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The Wolf Hunters

Episode

4

Diversion

By

Lutrian

ver. 3.10

Six weeks out from earth, we had stopped at the Lessia VIIg orbital dockyard, so we could refuel, as well as effect minor repairs. Hyperdrives could be temperamental at times. Chief engineer Sam Cleary had to take everything offline in an attempt to determine why we were having trouble making it to 3000 times light speed, when our ship and drive configuration should be able to easily make it to 3800c. We had taken on a new crew member, DarylKasemsarn. He was a fast learner, but he generally stayed in his quarters when he wasn't in training or on duty. Daryl seemed to have been growing increasingly depressed, possibly cabin fever or being homesick. I was sure that the troubles with the ship's systems weren't helping matters. It had taken nearly all my effort and cajoling to get him to eat in the mess hall with me, as I tried to get him to open up.

He sat across the table from me, poking at his chicken cordon bleu with his fork, and sipping on a glass filled with a clear carbonated beverage. "It's, it's just..." He trailed off, then paused for a moment, deep in thought. "It's boring out here. And now we're stuck orbiting an ice moon while half our ship is being taken apart."

I nodded. "Well, look on the bright side. At least we're not being blown apart."

"My parents," he sighed. "They kept pushing me. I know I wouldn't cut it in the military, but I thought I needed the life experiences. Signing up for the Wolf Hunters, instead? Maybe that was a bad idea."

"Daryl," I tried to make eye contact, but Daryl tended to flinch, and look away. "I'm going to be taking the Blade of Truth out for a couple of days, to K'narys III. I'd love to teach you how to fly her. There's a small but sizable Lutrian presence in the main settlement, who love showing Humans a good time. I think participating in a t'chema would do you a lot of good."

"Ah, ah," Daryl stammered. "I, ah, I don't know. I don't think that would be my thing."

"Daryl, you're gonna shit neutronium pellets if you don't loosen up. You can't spend all your free time couped up in your quarters all day. You're just plain difficult. Come on. This would be good for you."

Daryl lowered his head, not saying anything, as he took another forkful of his stuffed chicken. It was no use. Like always, he just shut down. I gave him time to change his mind, but in the end, the rest of the meal was eaten in silence.

Since I knew that we were going to be stuck there for a while, I gave Daryl time to reconsider, which he ultimately never did. So the Blade of Truth stayed in her berth, like a dildo protruding from the back end of Sabre of Justice, as I tried to help Daryl as much as I could. How did it end up being a Zephenidian, in the end? What did Jurrukush do to get Daryl to open up?

* * * *

I sat alone in the mess hall, sipping my third rum and Coke in a row. It had been a good eight or nine hours, since my little adventure on the planet. Captain Benson had put me in charge of the guests, though at the moment, there wasn't anything for me to do. The FSA agents had the ship in semi-lockdown as they conducted a routine investigation. We did violate Alchoa City restricted airspace, and engaged in an unauthorized transport. There would probably be fines, involved. I was more worried about the female Zephenidian I had rescued. It seemed that she had been interviewed for hours, which was not good for a victim of rape and abuse to endure. The door slid open, with a sigh, behind me. I looked back to see an FSA officer in his dark blue uniform stride into the mess hall, carrying a small computer pad in his hand. I swung my legs over the bench of the table and got to my feet, to face him. "Can I help you, officer."

"I just talked to the captain. We're concluding our investigation. Your ship will be cleared for departure in a few hours."

"So, we're good, and everything?" I asked.

He nodded. "You could have gotten yourself killed down there. Don't do that kind of shit again."

"Yeah, I know. I just couldn't let the Zeph be abused like that. I wanted to be the hero, and I managed to pull it off this time. I doubt next time I'll be so lucky."

"The captain said that you were the one to care for the two Zephenidians. This was a first for me."

"What was?" I asked.

"Interviewing a Zephenidian, and I ended up with two of the damn wolves."

"So, ah," I thought about this a moment. "What did you think of them."

"I would not trust the female, if I were you. She was not merely the captain of a ship, she was an actual member of the Establishment of Prukak, as in, an insider. Nakhara Varf, or something like that, is her name. She may be okay, but just be cautious."

"What about the other Zeph, Jurrukush?" I asked.

The guy laughed. "I feel I could trust him with my life, and I'm not kidding. The female, ah, I, I, I don't know. Maybe she's just a bit damaged, or headstrong, ah, a mixture of both. Just don't turn your back on her. However, she is extremely valuable. We'd gladly take her off your hands, if we had the manpower and a ship, or at least decent facilities at our disposal to take her. Keep her safe and get her to Laeness IV as soon as you can."

"Ah, affirmative," I nodded.

"We're heading back to the station. You'll be cleared to leave within the hour. We could have, at the very least, had you fined for entering restricted airspace, but we're going to waive that, under the circumstances. Alchoa local police have also agreed to waive any fines and penalties as well."

"Thanks," I said. "Did you guys catch the creeps?"

"Oh, yeah. Interesting story on that one," he said. "Most of them surrendered without incident. One guy, not the owner, but his partner, climbed the fence and dove into the swamp. Let's just say, that his little song and dance ended on a sour note."

"I see." I said, as I thought about what the agent meant, and shuddered.

"The survivors will be facing very serious charges, and will probably be shipped to Laeness or Sol for trial. The other guy, we're not sure we're going to bother recovering the corpse from under a quarter ton of dead lampreys."

"I guess that's over with, I mean, other than our passengers. Well, thanks for your concern."

The officer sighed. "Right now, we're dealing with that other hornet's nest you stirred up."

"The pirate cats?" I asked.

The officer nodded.

"Did they attack another ship?"

"Not yet," said the officer. "But things are getting kinda ominous."

I knew what he was possibly touching on, was likely, privileged material, so I left it at that. "Well, thanks again," I said.

"You're welcome." The officer turned and strode to the door, which opened automatically, as he entered the corridor. I was relieved. None of us were being arrested, and I knew a bit more about our guests. Nakhara was the name of the Zephenidian I had rescued from slavery. Ship captain, or hhrff was one thing, but an actual member of the Establishment of Prukak? This made me worry about the Motricians, and whether they'd risk a deep incursion into Federation space to try to seize both Jurrukush and Nakhara.

The intercom beeped. "Captain Benson to Art. Please meet me in the Trans Con briefing room immediately." I got to my feet and hurried to the intercom wall panel.

* * * *

Captain Benson sat across the conference table, from me, at the computer console. Jurrukush sat to my right, with Daryl to my left. Me, the captain, and Daryl, all wore mindlink translators, though Daryl's long hair made his translator headband difficult to see. Daryl still seemed very shy of his relationship with the large wolf alien. Captain Benson looked at Jurrukush. "So you don't know why the_Establishment_ was out to kill you? They really wanted you dead."

"I, I think it was my mate they really wanted." answered Jurrukush. "Me, because of possible exposure to what he knew. There was an attack on the homeworld a couple of years ago. Niquentorians shot up a transit facility, then fired upon it with their ship, once they fled. They were apparently set off when they saw a Zephenidian leading a severely malnourished Chuthnu captive."

I remembered hearing about such an incident, since it was witnessed by a Human, probably the same malnourished one Jurrukush mentioned. He was recovered, along with a Zephenidian, from a small derelict, that was found near the edge of Federation space. This was one of the biggest news stories of 2150. I turned to Jurrukush. "The Human and the Zephenidian were rescued and are fine and safe."

Jurrukush turned to face me, displaying the Zephenidian equivalent of a toothy smile. "This pleases me. I am happy for the both of them?"

"The Zephenidian was extremely remorseful," I added.

He whined, as he threw an arm around me, and pushed me hard against his side. The fringe of long fur under his arm, and his mane practically covered me. As he released me, I actually began to envy Daryl a bit, as I felt my face flush. I heard Daryl trying to stifle a laugh.

Captain Benson sighed. "I'll never understand the lengths the_Establishment_ will go to kill undesirables. The Horace Archer and T'Khakh incident, a couple of years ago, involved a ship that the _Establishment_ordered deep into Federation space on a suicide mission. They'll destroy entire ships and crews just to kill one or two undesirables."

"Does sound like a lot of waste of resources to me." I added.

The captain got to his feet. "Okay, I'm going to adjourn the meeting, and excuse myself to the bridge. Art, I assume you have some things to discuss with Daryl and Jurrukush. Remember, you're in charge of our guests. I'm sure Daryl will help and manage Jurrukush. The other Zephenidian could be a handful."

"Got it, Captain." I said. I didn't feel that managing both the ship's navigation, and the guests would be a huge burden. Once we jumped to hyperspace, everything would mostly be on autopilot. The ship's computers could keep the ship on the proper heading, and would alert us to anything amiss.

"I'll contact you, when we're ready to disembark. You have your job cut out for you." He walked around the table and through the door.

"I've got two matters to discuss with the two of you," I said to the strange couple.

Daryl quietly nodded.

"The first matter. You don't have to hide anything from me. I've been in Lutrian orgies for fucks sake, since before both of you were even born. Don't be shy. You two can share spit, it won't bother me."

Daryl lowered his head and blushed.

"Come on, guys." I encouraged. "And the second, far more serious. You know how Coms officer Karen Brooks is a bigoted twat?"

Daryl, who fidgeted nervously, finally laughed and cracked a smile. "Yeah. Even before I met Jurrukush, she made me uncomfortable. I, ah, I mean, you did as well, but for different reasons. I mean, I kinda liked you, but I didn't feel I could trust you, but, ah."

"Karen almost got you two killed by being a stupid cunt. She agreed on a rather unique punishment." I figured Jurrukush would be a more appropriate "administrator" of the unique punishment, rather than the former slave, since I felt that she had already gone through enough, already. "It's up to you, since you two are mates, and I want you to be totally okay with it, or it's a no-go."

"Ah, you want Jurrukush to fuck her?" He turned to his wolfish boyfriend.

Jurrukush said, "I've never been into females, of my own species, nor any species."

"No, no," I said. "She has to make out with a Zephenidian for ten minutes, full on, open mouth kissing, tongue licking, slobber sharing fun."

"That's fucked up," said Daryl. "Serves her right, but it's up to Jurrukush."

Jurrukush got to his feet and walked over to Daryl and rested a large clawed hand on his back. "She sounds very unpleasant. I have to like someone to, as you say, 'make out' with him or her. I like you. IfErr-alll was okay with it, I would gladly 'make out' with you, even play with you. I'm sorry for taking you hostage. You have a great sense of humor though, and I'm glad you took it all in stride."

"Thanks, and you're welcome, and I accept your apology." I said, then sighed. "Stupid bitch may be getting off light this time. I'm not going to push the female to do it. She's already been through enough already." After a pause, where I watched the Zephenidian giving Daryl a back massage, I said, "Okay, meeting is adjourned. I need to check on Nakhara."

I exited into Trans Con, then turned and walked through the door into the main corridor. Since I wasn't on duty, I decided to head to the ladder well which was in a recess just before the bridge. Deck two, the crew deck, looked much like the deck above it, except most of the doors were spaced closer together. The front of the deck was the recreation room, mostly a gym with exercise equipment. Down the main corridor was an intersection, where I turned right. At the end of the corridor, was a door modified with a large unbreakable window, which could be locked from the outside.

The former slave sat on the shelf-like bed of the sleeping berth. Her manacles and leg irons were gone. She got to her feet and took two steps to the door. "Why am I confined?" she growled.

She was an imposing sight to be sure. Being slightly taller than Jurrukush, and over a head taller than me, she had to gaze down to make eye contact. Gray mottled fur covered her body, with much longer fur along her arms, which draped over her body. Her ears were large, and triangular, and her face was a lupine muzzle, with a black dog-like nose. The irises in her eyes were large and deep brown, showing little to no white. Her large canine teeth were visible as she glared at me, obviously upset by her confinement.

"We need to make sure you're safe." I responded. "I'm sorry. The crew is afraid of you. It's not my wish." Going against my better judgment, I decided to provide my own gesture of good will. Removing a small key fob, I waved it as a small glowing light on the right side of the door. The transparent door slid open. "I'm not letting you out, yet. Just coming in."

She stepped aside, as I entered her room. "You're letting the other Zephenidian have free run of your ship, but not me?"

"He's proven himself," I defended. "The crew has begun to know him. Some may even want him to join our crew. Hell, I do."

"But that Zephenidian is a primitive Ik'pakh!" she cursed.

That word did not fully translate, but my mind, instinctively, wanted to replace it with the word, "nigger." "No you don't!" I yelled. "I will not let you throw around a bunch of racist_Establishment_ bullshit!"

Nakhara was visibly shaken, and lowered her head.

"You know that, ten to fifteen percent of your crew, were probably the same race as Jurrukush. They just get their tails chopped off, right after birth, and they trim their manes and stuff as part of their normal grooming routine."

"But, but," she tried to futilely defend her viewpoint, before returning to the bed. She sat down heavily and sighed, as he lowered her face into her large furred hands. Her fingers, like all Zephenidians, were tipped with large bunt claws which would be of limited use as weapons, though great for digging, or giving awesome back massages. "I'm sorry." There was a long pause as she was lost in thought. I could feel a lot of mental turmoil through the mindlink translator, though I didn't try to push or pry. "Keep me confined!" she quietly said. "I'm sorry. I have to earn your trust, and to earn the trust of your crew."

I continued to stand in the doorway, just inside the room's threshold, as I watched her slowly get back to her feet. "I know, this is hard for you." I said, trying to be reassuring. "The 'animals' you hunted, used you as a rape toy, and now you're stuck in their brig. The Establishment of Prukak, who you venerated your whole life, and which you managed to rise into its ranks, is now the enemy. I know that you've lost friends."

Nakhara charged slamming me against the wall, then brought her muzzle less than an inch from my face. "Chuthnu!" she growled. She held me, pinned against the wall for a moment, as I began to shiver with fear. Suddenly, she raised her head, opened her jaws, wide, and wailed, screaming an ear piercing howl. She shoved me to the floor, and leaped on top of me. I was on the verge of yelling for security, not that they could have heard me above her scream. She fell onto me, grabbing me in a tight embrace, as she raised her head again, and howled. "Chuthnu!" she cried out, her voice shaking. "I, I had to eat my mate. The love of my life was in the pod with me. I had to eat his body, even as the meat grew foul. The other crew member was weak and dying. I tried to feed him, but it only made him vomit uncontrollably."

There was the sounds of footsteps running in the corridor, towards the room. "I, I think your screaming has summoned security."

She turned towards the door, and appeared to listen for a moment, then turned to gaze into my eyes. "I'm sorry. I still owe you, though." She brought her muzzle towards my face, and roughly licked my lips then gave my nose a light nip, before leaping off of me, before quickly pulling me to my feet.

Scot and a security officer I only vaguely knew, reached the door of the Zephenidian's quarters. Scot gave me a strange look. "What the hell were you doing to--"

"Nothing," I cut in, as I quickly wiped the Zephenidian mouth mucus off my lips, though I think I still had some on my nose. "I, ah, I hit a nerve and she freaked out."

"Well, the captain wants to see you. I think our friends have been busy."

"Aye," I said. I turned back to the Zephenidian, who leaned against the wall with her right hand. "I got to go to the bridge. We may have another crisis."

"Chuthnu, thank you. Thank you for listening."

"You're welcome," I said as I stepped into the corridor, and waved the key dongle at the light on the doorway. The clear door slid shut.

As I walked with the two security personal, towards the forward ladder well, the other officer asked, "What was that scream all about. I've never heard a Zephenidian do that, and I've shot many, myself."

I explained what happened to her in the escape pod, as we reached the ladder well. We ascended one by one, to the upper deck. Once I was through with the story, Scot and the other security guard, both, seemed utterly horrified. "That's fucked up," said Scot. "Eewwww." Both of the men waved, then headed off to continue their rounds. Scott did seem a bit more pleasant today, then in the past. Maybe he was still somewhat humbled from having been shot, when he was on that mission with Daryl. I entered the bridge to a barrage of noise.

Karen was at her console, trying to clean up a badly garbled stream of voices, static, and what sounded like explosions.

"Shields ineffective......port stabilizer destroyed." Sounds of explosions.

"We're...... atmosph." Loud roaring hiss and bursts of static.

"Shields! Are they even up!"

".... us around.....hyperspace."

"I got multiple coms chatter," said Karen.

"Art, we've got a big fucking problem," said Captain Benson from his command chair. "You can hear for yourself."

"We're losing her! We're-" A burst of static obliterated the rest of the message."

"Karen, try to raise them. Can you get through to Captain Bernhardt Smithfield."

"I'm trying!" she said. She was obviously exasperated as he worked at her console. "I'm getting silence now."

"God dammit!" yelled Captain Benson. "Art, get to the nav console. I don't think there's anything we can do. They're almost a hundred light years away, but just in case. I don't know. Fuck!"

As I took my seat at the navigation console, I asked, "What's happening."

"A Wolf Hunter engagement. Tarkus system again. Captain Bernhardt Smithfield had gathered a small fleet to engage a hunter pack. I think our friends crashed their party."

"The Motricians?" I asked. "Fuck!"

The mood on the bridge grew somber as Karen tried to hail any surviving vessels. I glanced at my nav console, and checked the Tarkus system. That system was well outside the range of the ship's long range scanners. At this range, the long range scanners were limited to navigation data, transmitted ship IDs, and hyperspatial wakes. Sensor buoys had been deployed in the Tarkus system, though they routinely failed, or were targeted and destroyed by enemy vessels.

"I got Captain Smithfield on the coms," said Karen. Audio only.

"Patch him through," said Captain Benson.

A gravelly voice could be heard, "This is Captain Bernhardt Smithfield. We just managed to escape into hyperspace, and we're heading to the Trans-Alchoa slipstream."

"What happened?" asked the Captain."

"Your fucking cat friends, that's what happened. We lost three scout ships, and our service craft was destroyed. We've sustained serious damage. Our life support is on backup, and our water tank was destroyed. We're looking at our options, provided we can shake off the cats. They're beginning to pursue."

"Do you need our assistance?" asked Captain Benson.

"I don't know what you can do." said Captain Smithfield. "It will take you at least ten days to reach us, and just over five days for us to reach you. If we can shake them off for a day or so, we can make it into the slipstream, and we'll be fine. Our biggest problem is drinking water, but I think we'll manage."

"Do you know why they attacked you?" asked Captain Benson.

"That's what scares the fuck out of me. They wouldn't answer hails, but instead, they just attacked. They got between us and the Zephenidian ships, then they tore into our fleet. We tried. Then our service craft was hit. One hit, and the shield generator blew up so violently, that all hands were lost, instantly. They weren't just defending the Zephenidian ships, they were going after ships that tried to flee. They want us dead!"

Captain Benson sighed. "Well, try to get your crew home. I'm going to attempt to hail the Motricians. Good luck and Godspeed."

"Thanks," said the voice from the com unit. "Captain Smithfield out."

Before the click even sounded, Captain Benson ordered, "Karen, try to raise the Motricians."

"Aye, sir," she said as she worked her console. "_Sabre of Justice_to Motrician vessel. Do you copy. Please respond!"

The captain got to his feet, and paced past the unoccupied weapons console, to the view screen, then back towards his seat. "This fucking sucks. I was hoping that after the Horace Archer incident, we could have some semblance of peace, so we can rebuild our ranks, and rebuild public confidence." He turned abruptly around at his seat, gazing out at the starry void of space. Part of the station extended ahead of us, glinting brightly in the sunlight. "Karen, anything?"

"They're not responding." She went back to work. "Sabre of Justice to Motrician vessel. You must respond. We demand you respond to us. It's no use."

The captain sighed. "I don't like this. We're stuck here for at least another day while they finish our resupply and repairs. Then we're going to be heading back to civilization to drop off two Zephenidians and Daryl. That's two weeks each way gone, though at least we can resupply our food fairly cheap. Maybe even look at upgrades. I really want that new hyperdrive. Maybe the bounty, rescue fee, whatever, for the female Zeph will get us that drive."

A voice crackled from the com unit. "This is captain Smithfield again. The cats have broken pursuit. They appear to be going after another wake. I, I don't think it's one of ours."

"They wouldn't be going after a Zephenidian ship, unless they're rendezvousing with it." Captain Benson mused aloud as he stood in front of his captains chair.

"Our tactical officer said that the wake just popped on the screen in the vicinity of a poorly mapped hyperspace rift. He thinks it may be pirates, as in, Human pirates."

Pirates. Some of the human colonies which were not registered, nor cataloged, and which no one knew about, were often pirate bases, and outposts. No one knew exactly how many of these, there were. They were mostly just an occasional nuisance on Human shipping, though usually they'd wait for the Zephenidians to raid ships, then they'd salvage. They often engaged in smuggling, and transporting contraband, like drugs. At other times, they competed with the Wolf Hunters for Zephenidian kills, though they were more interested in looting the wreckage. Only problem, they wouldn't uphold any of the principals that governed the Wolf Hunters. I'm sure these people would torture any Zephenidians they captured alive, or take them captive. This was likely how Nakhara wound up in that brothel. Then there were the clandestine stuff. Rogue scientists often worked for these types of people. Often these would involve highly illegal genetic experiments on humans and other sentient species as part of extreme forms of body modifications. People would travel to these groups, to have extreme body modifications done, using such techniques. Some come back as the freaks they wanted to be, others never came back.

"You know, Captain. The Motricians might not know the difference between the Wolf Hunters and pirates. If the Motricians are for some reason targeting our organization, maybe the pirates will divert them, and maybe they'll solve some of our, ah."

"Art," said Captain Benson. "Remember, people have died. We've lost three or four ships just now. Maybe the pirates will divert them, but all they'll likely be, is a diversion."

"Yeah, I know, sorry," I sighed, though I didn't want to fully back down from my previous point. "But maybe they'll attack the pirate groups, and the pirates will successfully take them out. I mean, we can only hope."

Captain Smithfield's voice crackled through the com unit. "I think your crew member is right. We need to keep monitoring the cats, and stay clear of them. Maybe the pirates will take care of them."

* * * *

Jake sat next to me in the cockpit, as I gazed at the scanners. Classic late 20th century rock music played softly from the ship's sound system. We concentrated on the task at hand. "They're coming in for another pass. Target the lead ship."

"Affirmative," said Jake. "I hate this shit, when we have to kill our own."

We had been escorting a freighter filled with scientific equipment and food, to the research station on Torresia II. However, a group of pirates decided to attempt a raid. The freighter was dropped from hyperspace by their mother ship, which didn't join the fray itself. The vessels we were engaging, were small single-seater, makeshift piles of junk, given form. Pirates were good at strapping old retired fusion engines to old makeshift cockpits, then sticking a fuel tank on its back, along with one or two, small, vehicle-mount weapons. The viewport flashed, as a ship, looking a bit like a cross between an old Star Wars movie Y-wing fighter, and a vacuum cleaner, sped towards us. Jake fired, but the streams of columnated plasma seared past the target as it sped past.

"They don't pack much of a punch," I observed. "But they're fast in close quarters." This was why Jake and I had taken the Blade of Truth into combat. These ships were difficult to hit, and we were dealing with about a dozen of them.

"Another one, locking plasma cannons." With a press of a button, a stream of blue-white slashed out, tearing one of the engines off the ship, along with half of its fuel tank. The small vessel flared as it came apart, the cockpit spinning out of control as it tumbled past us.

"Congrats!" I cheered. "How are our shields holding up."

"Shield," responded Art, reminding me that the Blade of Truth had only a single shield generator. This produced only a single shield segment, which had to be positioned between us and any incoming fire. "Slight heating in the generator," said Jake, "but pretty nominal. Only three of the ships have plasma weapons. Five of the ships have Vulcan canons, and the rest have single barreled coilguns. I think they bit off more than they can chew. The Sabre just took out another of the ships, one of the ones with a plasma cannon. They're retreating."

"Good work," I said. "Don't know why they thought they could take on a Wolf Hunter escort, but people can be idiots." I set a pursuit course, and watched as the view panned, and centered on a smattering of tiny points on the screen, with a brighter dash-shaped object, which was their mother ship. We didn't plan on pursuing them to their base or anything, just long enough to make sure they jumped into hyperspace. There was another matter on my mind. I was alone with Jake, and the music continued to play. I cared about him, and wanted to ask him out. Maybe it was the fact that I was a 21stcentury relic. People back then had to tread somewhat cautiously when asking someone of the same gender out on a date, especially if one didn't know the person's sexual orientation. Do I ask him out? Ahead, the tiny dots began to merge with the dash, as they began to dock. "I hope they think twice about engaging us." As I brought the ship around, and plotted a course back to the Sabre of Justice, I knew in my heart that I bungled another opportunity to ask Jake. This would be my last chance. Six days later, I'd be looking down at reddish-brown starburst pattern on the transporter pad.

* * * *

I awoke, with tears running down my face as I fought to control of my emotions. A metal object, shaped like a narrow, truncated cone, sat on my desk, next to the monitor, with its diffuse round glow around the tip, with a strange indistinct spark-like object, fluttering at the cone's tip. I stumbled into the tiny bathroom, and aimed my morning stream into the toilet.

It had been two days since the Motrician vessel had attacked the Wolf Hunter patrol. As for the Zephenidians, Jurrukush mostly stayed with Daryl in his quarters. I had been half-way avoiding the female Zephenidian, other than keeping up on her basic food needs. As I donned my uniform, I decided that stopping at the bridge would be a good idea.

As I entered the bridge, Captain Matt Benson and Karen Brooks stood near the entrance, with an unfamiliar man, embroiled in conversation.

"You know, Alchoa is the furthest large Federation settlement, and getting any kind of military support is like pulling teeth." The man said with a certain degree of disdain. "I'm not going to ask them to investigate, they'd just as soon arrest me, and anyone else they found, there."

"Helping you would be putting our two Zephenidian passengers in extreme peril." said the Captain. "One of the Zephenidians may be insanely valuable to the Federation, and the information she may provide, might even help your employers." The captain turned to me. "Welcome to the bridge. This is Jerrard Henningsen. We've got a bit of a situation, here."

"So, what's going on?" I asked.

Jerrardproduced a small data chit from the inside pocket of his long black trench coat. "I was waiting for your second of command to get here, before showing you this. A bit of espionage, snagged from the FSA." He handed it to Karen. "Play this on your console. Something the FSA intercepted, that I managed to get my hands, on."

"Aye," she said, as the took the small finger-sized device from Jerrard, and stepped over to her console, then sat in her seat. She plugged it in, and pressed a few buttons.

"They intercepted some communications from your cat friends about four days ago. Encrypted shit, but shit we recently compromised." said the man as he turned to watch Karen as she accessed the data. "This might explain that attack in the Tarkus system, a couple of days ago." Something about this fellow didn't sit well with me. Was it the black trench coat, which was common in Goth culture from early last century? Or was it, that, this man might be more than a typical pirate riffraff. There was also the fact that he was admitting that the data was obtained through very illegal means. Was he a pirate, or smuggler of some kind? Was he some kind of spy, or information peddler? I had no idea why he was here, and what he was proposing.

There was a hiss and some static. "....many losses near the outlet of the Khaash'narg Expanse, especially in recent ****s. We've lost over eight large ships, and many _Kha'Szhyk_class vessels. We can't afford such losses..."

"What about the refugees, you tasked us to capture or kill?" said a voice which sounded female, though it was being translated using computer software.

"Your track record has been poor, though I do understand your reluctance to cross too deeply into Chakharan space. Don't bother going too far out of your way to capture or kill these refugees, though you will receive large bonuses if you provide proof of their deaths."

"So, what do you propose?"

"250,000 **** minimum for each _Chuthnu_vessel you destroy, with increasing value based on the size of the vessel. This is in addition to any gear and materials you salvage and sell on whatever markets you use. You will also receive 1000 **** for each _Chuthnu_killed, 5000, if the meat is still good and in sufficient quantity."

I shuddered. "What the fuck?"

"This, ah, does seem irregular," said the Motrician captain. "They're ah, non-sentient, why?"

"Just do it, get paid, and don't ask too many questions. The _Establishment_and the Hunter Fleet is not going to be dismantled by a bunch of fucking apes that operate starships."

"Understood." said the Motrician. "Captain, _Hhrff_Zynarrkus Izsharrr out." The recording ended.

The exchange was deeply troubling, but also provided some insight of what sparked the attack in the Tarkus system. "Fucking Establishment of Prukak. When did they start acknowledging that Humans are sentient?" I asked.

The man turned to me and said, "From what I know, their higher ups have always known that this was a lie. And yeah, the _Establishment_actually know about the Wolf Hunters, and are specifically targeting them."

"Fuck, and you want us to protect your, whatever, crime empires, from the cats?" I asked.

"No, no," said the pirate. "I, I need your help on another matter. I heard that you guys want to upgrade your ship. Get a new shiny hyperdrive. There is the fact, you guys have a reputation that involves a bit more professionalism than the typical rank and file Wolf Hunter crew. Do this, and I will see to it, that you paid more than enough money to get your hyperdrive."

I was very skeptical. "Probably too good to believe." I sighed.

"Hear him out," said Captain Benson.

"I've not heard from my employers in two days. I want you to investigate."

"What do we need to do?" asked the captain.

"I will provide the coordinates to your navigator. I need you to go there, attempt to hail them, and if unsuccessful, transport to the planet's surface, and survey our facility. There, you will help them repair, or evacuate. We have a cache of equipment we will load onto your cargo hold, to aid in any repairs to their communications, power, and life support systems, along with the specialized environment suits needed to survive on the planet's surface."

I knew that there were at least five groups of pirates that operated in the region. One group was nomadic, operating and living out of an old freighter. The other four groups I've heard of, likely had bases on rogue planets, planets located in interstellar space, outside of any star systems. These planets were often very treacherous, especially the ones that still maintained an atmosphere. "So, where do you intend to send us?"

"I'll provide the coordinates to your console, if you agree. It's a planet located just inside the near edge of the Ashara-Tarr upwelling zone. Don't try to find it on your own. It's a lone rogue planet, which doesn't orbit any star. I can only provide you with two X438 Extreme Environment suits."

"What the hell!" I knew about the X438 suits. They were designed to allow one to work in environments up to five atmospheres, while maintaining a single atmosphere for the wearer. The suit was semi-rigid using a mesh design, and a powered reenforcement system. A type of vacuum foam provided insulation from extreme cold. Unfortunately, the suits insulation worked poorly in thicker atmospheres. "What kind of place are you-"

"Remember," said the man, "You'll only be able to survive on the planet's surface with this suit, for five minutes, maybe fifteen, if you wear warm survival garments under the suit. These are atmospheric semi-hardsuits, so you don't have to worry about trimix, decompression times, or anything like that. Expensive too. I will want them back when you're done."

I thought of an idea, which I decided to run past the captain. "If you can get someone else to watch the Zephenidians, I could take the_Blade of Truth_ and two other crew members to the planet and. I mean, I might not be able to bring all the gear, but I, ah. I ah..." I turned to the rogue. "I don't want to seem pessimistic, but I suspect something bad happened."

Captain Matt Benson shook his head. "The Blade won't make it out that far. She's only capable of running a week, maybe ten days, and she has less than half our speed."

"Captain," I protested. "I can do it. Remember, she has a fuel scoop. We can gas up on a few Jupiters on the way."

"Out of the question," said the captain. "You'd still run out of food, and we've never tested the fuel scoop. We don't even know how well the Blade of Truth would handle in the atmosphere of a gas giant."

"Any other ideas?" I asked. "What about Daryl, and the two Zephenidians. They're not going to be happy, and Daryl is going to be fucking scared. Don't forget, the FSA might not be too happy that they're not getting their prized Zeph, as soon as they hoped."

The captain turned to the man. "Do you intend to come with us? I don't exactly trust you, but if these are your employers, you might as well."

"I wasn't going to require that I tag along, but it would be best."

"Captain, is the Stellar Wind still in orbit?" I asked. "We could maybe send Daryl and Jurukush back. We'd still have to take care of the female Zeph. I just want those two to be safe."

"Yeah," said the captain. "I hope they won't hate me for this. Karen, raise the Stellar Wind."

* * * *

As I stepped off of the ladder, I glanced down the corridor, trying to locate Daryl's quarters. He was assigned to one of the two quarters with a queen-sized bed, on this deck. The quarters were aft, if I recalled, just over the starboard engine nacelle, alongside the mess hall. I followed the corridor to the intersection, took a left, and the next right. Ahead, Daryl and Jurukush were standing in the corridor, chatting with Carl Leifsson. As I approached, I saw Jurrukush slowly reach out and hug Carl. Carl's face turned a beat red, as he saw me approach.

"Carl, no need to be embarrassed." I assured him. "I was aggressively kissed by a Zeph a couple of days ago."

"Sorry, it's just," he trailed off.

I turned to Daryl. "You heard about the situation?"

"It's irresponsible," Daryl said, as he fidgeted in the doorway of the sleeping quarters. "The captain has a lot of nerve sending us back out there. But." He turned to Jurrukush, then looked back at me. "Ah, I don't know. I don't like this."

"The captain of the Stellar Wind has agreed to take you two back, ah, again. They should be heading out in a day or two." I hoped that Daryl would be happy with the news.

Daryl stopped in mid fidget, and cracked a smile. "That's great." He looked at Jurrukush, then back at me, and seemed lost in thought. "Is the Stellar Wind going to have a Wolf Hunter escort?"

I laughed. "They're going to be barreling deep into Federation space. They'll be safe."

"I'd feel safer if the starliner had an armed escort. I think the Motricians would go after them, possibly all the way to the Laeness system. Art, I'm scared!"

"I'm sorry. I did try to voice my concern to the captain, but this mission is very important. I may be required to slosh through an ocean of liquid methane while conducting a rescue operation, without turning myself into a block of ice."

Daryl turned and walked to the queen-sized bed, and heavily sat down with a sigh. Jurrukush headed into the room, sat next to Daryl, and held him close, his arm fur draping over Daryl's slim form.

Daryl looked up at me, as I stood in the doorway. "Ah, if, if I do go with you, along on this mission, could I resume duty? I'd feel safer if, ah, if I, ah..." he stammered.

"I'll ask the captain. You do know that the Stellar Wind will be safe. They're not going to be attacked this far in Federation space."

"I have a terrible feeling," said Daryl as he placed his arm around Jurrukush. "I think they're going to ignore us, and go after the starliner. And ah, Jurrukush would like to maybe work security. He can't read English, or Chakharan, and security doesn't require that he operate any consoles."

Daryl's decision to stay, along with his desire to return to duty, did take me by surprise. So far, most of the crew seemed totally fine with Jurrukush's presence, and most either accepted, or ignored, Daryl's relationship. I looked back at Daryl. "I'll discuss this with the captain. No promises. Oh, and will you promise to not be such a shut-in, this time around?"

Daryl chuckled slightly from where he was partially engulfed in Jurrukush's mane. "Ah, no promises."