FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

"Is he going to survive?"

"I'm trying to stabilize his pulse. I'm ... " Yates exhaled, sharply. "I'm doing my best." Reverie's medical officer shook her head in disbelief. "He's lost so much blood." From the neck, especially. "He's lucky he's not already dead. She almost got the main artery ... "

Graham nodded grimly, trying to stay out of the way. But feeling, on some level, responsible for all of this. I'm the only who asked him to fill in for Sheila. Just as I asked Yates to fill in for Barrow.

The computer beeped, beeped. Faster, faster! Keeping track of his vitals. Warnings began to sound, filling the infirmary. "Oh, God. No, no ... come on, Jale. Stay with me ... please ... " The opossum's pink, black-padded paws dripped thickly with crimson. She hadn't had time to find gloves or disinfect. His blood was all over her arms. Everything had happened so fast! She began to panic. The urge to 'play dead' and join the wolverine in his comatose state began to fill her mind. Don't pass out, don't pass out ...

Annika, coming up behind Graham, whispered, "I've spoken with Seward. We have Reverie on short-range sensors. She's blocking all communications, of course. But we can track her for several more hours."

"Make sure Aria gets all the information she needs."

"I've already instructed Seldovia to send everything Arctic's way."

"Come on, come on ... " The opossum fumbled with a defibrillator, now. Then gave up, grabbing a hypo, instead, hurriedly pressing it to Jale's arm. It hissed. She glanced at his vitals. Stabilize, she screamed inwardly! She had seen some nasty injuries in her time. But nothing like this. Advent had absolutely carved the wolverine up. Wounds and gashes all over. His uniform was in tatters. She'd had to remove it, leaving him mostly naked, his fur matted and stained. She shook her head. "Dammit." She began prodding him with a dermal regenerator, again. As soon as she fixed one injury, she'd find another. I'm just a basic medic. With remedial training. Bumps and bruises and sniffles. That's it! This is above my expertise. I need help. I can't do this alone. "I'm gonna lose him if I don't get a transfer going. Where's ... where's the doctor?" she asked, losing her composure.

"Here!" The infirmary doors had already swished open. "I'm here! I'm here," Barrow, the periwinkle bat, panted. He flapped forward. His fur was wet, as if he'd just showered. Uniform wasn't entirely fastened, either, showing a healthy patch of blue chest-fur. "What's his condition?"

Yates filled him in as best she could, with Graham and Annika adding pertinent details.

"Wolverines are mustelids," Barrow stated. "His body will only accept blood from another. Are there any other mustelids on the station?" You should know the answer to that! Yeah, except that my newly minted mate is deeply in heat and I wasn't exactly anticipating being called in for life-saving surgery. I'm a bit out of it. Give me a damn break.

"At least two," Annika answered. "Seldovia and Dobson." Skunk and otter. There may have been one or two others on the visiting civilian ships, but she wasn't sure. She hadn't gone over their manifests.

"Get one of them in here. Now," the bat ordered.

The female snow rabbit nodded and hopped away as quickly as she could.

Yates, seeing that Barrow had taken control, finally wandered away from the bio-bed. Her bloody paws were shaking. She went to the nearest sanitizing station and scrubbed them clean. But it didn't help. She felt no better. Finding an empty bed in the corner, she sat on it, hanging her head and curling her tail. Her ghostly-patterned features accentuated her sadness.

"I just need the blood," Barrow muttered. Yates had done a decent job patching him up. He was quickly fixing whatever she'd missed.

The infirmary doors opened, and a new wave of furs entered. Talkeetna and Sheila.

"You shouldn't be here," Graham told the silver hare, as matter of protocol.

"If I had," she spat, angrily, "none of this would've happened!" Her breasts heaved. Paws clenching at her sides. "Advent was a liability from the start. She never should've been allowed to stay." This is my fault. I'm the only one on the station who could handle Advent. I would've kicked her furry ass! I've done it before. If only I hadn't been in heat. Damn you, nature! Fuck you, love! While I was sprawled so comfortably in bed, being all 'sweet and sassy' with blue butt over there, one crew-fur was possibly murdered and two others kidnapped. If only I'd been in Jale's place ...

Graham, taken aback by his security chief's vitriol, could only ask, "Are you blaming me?"

Sheila crossed her arms. "Blaming myself," she answered, tersely, padding to Barrow.

Graham clenched his jaw.

"It's not your fault," Talkeetna insisted to the commander. "Or hers."

He raised a snowy brow at the red squirrel. "What makes you say that?"

Voice deflated, expression sullen, she replied, "Because it's on me." I never should've left Reverie un-staffed. If I'd ordered at least two crew-furs to stay there at all times, maybe it would've made Advent's hijacking a lot harder. Or maybe Peregrine and Petra never would've been discouraged from going there in the first place. I know what they were doing. Does anyone else? I've known Peregrine too long. Horny-eared idiot. Her gloriously-bushy tail swished and wavered. "It's on Perry and Petra, too. It's on Jale for not taking Advent as seriously as Sheila would've." The squirrel shrugged helplessly. "It's on everyone. But, mostly, it's on Advent. We gave her a chance to have a home. To be part of our family. She abused our good faith. How can we be blamed for trying to do the right thing?"

Sheila's tall, distinguished ears listened to Talkeetna's reasonable lament while her eyes watched Barrow's face. Sweat was matting his forehead-fur. Due to the rising temperature in the room and the adrenaline coursing through his body. His sweeping, angular ears tilted this way and that. The hare searched around for a clean cloth and patted it along his face.

"Thanks," he told her.

"It's for Jale. Don't want your sweat getting in his wounds," she said.

"And here I wondered if you'd gone soft when you agreed to be my mate," he breathed, allowing himself a momentary grin. "Glad to see I was wrong."

Sheila just scoffed and turned back to Graham and Talkeetna. "So, what now? We're not just gonna stand here and fiddle with our tails feeling sorry for ourselves, are we? When are we going after them?" the silver hare demanded, ready for action. Like Barrow, she was freshly showered. But clearly still in heat. The scent was scintillatingly obvious. And her emotional state was notably more frazzled than usual. She exhaled, raggedly. Was it warm in here? She needed to be patted down with a towel more than Barrow did.

"We have no ships to pursue them with," the commander replied, simply. Trying to stay logical, as was a snow rabbit's wont. "Only a shuttle-pod or two, and they don't have warp capability. And we have no authority with which to commandeer the civilian vessels. There is nothing we can do from our end other than gather information and pick up the pieces."

"I won't accept that! We can't just let her get away!"

"I am well aware of that, lieutenant-commander. And she won't." Annoyance began to show in his tone. Talkeetna was right. This wasn't anybody's fault but the perpetrator's. They could pass around blame all they want, but it wasn't going to solve anything. We have to stay on the same page. We have to trust each other. We've come too far together to splinter now. "Captain Aria's taking care of it for us. Arctic is the fastest ship in the High Command. And heavily armed. She's crossing over into the UT as we speak and should intercept Reverie well before it reaches its destination. Once apprehended, the freighter and everyone on it will be brought back to Redwing."

The hare's eyes darted. "Hmm." Well. This seemed to placate her, but she still wanted to know, "What is its destination, exactly? Reverie's?"

Graham sighed, exchanging a glance with Talkeetna. Then with Sheila. "Seldovia has reason to believe Advent was in communication with the Syndicate."

"What? How?" The hare went a bit bug-eyed.

"I don't know."

"Bet she probably fucked the information out of some random civilian." With all the guests they'd been getting lately, odds were good that more than a few had run into Syndicate bats at one time or another. "I'll fucking kill her," the hare swore, enunciating her words.

"Nah, ya won't. Cause I will," someone insisted, the doors opening again. Commer. Reverie's chief engineer. The normally gregarious bear was brimming with anger of his own. And why not? His best bud was near to death. And his captain was headed toward a very, very bad place. He knew what the Syndicate was capable of. He'd heard enough first-paw accounts. He'd seen the evidence. "Assumin' yer Arctic can save the day."

"She will," Graham promised.

"Sir," Sheila said, squinting as something occurred to her.

"Yes?"

"They're coming."

Everyone looked at her. Even Barrow for a moment.

"The Syndicate. This is all a game to them, right? This was their first move. They're clearing out a few of the pieces. Using them to get as much information as they can about our situation and armaments." She nodded, certainly, fluff-tail flickering high. "We're next."

"How much time do you think we have?" Talkeetna wondered. The red squirrel had been around the block. But wasn't nearly as world-weary as the hare.

"Week. Two at tops. They know the High Command's paw-hold in the UT is almost a success. If we get any stronger, they'll have to commit more resources. Now's the time for them to strike."

After a moment, knowing she was right, Graham told her, "Draw up a defense plan. But do it from your quarters until you've, uh ... cooled down," he said, diplomatically, clearing his throat and raising a paw to keep her from objecting. Her scent was starting to arouse the males in the room. It was obvious on their faces. Including his. "Please."

The hare wasn't going to argue that. I don't need to be humping anyone I don't need to hump. We have enough awkward problems as it is. So, she strode past them all and out of the infirmary.

Annika reentered almost simultaneously, Dobson in tow. "I have him. He was closer than Seldovia." And, frankly, more disposable. The skunk was currently in Ops communicating with Arctic. Herkimer was with Seward. The ambassador had made sure everyone was accounted for.

"What, uh ... what can I do to help?" the sleek, flummoxed otter said, eyes wide with curiosity and concern. He glanced at the wolverine's bloody, unmoving body. "Oh, gosh!"

"Hook him up to an IV. We have to begin the transfer," Barrow said. When everyone stood around, he flapped his sky-blue wing arms with urgent annoyance. "Somebody? Yates?"

"Is this going to hurt?" Dobson asked, nervously, rudder-tail lifting to attention.

"S-sorry ... " The opossum skittered back onto the scene.

"You'll be fine. Just close your eyes if you get squeamish," Barrow told the otter.

Commer reached out to touch a paw to Yates' back, reassuringly. "Hun," he whispered. He knew the wolverine and opossum had recently begun an intimate relationship.

She shirked, however. She didn't want to commiserate with the bear, with whom she'd also bred. She didn't want his pity. All she wanted was for Jale to survive.

The door chimed.

Outside the windows, the stars were streaking like golden arrows in the black void of space. They were moving. Fast.

"Come in."

Elim, Arctic's first officer and tactical chief, and as well as the captain's occasional second lover, entered her ready room and folded his paws behind his back. "I see we've crossed over into the UT."

"We have." Aria didn't bother looking up. Eyes scanning readouts and documents. "I didn't have time to hold a briefing. I trust you've seen the report from Redwing?"

"I have."

"We've no choice but to assist them." She finally raised her ice-blue gaze. "If we don't, they're guaranteed to fall. And the High Command places a sizable degree of importance on the stability of the station's mission."

"I'm not questioning Redwing's value. The core officers on that station have High Command commissions. They took the same oath we did. We cannot abandon them."

"But?"

"Nor can we abandon the border. The Syndicate will use the lack of a security presence as an excuse to make incursions, rile up unrest on the colonies." And who knew what else?

"Agreed. Which is why I've just spoken with Admiral Flint on sup-space," she reassured him. "There's a starship within half-a-day's travel. She'll slot right into our patrol route. Cover for us while we're gone."

The male snow rabbit raised a brow. "What ship?" He hadn't known any major starships were in the area.

"Luminous." Captained by a squirrel, Wren. With Commander Field as first officer. They'd made quite a name for themselves during the Wasp War. Aria had dealt with them on several occasions. "She'd just arrived in the region to perform some diplomatic work and aid in restoring outdated infrastructure on nearby planets. She's being redirected."

"Luminous is of Federation design, isn't she?"

"She's been retrofitted. And I trust the crew."

"To what degree?"

"Enough to hold down the fort."

"Very well." He knew better than to argue with her.

"You seem agitated." Aria scooted her chair away from her desk. She stood up, smoothing her uniform and padding around to him.

"Is it that easy to tell?" His ears twiddled.

"Do you not believe we will succeed?"

"I'm not concerned about us. I am simply anticipating our enemy's tactics. The bats will attempt to tap into our minds. Distract us. Control us. Unleash our feral emotions. We do not have shields or weapons to prevent that."

"Then I suppose we will have to 'incapacitate' them before they get a chance to use their powers." She turned around and went back behind her desk, crossing her arms and remaining upright.

"I had come to that conclusion, as well. But it seemed so ruthless in my head." A pause. "It seems even more so when spoken aloud." When did we, as prey, start acting like predators? Is that what it takes to survive anymore? Is that the cost of victory?

Aria nodded, grimly. "It's not ideal. However, I believe we can defeat them without killing them."

"How?"

A hesitation. "Back during the latter stages of the Wasp War, when we were using rogue bats to disrupt the Queen's signals to her drones, a few of the wasp vessels countered our first attempts by sending radiation pulses at our ships just before their commands were blocked. The snow rabbits onboard were fine. The bats, however, suffered ... mental impairment."

"Impairment?"

"Brain damage. Particularly, they lost their telepathic abilities."

"I would think, for a bat, that would be reason for suicide," Elim whispered.

Aria paused, uncomfortably. "Some did take their lives in the days that followed. They couldn't handle the silence. The loneliness. But it wasn't enough to derail the plan. The rogues adapted and became much quicker at inserting themselves between the drones and the Queen, so it never happened again. But, still ... "

"Are you saying the High Command has the technology to distribute this radiation?"

"They believe so, yes."

Elim paused. "Is that ethical?"

"More ethical than killing, I would think," Aria responded, firmly.

"But what if we accidentally expose bats who wish us no harm?" he asked.

"If they are on a Syndicate vessel, they've made their intentions clear."

"Their telepathy is inherent to their identity. Not only that, but it plays an integral part in the way they breed." Could bats even separate sex from mental bonding? "We'd be sentencing them to ... "

" ... I know what we'd be doing." She sighed. "I'm not saying we'll definitely use the technology. Or that it will even work. It may be useless. It's not like the High Command had tested it on actual subjects."

"I would hope not."

"We're simply using data we gathered from the wasps. The information's been sent to your tactical database. I want it ready to use if we're left with no other choice. A last resort." Hopefully, traditional weapons and tactics would be enough to prevail.

"Of course."

"The Syndicate is nothing more than a large, powerful mob, Elim. They're terrorists. We can't negotiate with them." It would set such a bad precedent. "I know." He went to her desk, extending his white-furred paws.

She came forward, as well, and took them. And squeezed. "We have been through much worse together. We will get through this."

"But we weren't in love then. You, me, or Ross," he said, of Aria's mousey mate. "I feel like the stakes have been raised. Used to be, I had no one to lose. Now I do."

The female snow rabbit eyed him with affection. Then released his paws and said, "You'll notify me when we get within range of Reverie?"

Elim nodded, making for the door. "I'll keep an eye out for potential traps, as well. And, Aria ... " He glanced over his shoulder, bobtail flickering.

"Yes?"

"You should rest while you can. For a few hours, at least. The next few days may prove to be quite stressful. We need our captain at the top of her form."

She bowed her head.

Elim went back onto the bridge.

After a moment, she took a deep breath and tapped her comm-badge. "Aria to Ross."

"Yeah?" the mouse squeaked.

Her eyes glimmered. "Would you care for a quick snack?"

She lowered her pink-furred head. Nostrils flaring. Hilting her muzzle around his essence. And suckled, relentlessly.

Marcus panted, watching her. Willow. Janna's science officer. They'd started flirting a few weeks ago. Innocently enough. In passing. But, as often happened, one thing led to another. It was getting harder and harder to stay away. The more they bit each other, the stronger the mental bond became. He'd been on a lot of assignments. He'd had some flings, sure, but he'd never allowed himself to get this deep with anyone. Which is why he was so worried.

Willow moaned, throatily, vibrating around him before bobbing a few times and twisting off. She panted on his thigh, comfortably on her knees between his legs. "You're distracted," she panted, reaching her wing-arms up his sides. His pants were down but his uniform-top was still on.

"Mm?" He blinked, hazily.

"And it's not because of me." She looked up, bashfully. "You're not enjoying this, are you?"

"I certainly am," Marcus promised, meeting her gaze with a sweetness that never saw the light of day when he was working. No, when he was on duty, he was a blank slate, cold, business-like. But not behind closed doors. Not in her quarters, on her couch. With his pride being lavished by her touch. "I'm erect, aren't I?"

"True ... " The female bat glanced at his cock and took another slow, swirling lick. No tongue rivaled a bat's tongue.

"Ah-h ... see, right there? Very, very," he stressed, almost squeaking it, "enjoyable."

"I love how you taste. Love loosening you up," she told him. "But you'd have even more fun if you let that dark cloud leave your mind." She rested her chin in his lap, again. "Tell me what's wrong. I can sense your thoughts. If you don't tell me, I'll take it from you." Her telepathic feelers invisibly hovered around his brain.

He sighed and draped his wing-arms over her shoulders and down her back. How to phrase this? "How much do you trust Janna?"

"Janna?" she echoed, fearfully. She lifted her candy-pink head, withdrawing to her haunches.

"Well, there's my answer," Marcus muttered. That was quick. Not that he hadn't already known. Everyone on board feared her. It's how the psychopath kept in power. She was the most-talented telepath on the ship. Extremely proficient. She always got results. "Forget I mentioned it."

"She found out about us, didn't she? She got it from me?"

Marcus didn't reply.

Willow hung her head. "I should've been stronger with my thoughts. I just get carried away, and I fantasize, and ... "

"I fantasize about you, too," he soothed, lifting her chin. "There's nothing wrong with that."

"You don't care who knows?" the pink-furred bat asked, vulnerably. "I mean, I'm just ... I'm not even an operative. Not like Janna. Or you. I'm just a lowly science officer. Not the most-glamorous position in the Syndicate." Not exactly 'in demand.' The Syndicate was more about keeping itself in power. Expanding its base. They weren't a group interested in exploration. I'm easily replaceable. Janna would get rid of me in an instant if I upset her. She swallowed, heart skipping a beat. Should I start sleeping with one eye open?

"I demand you. You're bright and genuine, which is a rare quality to find in these parts," he told her. "And you're very, very pretty."

She sipped her snout, beaming happily. "I bet you tell that to every female you meet."

Marcus shook his head, slowly. "When this mission is over and I go wherever the Quorum sends me next? I'm taking you with me. I promise. We'll both be rid of her. We just have to make it through the next week or so." Once they confiscated Redwing Station and Janna predictably appointed herself its new overlord, he'd ask for a new assignment. Someone else could baby-sit her.

"You always know what to do, Marcus. You're so noble. You're the only one who stands up to her. If more bats were like you, the Syndicate could remain in power without alienating those around us. We could protect our species and be ourselves in public without ... " Well, without all the needless mind games. She nosed Marcus' stiffness. It had gone down a bit. But that could be easily remedied.

"Flattery, my dear, will get you ... " Screwed silly come evening, when we're both off-duty. When we have more time. But, no, I can't say that out loud. I'm one of the upper echelon, aren't I? Say something refined. "Well, it'll get you flattered right back."

"I'm hoping so. You owe me." She giggled and smiled, snaking her long, wet tongue around the base of his shaft, allowing it to circle its way upward. Then her muzzle descended over his glans, lips meeting the shaft as she sunk down, burying her nose in his thick, blue loin-fur before pulling back. "Mm-h." Then repeating herself until she found an unbroken rhythm.

"Oh." He licked his fangs, reaching his telepathic feelers into her mind. She reached hers back. Their emotions entwining. "Oh-h, yes ... " This feels good. He nodded, hazily. And for the time being, forgot who Janna even was.

"You okay?"

Yates didn't answer. Just sat up, dark rings around her eyes. But, then, that was just the pattern of her fur. It didn't necessarily mean she was tired.

Reading her mind, though, Barrow knew for sure. "You're exhausted. Hungry. You haven't left the infirmary since I arrived." He nodded at the exit. "Go get some air."

"Yeah, no, I'm, uh ... " The opossum fought back a yawn, staying put. "Yeah. I'm alright."

"Mm. If you insist," the blue-furred bat relented, joining her on the bio-bed.

"How is ... " The opossum faltered, glancing across the room. "How is he?"

"Jale's fine. He's gonna make it," Barrow assured her. "I'm positive. He got the blood in time. All the wounds are healed. He'll be weak for a good while, but that's to be expected. He's a fighter, though."

"Heh." She sniffed, rubbing her eyes. Becoming emotional. Relief flooding her. "He ... he just doesn't know any better."

Barrow draped a strutted wing-arm around her.

She nodded her gratitude. Deep breaths. That's it. Calm down. Eventually, she blinked and pointed. "What about him?"

"Dobson?" Barrow withdrew the wing. "He's fine, too. Just passed out." The bat chuckled. The otter had one of the friendliest demeanors he'd encountered. He'd wanted to keep giving blood even as he grew woozy. As perfect as he is, I wonder how come he doesn't have a mate? I suppose I could enter his mind and find out. Maybe later. Yates was broadcasting some pretty strong emotions. He focused on her. "How long have you been together?"

"How'd you ... oh. Right."

"Yeah. But one doesn't need to be a telepath to see how worried you've been."

"We're not ... it's not like that. We're not 'together.' I mean, we're not mates." She gestured with her paws. "It's complicated," the opossum insisted. Jale had wanted her to be his 'pet,' at first. But she'd refused to call him 'master,' so the wolverine had said, 'Then I guess we gotta be fuck-buddies or somethin'. Only, it sounds weird to call a femme a 'buddy,' don't it?' She'd told him she didn't really care. She was fine spending time with him. If that's what he really wanted ...

Barrow smiled. "I know all too well. It used to be like that with me and Sheila."

"And how'd you simplify things?" the opossum wondered. She'd not spent much time around either of them, but the hare seemed perpetually cranky. And Barrow was pretty irreverent. It was amazing they got along at all. "What's your secret?"

"No secret. Just have a chemistry, I guess. We kept grinding at each other until our feelings were exposed. And once they were, well ... " He smiled. " ... I just kinda threw up my wings and surrendered. And she flicked up her 'white flag' of a tail. We stopped struggling and went with it."

"And the 'surrender' was mutual?"

"Mm-hmm."

"Was it worth it?"

"Most definitely," Barrow insisted.

"And why's that?"

Just then, the doctor's comm-badge chirruped. "Sheila to Barrow."

"Go ahead," he replied.

"I, uh ... I'm. Mm-h. I need your 'medical' assistance. Immediately." He'd been gone for hours. And her in the middle of estrus! She'd tried to draw up a defense plan for the coming Syndicate strike in their quarters. And had been doing pretty well, at first, but the fire burned through her. The need. God, she hated this. Makes me wish I was male. Almost. Regardless, she needed relief. And Barrow could provide it. "You hear me? Now!"

"Heh. Yeah, yeah. I'll be right there." He cut the channel and flashed the opossum a toothy grin. "You asked why it's worth it. That's why."

The opossum shook her head, mumbling, "It's just sex ... "

"Yeah, but it's with someone I've grown to care about." To love. To mate. "And that makes it something special. Something transcendent. Life is short. You don't get a chance to share those experiences often." He glanced at Jale, then thought about Petra and Peregrine. You just never knew what the day would bring. "All we have are our memories. Our experiences. I like the ones I make with her. And it's not just in bed, no. I'm not quite that shallow." He took a breath. "It's other things, too. But that's where everything comes together most perfectly. Pure, unfettered. Where we become such a part of each other that ... well ... " He seemed embarrassed, suddenly. A rare thing for him. "You get the idea," he muttered.

"I think so," she breathed.

"Anyway, if you truly like the things you make, the things you feel with Jale? Anything will be worth putting up with his odder moments. We all have our quirks. But we'd be pretty boring to each other without them, right?" With that, Barrow hopped up, stretching and chittering. "Mm. Think you can watch the infirmary while I'm gone?"

"Sure," she whispered.

"I'll stop back later."

"It's fine. I have nowhere to go. My ship's gone. My preferred partner is recovering from a near-death experience." A shaky smile. "I've got all the time in the universe."

"It'll get better," the bat assured her.

Yates nodded. I hope so. "Thank you. For the, uh ... well, the chat." And the advice. "You saved his life. I couldn't have done it on my own."

"No problem," the bat insisted, genially, before flapping off.

Left alone in the infirmary, Yates looked over to Jale's unconscious figure. Her smile vanished. She imagined the first words he'd say upon regaining consciousness. Probably something stupid. And she'd probably laugh in spite of herself. It'll get better? I suppose it has to. Things certainly couldn't get any worse.

"Thought you might like something to eat," Advent grumbled, lowering the force-field long enough to throw a ration-pack at Peregrine. It was no good to have the prisoners malnourished.

He frowned, squeaking as the 'food' bounced off his head. Mix-furred figure sitting on the floor. In the corner. Grey, brown. Cinnamon. It depended on how the light hit him. He always looked a bit different. His thin, ropy tail was looped around his ankle, ears swiveling subtly. "I think I'd prefer some clothes, instead."

She raised the force field, stepping back. Paws on hips. "What do you need them for? The most important part of you is tucked away in that pretty sheath," she jabbed, insultingly, getting a good look at his loins. He had big balls. Male rodents tended to. Herkimer did.

"And it would never come out for you," he shot back.

A hiss. "You're staying in the fur, mouse! It lets me be certain you're unarmed." And kept her at a psychological advantage.

"And where would I get weapons from when I'm locked up?" He was a much different mouse from Herkimer. Herky's ears would've been red by now. He would've been hugging his legs to his chest, modestly, trying to cover himself. Would've been twitching with anxiety, babbling about what to do. Advent shook her head. She'd never met a mouse that wasn't weak. Maybe this one just didn't know it yet. "Where are you taking us? Where's Petra?" Peregrine continued.

She lowered her arms, fluffy tail swaying at sudden, violent intervals. Answering both questions with one reply. "Somewhere else." She wasn't about to keep the two rodents within earshot. They might start plotting. Am I paranoid? Maybe. But after all I've been through in my life, I have a right to be.

"You really think you're going to get away with this?"

She turned to leave.

"Are you working with the Syndicate?" He stood up, approaching the force field.

The jaguar hesitated. Which was answer enough.

"They're using you!" he shouted, whiskers twitching. "Do you really think they're going to let you go? Their promises are empty. They're liars."

Advent tensed. Don't reply. Don't let him bait you. Just leave the room. Why can't you let things go?

"They don't maintain their power over the Uncharated Territories by letting others get their way. They're making you think this was your idea? It's theirs. They're manipulating you."

The feline spun around, claws unsheathing. "I'm the one that contacted them, smarty-mouse."

"And why's that?"

"Because they can get me out!"

"Life on Redwing's that bad, huh? Funny. Everyone else seems to like it there." Peregrine bent down and reached for the ration-pack. He frowned. Meat? She knows mouses don't eat meat. He hurled it at the wall.

"If you're hungry enough, you'll eat it," she told him.

"I'm not." He swallowed. That was a lie. He was hungry. But more than that, he was thirsty. And as much as he tried to pretend that being naked in front of her didn't bother him, it did. Just give me some boxer-briefs. Something. Some degree of decorum. "You never answered my question."

"You didn't ask one."

"Statement, then. Everyone likes it on Redwing. You don't."

"Yeah, well, 'everyone' doesn't like me. They never have. So, it was either hit rock bottom and whore myself out somewhere and spend years trying to get back to the top ... or make a power play. Get my old life back immediately. Regain all that I lost when the wasps mowed through the UT on their way into civilized space." Her ship. Her 'below the table' ventures. The plunders. The pleasures.

"You're living a delusion. You're never getting that back. The Syndicate is no more trustworthy than the wasps. They're just better actors." He took a deep breath. "You can still stop this."

"I'm not letting you go."

"I bet that's what you told Herkimer, too," Peregine said, pointedly.

Advent squinted. "Don't speak his name."

"I'm very good friends with Talkeetna. She's my first officer. She tells me things. We confide in each other. She told me how you abused him. Told him you owned him. She was worried she wouldn't be able to undo the psychological damage. She asked me what she should do. You know what I told her?"

"I don't care!"

"Then leave!" he squeaked.

"If you have something to say, say it!"

"I told her she just needed to treat him with respect. And return his love in kind. And, now, they're very happy together."

The jaguar trembled with rage.

"That's how you get furs to like you, Advent. You should try it sometime."

"You think I haven't?"

"I think your definitions of 'love' and 'respect' are all messed up. I don't know why. And, maybe, at one time, I would've feigned to care. But you've lost my sympathy."

"A jaguar doesn't change her spots. I am what I am. I'm a predator. A jungle beast. I warned everyone to get out of my way and no one did. Whose fault is that?"

"You just love being the victim, don't you? You want everyone to feel sorry for you because you feel sorry for yourself."

"I do what I need to do to survive."

"They're not gonna let you live, Advent. They're going to betray you. You know I'm right."

"I'm not letting you out of that cell," she repeated. Why are you still here? Leave the fucking room!

"You won't have to. Because Arctic will intercept us long before we reach the Syndicate convoy. And they'll board this ship. Drag you away. And free us." The mouse gave her a daringly bucktoothed smile. "But I'm sure you already accounted for that."

"You're lucky I don't beat you to a pulp like your little wolverine friend," she growled.

Peregrine's smile faded. "Jale? What'd you to do him?"

"I killed him," she insisted. When the fight had ended, he'd been bleeding dry. He'd been as good as dead, anyway.

The mouse's whiskers quivered.

Advent, seeing she'd gotten the last word, stormed out of the brig, huffing for air. Clenching her paws. She hadn't expected the mouse to be so, well ... mouthy. When she'd delivered food to Petra, the rat had given her a complete cold shoulder. Had just glared, menacingly. That rat was dangerous. Maybe even more than Sheila. She just hid it behind her lazy drawl. There was a reason the Syndicate wanted her back so badly.

So, why did you indulge Peregrine in conversation for so long? Is it because you feel guilty? Because you didn't think this plan through? He's right, you know. About everything. Arctic is fast enough. She'll get here before you make your rendezvous. But if he knows it and you know, won't the Syndicate know it, too? Won't they have accounted for that? Won't they have a trap ready? Or are they so cocky that they don't care. She entered a lift, tapping a button to whisk her to the bridge. Perhaps they want Arctic to come into the UT so they can launch an assault on the High Command border?

Whatever the case, they're playing the long game.

You're just a pawn.

I see that, now. I saw it before, but ... well ...

The lift opened, and she strolled onto the empty command center. And sat in the captain's chair. Like a queen in her throne. She crossed her legs and drummed her claws on the armrests. The Syndicate thinks they're so smart. But I'm at my best when I'm threatened. We'll see who's better at breaking the rules.