An Unofficial Visit
Author's Note: Captain Kalmbach is a creation/character of Sylderon, and can be first found in Sylderon's story "Friend, Foe, or Something Else?" -- http://yiffstar.com/index.yiff?pid=11739
"What seems to be the problem?" Kalmbach asked, padding onto the bridge. Like most furs, he went about in bare foot-paws. The pads of which softly scuffled as they moved, some of his steps dragging with weariness. He never slept well. This morning hadn't been an isolated incident. "You said it was urgent." The snow leopard had pulled himself together, though. As he always did. Far from looking like the overwhelmed, kitten-ish creature of 0540, he looked very proper, now, at 0758.
Attired as an old-guard Captain would (and should) be, he wore a knee-length overcoat (his greatcoat), his long, fluffy tail flicking out between the bottom hem of the jacket. His ears peeked above the top of a modest hat. And black, rectangular-framed glasses rested on his pink, feline nose. They enhanced his distinguished, academic air.
MacKenzie, the beagle, looked up. "Are you alright, sir? You look tired." Her powerful nose (more powerful than his own, certainly) sniffed. What could that nose smell on him? He could never be sure. And it made him uncomfortable to think that she knew more about him through her sense of smell than he would ever volunteer.
"I was alright until you concerned me with your call. You said it was urgent," he repeated, standing up straight. Taking a breath. His chest expanded, then sank. "Is it," he asked, "or is it not?" He'd been in the mess hall. One of the mess halls. The ship was big enough to have several. He'd been having bacon, eggs. Meat. Milk. The prey had been nibbling on fruits and grains. None of them sitting too close to him. It was common knowledge: you didn't bother a predator when he was eating. Unless you wanted to get your paw bitten off.
The dog nodded, eyes darting a bit. She looked to her monitors. She was the ship's communications officer. She was a pretty thing. Must've been twenty-five, twenty-six years old. Still younger than Kalmbach, but most of the crew was. Most furry ships had younger crews. It was the way of things. In a way, Kalmbach was a relic. Though he didn't like to think of himself as such.
MacKenzie had those chocolate-brown, floppy ears, which looked very velvety. Looked kind of lazy. How could floppy ears be good at hearing? Didn't good ears need to swivel and perk? Need to arch and cock? Apparently not. For the canine's hearing was very keen. Just like most of her senses. Just like her body. She was healthy, supple. Her breasts were rounded. Not overly big. But enough to draw the eye. Her hips fertile. Her head-fur was brown, with white on the muzzle. Her cool, wet nose being black. Kalmbach assumed that the brown and black patches went down her back. And judging from how her neck was a simple-white, her belly and groin must've been white as well.
Her fur wasn't as striking as the snow leopard's. It was plainer. But that didn't really matter. She was a good officer. Loyal (as dogs tended to be; coyotes and wolves, on the other paw, were a bit more troublesome and rebellious).
Kalmbach waited, raising a brow. Tipping the front of his hat with a clawed finger. Waiting. "Lieutenant?"
"Sir? Oh ... yes, sir," the beagle said, nodding, letting out a huff of air. She'd been distracted. What had she been distracted with? He tried not to pry into his crew's personal problems. He wasn't a very good counselor. And, after all, when he kept his own problems buried, how could he demand that everyone else share their own? That would be hypocritical. But, still, she seemed a bit uncomfortable. As she tapped at some buttons. This ship wasn't as aesthetically-pleasing (inside or out) as a snow rabbit ship. Or even a basic Federation cruiser. No, this ship was a bit older. Tough, sturdy, pedestrian. Tap-a-tap-a. Tap-a. "It's this," MacKenzie said, nodding at the image she'd brought up on one of the comm monitors.
"A ship," went Kalmbach, squinting. He put his paws on the back of the beagle's chair, leaning over her shoulder. "A snow rabbit ship, if I'm not mistaken."
"Yes, sir. Its electronic signature identifies it as the Yellowknife. Crystalline-Class."
"How long has she been there?"
"Twenty minutes."
Kalmbach squinted his blue slitted eyes. His feline eyes. "Did they simply come to the nebula and stop, or ... "
"... no, sir, they, uh ... " Beepity-beep. Beep. Tap-a. " ... see here? Their warp trail. They went by the nebula. And, then, suddenly, they came back. Almost like they saw something."
"Enough of a 'something' to warrant further investigation on their part," Kalmbach finished, nodding. A sigh, and he leaned back, removing his paws from the back of MacKenzie's chair. He padded to his own chair, which was in the center of the circular bridge. Which was rather dim (but, then, it usually was; again, the builders of this ship didn't design it with aesthetic beauty in mind). Everything was metallic. The sounds of soft hums, whirs.
"What shall we do, sir?" the beagle asked, softly. As if on the edge of her seat. As if hinging on his every order. She turned, slightly, her soft, brown eyes looking to him.
The helm officer, a squirrel, had his ears perked, his bushy tail properly groomed and arched. Silently attuned to the conversation that had been going on behind him. Waiting for instructions. Kalmbach, despite any lapses in his personal life, was rock-solid when on duty. He trained his officers well.
Having a rapt audience, the snow leopard clasped his paws behind his back, speaking in his sturdy, commanding voice, "We outnumber them with bodies. We outgun them with weaponry. They may have newer technology, but ... they are no match for us. That being the case, we might as well confront them. I do not see them," he whispered, squinting at the main viewer (which now showed Yellowknife, floating beyond the perimeter of the nebula), "as a threat." He cleared his throat and stroked the fur on his chin. "MacKenzie," he said. "Open a channel ... "
Twenty minutes later, in Yellowknife's shuttle-bay.
The shuttle-pods had been moved closer together (by the snow rabbit in charge of the bay) to allow room for Kalmbach's pod. Which was powering down engines. Next to the sleek, white (with soft purples and blues, too) snow rabbit shuttle-pods, Kalmbach's vehicle looked like an old truck. Plain grey. A bit battered. But, then, his ship had cut off ties from all governments. He had no way of getting new pods. His crew had to maintain and build their own.
"Graham, I don't know if this is such a good idea," Antioch said. His phase pistol was holstered. A sigh. "He's a predator. He's crazy."
"We do not know that," Graham replied, in his calm, logical tone. Turning to meet his tactical officer's gaze. "Besides, he agreed to come over here. If we want answers, we have to meet with him. Otherwise, this whole situation remains a mystery." A pause, the Captain squinting. "I need to know what he knows."
Talkeetna, also with them, bushy tail flagging about, said, "I know you've handled predators before, but ... "
" ... but?" Graham asked, arching a brow. Looking to the red squirrel. His own tail (his bobtail) flicker-flicked. And his cool, black nose gave a singular sniff.
" ... but we've got your tail, okay? In case anything goes wrong."
An eye-smile from him. "I am not so prideful that I would refuse the help of my friends. I have no score to settle with any predator. Not anymore. I do not plan on getting into a fight."
"You might not plan on it, but how do we know he isn't?" Talkeetna reasoned.
Ker-KLUNK!
The hatch to Kalmbach's pod opened. A rather inelegant sound. Not like the 'ker-whoosh' sounds that the pods on Yellowknife made when their hatches were opened.
Seward and Emerson were present, too, and were lingering back, closer to the exit of the bay. Making sure that other crew-furs didn't try to barge or peek in. Word had quickly spread that Kalmbach's ship had been found, and that the infamous snow leopard was, indeed, coming aboard for a visit. Graham didn't want to turn this into a spectacle. Just the five of them (himself, Talkeetna, Antioch, Seward, and Emerson). And he'd told Kalmbach to bring however many furs he wished.
But the snow leopard had come with light cargo. Just himself. And MacKenzie. The snow leopard emerged first. He was a large cat, white with black splotches. His 'spots.' His muzzle was surrounded by a coarser black fur, with a tuft on the chin. Eyes were blue, severe, calculated. He was a predator. No mistaking that. He padded forward, squinting, head tilted. He sniffed a few times. "Snow rabbits," he said, simply, seeing Graham and Seward. And this room smelled very heavily of snow rabbit scent. There was no mistaking it. It was that forest-y, cool smell.
"Last time I checked," was Graham's formal response. "Captain Kalmbach, I presume?"
"Yes." A pause. "You're not wearing your dress uniforms. Is this not an official visit?"
"I have noted it in the ship's log as an 'unofficial visit'."
Kalmbach frowned. "Are you trying to insult me?"
Beside him, MacKenzie tensed, gritting her teeth. Letting it be known that she would defend her Captain, but remaining wordless.
"Not at all. I simply do not wear dress uniforms for rogue captains. Your commission is no longer recognized by the Federation or the High Command. It is simple protocol. I'm sure you understand," Graham said. "We're only allowed to wear dress uniforms for sanctioned captains of recognized fleets. If we wore them every time we had a visitor, the gesture would mean little."
"Couldn't bend the rules for me, hmm? Well ... but, despite your air of civility, let it not be said that your species cannot bite," the snow leopard whispered. A pause, shifting, sighing. "The last time I met one of you? Met a snow rabbit? She body-checked me and slammed me into a bulkhead, and pointed a phase rifle at my muzzle. I lost my breath for a good ten seconds. I was a distinct disadvantage." One of Kalmbach's paws clenched. And then unclenched. "I have not forgotten that. I will not let my guard down around your species," he announced, "again."
"That is your prerogative."
The snow leopard relaxed. "However, I am not unreasonable. I am not ... " He trailed, licking his dry lips with his raspy, feline tongue. "I know my reputation. It precedes me."
"It does," Graham replied.
"But I come unarmed." He spread his arms, showing that to be the case.
But Graham smartly pointed out, "Your paws, claws, and teeth are ample weapons to serve you, should you need to fight. Your body is your weapon."
A slow, widening grin. And a chuckle. "My good rabbit ... well-observed," he commended, eyes sparkling. A nod of respect. "Well-observed, indeed. Now," he said, smiling, standing up straight. Getting all proper. "Shall we get to business?"
"What are you doing here?" Talkeetna immediately asked.
Kalmbach looked to the red squirrel. "And who is this?" He gave her a look-over.
"This is Sub-Commander Talkeetna. My first officer," Graham said. "She used to be a Federation Captain ... just like you."
"Did you, now?" He cocked his head. "What ship?"
"Reverie."
"Never heard of her, I'm afraid."
"She was a very small ship. Small range."
"Destroyed?"
A nod on the squirrel's part.
"You have my condolences. The loss of a ship is ... " The snow leopard trailed. " ... well, I could not hope to word such a thing."
"If I hadn't lost my ship, I wouldn't have ended up on Yellowknife. It happened for a reason. God led me here. It involved losing my ship, but ... ."
"Ah. Yes. God's 'grand design.' Fate. I have trouble wrapping my mind around that, I'm afraid, but ... " A deep breath, adjusting his glasses. And adjusting his hat. " ... perhaps it is Fate, indeed, that brought you to this nebula. That has me standing in your shuttle-bay."
"Perhaps," the red squirrel whispered. She was trying to size the snow leopard up. It wasn't easy. One could sense there were other things boiling, broiling beneath his surface. But they couldn't be pegged. He was throwing up a very proper, enigmatic front.
"You never answered her question," Antioch piped in.
"Marmot?"
"Yes," Antioch answered, slowly. Twitching a bit.
"I've never actually met one. I have heard, though, that you have a penchant for wrestling. And that you can whistle better than a train."
No response.
"I'm somewhat into tussling, myself. But ... a more violent kind, perhaps." He didn't elaborate on that. Letting it hang. "As for whistling? I prefer singing to whistling, but I'm not averse to a good whistle." His sharp teeth showed as he grinned. "And, as to answer the good Sub-Commander's question ... Sub-Commander." A smile, tail flickering about. "An interesting name for a rank. I've never understood it. 'Sub' means 'below.' So, by definition, one would think that a 'sub-commander' would be ranked under the commander. And, yet, they're not. They're ranked above the commander and right below the captain. They're the first officer. I ask you, sir," he said, looking to Graham, "where is the logic in that? Your species is famous for its adherence to logic."
Graham, twiddling his tall, slender rabbit-ears, whispered back, cooly, "I do not know. But you are avoiding the question yet again."
"Snow rabbits are renowned for their patience, as well, are they not? Except when it comes to breeding, of course," Kalmbach stated. "I will reveal what I wish," he said, "when I wish. You would be wise not to rush me."
Behind them all, Seward tensed. He was holding a phase rifle, which was pointed downward. Set to stun. His ears waggled. And, beside him, Emerson twitched. Twitched.
And Kalmbach saw this. "It is rare that a twitching mouse escapes the eye of a feline," he remarked. "I believe I do see a mouse." He raised his brow.
"You are not going to lay a paw on him," Graham replied. It sounded more like a threat than a statement.
"I wouldn't dream of it. I do not harm innocents. And mouses are, indeed, the most innocent of innocents." A pause. "I once knew a feline who abused mouses. I made her stop." His eyes burned. He swallowed. "My retribution was ... effective," he whispered, "but ... " A sigh, frowning. Why was he even bringing this up? He cleared his expression, resuming, "Harming a mouse is a craven act. Your crew-fur is safe in my presence." And the snow leopard, nodding his head, spoke to Emerson. "What is your name?"
"Uh ... E-emerson," the mouse stammered, squeakily. His dishy ears swiveling. He held his thin, ropy tail in his delicate paws. His posture on the effeminate side. His voice, too. He was clearly scared of the snow leopard.
"It is a pleasure to meet you, Emerson. I have met mouses in the past. I have always been inspired by their faith and their kindness."
The wheat-furred mouse wasn't sure how to respond to that. He simply gave a bit of a nod, acknowledging the words.
During this exchange, Seward had strategically slid over, placing his body in front of Emerson's. Despite what Captain Kalmbach may have said, there was no use in letting one's guard down. A cat? Having no interest in battering a mouse? It was hard to believe. At the very least, some instinct must be there. And if it came out, Seward was going to make sure that Emerson wasn't touched. Not so much a whisker.
Observing this, Kalmbach remarked, "I can see your crew has a strong bond. Of friendship. Affection." A nod. "That is good. At times, I ... struggle maintaining such a bond among my own crew. But, then, my personal problems aren't really all that interesting, surely. And not the reason for my visit, either."
"No," said Antioch, dryly. Somewhat impatient. His bushy tail swished on the floor behind him.
Kalmbach took a deep breath, clearing his throat. "Suffice it to say, good furs, I have no intention of revealing my plans to you. Were they to be public knowledge, they would be compromised. I am simply visiting to reassure you that I mean you no harm. That I will not get involved in your affairs," he promised, "if you do not get involved in mine."
"I'm afraid that is impossible," Graham replied. "I have no personal vendetta with you, but ... the High Command does not like rogue forces operating within snow rabbit space. It makes them very uncomfortable. We are a species that has endured three wars in the past five years, and your presence? Is viewed as a threat. Surely, you can understand that."
"Indeed, I can appreciate such a viewpoint, but ... I cannot leave your space," he said, "just yet. There are things I need to take care of."
A squint. "Such as?"
"I cannot say."
"Can't? Or won't?"
"Aren't they the same thing?" the snow leopard suggested.
Graham sighed, ears waggling. He looked to the floor, and then back to Kalmbach. "Your ship was reported as destroyed. In an asteroid field. They found the wreckage."
No response. Silence. And then a smirk melting onto his muzzle. "Did they, now?" The snow leopard exchanged a knowing look with MacKenzie. The beagle's eyes glowed with restrained mirth.
"Meaning?" Graham asked, raising a brow.
Beside him, Talkeetna squinted, adding, "Your ship's build is identical to that of Illustrious. Yet your electronic signature and the name on the hull," she said, "both read 'Invincible'. Would you care how to explain how you and your crew of one thousand furs miraculously survived the destruction of Illustrious and happened to immediately find an identical ship to play truant with?"
Kalmbach gave a thoughtful look, as if considering. But, still amused, he simply said, "No. I wouldn't."
"Your hull," Antioch added, "has been covered with patches of duranium alloy. It deflects sensor scans."
"And is also very hard to find," Graham added, squinting. "Probably why you haven't been able to cover the entire ship yet. Where did you get the alloy? Why is that ship out there reading as 'Invincible?' Was Illustrious really destroyed? If not, where did that wreckage come from? What happened?"
"Questions," the feline whispered, "and more questions. And answers that would weigh too heavily on your minds if, indeed, I were to give them to you. No, good furs, I will not give you what you seek. I will only give you my assurances: I will not harm your ships, your furs. You are not what I am after."
"What are you after, then?" Talkeetna pressed. "The Federation? If so, why are you in snow rabbit space? We're weeks away from the Federation."
No response. He just stared them down.
Antioch stared back, but twitched all the while. He was still a rodent, all things being what they were. And he had to look away.
Kalmbach smiled. He'd never lost a staring contest yet.
"What ... what about," Emerson said, shyly speaking up, "that Arctic fox?"
Kalmbach narrowed his eyes, tensing. "What about her?"
Graham took over for Emerson, saying, "We found a downed shuttle-pod on a rocky world. A week ago. A femme Arctic fox was onboard. She died of her injuries. She mentioned escaping from you. She mentioned you by name."
Kalmbach tilted his head, looking around the shuttle-bay, nodding to himself. And then looking back to the Yellowknife furs. "She stumbled upon us ... we took her aboard, put her in the brig. She escaped. And killed the guard who was watching her cell. When any-fur murders a member of my crew ... " His voice shook. Not with emotion or sadness. But with anger. " ... hearing that she is dead? Justice," he said, "has been delivered to her. And it is just as well that God took her life before I could. He knows I do not need more blood on my paws." His eyes became cold, distant. His muscles tensing. His angular ears cocked, rising above his hat. A sigh, and he looked directly at Graham. "I fear that any pleasantries would be rejected by you. A staff dinner. A tour. I am thinking it would not be appropriate. Though your ship does look lovely."
A head-tilt. "Thank you," was the quiet response.
"We are undergoing repairs. We will leave the nebula in less than a day," Kalmbach stated. "You are faster. You may follow us, if you wish, but we are bigger, more durable, stronger. You are no match for us. So, I would advise against giving chase. You cannot stop me," he declared, "from doing what I need to do."
"And what is that, exactly? What do you need to do?" Graham pressed.
"We have been over that," was the simple response. A swallow. "You may, of course, wish to tell your superiors where I am at and what you have learned. The High Command may very well send an entire fleet to neutralize me. But, somehow, I don't think they will. They know that I can be useful for them. In a crunch. Why risk alienating me? Yes, you might have hornets in your backyard, but as long as the hornets keep your enemies away and do not sting you," Kalmbach reasoned, "what is the problem? However, if you anger the hornets and they turn on you?" He trailed, picking back up with, "The High Command does not want to be stung yet again. They have been stung too many times in recent years. They will not pursue me."
"They might not," Graham said. "But I will. You are a rogue force in our space. I cannot allow that."
"You are just a captain. That is not your decision to make. You go where your superiors tell you to go."
"And what of you?" the snow rabbit pressed. "You are just a captain. And yet you answer to no one."
"You've forgotten, my good fur: I've gone rogue. I can do what I want, when I want. You should try it sometime."
"The penalty for treason is death. If the Federation ever catches you ... "
" ... they won't," Kalmbach assured. "And if they do? They will regret it."
There was an awkward silence.
"You didn't show up at the border," Talkeetna mentioned, "during our fight. Why? We called for you."
"I showed up to battle the wasps, didn't I?" He didn't mention that he had a history with wasps. That fighting wasps was a personal business. The horrors he had seen. The horrors he had committed. They did not need to know what he was capable of.
"Yes, but ... "
" ... my whereabouts during the Federation skirmish are classified."
"By who?" Antioch made a face.
"By me."
The marmot just sighed.
Kalmbach straightened. "Is there anything else?"
Graham, standing still, gave a small shake of the head.
"Then I shall be going." A paw was extended. "From captain to captain," he offered, "I wish you well."
Graham slowly took the snow leopard's paw, which was bigger than his own. In fact, the snow rabbit's paw seemed to get lost in the snow leopard's. And Graham replied, "God bless you."
Kalmbach squinted at that. A bit surprised. It had been a long time since he'd heard that. Since anyone had bid him such a thing. He could see, looking into the snow rabbit's eyes, that this one was a religious one. Like that Aria had been. Perhaps the snow rabbit species was truly changing. The snow leopard swallowed. Unable to say it back. He just nodded, somewhat unnerved. Again, he saw how their faith composed them. What it meant. And saw that, though he could physically overpower everyone in this room, their souls were stronger than his own. He wasn't sure how to take that.
A predator was heavily-reliant upon his physical strength. What would happen if he was rendered weak? When he aged to the point of infirmity (if he lasted that long)? What would happen when he no longer had his physical strength? Without faith, what would he rely on to hold him up? Certainly not his body. His mind? His mind might go, as well. Indeed, most would say it already had.
What are you building the foundation of your life upon, he asked himself. And can that foundation stand the test of time? Of eternity? Or will it rot away?
"Sir?" whispered MacKenzie.
The snow leopard blinked, snapping out of his mind. "Yes?" He looked down to his trusty comm officer. And then back to Graham. "Yes," he said, nodding, taking a deep breath. "I shall be going, now."
"My instinct," Graham confessed, "is to give chase to you. Either that," he said, "or to lope away. I am not sure which to do. I just know that I have to make a move."
"Do that which most benefits your crew. Trouble stirs in the waters," Kalmbach responded, "where I tread. You do not want to follow me there." His eyes held a serious weight. He had the look of a fur who had done battle with fire. And who would undoubtedly battle fire again. A hesitation. And he asked Graham, "You have a mate?"
"I have a wife, yes," was the slow response. A tilt of the head. "Why?"
"Cherish her. Love is so hard," he whispered, "to come by." He opened his muzzle to say something more, but he didn't. A heavy sigh, and he nodded properly, giving a military salute. And, with that, he turned, padding back to the shuttle-pod.
MacKenzie was close behind, her clawed foot-paws making a skitter-sound on the hard shuttle-bay floor.
They were in the shuttle-pod, now, on the way back to 'Invincible.' Or Illustrious. Whatever it really was.
Kalmbach sighed, shaking his head. "I wish that had gone better. I wanted to be friendlier with them." A pause, looking down at the controls. "That felt too stand-offish. When I met with the Solstice crew, it was much more pleasant." He stopped himself. Pleasant, why? Because you met Advent? Cause you bred with her? Because you got to slaughter some wasps shortly after?
"At least these furs didn't try to attack you."
"Mm?" His ears perked. He blinked. "Oh. No, they didn't," Kalmbach whispered, looking out the front window. MacKenzie was piloting. They were heading back into the nebula.
The beagle was quiet for a moment. Her chocolate-brown, floppy ears gave a few flaps. "You, uh ... you think they'll follow us, sir?"
The snow leopard, without blinking, slowly shook his head. "They won't follow us," he assured. "They'll want to. But they won't. They'll continue on their patrol." He stroked the tufted fur on his chin, sighing, leaning back. And blinking several times. "We seem to be in a lonely spot, Lieutenant. Us and our ship. We can't rely on anyone but ourselves." A pause. "The prey, they ... " He trailed, squinting, shaking his head a bit. " ... they rely on God. Their Savior." A pause. And he shook his head again. Graham's 'God bless you' still in his head. "I truly don't understand religion as well as I would have myself believe ... "
MacKenzie, quiet for a moment, replied, "I believe, sir, it's something one has to approach with ... a deep emotion. Deep feeling. I think there's clearly room for intellect in faith. That's the theology part. But that's not the, uh, battery that makes it run. The intellect isn't the driving force. The beliefs, the spiritual knowledge? It's ... I think it's something that has to be felt. It comes from the heart."
A sad smile from the snow leopard, half-meeting her gaze. "I guess," he whispered, "that is my problem, then." He looked away. Back outside the window. "It seems, though, that it would be worthwhile. I do not know what is keeping me," he confessed. "I can make plenty of excuses. But if I truly wanted it, I would have it. I am a predator." A pause, squinting. "I just do not know," he whispered, leaning back again. He sighed and closed his eyes.
MacKenzie was quiet. Tap-a-tap. Tapping at the controls.
Kalmbach opened his eyes. "Are you alright, Lieutenant?"
A nod, avoiding his eyes.
The snow leopard sat up straighter. "What is wrong?"
"It is ... it is not my place," she whispered, "to say, sir."
"MacKenzie," he said, using her name, not her rank. "I am not unapproachable."
A sigh, and she fidgeted, her broad tongue lapping at her own lips for a moment. And then she looked to him, her floppy ears still. Her soft, brown eyes intimidated, holding the look of one long ignored. One who didn't know how to handle being paid too much attention to. She swallowed. "Sir, it's just ... what you said, back on Yellowknife? About, uh ... you asked the snow rabbit about his wife, and ... you told him," she went, faltering. A sigh, unable to hold the eye contact. Her trembling paw went to his thigh. She whispered, barely audible, looking to the floor, "You know that I'm loyal to you, sir." A pause. "You know ... you know that I'm loyal to you," she whispered again. Her paw withdrew, her body flushed. She cleared her throat, trying to turn her attention back to the helm controls (which were mostly on autopilot and didn't need much attention).
Kalmbach was perfectly quiet. 'You know that I'm loyal to you.' There was a repressed, burning passion in those words. In her voice. Dripping with physical need. But also something else: emotional want? Loyalty. Loyalty was a hallmark of dogs. She was a beagle. And had served with him since he'd taken command of Illustrious/Invincible. Several years. Five, six years, was it? And loyalty required emotion. There had been physical need in that voice, yes. But there had been much more, on top of it.
A lot more.
MacKenzie swallowed, the silence proving to be too uncomfortable for her. Canines couldn't handle silence like felines could. "Sir, I ... I didn't mean to, uh, overstep my boundaries. I know you keep a tight ship. I know you ... you maintain," she breathed, "a distance. And that's why I've never approached you. But I just want you to know ... " She swallowed, breathing heavier. Her eyes watering a bit. She couldn't muster the courage to look him in the eyes. "I just want you to know that I'm loyal to you ... I would do anything you asked," she breathed, holding her breath. Her eyes closed. Opened. She exhaled, tapping at the controls. She was wishing she hadn't said anything. This was so uncomfortable.
The snow leopard felt his heart skip a few beats, picking up pace. He swallowed, still trying to comprehend this. And still trying to come up with a reply. Was he ready for this? After all his lamenting, though, wouldn't he be a fool to pass on such genuine affection? And her affection did seem so genuine. She'd been an exemplary officer. He would trust her with his life. He would.
He would.
He would respond.
"You, uh ... you spoke of the Christian faith as if you knew it?"
"Somewhat," was the beagle's vague, quiet reply. "I believe it, but ... well, I'm not exactly devout. Not by definition. I, uh ... " She trailed. "But I believe, mostly. I ... why?" she breathed.
He tried to phrase this in as civil a way as he could, not wanting to be crude. "Do you follow the faith to the point where you will not breed outside of marriage?"
A shake of the head. Her heart pounding. She swallowed.
"Good," he huffed. His paws danced on the controls.
"You're stopping the pod." Her eyes widened.
"Yes."
"They'll know what we're doing," she whispered, almost frantically. "There's no reason to stop ... they'll scan us. They'll know our engines are fine, and ... "
He stopped her with a paw to her belly. Softly, slipping into the shirt of her uniform. A caress of her belly-fur. Whispering smoothly, in his sturdy, masculine voice, "I am not planning on being ashamed of what we are poised to do. Though I cannot claim," he whispered, "to be ready for marriage or ... I am dark, unstable," he whispered. "You have to know that."
"I already do. I've served with you," she breathed, "for years ... but I ... I can't have ... "
" ... I won't breed around while I'm with you. I haven't bred around in years, anyhow. You must know that, as well." He paused. Suddenly scared, deep down. Why was he doing this? Because, he answered. Because it can help heal you. Because you need it. Because, if you don't, you will break her heart.
You know what it's like to live for years with a broken heart.
Don't allow MacKenzie's heart to shatter like yours did after you parted from Advent. Forget Advent.
Let go.
And who knows? Maybe MacKenzie can put you back together.
But, oh, to breed! He wasn't going to turn down this opportunity. Panting, he asked, "You ... you sure? About this? I am not an emotional creature. Perhaps I cannot give you the relationship you seek ... " His paws were caressing her, tugging. Oh, but I can give you pleasure, he thought to himself! But he didn't say that out loud. Again, he didn't want to be crude. She wanted this for different reasons than he did. Be careful with her, he told himself. Don't break her heart. Maybe this can work. Anyway, she seemed willing to take the risk of taming him. And who was he to say no?
" ... just ... just ... " She swallowed. Clothes were being unbuttoned, unzipped. " ... oh ... " Her tail wagged, wagged, wagged.
A bark!
A hiss (oh, sweet steam beginning to be released).
The pod was fully powered down, now. The message sent to the ship that their return would be delayed. And this was all happening so fast. But, then, with furs? Sex always happened fast. It was a furious thing. And these were two individuals that had spent too many years defusing their 'peaks' via artificial means. Pawing several times a day, or breeding with holograms in the simulation rooms.
And, now, the real thing.
The beagle was speechless, breathless, as if in a daze.
Kalmbach was a bit more 'there,' and he took the lead. Easily, he took the lead, greatcoat rumpled on the floor. Hat slipping off.
A dog-whine from her, arching in her seat. Somehow, her belly was already bare. Whether he'd removed the shirt of her uniform or she had, Kalmbach wasn't sure. Just that he had to get that bra off. A paw reaching behind, undoing the hook, peeling it away. "You must not hide," the snow leopard panted, "such beautiful things ... such ... " He suckled from the right breast. For just a moment, his raspy tongue dancing on the hardened nipple. " ... beautiful," he breathed, shaking his head a bit. As if amazed he hadn't noticed it before. His angular ears cocked atop his head, swiveling. "Truly ... um," he hissed, mouthing her breast.
MacKenzie's head went back, floppy ears giving errant twitches. Her muzzle hung open, panting, panting lightly. Both of them half-naked. Her still in her chair. Him on his knees on the floor, no shirt, pants unbuttoned and undone (but still mostly on). The beagle felt his paws roving, breath traveling down, down. His claws extending from the pads. "You won't be needing these anymore," he stated with authority. A single sharp claw going 'swish,' slicing her panties from top to bottom. Easy removal. Easy access. Prying apart her brown-furred, black-patched legs, her groin-fur a soft, snowy-white. Her pink petal-lips pouting, full of blood, soft, delicate, and waiting for him.
She huffed, swallowing, breasts hanging free. Belly rising and falling, rising and falling. "Oh," was her light, feminine moan. "Oh ... ohn. Ohhn."
The snow leopard made a good and proper meal of her. His tongue licking, licking, with feline precision. He knew what he wanted, and he knew how to get it. The juicy morsel that was her pussy, her honey-pot. Delicate, fleshy folds, so soft, scented of sex. Slightly salty skin, but the nectar being slightly sweet. The tastes offsetting one another, mixing with his saliva. The barbs on his tongues making for a gently-rough friction that had the canine squirming with every breath. She had never known such pleasure. A gasp. Her clitoris. "Ihh, uhhh ... " Dog-whines, arching to where she almost slid out of her chair. She was panting, panting, broad, pink tongue lolling out of her mouth. Made it look like she was wilting. Pant, pant, pant. Her paws to his bare, spotted shoulders. Fingers digging in as she tensed, tensed.
Splash. Drippy-drip. Drip. Femme ejaculate.
Bark! Bark, bark! Whine! "Uhhn, uh, uh ... uoohn ... " She was a symphony (and a fountain) of pleasure, eyes watered shut. Beside herself. Legs weakly spread. Body flushed beneath the fur. "Oh, sir," she breathed, voice dripping with emotion. With reverence. To the point where her words shook. "Sir ... "
And Kalmbach, after a few more licks, closed his eyes and leaned his head back, breathing very hard. Femme juice dribbling down his lips, his chin-fur. Weighing down his whisker-tips. He felt heady. Felt dizzy. Her scent. Her sounds. The taste on his tongue. And the sheer heat and moisture of it all. He had to collect himself before he could slur out, "I, uh ... uh ... my dear ... your back? Please? I need inside," he huffed. Penetration. Maybe crude, but a biological fact. He wanted his penis in her vagina. Now. He'd gotten the taste and scent of femininity. But he needed the feel of it, too.
He needed all of it.
All of her.
As the beagle, legs slightly shaking, slid off her chair. A bit of an 'oomph' as she got to her rump, shifting, pants around her ankles and then kicked free, panties sliced in half. Mostly naked, legs bending, moving apart. Almost subconsciously.
The snow leopard, hissing, twisting, kicking one pant leg off. Unable to get the other off without pausing. And he wasn't willing to pause. Still tangled in his clothes, he clambered atop of her, horizontally on the floor. He was free from the knees up, and that's all that mattered. Bare, furry hips, soft and lightly-matted with sweat, bumping, grinding. He missed his mark the first time. A hiss of frustration! Until, slowly, he poked his conical tip inside. Heavy breaths of excitement, giving way to purrs. As he sank down atop of her, bigger body hotly covering her more demure, supple frame. Belly-fur meshing with her own. Her breasts squishing down beneath the weight of his chest. "Urrgh ... urrgh," he growled, huffing on her shoulder. Gnaw-gnaw. Nipping on her bare shoulder as his hips slid slowly forward, as he buried himself to the hilt.
MacKenzie gave a tiny yelp. Somewhat surprised. "W-what ... it ... "
A hushing sound, his bare chest heaving, their bodies tangled. Her arms around his back. "Hush ... dear," he breathed. "My dear." A nip to her shoulder. "I ... I should've explained, I ... " He actually meowed. It came out before he could stop it. The pleasure. He flushed, giving a hiss, whispering, "My, uh ... shall we say, my penis ... is endowed with, uh, barbs. The feline penis," he explained. "I'm sure you know this ... "
"I d-do, but ... "
" ... you've never had the pleasure," he guessed, "of encountering them? Never bred with a feline?"
"N-no," she breathed honestly, panting. Her tongue hanging out. She'd bred with other dogs. Some rabbits. A few birds. None of them recently. In the recent year or so, she'd stuck to her paw and the simulation room. When she'd realized how far her 'loyalty' to the Captain had extended, she'd started saving herself for him.
Oh, that this day had finally come!
"Little hooks," he explained, grinding his hips. A hiss from him. A whine from her. "T-they facilitate maximum penetration, and ... uh, uhn, prompt the femme to, uh ... to not struggle or pull away. Lest she, uh, get pricked. Then they ... " Another nip, purring. " ... mm ... gently scratch the vaginal walls on each pull-back. Which stimulates you to ovulate." A deep chuckle. "It's a good thing," he breathed, pulling his hips ever-so-gently back. " ... ah, ahn. Ah, a g-good thing I can't get you pregnant." He chuckled again.
And she gave a slight giggle. Not knowing why any of this was funny. But, for some reason, it was delightfully so. "Do you ... heh, do you, uh, always give femmes biology lessons as you," she panted, "breed them?"
"Not always. Just the ones," he purred, moaning from the throat, arching as he pulled back and slid in. "Just the ones," he repeated, "I like talking to." His way of letting her know that this was more than just sex. More than just shut-up-and-fuck. His promise to not let this become a casual affair. She probably wanted marriage. He couldn't give her that right now. "Uh, uhn," he grunted, pulling back, resuming the biology lesson. "It is ... " He lapped at her neck, huffing. " ... like a ratchet system. It drives my penis deeper, deeper into you. The barbs," he breathed, pulling back. Softly, softly, slowly. Pushing in. " ... give a slight pull. I shift my weight," he said, "if you'll so notice ... from one side of my body to another, uhn, nn. With ... with each," he rasped, "hump. Not a direct, straight motion, but a ... a slightly rocky motion. Which stimulates you more and gives me ... " A shiver running up his spine. Almost losing his breath. Her vagina was a furnace. So hot, enveloping his shaft with raw, deep-pink muscle. Which was beginning to ripple from all the stimulation it was getting. Oh, this was bliss!
The beagle, her vagina swelling, her cervix close to dipping down, gave a canine 'ar-ooo, ar-ooo.' Which echoed in the small, metallic interior of the shuttle-pod. Her tail wagged haphazardly, slap-slapping against the floor. Wag-wag-wag. Slap-slap. Her bare, supple rump on the deck-plating. And her clitoris drawn from its hood, brushed by the good Captain's pelvic bone with each of his tortuous thrusts.
Kalmbach shut his muzzle. Except to moan and hiss and all that. No words, though. No academics. No jokes. No poetry. No nothing. Just organic sounds of organic exertion. Of mutual need and purpose. An act of life and love. And though he couldn't claim to love her (like she so clearly loved him), he felt a bond being forged. You couldn't do something like this without creating a heavy degree of attachment. Hearing his tightening, furry sac slap so softly against her vulva, the big cat could only think that this was surely art. They were, in essence, dancing to the sacred songs of beating hearts and sighing moans.
Imprinting souls (as the prey would say).
Feline and canine writhed together on the floor, a tangle of limbs, a mesh of fur and form, genitals fused in a sloppy, heated give-and-take of pure pleasure.
That anything could feel so good!
Until her pussy fluttered, going into tremors, spasms which shook the beagle's lower body, sending electrical shockwaves to her extremities. Her furry, canine form twisting, whimper-whines and reactionary barks. Thighs hot, legs hugging to his form.
Pleasure!
Such pleasure!
"Uhn, uhhh ... uhn, ughg, ggh," groaned Kalmbach, so stimulated, milked so deviously by her body, shaft embedded deep in her tunnel. Spurt, spurt. Spurt! Orgasm. Each ejaculation a firework that exploded in his consciousness, tingling, teasing him with ecstasy, paralyzing him as he sowed her. As his semen wetly pelted her cervix, millions of snow leopard sperm swimming madly up her oviducts, where they would find no egg (for she was not in heat). And, even if there were an egg, beagle eggs were unable to be penetrated by feline sperm.
But their instincts didn't care.
Nor did their bodies.
And their minds?
Their minds seemed to float, as they both panted, sinking from their orgasmic highs, matted damp with sweat, seed, saliva. Warm, panting bodies touching, resting on one another. Neither of them able to move or stand just yet. They just laid there, quietly recovering. He closed his eyes and nuzzled her cheek, purring. Purring. The sound a soothing, rumbling one, coming from deep inside him.
She sighed at his purrs, muzzle lolling to one side.
He nosed her cheek some more, and then her neck. Mouthing her fur. "My dear," he breathed, sincerely. "I regret that we didn't do this sooner." He licked at her fur, sighing. "Mm. But rest assured ... " A swallow, and a slight mew as he pulled his hips back, pulling out of her. Cat-hood a bit limp, flopping wetly aside. Excess seed dripping out of her body in noticeable rivulets. " ... rest assured, I shall be breeding you daily. Giving you all the pleasure you so richly deserve. My dear," he breathed again (a favorite term of affection for him). He moved his lips to hers, brushing lips. Pressing them. Kissing.
"Mm ... mm ... " Her paws weakly in his fur.
The kiss broken, his eyes half-open, meeting her eyes from so close a distance. "We shall make up for lost time ... if you wish," he whispered.
"I wish it," she whispered back, almost inaudible. Brimming with emotion. Her eyes watered. She had to sniffle just a bit.
"Mm," he purred, slipping off the top of her and laying beside her, wrapping an arm around her. "Mm, MacKenzie ... lay atop me, dear."
She did so, settling atop him, muzzle-to-muzzle, belly-to-belly.
And he hugged her down atop of him, closing his eyes.
She closed hers. "Sir ... ?"
"Mm?" Eyes opened, halfway.
"I love you, sir," she breathed. "I would follow you anywhere ... "
He could only say, truthfully, "I shall endeavor to love you ... in the same way. I hope you understand."
"I do," she whispered, lapping at his cheek with her broad canine tongue. Lap-lap-lap. Slurp! Her tail went wag-wag-wag behind her.
A deep, smooth chuckle from him.
"I do," she repeated, tongue back in her muzzle. "I just ... I ... "
" ... shh ... lie still, my puppy. We've just engaged in a star-shaking act. Let us not try to think too hard right now ... let us deal with the consequences of this later," he soothed, his paws running up and down her back. Slowly. Through her fur. "Shh ... " He sighed, hugging her tight. Closing his eyes. She was so warm to the touch. So vital. "Now, we should soon get dressed," he soothed. "There's no shower on this pod, so ... no doubt everyone on the ship shall know. The smell," he whispered. "But do not worry. Do not worry," he breathed, caressing her. Keeping her calm. "I know I can be unhinged at times, and we are on a dangerous mission from which we may not return. We may not survive." A pause. "But everything," he promised, saying it as much for himself as for her, "will be okay."
"Taylor, prepare to resume our original course," Graham said, sighing, sinking into his Captain's chair. His head turned. He looked to the left side of the bridge, to Ada. And gave her a little eye-smile.
She returned it.
Antioch, at tactical, pressed a few buttons, frowning. "Graham ... Kalmbach's shuttle-pod is still inside the edge of the nebula. It's just floating there. It hasn't returned to his ship."
Graham's ears twiddled. "Still? That's nearly half an hour, now. An engine malfunction?" He left his chair. "Can we offer assistance?"
"Their engines appear to be just fine."
There was a bridge-wide silence. As the likely answer dawned on them.
It was Talkeetna who finally said, somewhat slyly, "Maybe focus the sensors on a tight, visual shot of the pod? See if it's rocking back and forth." Her head tilting, she added, "Of course, we wouldn't be able to hear anything. Sounds don't carry in a vacuum."
Graham, raising his brow, turned and gave the red squirrel a look.
Talkeetna went quiet, but didn't lose the smile.
"It is no business of ours what the Captain is doing." Though, truth be told, Graham was quite shocked. He was sure Kalmbach and that beagle weren't married. Though she had seemed very protective of him. But, like you said: it's none of our business, Graham. He may have his moments, but he's still a fur. Leave him be. "Let us simply be on our way. We have planets to visit, a route to patrol ... Taylor?" Graham asked, sighing.
The chipmunk, letting out a deep breath, nodded, paws dancing over the helm controls.
And Yellowknife began to move off. The mystery of Captain Kalmbach and the Illustrious no less mysterious. If anything, more complicated. And maybe they would run into him again. But not today.
For, now, the snow rabbit ship lithely vaulted into warp, resuming its sail of the stars.