weak. We didn't think so then, I suppose--we still tell stories about some of those battles, thousands of years later. But it's true. We came to dominate a vacuum. But... things changed."

"The Wanesh?"

"No. Well--yes, but not just them. The Parixians, the Yaugr, the Naltabik, the Tazanoa... I could name a dozen powers that rose while we rested on the spoils of the hunt. We call ourselves a dominion, but we never consolidated what we gained. We never stopped to consider a culture beyond the next battle."

"But not all cultures have to be the same. You don't have to be like the Confederation."

He stared at the city lights, quiet for a few seconds. "I didn't say we did. Not all cultures have to be the same, no. The Pictor Empire seems to be quite successful, and not like yours at all. But cultures that don't change at all die, captain. This is what I say to you in confidence: I fear that the Dominion, having consumed so many other planets, now consumes itself, slowly, and we've yet to realize it."

"Losing Antuja was a wake-up call, I thought?"

"We rationalized it. As we rationalized the need for your help in recapturing the planet. Obviously, we've kept it--obviously, we didn't want to lose it in the first place, despite what was said in great halls like the one below us."

"Maybe this is your opportunity for change, then!"

"I hope so. Truly, I do."

But his tone was subdued, subtler than she was used to from his kind. "You don't really sound convinced."

The Uxzu gestured towards the city, his sharp-clawed paw pointing from one building to the next. "The Tarkuss market. Qorhani. The Grand Arch. Toval. What do you notice, huntress?"

"They're impressive." They were, each in turn: tall structures, imposing, with their angular outlines picked out in glittering lights. "You can tell how much effort went into their construction."

"True." Mirsho's paw returned to his side. "Each paid for with the spoils of a different conquest--each reflecting the desires of whichever matriarch led the Kolash Pride at the time. They're disconnected, though--even isolated. None of those matriarchs thought about how to connect their monuments to the others in Chaxen."

"I had noticed that, on our way in from the spaceport."

"Exactly. The design of our ships hasn't changed in centuries. Once we were leaders in this part of the galaxy. What did your starships look like a thousand years ago?"

She searched her brain for whatever ancient history was available to it. "We didn't have them. On Terra, I'm sure we'd only known how to make gliders for a few decades at that point."

"Do you see? And here you are now. Not just you, either! The others in your confederation. I've been reading all about them, and I..." He sighed. "It's hard to escape how much you've been able to accomplish without focusing on conquest."

His ears had lowered, to May's surprise. To her further surprise, she found herself taking his paw--her own diminutive next to the Uxzu's. "Things can change, Mirsho. They can always change. Who knows... perhaps we can change them together?"

The thought seemed to cheer him up. "True. There's no reason to believe extinction is our unavoidable fate. That's why you're here, isn't it? I'm sorry for keeping you up. You must be exhausted. Do you want to sleep?"

She'd learned that the Uxzu had a habit of rising early, and the day had been a trying one. The Akita nodded. "I suppose I probably should, yeah." She eyed the bed and her ears twitched. It was a moment before she decided on the reason. It was an expansive bed--designed, in all likelihood, for more than one Uxzu--and rather less comfortable than her quarters on the Dark Horse.

Especially, she had to admit, alone. Mirsho was still quiet, like he'd guessed the reason for her hesitation. And I mean... she thought to herself, turning over possibilities. I mean, it's something he suggested, after all. I'm just... just adapting to the local culture, that's all.

"You could stay," she said. "If you want."

"Do you want me to?"

"The bed is... a bit large."

And, she discovered, it felt less so with the Uxzu next to her. Nor was the room quite so cold: his body temperature seemed to be a few degrees above her own, and his thick pelt was rewarding to run her fingers through. Not a bad cultural exchange, she decided. Then: though I imagine Dr. Beltran wouldn't approve.

And then she decided that what their diplomat didn't know wouldn't hurt her, and curled up closer to Mirsho's warm frame before drifting off.

***

Blaring trumpets summoned Felicia Beltran from sleep. Close trumpets: not quite outside the window, but certainly within a few hundred meters. A lightening sky suggested the approach of dawn. The leopardess rose, dressed herself, and padded to the door of her room.

An Uxzu guard was waiting. "The morning meal will be served at your convenience, Terran. Is now convenient?"

"It can be. Do you have a shower, by any chance? A bath?"

The guard snorted. "You think we're unclean?"

"I think I might be unclean, from our travels. If it poses difficulty, however..."

With another snort, she led the leopardess down the hallway, and then to another, and finally a third, where stairs descended into billows of rising steam. Other Uxzu were already bathing, without apparent regard to gender or class. All of them stared at the leopardess.

None of them spoke, but they continued staring while she disrobed and immersed herself in the water. Eventually she caught faint whispers: commentary on the slightness of her form, and the shortness of her fur, and the starkness of her many spots.

It seemed to be curious, though, not condemnatory. Few Uxzu, after all, had seen anyone from the Confederation before. Judging by her guard's lack of preamble, and the mixed company in the baths, they had no sense of modesty to speak of; Felicia suppressed her own, though she kept her cleaning brief and perfunctory.

There were no towels. She shook herself dry, and trusted the arid climate to do the rest of the job over breakfast. "Feeling better?" the guard asked.

"Much."

"We may be late already to breakfast," the guard said, to hurry her along. Beltran nodded, although she kept her pace measured. Partly this was because the dress she used as a diplomatic uniform didn't encourage haste; mostly it was because she'd eaten Uxzu food before.

May had as well; Ford, who had not, was poking curiously at a repast that looked suspiciously like it had been moving on its own accord not fifteen minutes earlier. He perked his ears at the leopardess's arrival. "Dr. Beltran. We can get started, then?"

"It was necessary to wet her fur," the guard muttered. "I shall bring you food. Perghas and kodiin bread appears to be the menu today."

"Just the bread," Beltran said. "I am vegetarian, by habit."

The guard bristled. "Perghas is a local delicacy. What manner of slight is this?"

All eyes in the room focused on the guard. May, hoping to save the leopardess from being disemboweled, opened her mouth to speak--but Beltran got there first. "Slight?"

"You come to our planet and disdain our schedule. Shun our food. I hear that you're honorable, but..."

Felicia curled her lip. "But? How did our people meet? Captain May joined the Kedagh in battle without question or hesitation. We fought with you against the Laughing Prince. We flew at your side not ten days ago in salvaging the honor lost by Enforcer Nethak in his pridefulness. We led the reconquest of Antuja. Shall I say more?"

The other Uxzu faltered. "My point was only--"

"What was your point, Subenforcer Shikhal?" Kenra Tellak asked. As often with the Uxzu, the Terrans found it difficult to tell whether or not the light in her eyes was irritation or mirth.

"That the cook has... that his work might be..."

"Then let him challenge me," Felicia suggested. "What is your quarrel, subenforcer?"

"I meant that--understand, I meant--"

"Why so many words?"

"I--"

"Then I shall answer for you. Do not make what I put between my teeth a question of my honor," the leopardess hissed, took a step towards the guard, and bared her fangs. "Lest I reconsider what goes there."

"Of course," Subenforcer Shikhal said.

Kenra Tellak grunted. "Shall I have her killed, talkperson?"

Felicia stared at the junior Uxzu for a spell, then reached over and ruffled up a handful of fur derisively. "I fail to see the point. What use would I have for this?"

The Uxzu matriarch's laugh, deep and unsettling as it was, at least confirmed her expression to be one of amusement. "I suppose you're spared, Shikhal. But I would hurry back with the bread, if I were you."

"Yes, ma'am."

Heavy silence descended until May cleared her throat. "As I was saying. Well--perhaps Dr. Beltran can continue."

Felicia looked around at the Uxzu around the table, who had stopped paying attention to their own breakfast. She nodded, and set a computer down, activating its holographic projector. "Yes, captain. Here. This map shows the relative location of the Pictor Empire and our own. These borders were fixed at the conclusion of the last war, in 2591. And here..." She adjusted the map. "Is the disposition of the Star Patrol. Our working assumption has been that any Pictor incursion would come from the direction of the Edra. Unfortunately, our surveillance data is limited. I am asked to help weigh the risks of conducting a reconnaissance mission into Pictor space. Well: here is what we know of them from our previous encounters..."

She began by describing the first Pictor War, only six years after first contact had been made with the species. That was brief: a Terran exploration vessel transgressed into what the Pictor considered their territory, and in return a Pictor expeditionary force destroyed a dozen space stations just inside the Confederation's border in the Gemun-Kekari sector.

The Pictor had been in an expansionist mood, then--it was the same century that they'd overrun a culture known as the Zad-Zefin, who was already a fading memory by the time Terra encountered scattered rumors of their existence. A few, brief decades of quiet followed on the coreward frontier.

Then, in 2526, the Empire attacked again--in force this time, crossing well into the Edra sector before the Terran Defense Force was able to check their advance. It took four more years to push them from the Edra, which Terra by that point considered their own space, until the Pictor agreed to settle, status quo ante bellum.

"We began to place more forces along the border, so that we would be in a better position to check their next attack when it came." If it came, although by that point the Terran Confederation was no longer so naive. "They were repulsed quickly and decisively. Perhaps too decisively."

The fourth war--the final war--was long, and devastating. Pictor attack fleets laid waste to the Edra and Gemun-Kekari sectors; even in the 29th century the Confederation had yet to completely recolonize the Edra. Twenty-three years of pitched combat saw the formation of the Star Patrol, and the reconfiguring of the Terran Confederation's industrial output to serve her own defense.

And in the end: peace. Tens of millions dead, thousands of starships lost, a dozen worlds all but obliterated--but at Sogak, on the far side of the Okarahi-Atana sector, within the territory of the Pictor Empire itself, Terra managed a decisive victory, and what seemed like well-earned respite.

The treaty enjoined the Pictor from developing large warships, and it forbade their interference in the affairs of the Confederation or its allies. They were not to cross the Okarahi border, nor to push their own borders any further anti-spinward. In exchange, Terra fixed its coreward boundary at the Edra sector, and avoided entanglements with any of the Pictor Empire's own neighbors.

"Their presence in the Rewa-Tahi sector is, by definition, a violation of the treaty. The existence of the dreadnought we fought is, by definition, a violation of the treaty. Rulership of the Pictor Empire changes from generation to generation. A militarist caste is ascendant. They feel they gave up too much in the treaty. They feel they deserve revenge.

"But that is not the whole of it." Felicia looked around the table, pausing until she was certain she had the attention of the Uxzu. "Our intelligence suggests they have annexed half a dozen minor powers in the previous few decades, fueled by a desire for resources. They would not have crossed into this sector unless they were confident of their strategic position... that any opposition could be turned--or overcome."

Kenra Tellak leaned forward. "What do you mean?"

"As an ally, the Dominion would be valuable to anchor the spinward flank of a Pictor invasion. How crucial do you think that is, matriarch? The Confederation has no territorial aspirations in the Rewa-Tahi. The Star Patrol committed only one ship to this mission of exploration: ours."

One of the other Uxzu cleared his throat. "They buy our neutrality until they can crush us in turn."

"Exactly. The Pictor Empire is, by area of space controlled, larger than the Terran Confederation. Their method of assimilation is also more... direct. They are like locusts--moving from to planet to planet. After they have consumed every natural resource, they move on. They do not believe in the sort of autonomy the Dominion has traditionally given its subjects. They would not give you such autonomy. They would seize your worlds, appropriate your shipyards, and turn their sights on the rest of the sector."

"In that case, we'd resist."

"And bravely," Felicia said. "When we encountered the Uhultiran, its commander admitted they sought your friendship. Captain May informed them of our existing alliance. Their response? The Dominion is a fractured state. They will have no qualms about turning pride against pride. Finding ways to exploit such divisions as may exist."

"We're not so easily swayed," Kenra Tellak answered.

"Are you not?" Now, Felicia knew, she was gambling, but she continued anyway. "Enforcer Nethak Vallos was born on Kadarhan, raised in one of the most storied lineages of the Kolash Pride. He served with distinction on the cruiser Ishakh--the largest number of confirmed kills in the 3rd Fleet. The Ishakh was in the vanguard when we challenged the Laughing Prince."

Tellak's lip had begun to curl, and her tone was curt. "And?"

"He pledged himself to you and the Kolash Pride when you gave him command of the Mushargh. And when the moment came to do battle with the Pictor, he hesitated. Why? Was he 'so easily swayed,' matriarch?"

"I might be humored by your boldness, talkperson, save for the gravity of your insult," Kenra growled. "Were you not under your captain's protection, I would kill you here for such slander."

"Slander? What false witness did I bear? Everything I have said is true, Kenra Tellak. So is this: if there are divisions within the Kolash Pride, they are greater outside of it, between your pride and the others. You alone have borne witness to the Pictor, and you alone have the credibility to convince the Dominion of the threat it now faces. I would not speak so openly to you if I had any doubt about your bravery or your capability. Havat kedah terrugh."

She gambled again with her pronunciation--the leopardess was not built for the growling, guttural tones of the Uxzu tongue. The proverb had no real equivalent in English; it referenced an old myth about the duties of a frontier princess to her kin in safer lands.

Jack Ford and Madison May did not know this myth, and they did not know that Beltran had spent the night refreshing herself on the mythology of the Dominion. Felicia knew that the story came from the archives of the Kolash Pride--indeed she suspected Kenra Tellak saw herself as directly descended from the princess in question.

The Uxzu matriarch grunted, but the tension in her paws relaxed. "Perhaps. It wouldn't be the first time we Kolash have had to beat sense into our more passive kin." She spat the word, and Felicia perceived that her anger was now firmly directed at those other prides. "We'll send word to the Great Council and explain the gravity of the situation. I'm sure they'll listen."

***

"It sounds like your meeting was a success," Mirsho said.

Maddy nodded. "I think so. Kenra Tellak has promised to inform the other prides, and to step up patrols along the border. If they listen, well... at least you won't be caught unprepared."

"They'll listen. Word of your exploits has spread far, huntress. And I believe that... even if the other prides envy us for our close friendship with your kind, they'll wish to be on your bad side even less."

The Akita supposed it was good to have a reputation. And with the Uxzu aware of the need to ready themselves for whatever the Pictor brought, traveling to Garakhav had been well worth the trip. "I like you not being on my bad side, for what it's worth."

Mirsho grinned. "I appreciate that. You'll leave tomorrow morning?" he asked.

"Yes, that's the plan."

The question seemed a little like a non-sequitur. Except that he was standing there, right in front of her, and she knew what he'd really meant. He said nothing further, waiting for her to continue. And he didn't seem surprised when the Terran took a step towards him.

When she touched the Uxzu, her paw all but disappeared in his shaggy fur. She ran it down his side, resting her fingers on the edge of his loincloth. "Oh, hell," the Akita muttered. "We're both here, right?"

"And we don't know when we might be again."

"And it's been a while."

"Yes?"

"A bit. Four years." Mirsho had started slowly untying his belt. "Before my last command. I..."

The belt fell away. His sheath was appreciably recognizable, as was the bit of bare flesh poking from it. It was deep brown, the color of his claws--what had she been thinking? That it would be green? Covered in spikes? Completely alien?

Surely he wouldn't even have offered on their first meeting if they weren't compatible. It was only that Mirsho outweighed her by at least fifty muscular kilograms, and what she was staring at matched the rest of the warrior's form. May swallowed thickly. "Oh. Hell."

Strong paws guided her back. Back, and down, and onto the bed. He loomed over her, the warmth of his physical presence joining her rising awareness of the male's scent. There was no biological response--no answering hormonal rush in the Terran's mind...

But it did come with the awareness of his desire for her. And, as he started to slide her uniform pants off, how long it had been since she'd felt a touch like that. Her underwear followed, and then a lingering stroke of his claws in her fur while he drew back.

Mirsho settled next to the bed, his head tilting and his voice low. "Do your people..." He gestured with his muzzle towards her parted legs, and his tongue briefly skimmed his lips.

"They do."

When he nuzzled her thighs apart, she found herself marveling at the strength in his body--the ease with which he moved her. Not that she wasn't helping--not that her legs weren't spreading wider of their own, instinctive accord--but it was clear he could've done anything he wanted without her help.

Like taking his time. His nose inched up her thigh, teeth managing deceptively gentle nibbles as he drew closer, a warm burst of ruffling breath at a time. She heard him sniffing thoughtfully, and he came to a pointed halt.

"Curious how familiar you look," he growled. "I wonder if..."

He trailed off, and nudged closer, and then the Akita felt the wet shock of his warm tongue on her lips. It was a long, dragging first taste while he savored her, and by the time his slick velvet drew lightly over her clit the Terran was shuddering into the broken gasp that followed his touch.

Mirsho grunted at the sound, licked her again, and leaned in to start exploring the Akita properly. His broad tongue could blanket all of her at once--wet, smooth heat blotting out everything but that gratifying contact--and for a bit he was content to do so.

But just at the point where she might've begged for him, his focus narrowed. He worked his way in, lapping at her folds in short, firm strokes. Listening for her panted moans, waiting for the twitching arch of her hips towards his blunt muzzle, searching out every angle that had her squirming on the increasingly mussed sheets.

Four years and a bit since she'd last had sex, yes, but Maddy wasn't sure she could name the last time she'd had anyone do what Mirsho did to her. Whatever he'd found in their cultural databanks, he was putting to good use: he nosed a little higher, and every lick and nuzzle teased the Akita's clit until his every moment worked a rising pulse of pleasure through her frame.

The room shrank. The bed slipped away. Presently there was only one touch after the next, the strong ribbon of the Uxzu's tongue caressing her, guiding her in shuddering, gasping steps towards what seemed at first the faint notion of her climax. Then a certainty. Then inevitability.

Then she howled.

The touch of his muzzle went erratic for a few seconds--she was only dimly aware that it was her bucking frame doing it, her hips bumping and jerking until his paws fixed her in place and as the ecstasy of her peak seized her muscles her alien lover kept her close, let her tremble through each clenching wave that his tongue worked into her overtaxed nerves.

And then, when she could see straight again, she found him at the side of the bed, watching her intently. His head canted, questioningly, and she managed a breathless laugh. "Oh, God, I needed that..."

"Then I'm happy to oblige." He returned her grin. "And now?"

"Kiss me."

He pulled himself onto the bed, leaned over the Akita, and their muzzles met. She tasted herself on his lips, and the touch of her own tongue drew a curious grunt from the Uxzu--but his body above hers was the real goal, and they both felt it when his straining shaft bumped against her crotch.

She hadn't gotten a good look at him fully erect, but the bulk of it pressed into her fur was unmistakeable. And when she squirmed her hips teasingly, and he grunted more deeply through an uneven thrust, the heavy thud as he slapped back down against her was more obvious still.

"You want--"

She nodded. "Just... careful."

"Careful," he echoed. Mirsho rose a bit, and his paw fumbled between their bodies. Then she felt his heat, nudging against her. His tip was sloped, the first bit of entry smooth and easy as his cock spread the Akita's dripping folds open. But even as that taper guided him inside his girth widened quickly until she was snug around him, and then achingly taut.

He stopped. She'd whimpered--quite unlike the captain, and it was more in surprise than anything else--but he stopped nonetheless. Maddy worked up the courage to seek him out with her fingers. Half the big Uxzu, at least, was still outside her, warm and throbbing under her fingerpads.

She couldn't get her fingers around him, not even close. Trying anyway, she squeezed. Mirsho grunted, sinking a little deeper. She gasped at the shock of it, and then again when he tugged gently back, hitching forward with a throb she felt through his stiff flesh and a splash of warmth where his tip prodded her walls.

Mirsho's thrusts resumed, each with that same character: a hesitant withdrawal, then a short, purposeful shove that forced a little more of his shaft into her straining cunt. He throbbed again, and as she grew slicker inside his insistent pumping became faster, less restrained--there was more of him buried in her, the stretching heat sliding deeper and deeper...

Until it blended into a heavy weight; a warmer, broader contact. His fur: his hips were all the way between the Akita's spread, matted thighs now. He was all the way inside--she'd taken every bit of his massive erection--he'd claimed her--and she half-expected, glancing to where they met, that she might be visibly bulged by the size of it.

No, of course--nothing so dramatic. But as Mirsho pulled free, and she watched the sheer size of it sliding from her, slick and glistening, Maddy felt entitled to the breathless oath that escaped her parted muzzle. "Fuck... oh, fuck, Mirsho, oh fuck, oh--"

He thrust and before her eyes that veined bulk slid back into her, her wanton moan and a satisfying sensation of being filled spreading through the Akita as he stuffed her that was so dizzying she barely managed to connect the three events before he did it once more.

And then he was easing his way into strong, plunging strokes that left none of it to her imagination. She yelped at first when he hilted, then gasped huskily, then groaned. Then called his name aloud, when his tempo shifted noticeably faster. Then begged: harder.

He slammed into the Akita, the impact lifting her hips, bearing her weight on the cock that had her abruptly, roughly impaled. Mirsho felt impossibly huge in her arms, terribly hot--it took a shocked second before she realized it was only the fiercely tight grip of her sudden embrace that magnified the contact.

As she clung to him he took it as a cue to thrust again, and again. He snarled in her grasp, powerful hips hammering into the Akita's own to drive his prick deep. The shock of every stroke was still singing in her brain when each following one rammed her even more full.

They were growing closer together, sharper, an obvious need building as he rutted and bucked atop her. All the gentleness was gone--all the hesitation. He was no longer the patient man who'd halted at her tension when he first filled her. She had the sense he couldn't really have halted at all.

So she hung on. She let her claws score him, felt as he arched and--with a feral bellow--gave in to the inevitability his pace betrayed. No knot--he didn't have a knot--but he was staying deep, pushing urgently into her, more and more firmly each time.

And each time she was more aware of it, more aware of how he completely he'd claimed her. His heat. The way his bare shaft felt, stroking into her, throbbing. The way she was tensing back, losing control of her fevered panting and the grip of her fingers. The sense that she was being overwhelmed, that a tide was rising up--

Her howl this time startled him and as a second climax thudded into her she heard herself go muffled a moment before she knew it was his big paw clamping her muzzle shut. Maddy wailed into him, sucked a difficult breath in that filled her nose with the scent suffusing his fur.

She clenched down on his cock and he swelled in her spasming cunt. Drew back--thrust and held there--pulsed hard as, snarling his triumph, Mirsho hit his end. Alien seed jetted into her, slick and wet as he unloaded in the thrashing canine. She felt the first few spurts distinctly; then just a growing warmth, deep inside.

But his hips kept jerking into her. He kept pulsing. The heat of his cum kept spreading until the faint squelch when he hilted became less subtle. He pumped forward and the sticky mess gushed around him, spattering her fur, drooling in thicker lines over the Akita's hips even as she tried to cry out again, felt her vision grey as another peak swept through her and her heaving chest couldn't quite draw enough breath through his clutching fingers...

And then, even after he released her muzzle, his weight atop her kept her panting shallow. At last Maddy had to give him a push, which did the trick despite her lack of leverage. Mirsho fell to his side, the movement tugging his still-buried cock, and the shock of that dragged her along with him to keep him inside as long as possible.

Rather than kissing her, the Uxzu's broad tongue dragged over her muzzle in a slow, heavy stroke. When he was done, he grinned at the Akita, and she hugged his massive chest as best as she could. "Happy with Terrans so far?"

"Very much."

"Xabok was right--this was a good assignment for you."

"Just for me?"

She looked around for a clock. "How long until morning?"