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"Oh, I hate needles."

"Hold still."

"You would've thought that ... that there would be some way," Ketchy stammered, eyes darting, her adrenaline spiking. "You know, by now. You know, to get this stuff, uh, in me ... without a needle. Can't you put it in a drink? I can swallow it," she suggested.

Doctor Chavar rolled his eyes.

"Don't make me do this," Ketchy pleaded, at a whisper.

"It's time for everyone's general innoculations. Everyone's gotten theirs ... but you," he said precisely. "So ... raise your arm."

She did so, sighing. Reluctant. She was sitting on one of the medical beds, her legs and foot-paws swinging instead of staying still. Her bushy tail twitching.

"Hold still," the doctor repeated. He gave her a sort of smile. A familiar smile. He injected the needle into her arm.

Ketchy flinched, gritting her teeth. She squeezed her eyes shut, almost jerked her arm.

He gave the injection, pull the needle out, and sighed. "There. All done."

She opened her eyes.

"You're fine," Chavar insisted.

She made a face at him. "Apparently." She rubbed the fur near where the needle had penetrated her skin.

"Would you like a lollipop?"

Her eyes and ears perked. "You have some?"

"No," he replied, shrugging. He smiled. "I just thought I would tease you with the offer."

She shook her head and smiled, biting her lip and springing off the medical bed. "Well, I'm due back in Ops."

"I'll see you, then," he asked timidly. "Later?"

She stopped at the double-doors, which slid open from her proximity. She smiled softly and looked back to him. "Later," she whispered.

Though the others remarked how they were rather mis-matched, how Ketchy was so much more vibrant, more bubbly than the often-dreary doctor ... and though it didn't necessarily show ... the two of them had, through circumstance and coy attraction, come to be intimate. Though they, better than anyone aboard the station, managed to keep it private. They managed to separate their personal lives from their work. Both of them felt it was for the better.

Ketchy scurried out the door, calling back, "But no needles."

"Ma'am," said Lal.

"Don't call me ma'am. How many times have I told you ... "

"Captain," she corrected.

"You can call me Zari, Lal."

Lal sighed. "Zari," Lal corrected, not liking such informality. She was quite a formal squirrel, was Lal. She was very strict. Very organized. She did nothing casually. "There's a distress call," she continued, eyes darting over her controls. "There's an escape pod out there. It's drifting." Her eyes met Zari's. "One life sign."

"N'Kiri?"

She shook her head. "Mouse."

"Mouse," Zari whispered, frowning. "What's a mouse doing all the way out here? They're petrified of space travel." She looked to the floor. "They don't even like leaving the ground." She tilted her head at Lal. "Viewer," she indicated, turning her head to the screen. "Magnify." The resulting image caused the squirrel's whiskers to twitch. "Well," she said, with a sigh. "There may be a mouse in that thing. There may not be. But that's a N'Kiri design." Pause. "Malcolm?"

"Yes?" The squirrel peeked about, an engineering tool in his mouth. He had been running a diagnostic.

"Take a shuttle and retrieve that thing. Have a medical team go with you."

The squirrel nodded, spitting the tool out, into his paws, and setting it down. He stood and brushed his fur and moved for the lift.

"And be careful," Zari told him.

Malcolm gave her a smile. "I'll try."

"And don't be cheeky."

"I can't help it. It's my nature."

"Just go," she said, smiling.

He went.

Twenty minutes later, the mouse was on his back, on a medical bed. In the infirmary. He blinked awake, blink-blinking. Eyes darting. Zari, Malcolm, and Doctor Chavar were all standing over him, looking down at him. The mouse twitched and jerked. A fearful motion, as if preparing to dart. Malcolm held him down, shushing him.

"Who are you?" Zari asked gently, still peering down at him.

"Who ... who are you?" was the mouse's response. A question for a question.

"My name's Zari. I'm captain of this place. You're on a space station."

"Station?"

"Orca Sol. We're in orbit over Orcada."

The mouse shook his head, confused. His large ears swivelling.

"Who are you?" Zari repeated. "You were in an escape pod ... "

"They let me go."

"Who?"

"The wasps."

"The N'Kiri," she whispered, nodding. "You were their prisoner?"

"Since I was young ... since the first war. They took me during a raid on Earth, and they ... and now then they let me go."

"But why?"

The mouse shrugged. "I don't know. I don't care." He swallowed, eyes darting about. "You're squirrels."

"We all are," Zari told him, putting a paw on his shoulder. "What's your name?"

"I don't ... don't remember."

"You have to remember your name."

"I only have a number. They assigned me a number."

"Just how old were you," Doctor Chavar piped in, "When they took you?"

The mouse shrugged. "Eight. Nine. I don't ... don't know. Over ten years ago."

"Then, surely, you remember your name," Zari told him, squinting.

"They have ways of making you forget things. They do things ... they mess with your mind," the mouse explained, squeaking and shaking his head, eyes closed. He swallowed, opened his eyes. "I don't know. I don't ... " He shivered.

"Doctor," Zari whispered, looking at Chavar.

Chavar nodded. "I'm going to give you a sedative," he told the mouse. "It will help you rest. It'll ease your nerves, okay?"

The mouse shook, squeaking as the needle penetrated the fur on thin arm. His nose twitched pitifully.

"Watch over him, Doctor," Zari said quietly, watching the mouse with sympathy. "Keep me informed as to his progress. When he wakes, have him talk to Malcolm. We need to know," she said, watching as the mouse descended into a twitching slumber. "What he knows."

They met in an empty, dimmed science lab, during their lunch break. Chavar was standing. Ketchy was pinned to the wall, her foot-paws and legs off the ground, wrapped around her partner's waist. His paws supported her thighs and legs as he bucked into her.

"Is he gonna ... gonna be okay?" she panted, blinking. Swallowing.

"The mouse?" he panted back, kissing her cheek.

Ketchy nodded. Panting, turning her lips to kiss his nose, giving a lick to his face.

Chavar nodded, also, in response. His pulsing, stiff member plowing through her like a hot knife through butter. Sliding easily, deeply. Causing her to squirm and sigh. Such fluid, natural movement. It made her ears burn.

"Poor thing," Ketchy breathed, of the mouse. And then tilted her head and closed her eyes, moaning. She closed her mouth, done with talking. Held and humped by him. And finding his lips on hers, she kissed him. He kissed back. Soon, their mouths sucking each other. Both of them began to squeak.

"How much ... how much time left ... "

Ketchy scrunched her nose, her mind hazy. "Um ... seven minutes ... seven minutes 'til the end of ... oh," she gasped. "Lunch," she finished, swallowing. Whimpering. "Oh ... "

He clumsily increased his speed.

She leaned her head on his shoulder, eyes closed. Squeaking softly and holding to his fur. A minute or so later, he gave a little growl, giving off a squirrel-bark as he climaxed. Shooting into her. The palpable relief causing him to exhale and squeak, his paws sweaty.

The feeling of his spasms, of her insides being filled, and hearing and feeling his reactions and ... and it pushed Ketchy over the edge, too.

A chirp-chirp.

Chavar froze, taking a breath. The comm-system. His half-open eyes looked to Ketchy's closed eyes. She was in the throes of her orgasm. She nodded weakly at him, indicating that he had to take the call. That she could get through it.

Another chirp-chirp.

Chavar answered it, clearing his throat. "Yes?"

Ketchy, paws clutching to him, bit her lip. Her tail quivered. She wanted so badly to squeak. To squeak. Her body pulsed and rippled with pleasure. Her paws tingled. She bit her lip harder, knowing that if she opened her mouth ...

"Doctor, you're needed in the infirmary. There's been an accident."

"Um, yeah." He felt her spasms, which caused his knees to buckle. He almost squeaked out himself, still intermittently twitching inside her. But he held it back. He almost lost his breath "Yeah, I'll be right there," he said quickly, in his best professional tone. But obviously flustered. He waited a second, and then told Ketchy. "The comm-line's shut."

"Oh," she breathed, chittering. She squeaked. "Oh, my ... my word. I ... oh, I thought they were gonna hear us." She giggled, grinning. Sweating. Fluids dripped from her opening, down his member. To the floor. "You don't know how much willpower ... it took," she said, "To not make any sound when ... "

"You want a gold star," he said, grinning. Kissing her lips. Quieting her. "As a reward?"

"Does a gold star," she breathed, nibbling on his ear. "Mean I've passed the course?"

"Yes," he whispered back. "But you can take it again, for credit."

"How many times."

"As many times as you want."

She giggled, shaking her head. "We sound so stupid," she whispered to him. She giggled again, kissing his nose, arms still around his neck.

He blushed. "I have to go."

She nodded, a bit more serious. Taking a breath. "Yeah," she whispered, and he guided her off of him, sitting her gently on her rump, on the floor. While he hastily jumped back into his clothes. She groomed her tail and watched him, her whiskers twitching. Her eyes at a glow.

Chavar moved to leave.

"I love you," she called after him. Warmly. Softly. "You know?"

He paused, flushing. Touched. He smiled and looked to his foot-paws, and then to her. "Yeah," he whispered.

"I just figure I better say it, cause ... you know, who knows what might happen? And I do," she said, nodding. "And I want you to ... "

"I love you, too," he whispered back. Still flushed. He lingered, and took a shaky breath. "But I really have to go. To the ... "

"The infirmary," she said, nodding. Smiling. "I heard the call."

"Right," he said, smiling.

She giggled.

They paused, looking at each other. Breathing.

"I gotta go," he said again.

"Go," she told him, waving a paw. Twitching her tail. She wasn't dressed yet.

"I'll go," he said, moving for the door. Eyes still on her.

She giggled at how he bumbled. And took a deep, deep breath. Sighing. Her lunch break was almost over. And her stomach growled. "Next time we do this during a meal break," she said to herself and the empty room. "We'll have to incorporate our meal ... into the act." She nodded. And quickly finished grooming her tail, before dressing and scurrying out of the lab. Back to her post.

"But I thought the captain asked you to talk to him," Birch said, looking from the mouse, who was sitting on the medical bed on the other side of the infirmary. And then looking at Malcolm, who was a few inches taller than Birch was. "Not me."

"Yes, but ... look, he won't talk to me."

"I'm sure he will," said Birch, his voice trailing.

"Well, he's not telling me what I need to know. I think I intimidate him," Malcolm whispered, looking to the mouse. And then to Birch. "He's shy, but you can reach him."

"Because I'm the most mouse-like squirrel on the station," Birch said quietly. "Right?"

"You're not like a mouse."

"I am," Birch whispered. His eyes momentarily blank. He took a breath. "Anyway, it's okay."

"Look, I just think he would respond better to you ... than to the rest of us. You're gentle. Creatures open up around you. They feel safe."

Birch blushed, his paw slipping around Malcolm's.

"And I need to go back to Ops," Malcolm said.

Birch nodded, and nodded again. "Okay," he said softly. "I'll do it."

"Thanks," Malcolm said, lingering. "I don't think you're like a mouse. You're just as much a squirrel as ... "

"Look, even if you did, I wouldn't care," Birch replied. "It's okay ... this is," he said, taking a breath. "How come we never fight over big things? How come we always fight over ... small things."

"We're lovers of minutiae."

Birch smiled. Shrugged. And when Malcolm left, he sighed and turned to look at the mouse, padding toward him.

The mouse had very light-brown fur. And he was smaller than even Birch, who was smaller than the average squirrel.

"Hi," said Birch, sitting beside him on the medical bed.

The mouse twitch-twitched his nose and whiskers, sniffing the air. His ears swivelled. He held his thin tail in his paws.

"I'm Birch."

The mouse said nothing.

"You were talking to Malcolm earlier. He has to go, so ... you can talk to me."

The mouse nodded. "You held his paw."

"Yes."

"Why?"

Birch blushed and shrugged. "We're mates," he said quietly.

"Oh," went the mouse.

"Does that ... bother you?"

"No," said the mouse, after a second. His eyes darted about. Nervously. "Mice are very ... we're timid. We're very conservative," he explained.

Birch nodded. "I understand."

An uncomfortable silence.

Birch took a breath. "What's your name, then?"

"I don't remember."

"Not even ... not even a little bit?"

The mouse shook his head.

"So, you ... you didn't escape from the N'Kiri. They let you go?"

"Yes."

"Why would they do that?"

"I don't know," said the mouse. His voice was very timid and quiet. Always. "They said I was useless, and ... they set me adrift. So I could ponder before I died. Luckily, you found me," he said, shrugging. "You all, anyway."

"What did they do to you ... during all that time you were with them? All those years?"

"I'm sure you can guess."

The squirrel could. None of it was pretty.

"Every time I close my eyes, I can feel those ... those needle-like legs, those spindly legs ... like needles," the mouse repeated. "Going through my fur. And their wings, when they beat, they sound like dry, flapping paper, and ... and they smell like oil, and ... " He trembled, bringing his knees to his chest on the bed, tail still in paws. "I can't think of ... of touch, of ... without feeling them touching me." He bit his lip, eyes closed, and shook his head. As if trying to shake his memory clean. "It smells so nice in here, you know?" the mouse said, opening his eyes, looking around. "This place is so clean, and ... and to see fur again. You're not a mouse, but ... at least you're a rodent. At least ... " He took a breath. "I'm rambling, but ... "

"No, that's okay," Birch whispered.

"Everyone is so nice here," the mouse said, trailing, before piping up again, saying, "There's so much I want to say. They never talked to me. They just ... used me," he whispered. There was a sound of disgust in his voice. Birch wasn't sure if it was aimed at the wasps or at the mouse himself. If the mouse felt disgusted with himself. "I should've tried to get away. I was scared. I should've tried," the mouse said. "I couldn't kill myself. I was too afraid of the pain. I was too ... "

Birch shushed him, feeling a sharp pang of sympathy. "It's okay. You're not with them anymore."

The mouse nodded. Twitching. Unable to smile.

"You need a name."

"I don't have one."

"I know. That's why you need one." The squirrel looked at the mouse, tilting his head. Thinking. "How about ... Rye. I don't know why, but ... I think it suits you. Short and sweet." The squirrel offered a smile.

The mouse, for the first time, allowed a smile. A weak one, but a smile, nonetheless. "Rye," he said, trying out his new name. He nodded. "Okay."

"Now, Rye," said Birch. "We need to know things about the N'Kiri. About their technology, their society, any secrets ... we need to know. You're the only Earth creature to come out of N'Kiri space alive in the last ten years." The squirrel fished around for a paw-sized computer, pressing some buttons. A data recorder. "Will you talk about it?"

The mouse considered. "If it'll help."

"It will," Birch assured.

The mouse took a deep breath. Nodded. And began to tell of everything he knew about the N'Kiri.

In another part of the infirmary, Zari looked to Chavar. "What happened?" she asked, her voice a mask. Showing her seriousness, showing some kind of detachment. But underneath ... she was scared. She was hurting.

"Far as I can tell, Kodiak here," said the doctor, nodding at the unconscious squirrel, "Was hit with an energy discharge. It emanated from the N'Kiri escape pod. When he tried to download and access the computer files, the security system came on ... and shot him."

"He'll be okay?" she asked, holding her breath.

"He'll be on his foot-paws within the hour. I promise. He was heavily stunned, though."

She nodded, sighing. Relief. And she took a breath. And she padded to the wall, stopping. She turned around, leaning her back against it. She looked to the doctor. "This is why," she said, nodding at Kodiak. "This is why I make it a rule to never get involved. I assigned him to dissect that pod. It was my order. I could've given the order," she said, "That would've killed him."

"There are risks," said Chavar, shrugging, "To everything. Any one of us could be killed on any day. Doing anything."

"That's different. That's chance. This wasn't. I gave the order. It was concrete." Pause. She took a deep breath. "One of these days, I'm going to have to make a choice. I'm going to have to send him ... or maybe you, or anyone. Birch. Anyone," she said. "I'll have to send them into a situation ... where they have no hope of coming back. I would be sending them to certain death to save the rest of us. My first duty," she said, her voice cracking a bit, "Is to the station. And this crew. I cannot ... I cannot," she said, swallowing, blinking, "Get too close to any of you. I can't cloud my judgment like that. I am the one," she said, "They appointed me to make the hard choices," she whispered. "Do you understand," she asked him, looking to the floor, "What I'm saying?"

"You want me to validate your belief that you should withdraw into yourself? That you should burrow down deep? You want me to assure you that, if you don't get involved with those around you, you have no chance of getting hurt? Then, if you give an order that kills someone, you'll be pain-free?"

She looked to him.

"I can't do that. Didn't I hear somewhere, or maybe I read it ... if you're afraid of love, you're afraid of life. They are intricately intertwined. You cannot separate them."

"I don't ... "

"He knows," the doctor said, nodding at Kodiak, "His duty. You know yours. Everyone is here voluntarily. No one was conscripted. The risks are obvious, but ... I don't know what you want," he told her. "I don't know what could possibly soothe you."

"To be back home," she whispered. "On Earth. With him." She nodded at Kodiak. "Space is dangerous, doctor. In space," she said, nodding absently, "No one can hear you scream."

The doctor frowned, trying to figure out what she meant by that, exactly.

"Tell me when he wakes," she whispered, worried. She went toward Kodiak, who was still unconscious. He kissed him gingerly on the lips. And took a breath and stood up straight. "Well, is that all?"

"No," said the doctor, his voice suddenly grave. "There's one other thing."

Birch and Rye were interrupted by Zari and Chavar, who walked over.

"The doctor says he found this," she said, putting the small, chip-like device into Rye's paws. "Embedded in the fur on the back of your neck. It's a tracking device."

"I didn't know it was there," the mouse said timidly.

"How can I believe you?" Zari said.

"I believe him," offered Birch.

Zari shot him a look. Birch withered a bit, going quiet. Zari was in full captain mode. She turned her attention back to the mouse, her nose twitching with seriousness. "They set you adrift ... here, near us. Across the border. You didn't happen to drift across the border. That would've taken you weeks. No, they zipped across when we weren't looking, jettisoned the pod with you in it ... and retreated. And they knew that, once we'd found you, we would take you in. They knew we wouldn't leave you out there."

The mouse's nose and whiskers twitched. He shrunk back a bit.

"They knew we'd bring you aboard Orca Sol, so they planted a device in you. One that could scan and read and eavesdrop."

"But I didn't ... "

"I know you didn't know," she said, meeting his eyes. Softening. "I know that mice, as a rule, are strict with the truth. They don't lie. Am I right?"

Rye nodded.

"Well, I don't think ... you were involved in their plan, but ... the fact remains that you were let go because they planted that thing on you," she said, nodding at the chip, "And used you as an unwitting spy."

"Why would they do that?" Birch asked.

"They want detailed information. Our defenses. Our armament."

"But ... why would they need that information?" Birch asked again. "Unless ... "

"They're going to attack you," the mouse said.

The three squirrels all looked to him.

"They never told me as much, but ... why else? I'm sure that's why. You don't know how blood-thirsty they are, how aggressive." Pause. "So, they only let me go so ... they could use me? Again," the mouse whispered. Used. It was a nasty feeling.

"Yes," Zari whispered back to him, nodding slowly. Locking eyes with the mouse.

There was a pause.

"There's no way you can get back to Earth anytime soon," Zari told him. "You're a part of our frontier family now. If that's okay with you."

The mouse nodded. "That's fine," he said, expressionless.

"Birch," she whispered.

Birch raised his eyes.

"Find a room for him. Introduce him around. Get him acquainted."

Birch nodded.

"And, doctor," she said, turning to Chavar.

"I'll call you the moment he wakes."

She nodded, taking a deep breath. Her eyes a bit watery. But she blinked them clear and left the infirmary. She needed a glass of ice water.