FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

"It's a nice ship," was the approving whisper. Nose sniffing the air, tentatively. "Better than I expected."

A hesitation. Before the mouse responded, in his detail-oriented way, "Didn't you see the specs and everything? I gave them to you ... "

"Of course I did," answered Wren, the squirrel. The captain of this new vessel. Luminous. He padded gingerly, in bare foot-paws, across the bridge, moving slowly (as if savoring the introduction). The first time was always special, wasn't it? "I just ... it's different in reality, is all. Schematics and pictures and holograms? Can't prepare you for a 'feel'. You, of all furs, should know that."

"I do," was the quiet insistence.

"What class is it, again?" The squirrel stopped at the curved captain's chair (complete with a hole in the back, for one's tail to fit through). He ran a paw along the grey-blue armrests. Nice. "Hmm?" He turned his head to the mouse, raising a brown-furred brow.

"She's Wabash-class," Field answered, airily. He had a soft voice. For a male. "I don't know why you can't remember these things. Wabash-Class, registry number ... "

" ... I saw that part on the hull," Wren interrupted, with a wink. They'd come aboard via shuttle-pod. "So, it's a 'she,' is it? The ship?" He smiled at Field.

The mouse blushed and twitched. "Well ... "

"You said 'she's' Wabash-class ... "

" ... I know." Skipping a beat. "Cause she is."

"How does one check," Wren prodded, suggestively, "a ship's gender?"

"I don't know." Ears going rosy.

"H-heh ... well ... "

" ... that's just how it is," was all Field said, whiskers twitching. Wearing a bemused expression. "Anyway ... " Changing the subject. He got flustered so easily.

Wren chittered with amusement, letting the matter drop. Eying the helm. Tactical. Ops. All the main stations. Three other furs were present, quietly going about their business. The lighting was soft, white. With a golden tint, maybe? Just barely? There were little beeps and melodic mechanical sounds coming from various panels. From the computer. The viewer showcased the planet (their home) below. They were still in dry-dock, awaiting launch. For deep-space exploration and patrol missions. To serve in ambassadorial functions. Et cetera.

"I don't know why you want me here," Field confided. Frowning, whiskers twitching. Nose sniffing silently. Full of mousey motions. "I get space-sick."

Wren rolled his eyes, pulling his walnut-colored squirrel-tail to his chest, doing a bit of grooming. (With tongue and paws.) Squirrels took great pride in their luxurious tails. You could argue it was their best feature. "You do not."

"I do," Field insisted, his own tail like a long, wayward rope, wriggling about with a mind of its own.

The squirrel released his appendage, stretching a bit. "They gave me a crew of eighty-three ... I chose the compliment, and I wanted you. You're my friend." He looked to the mouse, with affection. "And it'll be good for you." A pause. "Besides, prey rarely get their own vessels. I mean, I'm the first 'prey' to captain a ship of this magnitude," he went, trailing for a second. Did that sound like bragging? " ... so, I'm not likely to ask a predator to be my first officer, am I? I don't trust them. I trust you."

"I don't know ... " Field was worried. Whiskers twitch.

"Don't know what?"

" ... if I trust myself."

A patient smile. He was used to Field's insecurities. He'd dealt with them for years. "You agreed, didn't you? You're standing here ... "

The mouse could only nod, staring at the viewer, now. At the blue-green below, curving off on either side. The land, shaded colors that looked, for lack of a better word: fertile. There were wispy whites stretched out, too, lazing on beds of blue. Clouds. Seas. "I'd forgotten how it looked from space ... "

Wren just smiled at his friend, putting a paw on his shoulder (and giving a squeeze) before moving to the back lift.

"Where are you going?"

"For a walk." A smile. "You have the bridge." He chuckled at the wide-eyed expression that popped on Field's face as the doors slid shut.

When Wren reached the holo-suite (which is where the computer had indicated the ship's doctor was), the doors whooshed open, stopping with a clunk-clunk, exposing the inside. It was dark in there. Warm, misty, like a temperate forest on a summer's night. Crickets were sounding, and there was moonlight.

The squirrel stepped inside, gingerly. The doors shutting behind him, going invisible, giving more credence to the illusion. The squirrel paused for a moment, angular ears swiveling on the sides of his furred skull. He squinted (though in the dark, it aided him little). It took him a moment to pinpoint the noise. Less time than that to understand what it was.

"Mm-h ... "

Well, at least the doctor was enjoying himself. Wren stopped in the brush, between two tall trees, amongst vines and night-bugs. He wondered, momentarily, if he should leave. But where was the fun in that? Best to surprise the rabbit. The squirrel, fighting his own growing arousal, stepped forward a few more paces, peeking into a clearing. In the glow of a campfire, inside a zipped-up tent, he could see the rabbit's shadow. With another.

Wren swallowed. Muttering, "Computer, remove holographic partner."

A 'blur-whir' of sight and sound. The rabbit gave an 'oomph' as he hit the ground. " ... ack ... ah. H-hey ... " Dazed, he tore open the tent-flap and saw Wren. Eyes widening in recognition. "I should've known. Damn ... squirrel!" he puffed. "What ... what ... "

"Hi," Wren said, simply.

"You know it's illegal to intrude upon a fur's holo-suite time? Ever heard of invasion of privacy?"

"You didn't seal the door."

A grumble. "I was in a hurry. I forgot."

"Mm-hmm."

"What about ringing, you know? Did you try an' call me?"

"You're not wearing your comm-badge. You're kinda not wearing anything," the squirrel observed, with a cheeky smile.

" ... no, I'm not." The rabbit, bare, in the fur (a butter-cream pelt, not pure white ... an off-white, like the top of a pasteurized milk container), half-hidden from view, was still erect, still wet (all over, and from various things, sweat, saliva, fluids, both his own and holographic). Rabbits, of course, had infamously strong breeding drives. He certainly lived up to that reputation. Or stereotype. Whichever. "I like the look of animal lust in your eyes. Haven't seen it in a while."

"Kody ... "

" ... not embarrassed, are you? Afraid I'm going to tell the crew? That why you're here?" Exuding confidence. He shimmied his way out of the tent, now. Completely. Letting the squirrel drink him in. Loving the quiet way the he could flirt with him. Just by moving a foot-paw, say ... a bit this way, or like that. Or spreading his legs.

"As charming as you are," Wren ribbed, pupils dilating to their fullest, "I'm surprised to find you screwing a simulation."

A wave of a paw. "It's safe, it's instant ... it's satisfying. Physically, anyway." A pause. "I'm sure you're well aware," said the rabbit.

Wren avoided responding to that. Holo-suites hadn't been invented for sex, of course. But that's what most furs used them for. The squirrel could offer no denial. Saying, instead, "We're launching in an hour. I need you at your post."

"Expecting a rough ride?"

"Just protocol. You never know ... "

"Why are you here?" the rabbit demanded.

"Field's my first officer ... "

Eyes widening again. "Field?"

" ... don't mess with him. He's very sensitive."

"You think I don't know that?" was Kody's private whisper. Swallowing. He rubbed his cheeks for a moment. "Afraid I'm gonna hump him into a bulkhead?"

"You've done it before."

" ... and you disapproved. You two still lovebirds?"

"I never liked that term."

"Ah. Right." A slightly mocking tone. Mumbling. "You're making me lose my erection ... "

" ... sorry."

"If you wanted Field for yourself, you should've gotten him first. We were all friends. You had opportunities. You didn't need to take it out on me, as if I was ... competition. Hell, I slept with you! But as soon as I sleep with him, you go all ... weird." A twitch. "Like someone stole your piece of pie. It was hypocritical." Cheeks burning. "And then to make him choose like that? He came to me, sobbing ... do you know how painful that was? Mouses are cute. Crying mouses? They make your heart break." A head-shake. Brushing it off. "I haven't seen him. Or you. Not since we were reassigned from that landing base." That'd been two years ago. A deep breath. "I was surprised I got this assignment. It's a plum job ... the first major prey-staffed Federation vessel?"

" ... yeah."

"Why am I here, Wren?"

"You're crude. But you're smart. I need a good doctor."

"The old 'I trust you' line ... you want redemption? A happy ending?"

" ... I do." A twitch and a fidget. "I never stopped liking you. As a friend. And as ... " A sigh. " ... I'm sorry for what happened. I know it was awkward."

"If you damn rodents weren't so hell-bent on being monogamous ... I'm a rabbit. I would've had absolutely no problem being in an open relationship. Sharing him with you." A frustrated sigh. Closing his eyes. "When forced to choose, you knew he'd choose you. I just ... wished you hadn't forced his paw. He was confused. Naïve. Innocent. He was ... very new to sex. I was very gentle with him. I was bringing him out of his shell ... "

" ... teaching him the ropes? Sounds more like lust than love."

"Don't tell me what I felt," the rabbit breathed.

Wren opened his maw. And shut it. Twitching. " ... I'm sorry."

A deep breath. "Look, I'm not upset with you," Kody assured. Looking down. Then up. "Believe it or not, I don't hold grudges. If anyone knows what passion can do to furs, it's a rabbit." A cleansing breath. "I take it you and Field aren't together, though ... anymore ... "

"No."

"What happened?"

"Life," was the evasively quiet reply. "His family disowned him when they found out about us. It crushed him. He got over it, after a while. A long while." A sigh. "But I reminded him too much of that loss, that pain. Made intimacy kind of difficult."

"I can imagine." Thinking about it, shaking his head, sadly. "So, after all that paw-wringing between the three of us, love triangle and all ... it's back to square one? Except 'all the wiser' and that 'life lessons' business ... "

A quiet nod.

"Charming." A pause. "You two still bi? Cause I've seen a lot of pretty females in the corridors, and it's a long mission ... " A wink to lighten the mood. " ... maybe you'll have better luck with that."

" ... maybe," was the quiet admittance. "We'll see." A blush. It wasn't that the three of them (Wren, Kody, and Field) hadn't been interested in the opposite gender before. They always had been. They'd just been interested in each other first, and they all happened to be male. "I have to get going, Kody. Still have several departments to check." A swallow. "Be at your post in an hour, yeah?"

The rabbit squirmed, sighing, nodding. "Yeah, yeah ... fine. I'll finish before then." And a devilish grin. "Maybe."

An almost-smirk. "Later, Kodiak," said Wren, using his full name. "I'm glad you're here. For what it's worth."

The rabbit seemed genuinely touched. " ... thank you."

The squirrel turned and left without reactivating the program.

Kody huffed, crawling back into the tent. "Computer," he began, heart pounding and muzzle smiling. "Reactivate partner ... "

"No, it's ... you gotta push the blue ones. These ... "

Field turned his head, blinking. Sitting at the helm. "Excuse me?"

"You're trying to access the navigational system, right?"

The mouse nodded quietly. Staring at the bat. He'd never seen a bat. Not face-to-face. But, then, he'd had a pretty isolated upbringing.

"Well, use that blue button there ... I mean, these computer systems," she said, sidling up next to him, "are like the ones you've probably used on any other ship. Basically. They're just sleeker. More streamlined. But ... " She tapped the controls, which chirruped under the versatile thumbs of her wing-ends. Field, swooning silently, imagined he would be chirruping, too, if his buttons were being pressed by her. Or ... well, if ...

" ... uh-huh," was the mouse's reply. And he nodded. "Thanks ... thank you," he managed. "Um ... yeah, I just wanted to make sure what did what. And, you know. Cause, sometimes, if you don't check, and ... I also wanted to do some research." He was rambling. Incoherently, too.

She tilted her head, flashing a toothy smile. She had a pearly-white set o' fangs. "I don't bite." Her eyes twinkled as she said this, though. "You have a name?"

"Field," said Field.

"Our first officer?" she asked, raising her brow.

"Yeah, it's a surprise to me, too," said the mouse, sitting up straighter. Regaining his composure. "I'm in no way fit for this job."

"Not any way to speak about yourself," said the bat, leaning against the console, crossing her arms, which, again, were winged. Winged arms! Such metaphor! With velvety membranes. Her fur, most importantly, more beautifully, was a carnation-pink. Pink! Cotton candy. Watermelon. Bubble gum. Everything sweet and stunning. Such a feminine color. She was like the world after a glass of bubbly. Or, uh ...

"Well ... " Field swallowed. His throat was dry.

"Hey, I was gonna go ... catch a bite to eat, you know, before we launch. A quick bite in the mess hall. Um ... like to come?" she asked. And, for a moment, the mouse thought she appeared just as nervous as he did. But that couldn't be possible. There was no way ... was there?

"Well, I'm ... " Making nervous excuses. " ... supposed to stay here until Wren gets ... "

" ... back," said Wren, coming off the lift. Looking to Field and the bat. "And, yes, you can grab a bite to eat, but be back in fifty minutes."

The bat gave another trademarked 'fang-flash.'

The mouse just gave a nervous squeak.

In the mess hall, Field nibbled on some buttered French bread. And dabbed, with his fork, at a bowl of broccoli casserole (rice, onion, cheese, broccoli). Occasionally sipping from a glass of water. Had fancied ordering pink lemonade (one of his favorite 'sweet' drinks), but figured that would be some kind of sub-conscious, twisted sexual thing, to sip from a pink drink while fantasizing about a pink bat he'd just met. Gosh, she was pink.

The bat was eating berries. Poppin' 'em, easily. Chewing. Blueberries, raspberries. Her name was Adelaide. She was the head operations officer, in charge of leading away teams and such. Planning things. "Kind of exciting, isn't it?" she asked.

Field chew-chewed. Swallowed. "Mm?"

"We're about to launch. New class of ship, a breakthrough for prey. We're going out there. Maybe father than any fur has gone before. All these possibilities, you know. The universe is infinite. Anything could happen."

The mouse nodded quietly. "I find that to be rather scary, actually."

"If you were alone, maybe. But we're all in this together." A warm smile. "Right?"

"Mm ... that's true," he said, chew-chewing on the bread. They were the only two in the mess hall, and the lights were a bit dimmed. 'Casual lighting,' if you will. Outside the window, their home-world hung. As if watching them. Cheeky thing ...

"You and Wren go way back, huh? I get that vibe."

"Well, that's ... I guess," was all the mouse could say. "It's complicated." She was so confident. Such a sense of flight and fancy. He didn't want to contaminate her with his own, reeling thoughts. His own beautiful, melancholy mood. And he might've been a little too innocent for his own good (mouses tended to be), but he knew that there was something ... sensual. Something. Here? With her? Possibly? He didn't want to compromise that possibility by mentioning he'd slept with two of the ship's senior officers. And that, in fact, he'd never been with anyone else. Just the two (Wren and Kody). Never actually been ... uh, with a female ...

"Anyway ... " She eyed his broccoli casserole, squinting, trying to figure out what was in it. "Anyway," she said, looking to his face, to his twitching whiskers and murky blue eyes. "We don't have to talk about that. But you look like you could use a friend." Plus, he was cute. With that fur, the color of a wheat field in the sun? That shyness, too. Constant little mousey motions. The innocence, yeah. A little naivety. Someone she could imagine taking under her wings (with little resistance). And that was something bats liked to do, being flighty, dominant sorts.

"I've never met a bat ... "

"Never?" she asked. That meant he probably didn't know about some of her abilities. She hadn't thought he did. But she was sure, now. "Really ... "

Field shook his head quietly, swallowing.

"Well, now you have." An obvious smile.

A blush. Change the subject, Field. "Uh ... Wren's the only rodent captain in the Federation fleet," he said, absently.

"I know. He's well-liked."

Field bit his lip.

"The broccoli ... is it good?" Adelaide asked.

"Hmm? Oh, well ... yeah. I mean. For synthesized stuff."

"Real thing's always better," she agreed, with a quick wink. "No question, right?"

" ... uh ... well." Am I supposed to wink back? "I try to eat green stuff when I can. Of course, I don't eat meat, so I'm a bit underweight for my height, actually."

"You look fine," she offered, licking her fangs.

The mouse stared at this, poking a fork into his casserole.

"Alright, I admit it. I use them," she said randomly, putting her elbows on the table. And putting her chin in her paws. "I told you I didn't bite, but that was kind of a lie. Well, not a lie. But I didn't want to scare you ... "

A blink. "I don't understand ... "

"You were thinking about my fangs." She leaned back in her chair, now.

"How did you know?"

"I'm a bit telepathic. Well. More than a bit, actually."

"Oh." His ears went beet-red. "You've been reading my mind this whole time?"

"No, I wouldn't do that. Not actively. But, sometimes, I just can't help but pick up a stray thought or two.

The mouse bit his lip. "So, your fangs do have other uses? Other than eating?"

"Other than eating," she whispered promisingly.

"Are all bats," asked Field, touching the condensation-chilled glass of water, but not drinking from it. "Are all bats telepathic?"

She nodded. "Yes."

"Are all female bats pink?"

"Mm-hmm. Slightly different hues. I mean ... not all the same shade. But pink, yes. The males are periwinkle. Bluish. Believe it or not."

"I always thought that was a rumor."

"No, they are."

" ... uh, no. The telepathy thing." A shy twitch.

"We're a very misunderstood species. Mammals with wings. The fangs. And that 'blood-sucking vampire' stereotype. Before modern times, we were heavily persecuted for being witches and stuff. Having paranormal powers."

"I'm sorry to hear that ... "

" ... well, it's better, now. For all prey. I mean, here we are. With this ship. More and more of us in the fleet. The predators no longer control the Federation ... well, they do. But not with an iron paw anymore."

"That's true." A pause. "You said you were a misunderstood species? I'd like to understand you," Field admitted, sweetly. "Uh ... I mean ... cause you're the first bat I've met, and ... " Dang it. She'll think I mean sex! (Well ... don't you? On some level? Come on, Field.)

" ... I know what you mean."

"You do?" Voice catching.

"Yeah." Calmly sensing his thoughts, once more. Trying not to giggle. He was simply too adorable for words, wasn't he? There was just something about mouses. About this mouse, in particular. He was an effeminate, artistic sort, lonely and anxious and unsuccessfully trying to hide it. His body twitching and sniffing with energy like an electrical current that needed to be harnessed.

"Um ... " He swallowed. "We should get back to the bridge. Soon. You know?"

Adelaide nodded gently, still watching him. Definitely adorable. "Probably."

Field sipped, and then gulped his water, and stood.

She giggled.

"What?" he asked.

" ... I heard that."

"You are reading my mind," he accused, wispily.

"You're broadcasting pretty loudly. I can't help it," she said honestly, opening her wings a bit.

The mouse didn't say anything for a moment. But then asked, "What was so funny?"

"You were thinking to yourself: 'how are we connecting so quickly ... right off the bat'."

He smiled, giggling very quietly. Airily. "I was not ..."

"You were. You know what that is?" she asked.

"What?" He looked to her as they put their trays away and padded to the mess hall doors, which opened for them. They stood in the threshold. For just a moment.

"I think that's a cheesy pun," she whispered. "Even for a mouse."

Field giggled, too, shaking his head and leading her into the corridor.

Wren nodded at the communications officer, who piped him throughout the ship. And the squirrel, sitting straighter in his chair (the captain's chair!), cleared his throat and let out a breath.

"We're supposed to commemorate these moments. Beginnings, anniversaries, endings. This happens to be a beginning. And a rather historic one, at that. So, I'm supposed to speak until the music swells, and then we'll warp on out o' here, but ... well, all I'm going to say is ... " He smiled, widely. Feeling a sense of pride. A sense of anticipation. "All I'll say is, to you, my valiant crew ... "

A sudden draining sound. Quickly, like a plug pulled. All the mechanical purring seemed to stop, and the lights on the bridge, the sounds of the consoles, it all drained away. Blink, blink. One by one. Off. Into darkness.

" ... what happened to the lights?" Wren demanded.

"If that's all you have to say," said Kody over the comm (from sickbay, where he'd been listening), "then consider me uninspired."

"Report?" asked Wren, eyes wide. Getting agitated. Already out of his chair. Suddenly feeling that he would get very few opportunities to actually sit and relax in that chair during the course of this mission.

"Emergency lights coming on," squeaked Field. He squinted in the dark. Checking a dim panel. "Only environmental controls were affected."

"And the warp core," reported another voice. Adelaide? No. No, someone else.

Emergency lighting flickered forth. Finally. On delay.

"Lights are off down here, too, by the way," said Kody, still on the comm. "You would think they'd have had the foresight to ... "

Wren, frowning, made a throat-slash gesture to Adelaide, indicating him to mute the rabbit's comm line. She nodded and did so.

Rella, a squirrel at tactical, seemed perplexed. But, then, she usually did. She was rather intimidating until you got to know her.

"I need a coherent report. Anybody? Somebody?" Wren asked, scampering to tactical. Bushy tail billowing about like a wind-whipped flag.

"I don't know, sir," Rella replied. "I just ... I lost contact with engineering, and then the power died, and ... "

"Engineering, status," Wren barked.

Field was twitching in his corner of the bridge. Tapping at a wall console. Eyes darting over to Adelaide. Their eyes meeting from their separate locations. She gave him a reassuring smile. Mouthing, 'It'll be okay.'

Engineering didn't reply.

"I'm going down there," Wren said, scampering back to the center of the bridge. Reaching under his chair and undoing a latch, withdrawing a phase pistol. And a paw-held beacon.

"Sir, you can't ... "

"Stay put. All of you."

"Captain," Field piped up. "She's right. Maybe the predators put a mole onboard. It could be sabotage. You can't do down there alone."

Wren sighed, stopping in front of the lift doors. The lights still very dim. A sort of blood-red glow (from the emergency alert lights) made him seem more dangerous than he otherwise would. But Field knew the squirrel had a darker side, and his ship was being messed with. Wren, ignoring all the crew-furs looking to him and awaiting further words, gestured for Rella to follow. Impatiently. "Come on ... "

She nodded eagerly, bolting after him (with a phase pistol already in paw).

"It's locked," Rella whispered. "And power's down."

"We'll pry it open," Wren said steely. Looking to her.

She nodded.

And they put their paws in the crease of the door. And, on the count of three, they pulled the double-doors apart. Slowly. Grunting. And Wren, before Rella could stop him, slipped in first. Into the dark. She sidled in behind, her own beacon-light dancing with his.

"Never do that again," she growled, beneath her breath.

"Excuse me?" He paused, turning to face her. Surprised at her attitude.

"I'm the tactical officer. I go into dangerous situations first," she whispered, almost nose to nose.

"It's my ship."

"It won't be your ship if you're dead."

Wren went sheepishly quiet at that. Ears cocking. But strangely turned on by her show of strength.

Rella stormed off. Calming down, already. She knew how to channel her emotions. "The power core's been shut down." Still speaking in a hushed tone. "Sir ... "

Wren turned to look. Followed the beam of her paw-beacon. Seven furs lay unconscious. Three squirrels, two rabbits, a mouse, and raccoon.

"They're still breathing," Rella whispered.

"There are supposed to be seven more. Where are they?"

"Probably on the other side of the room. At the secondary controls."

Wren nodded. Peering through the dark, nose sniffing the air. Something wasn't right. "That scent ... "

The sound of a body hitting the floor.

Wren whirled, eyes wide, his light dancing. Seeing saw his tactical officer unconscious. On her side. Her light having clattered to a stop against the wall. Her weapon on the floor, too. Dammit.

He closed his paw around his own pistol, turning his light off. Leaving him in the dark. Unable to see, but unable to be spotted, either. How stupid had it been to come in here with those beams? And talking so loudly?

"I don't want to hurt you," came an off-kilter voice.

Wren paused. Prey heart pounding. Squirrels were expert acrobats. Their bodies were agile. He didn't fear getting into a fight, but his instinct was that, if a fight broke out? He needed to have the higher ground. He looked upward in the dark. To the second level. The railing, in particular, of the second level. Not the same as climbing a tree, but if he could get to a ladder ... if he could jump high enough ...

" ... don't run," the voice pleaded. It sounded faintly familiar.

"Who are you? What are you doing to my ship?" Wren demanded. "If you're here to sabotage us, why not wait 'til we're away from the Home-world ... out on our own, helpless?"

"Captain, I'm not here to hurt you. I'm here to help you ... "

"Why do I having a hard time believing that?"

"You're angry," said the voice.

The squirrel's ears were pivoting out of control, trying to locate the direction of the voice. Right ... no. No, left.

"I have to save you from yourself ... "

"Answer me," Wren whispered, forcefully. Trying to mask his helplessness. Clutching his pistol. Finger on the trigger. And he flicked the setting to kill. His darker side willing to do anything to protect himself, and protect those he cared about. Protect his birthright. His new ship and crew. "Are you a predator?" he asked aloud. "You have three seconds, or I start firing. Maybe I'll miss. But maybe I won't." Panting. "One, two ... "

" ... no," was the reply. "I am not a predator. But I cannot let you go."

"Luminous? Why not?"

No answer.

"Why not?" Raising his voice, chittering. Fur on end.

"Not Luminous. You." A pause. "I am here for you."

"Me?" was the confused squeak. Whiskers beginning to twitch.

"If you go, you will find them, and when you do ... it will trigger a chain of events that, once set into motion, cannot be undone. You will blame yourself. For losses. For pain. You will hurt. I am trying to save you from that."

Wren frowned. "I don't understand."

"I know what will happen," said the silky voice.

"So, what, you're from the future?" Not believing this. Still thinking this was a predatory ruse.

"I've already said more than I can."

"How convenient." A pause. "I could turn on my light. Expose you."

"I would be gone before you did, and then you would know even less than you do now."

Wren bit his lip with rodent buckteeth. Sighing through the nose. "You don't make the demands here. I do."

"I knew you wouldn't listen. But I had to try. I will try again, soon ... "

" ... get off my ship."

"I do so not because you ask me to. But because I ... "

A zip of ruby-red light. A pulse of light. And the voice stopped. Its owner slumping to the floor, briefly illuminated. But only for a second.

Wren turned his head. Impressed. "Good aim ... shot in the dark, huh?"

Rella, wincing, standing woozily, was holding her light again. And holding her pistol. "I have ... really good ears. For a squirrel."

"I'll say," Wren whispered, but rather than make further conversation of it, he went to the source of the voice, only to see an undistinguishable fur phasing in and out of the room. In and out of reality. In a blue, hazy light. Some kind of fur. Wren squinted to make out which species, but it was too vague. And, soon, the light swallowed itself up, and whoever it was, he (or she) was gone.

Silence.

"What just happened?" Rella whispered. Sounding, if anything, spooked. "Time travel?"

"According to the Federation Science Directorate, time travel is impossible."

"Then what was this ... "

"I have no idea," Wren admitted. At a loss. "But ... " He sighed. "I'm not going to let it stop me. We're getting out of here," he said, fire in his voice. "Now."

"Sir, maybe ... "

"This was just a distraction."

"One that may compromise the safety of the ship and crew. Sir ... " She sighed. He was going to brush this off. There was nothing she could say to convince him otherwise.

"Don't tell the others," Wren finally whispered. "We're on a ship of prey. I don't want them panicking at some cryptic phantom that, for all we know, is completely bogus. Someone doesn't want our ship to leave this system. Right?" He took a breath. "I'd say that's reason enough to leave ... "

"Sir ... " Rella had strong reservations, still. She was a tactical officer. She had a good sense of danger. "I have to report this ... "

"Record in the logs that it was an EPS overload. System shock. The computer's off-line, so no one will know the wiser." Another pause. "I don't wanna have to order you to do this."

She hesitated, but nodded in the pale, pale light. "Alright."

"Anyway, who would believe us if we told the truth?"

She nodded quietly. "Good point."

"Come on," said the Captain. "Let's restore main power. And tell Kody to get down here ... "

Rella slapped her comm-badge. "Engineering to sickbay."

"What's up?" was the casual response.

Wren rolled his eyes, lit by the faint glow of the emergency lights. Tapping at buttons. This shouldn't take too long.

"Captain wants you down here."

"Oh, does he?" A playful perk in the rabbit's voice.

"To check on injured crew-furs," Wren called.

"Heard that one before. Well, I'm on my way." And the channel cut.

Rella, padding up behind the Captain, couldn't resist asking, "What was that about?"

"Nothing." A slightly-defensive tone.

"You friends?"

"Yeah. Don't know why, sometimes."

A chuckle. "I think most friendships go through a phase like that."

A nod. Tap-tap-a ... beep. Ba-beep.

"Though I think most of us ... the crew here? Have very little in terms of close family or friends, to be honest. We may not come back home for years, once we get way out there." A pause. "You don't agree to a prospect like that unless you have no attachments."

"So, you think furs go into space to run away?" he asked.

"Not necessarily. Could be. Or maybe they're trying to find something ... " Giving him a warm look as the power came back on. The warp core whirring, glowing. Lights brightening.

The main doors went 'whoosh,' and Kody entered, carrying a med-kit. "Am I interrupting?" he asked, curiously.

"No," the two squirrels said, in squeaky unison.

"M'kay ... " Saying it with a slow drawl. Kneeling down near the raccoon. Running a churring scanner over his body. "Just got knocked out. He'll have a headache. I'm sure they all will." Whipping out a hypo, now. Pressing it to the coon's neck. Hiss. And the bandit-masked fur blinked, groggily. While Kody crawled to the next prostrate engineer. "You two gonna help?" he asked, of Wren and Rella. "Or watch my tail?"

"As much as I'd love to do the latter," Wren said, dryly, "I'm going back to the bridge. We're leaving in an hour. For real, this time." He began scampering for the door.

"I'll watch your tail," Rella offered, teasingly, to Kody.

Wren glared at her, pausing.

"Or ... uh, maybe I'll accompany the Captain back to the bridge!" She bounded after him. And they both left.

The ship was underway, finally. Moving toward an uninhabited world. One of many stops on their way to the Federation border. Luminous would offer a deep-space presence, tactically, scientifically. Politically. Basically, make a show of giving prey their own ship and get them the hell away. Out of sight, out of mind. But it was progress, right? Even if only a little bit.