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"Agent 31 ... "

Arlet glanced down at her paws.

The sleeves of the snow rabbit's fresh uniform were rolled up to her elbows. No sign of the vivid red blood that had abstractly dyed her pristine, white pelt when she'd returned from the lunar surface a few hours ago.

The system's third moon was harsh and icy. No different from her natural habitat. Except for the weapons. Smuggled in from the Uncharted Territories, an insurrectionist group was being armed by one of the High Command's many rivals (either the Federation or the Solidarity; yet to be determined).

The lunar situation had now been taken care of. Thanks to her. But if it was happening here, in the heart of HC territory? It was likely happening on other member worlds as well.

That had been the crux of Arlet's mission: infiltrate the terrorist cell on behalf of The Burrow (the High Command's secret, special intelligence branch) and find data to help extrapolate whereabouts of other cells. Once she'd secured the data, she'd called for backup and extraction.

After receiving medical attention and taking a sonic shower, Arlet was in mandatory debrief.

"Agent 31," the masculine voice repeated, with a rising tone that indicated impatience.

Arlet finally looked up, making eye contact with her superior. A commander by rank. She neither knew his name nor cared to. Everyone in The Burrow went by rank or numbers. The more you knew, the more of a liability you were if captured.

The commander was sitting behind a desk in a cushy chair. Maybe he'd once been a field agent like her? She supposed he had.

"I've looked over the video from your body cam." He paused. "You could've gotten out of there forty-five second sooner than you did. In fact, you were instructed via your earpiece to find an exit."

"By staying," Arlet pointed out, "I acquired a second data chip, the first with locations of other insurrectionist groups ... the other with rendezvous points of their suppliers. We can find out who is arming them and put a stop to it."

"And that was your only motive?" the commander pressed.

"I do not know to what you are referring," Arlet replied, expression neutral as could be.

"You went after that Arctic fox pretty hard."

"He struck first."

"Did you kill him?"

"I didn't check," she said coolly, muscles tensing in memory of the skirmish, so fresh that it triggered an adrenaline surge.

The commander added, as sympathetically as he could, "I know you lost a brother in a border raid during the Cold War ... but that was years ago. We're allies now. Us and the foxes. At some point, we all have to let go of--"

"This particular fox had a weapon pointed at my skull. I considered his allyship revoked." Ears standing stall and stiff, her nose giving an errant sniff, Arlet added, "My past has never harmed my performance before. It didn't today."

"I didn't say it did, but you're normally more ... prudent when it comes to heeding your survival instinct."

Arlet tilted her head. "Is there anything else?"

The commander made a face. Agent 31 had a reputation for being 'difficult.' But her success rate was among the Burrow's highest, which had earned her an accumulating degree of leeway. Had anyone else pulled what she'd just done? They wouldn't be having this conversation.

Sliding a data pad across his desk, the commander said, "Your next mission."

Taking the pad, Arlet's ice-blue eyes activated the screen. "Infiltration of a friendly vessel?" She squinted. "I do not need a 'buffer' assignment to recover from this. You can send me directly to the coordinates on those data chips."

"You'll go where I tell you to," he said simply.

Arlet sighed as she skimmed over the details. "A Tundra-Class ship. USS Sleetmute. Cushy. Top of the line. Probably staffed with naïve, idealistic sorts."

"The ship is currently moored at Deep Space 12, being fitted with an experimental propulsion drive. More energy-efficient, faster sustained top-line speed. The insurrectionists are aware of it. As their own ragtag 'fleet' is woefully underequipped, they would love to steal our newest technology for themselves. We have word they're going to try and swipe the core schematics and components ... and leave a computer virus behind to compromise the warp core."

"If the Sleetmute is destroyed while docked ... "

"It will take out the station, as well."

Arlet nodded, calculating the casualties of such an event at between five and ten thousand. "Ship and station security can't be informed?"

"The knowledge of a coordinated insurrection isn't known outside the Burrow. Even standard HC Intelligence isn't fully aware. There's no reason to shine a light on it ... yet."

"You don't want it to become public knowledge and influence the results of the coming election cycle."

He ignored that, insisting, "In the grand scheme of things, these insurrectionists are a fraction of a percent of the population. Attention would either embolden them or drive them deeper into hiding. Either way, it makes our job more difficult, and we're too close to finishing them off."

"For now." She'd seen enough of people to know that the worst instincts would always find a way to the fore.

"Secure the experimental engine. Neutralize the threat against the ship and station." His ears stood tall. "You're not going there on holiday," he insisted.

"Of course not."

"Have a good stay, Miss!" a winter stoat, the runabout's pilot, said to Arlet.

"That is my endeavor," Arlet replied as she disembarked from the private transport.

Deep Space 12 was in the Argolis Sector, a five-day journey from the High Command Core, a cluster of heavily-populated 'founding' planets. Among them was the snow rabbit home-world, Tundrune, which was the HC's capital and headquarters.

Travel bag slung over a shoulder, Arlet left the docking ring, taking a lift to the Promenade. Located in the Central Hub, it was the social nexus of the station. As a keen observer, the rabbit wanted to get a 'lay of the land.'

The Sleetmute was docked at Upper Pylon 3. It wasn't scheduled to depart for another week. A big party was being organized on the rec deck for tomorrow, to celebrate both the ship's relaunch and it being chosen for the new engine platform.

It was likely the terrorists would use the party to make their move. Everyone would be distracted with drink and merrymaking. Engineering would be manned by a skeleton staff, if that.

As the doe thought about possible outcomes, she reached her destination. The Promenade.

A sea of blurred chatter washed over her as she strode forward. There were hundreds of people out and about. The space was large, circular, and extended in either direction. Shops, restaurants, holo-suites. It was night-time, station-hours. The lights slightly dimmed. The air was a bit too hot for her comfort, but she supposed all the body heat was playing a part in that.

It was hard to tell who was off duty military and who was civilian. Unless the officers were wearing uniforms, and not many were. There were currently eight starships either docked or in proximity, but DS12 itself orbited an HC member world, so it attracted a good share of planet-siders on getaway.

Arlet scanned the crowd with an analytical curiosity. She'd counted over a dozen distinct species thus far. She blinked at a passerby. Make that thirteen.

The prey outnumbered the predators four to one. The predators included a pair of Arctic foxes. They seemed to be close, judging by how their paws were touching. As razor-tuned as Arlet was to them, they paid her no heed.

Many fellow snow rabbits were about, dominant in numbers. This would make it easy for her to blend in.

As if I belonged here.

As if I were one of them.

After years of conflict and strife, life had returned to normal for most High Command citizens. Emerging victorious from the Wasp War had vaulted the High Command into 'superpower' territory. Once a cute, little coalition of primarily prey species, they were now the quadrant's most powerful force.

In addition to dispatching the wasps, the HC had thwarted a Federation incursion, made 'peace' with the Arctic foxes. The Syndicate, a collective of rogue telepathic bats roosting in the Uncharted Territories, had been talked into signing a non-aggression pact after menacing HC borders.

The Reptilians were still a problem, but ... when weren't they?

It seemed like society was entering a golden age.

But unable to defeat the High Command in one-on-one combat, the HC's enemies had turned to subterfuge, trying to attack it from the inside. Turn its citizens against each other. Weaken its democratic foundations.

The insurrectionists believed the HC was becoming 'watered down' by too many species, that it should seal its borders and only worry about itself. They even questioned the validity of the HC's democratic process. With planetary and High Council elections coming up within the year, there were fears in The Burrow that the insurrectionists would attempt to subvert the will of the people and incite civil war.

If the High Command were distracted by a conflict of that scale? Their enemies would doubtlessly use the opportunity to pounce.

The general public wasn't thinking this far ahead.

The Burrow did.

Arlet did.

Realizing she was losing herself in her thoughts, the snow rabbit shook her head and twiddled her ears, starting to move again.

She had to find her guest quarters.

Come morning, Arlet casually hacked into DS12's computer while taking a bath, surveying the arrivals/departures list. A freighter, designation Kaplan F17, was due from the Sigma XI system. The presence of a sensor-scattering nebula in that region of space made it a known insurrectionist hotspot.

F17's were versatile, speedy for their size.

They're aiming for a quick getaway. They can't be stupid enough to think no one's on to them? They're probably hoping to capture a Burrow agent and interrogate her for her 'secrets.'

Arlet had been interrogated before. No one had broken her yet. _ _

The snow rabbit sank back into the tub. She sighed, the hot water gently sloshing about. A floating holo-screen followed the movements of her eyes.

"Computer, mirror."

The translucent bits of colored data became opaque and glassy.

Arlet studied the reflection. Most would say she was pretty. But she knew the truth: she was ravishing. Who would and could resist her? But, lately, she hadn't been parlaying this into personal gain.

Almost like she was afraid of enjoying anything.

That might lead to 'feelings.'

"They did a nice job covering up the scars," she said to herself, still eying her reflection. "Dermal regenerators have come a long way."

The computer, thinking it was being spoken to, chirruped. "Inquiry not recognized."

"End mirror," she whispered, watching herself watch herself. "Begin outside visual."

The holo hummed and became a view of the station and the planet below. Ships moved to-and-fro. Big ones slowly, small ones more quickly. Yet in spite of the activity, it seemed a rather empty scene to her.

All she could think about was how much space there was between everything. Between her and ... whatever she was supposed to be connected to. Her family was gone. No attachments. She lived as a ghost.

_But even ghosts need someone to haunt. _

"Computer, play me something."

Chirrup. "Specify."

"Music. Relaxing."

Something flute-y began to play. Arlet closed her eyes, trying to relax. Just for a minute.

I should like to haunt a mouse. They're so easily spooked.

Bee-beep! Bee-beep!

Arlet sat up, head whipping to the side. That was her personal equipment. A call from HQ. Leaving the tub, not bothering with a towel, she activated the secure channel. Her commander's face appeared. If he was startled or embarrassed by her nudity, he didn't show it. Snow rabbits weren't great adherents of modesty.

"Agent 31."

"I was just pouring over my situation," she said.

"As long as it's not pouring over you," he replied, of her dripping pelt. "The insurrectionist ship has docked at DS12."

"I am aware." She was about to curtly cut the channel when she tilted her head. "Commander."

He raised a snowy brow.

"Why did you send me on this mission? Anyone could do this." She knew the answer of course. She just wanted to hear him admit it. That he was 'looking out for her,' giving her a 'breather.' That's why he was calling to give her redundant information. He was checking on her mental state. "I do not like being patronized."

He paused, looked aside, and then back to her.

"You believe I've had too many close calls lately," Arlet continued. "Too many brushes with death."

"I'm glad we agree."

"I can handle it."

"You're still prey."

That was true. Technically. But did she feel like prey? How was prey supposed to feel? Because, oftentimes, she seemed to lack it. That's what made her so good at her job. But it spoke of an underlying trauma she couldn't shake.

"31?"

Arlet realized her breathing was labored. Her paws were trembling. Suppressing it, she said, "The Reptilians have shapeshifting species in their fold. The chameleons."

"Correct," the commander said.

"This makes them the more likely backer of the insurrectionists. They hate 'foreign' species, yet aren't aware they are being propped up by them ... because the Reptilians are using shapeshifters as masked go-betweens."

"Highly likely."

"Do you believe it's possible they would attempt to infiltrate our ranks as well?"

"It has occurred to us," he said evenly. "But we can discuss that another time."

The channel went dark.

She was left alone. Again. As always.

You're a ghost, remember?

It came with the job.

The next day, aboard the Sleetmute, Arlet cautiously entered a rather large room. She could face down Arctic foxes in paw-to-paw combat, but ... parties? Her blue eyes adjusted to the dim, colorful lighting, large, slender ears flicked at the rhythmic bass of the music.

Thump, thump, thump!

Like a heartbeat.

Someone bumped into her and giggled.

She stared them down.

The ship's reception hall was located on J-Deck in the secondary hull, or 'drive section.' Just three decks above main engineering, which was her ultimate destination.

A waiter passed with a tray of drinks. Arlet grabbed one, swirling the blue liquid around. Snow rabbit ale. She sniffed it. Potent vintage.

She threw back her head and downed it in a single gulp.

Setting the empty glass on a table, Arlet maneuvered through the crowd. She didn't stop to speak to anyone. Just listened. And watched. The rabbit excelled at reading and interpreting mammalian body language, almost as much as she excelled in masking her own.

As she took in details, she noticed--

A squirrel?

She stopped.

Yes, there. At the bar.

Rodent boys. They could be most ... accommodating.

Squirrels were agile, too, weren't they? And those tails.

This one was sitting alone.

Arlet nodded to herself, piecing together his profile from visual cues.

Operation division. Lieutenant, junior grade. Freshly promoted. Thinks highly of himself but his actions don't match his bravado.

Arlet approached the squirrel and sat down beside him. The ship wasn't going to blow up anytime in the next half-hour. She had some time. When the squirrel looked at her, she told him, "You're worried you can't handle me? You're right. I, however, can handle you. And that's really all that will be required."

"Excuse me?" he asked.

"As a commissioned officer above the grade of ensign, you should have your own quarters. Shall we proceed?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," the squirrel said.

"Don't you?"

"No ... look, who are you? I've never seen you on the ship before."

"I am new." It was the truth, wasn't it?

"Mm."

"You probably couldn't keep up anyway."

"Not that I pretend to know what you mean, but ... " The squirrel circled a claw around the rim of a half-empty glass. "I placed in the Academy pole vault. You know how much fitness that takes?"

Arlet raised a brow.

"Takes a lot." He flutter-fluffed his tail. "Squirrels are very agile."

"Perhaps you should give me a demonstration?"

"Your species, though?" The squirrel scoffed. "You're all ... you know. Emotionally unavailable. Detached." He waved a paw. "I'm not into that."

"We feel as much as you do. More, even," Arlet said, selling her mystery as an erotic plus. "What you see on the surface is only a fraction of the whole."

"Oh, I'm sure you're full of depth. Don't think I haven't been propositioned by rabbits before." The squirrel took a swig of some green liquid. He wiped the back of his paw across his muzzle. "It's always the same. Find a nice guy like me, flick your ears or whatever until we're charmed, get yours, then run off to the next one. You're insatiable."

"And this is ... a problem?" Arlet asked, genuinely confused.

The squirrel made a chuffing noise. "I like to satisfy those I'm with. It's impossible with your sort." _ _

Arlet called his bluff, standing up and preparing to leave.

"Wait!" the squirrel called.

Arlet turned back, quirking a brow.

"You could've come up to anyone in the room, and you chose me. Why?"

Placing a paw on her hip, the doe stared back with an impatient gaze. They always asked her that. Usually more than once. "You seem to fancy yourself knowledgeable. I'm sure you have a theory."

The buck's eyes wandered as he formulated a response. "Well ... I don't see any other squirrels around." He pushed his glass away and sat up straighter. He huffed. "You must already know the advantages we offer?"

"I assure you, I do," Arlet confirmed. "Your foot-paws can rotate 180 degrees."

"Astute. I like that." He finished off the rest of his drink and smacked his lips. "I'm ... I mean, I'm more than capable of holding my own with you. I didn't make lieutenant for nothing! Rabbits probably know the best available options when you see them, and--"

She sighed as he continued to talk. This was taking too long. Her primary mission loomed. She looked aside and--

Wait, was that a mouse?

Over there.

Affirmative.

Sandy fur, strong brow, more penetrative gaze. A desert mouse. Agitated, according to the tail. Somebody else's fault, according to the face. He was headed for the medical wing.

He looked like a viable haunt.

"Who am I to deny you my natural gifts? I should be sharing my bounty." The squirrel slapped a paw on the bar top. "Alright, let's do it. Let's--"

The squirrel blinked.

Huh?

Where did she go?

Pace hated parties.

Noise, alcohol. Endless conversations. It was exhausting to an introvert like him.

This particular extravaganza was to celebrate the ship's refit. What refit? The desert mouse hadn't seen any new equipment in sickbay! All the upgrades had gone to tactical and engineering. Those guys sure loved their toys.

So, yeah he was glad he had to leave as soon as he'd made his obligatory appearance. Probably wouldn't have stayed if he'd been asked. Which he hadn't been. But even if he had, well--

"Hey, Pace, you don't mind holding down the fort, right? We need someone in MedBay 2. Just 'til 2200. Thanks!" his boss said earlier, as if there was a choice to be made.

Pace replied with a chipper, "Sure, no problem!"

Just like they expected him to.

He checked the chronometer. 2030. Hour and a half to go.

A sigh.

As his free time was taken from him, Pace couldn't help but think back to that 'empowerment' internal comm that had been passed around. He wasn't just a 'subordinate.' No, he was a '_superb_ordinate!'

Hearing it in his head made him want to give himself a derisive thumbs-up. They did realize 'superordinate' was already a word, right? And he'd probably know if he were one of those, since he wouldn't be here right now.

CHIRRUP!

The mouse blinked.

CHIRRUP!

Oh. Right. The door! It wasn't set to auto open. Who kept screwing with the settings?

The sandy-furred mouse quickly rose from his chair and scurried over to the entrance. Time to get that smile ready! This was kind of the worst part, really. Somebody actually showing up, requiring help? It undermined his internal complaints about how he wasn't needed.

Pace tapped the internal release, and the door swooshed apart and into the bulkhead.

Holy smokes!

He forgot to smile.

Standing on the other side was ... well, 'doe' didn't quite cover it. Neither did 'beautiful' or 'stunning' or--

"You are a doctor," the prospective patient stated.

"Huh?" Shouldn't she have phrased that as a question? "I mean ... I mean, yes! Well, no. Sorta?" His whiskers twitched. "Can I help you?"

"I require attention," the taller snow rabbit said, placing a paw on his chest and nudging past him to enter the room.

Pace squeaked and shuffled back.

At being pushed around by the striking female, the mouse stammered, "W-well, can you describe your, uh ... your symptoms?"

She looked around, studying the space. As if looking for threats. She was wearing a simple, somewhat elegant lavender dress. "I was hoping you could tell me."

"That's why I'm here!" he chirped as brightly as possible. Gesturing, he added, "Why don't you hop up on the - oh! You're already there."

"Yes," the snow rabbit said, already sitting on a bio-bed. She gave him a queenly command. "Check me."

"Right." The mouse swallowed. His tail whipped about. "Okay."

Who_was_ she?

She had on a comm-badge stuck on her dress, as well as a ship insignia pin. She must've been one of his crewmates? Right? But Pace had never seen her before! The Sleetmute had a crew capacity of 380. On the high-end for an HC starship. But he'd still recognize a face. He'd been serving here for almost a year.

Lavender. An odd color choice. Almost like she was trying to downplay her own attractiveness. Well, it wasn't working, because Pace was imagining what she'd look like in a red dress.

Maybe she was new? A transfer joining for the relaunch?

Of course.

That must be it ...

As Pace struggled to control his scurrying thoughts, he fiddled with his equipment, passing a sanitizing light over his paws and activating his scanner. "Sorry, I'll be with you in just a--"

Looking aside, his eyes widened.

The rabbit was removing her dress.

Pace stared.

She stared back, saying, "You need to examine me, yes?"

"Well, the ... the scanners can see through, uh ... you don't need to actually be naked for me to ... " He took a few deep breaths and finally nodded, acquiescing with a meek, "Couldn't hurt."

"Good," she replied, continuing to undress. Her bra came off, freeing her ample breasts.

Pace cleared his throat.

Soon, all her clothes were on the floor. Just beneath her powerfully big foot-paws. Oh, goodness.

Heart hammering, the mouse approached the rabbit. Where was he supposed to start? He'd done physicals on crewmembers before, of course. It was part of his job. The main doctors didn't have 'time' for such menial tasks. But this felt different.

If she noticed his reactions, she didn't let on. But, then, snow rabbits were like that, weren't they? Refined, restrained, logical. Except when it came to ... well.

Pace passed his scanner up and down her nude, white-furred body. She had patches of charcoal black. The tips of her ears. Tail-tip. A few errant little markings on her hip. They only added to her beauty. "I'm not ... not seeing anything," the mouse said, of his scans.

"Perhaps your equipment is faulty," she said, taking his scanner and setting it aside. She then grabbed his paw and guided it to her neck, so he could feel for her pulse.

"Oh. Um. Uh ... it's, uh ... elevated, yeah," he noted, of her heartbeat. Hers? What about his! His was racing. And yet ... he didn't take his paws off her. She was so warm. So very warm and soft. He let his paws stray down her body, pressing into her muscles now and then. "Does this hurt?"

"No."

"What about this?"

"You may continue doing it."

Pace tried to focus on the examination from a purely procedural viewpoint. Healthy coat, fur soft and dense. Good shape. No knots in her muscles that he could feel.

"Check my mouth."

"I'm not really a dentist ... " But he couldn't say no to her for some reason. Which is how he wound up with a paw on her chin, saying, "Open wide."

She did so.

"Hmm. Teeth look, uh ... like teeth." He nodded at his keen observation. "You know, I'm not really seeing anything wrong with--"

She reached a paw behind his neck, pulling him closer, ending his words with a kiss.

"Mmf!"

Tongues and wetness and buckteeth entangling. Oh, gosh!

At some point, they got switched around.

To start, she'd been sitting on the table and he was standing in front of her, but then ... he was sitting where she'd been? And she was where he was? He didn't remember it happening, but the smart money said that it was while his uniform shirt was being lifted over his head.

And only now did he notice his pants were missing! Not just his pants, either. He was just as naked as her. This fact not seeming out of the ordinary to her, she crawled up all over him, her hips, her loins hovering right above ... above 'it.' And 'it' was standing at full attention.

Pace wondered if he should say something. He did open his mouth, actually. A squeak was all that emerged. No words. Either because he didn't want them to or because both her paws were planted firmly on his chest, using his body as leverage so she could move those hips, grinding down against him, trying for the perfect angle to--

Oh.

Yeah, that was ... yeah.

Uh-huh.

Yes. Can't argue with that.

The mouse wasn't a virgin. But neither was he the Casanova of C-Deck, which was where his quarters were. He'd made love to more holograms than real people. (Who hadn't?)

But her? This?

Instant bliss.

"C-can ...can I ask you s-something?" Pace finally managed.

"Proceed," she said, keeping him at a hilt, grinding against him in a clockwise fashion.

"W-why ... why me? Why this?"

"Because," the snow-furred doe answered, expertly maintaining the friction between his hips and her own. "I like mice. Mice like you."

"Like m-me?"

"I saw you at the party."

"I was just ... putting in an appearance. I didn't even stay."

"A prudent course of action," she insisted. "Parties are a waste of time. We are in agreeance."

"We ... we are?" the mouse panted. How did she speak so intelligently in the middle of sex? Who had that kind of control over their mind?

"More plainly, I enjoy telling mice what to do, and then watching as they do it for our mutual satisfaction."

"Oh ... "

"I may also be legally intoxicated," she admitted, giving the faintest of shoulder shrugs. And maybe the faintest of smiles? Or was that just how the light was hitting her stunningly blue eyes? "This I have yet to determine."

She continued to ride him. A simple motion. Up and down. But as she repeated it, and more quickly, too, the sensations felt wonderfully complex.

As his body tingled at what was happening about halfway down the table, Pace had already started to forget how he hadn't wanted to be here tonight. Every time she bounced on him, his memory got a little bit shorter. She was just a few thrusts away from wiping out the rest of med school!

"I ... oh, oh wow," Pace mumbled, ears pulsing with heat.

For her part, the doe didn't so much as moan. She was too focused on riding him to oblivion, a look of intensity on her face. She was enjoying this ... right? It had been her idea, after all.

"I don't know if we should be doing this," the mouse said. Not that he _wanted_her to stop. But as an obsessive worrier, it had to be considered. What if one of the ship's doctors called him over the comm? What if another crewmember showed up at the door, like she had? What if--

"I thought you desert-type mice weren't afraid of risk. I hear some of you even occasionally make Captain."

She was right. It had been big news when that kangaroo rat had been granted command of the Solstice. But Pace was never going to be on that level. Scientists weren't in line to be captains.

"I-I'm ... just an ... assistant medic."

"Well then for the time being, I am promoting you," she declared, throwing her head back and closing her eyes. Her breasts bounced, ears tilting forward as her body went up and down, up and down. The rhythm was maintained with steady precision, even though she was wetter than before. He could feel it. "For now, you are my assistant."

"You can't ... I ... are you an Admiral?"

The doe leaned back, casually placing her paws to her thighs as she continued to move, continued to ... master this. Master him. "I don't recall requesting to be one, yet almost everyone does what I say. Curious."

"I didn't deactivate the security feed," Pace fretted, biting his lip. All departments on the ship were monitored. He looked up at the ceiling, trying to find the camera. "I'll ... I'll have to go back and erase the timestamps from ... from when you arrived, and ... oh, gosh, what if someone checks them and finds out?" They normally didn't, not unless it was reported that something odd had happened that needed closer examination. But if they did, "I'll be court-martialed and ... "

The doe leaned forward, pinching his furry chin between her fingers. "You are in need of a tension release as badly as me, if not more so."

"I ... well ... "

"Shh," she went, hushing him up. "It is my job to know exactly what people want in as little time as possible, and in most cases, deny them of it. But this time ... right now, we want the same thing."

"Y-yeah?"

"Yes. For you to lie there, on your preciously slender back, and do exactly as I tell you to. Cooperate, you will be rewarded handsomely."

Now sure, this doe was awfully presumptuous, and they were in violation of maybe twenty protocols, but on the other paw ... she felt amazing. That counted for something, right? Besides, didn't stuff like this happen all the time? Pace had heard what the senior officers got up to in various nooks and crannies of the ship.

Yeah, but that was the key word, wasn't it. 'Senior.' You could get away with more when you were higher up the ladder. He was just a minor functionary! But there was no way to prove this rabbit wasn't an admiral. Who was he to disobey a possible direct order?

"Did ... I think I heard something!" the mouse squeaked.

The doe's head turned toward the door, seemingly annoyed that anything would interrupt her. Her ears flicked. "You did not," she assured, turning her attention back to him. She was getting close, tantalizingly close to nature's reward. "Now, shh," she went at the mouse, not once losing patience with him.

He took a breath, preparing to respond.

"Shhhhh." The female gracefully placed one of her smoky-furred fingers to his mouth. "You are safe with me."

The way she said it, Pace knew it was the truth. Whatever she was, whatever she did, she could handle anything.

As the rabbit bounced on his lap, the mouse's vision lazily drank in her body. "Who ... who are you ... ?"

Her eyes looked straight into his, a penetrative stare that was both intimidated him and made him want to worship her. A look that said 'you don't want to know.' She just braced her knees, preparing to introduce him to the pace that her kind were known for. Now, that he'd been 'broken in,' it was go time.

And, oh, she went, throwing herself into the act.

Pace gasped.

Reaching down to rub at her clit as she sped toward the finish line, the rabbit tilted her head back. Her hips blurred, tail bobbing. Her spine began to arch. "Ah ... hah ... " Her claws dug into Pace's chest-fur. "Ah!"

Pace began to squeak, objections crushed under the weight of the pleasure of her bouncing body, her clenching, heated passage. His vision blurred, eyes watering shut. His paws wound up on her rump, groping, pulling. Anything to get her closer, to get himself deeper inside her. Anything to have her.

He didn't know how long his climax lasted, but he would've sworn it was minutes, hours even. Time stopped. He existed outside of himself. It was surely the best thing he'd ever felt.

In the immediate aftermath, he gazed up at her face. Her expression, one of pure ecstasy. Reaching out, Pace stroked the rabbit's sides. Softly, gently. How badly he wanted to hug her, to pull her down atop him, to nuzzle her cheeks. But if she wanted those things, they already would've happened.

Another minute passed and the snow rabbit dismounted, his seed dripping from between her legs, a lewd counterpoint to the almost spiritual place she'd taken him. She hopped back into her undergarments before putting her dress on.

Still naked on the bio-bed, Pace propped himself up with his elbows. He looked at her, realizing, "I'm never going to see you again."

Her silence was affirmation. But she did assure him, "You were extremely ... accommodating." A dignified nod. "My gratitude."

The mouse just blushed and nodded back.

Arlet made for the door, gave him one last, lingering blue-eyed look, and left.

Pace sighed and flopped back onto the bio-bed, exclaiming, "Cheese and crackers!"

After leaving the MedBay, Arlet went to the central computer core. Next deck up. The room had multiple security safeguards, but she easily got around them.

Once inside, she placed a small, blinking device on the largest computer console. It hacked into all video feeds and comm lines on the Sleetmute. She re-routed the frequencies to her personal scanner, removed her tech, and discreetly made her way out.

As she strode through the corridors toward the main airlock, the rabbit drew some looks. She was used to that.

She bypassed the lock on a random set of crew quarters. Its occupants were gone. Probably at the party. Shedding her dress, she stepped into the sonic shower, pulses of water caressing her pelt.

While in the shower, her scanner started beeping.

Someone was accessing classified engineering files.

Exiting, the rabbit toweled herself and wriggled back into her dress.

Time to complete her mission.

Delivering a kick punch to the figure in front of her and blindly aiming a phase pistol at the one behind, Arlet took out both intruders at the same time. Stunned. Not dead. But soon to be turned over to HC Security for a myriad of offenses.

Lifting her dress, the snow rabbit re-holstered her pistol to her thigh. That had been as easy as she'd predicted. Now to remove the virus from the computer.

She quickly tap-tapped her way into the ship's secure systems, finding the virus. It was designed to download the information and use the ship's own communications system to send it to the insurrectionists' base.

If their team didn't make it off the ship, the information still would.

Smart.

But the outgoing data was still in the subspace queue. She flagged and deleted it, then issued an anonymous Priority One message to the bridge: Intruders in Main Engineering, Attempted Hacking of Warp Core. With this information, at least the ship's security detail wouldn't be caught napping (or partying) like this again.

Finally, she had the computer delete her from the video logs. It was easy enough to do, considering she was wearing a scattering device disguised as an earring.

Finished with all pertinent tasks, Arlet stood and turned around. She'd head back to the station, now. Her guest quarters. And wait for word of her next assignment. There was always something 'next.'

However, as she was making her getaway, an ensign appeared on her path. Carrying a toolkit, he dropped it and gasped. No, not gasped.

Squeaked.

A silvery-blue house mouse.

"W-what ... what's going on?" he demanded nervously, eyes wide at seeing the bodies on the floor behind Arlet.

The snow rabbit, cool and confident as ever, strode right up to the shorter rodent, looking down at him and saying, "Nothing."

"But--"

"It's alright." She tilted her head. "In fact, let's go up to the offices on the second level and 'discuss' it."

The mouse gulped. She was wearing a ship's comm-badge. She must've been part of the crew. And, well, talking about it ... maybe that would be a good idea? He was only an ensign, and she carried herself like an authority figure.

Arlet, wanting to get out of sight before the security team she'd alerted showed up (which would be any second), took the mouse's paw and tugged him to the nearest lift.

"Eek!"

Two mice in one day?

Perhaps this was a holiday after all.