FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

1

Today's mission: in search of the Locust and its first cargo on Cat Can City, the space shantytown.

"And she left meeeeee, for an other haulieeeeer," the possum drums his fingers against his control panel as he sings along, horribly off, with the radio, "Now all I haaaaaaave, is her holographiiiiies... and a! bro! ken! heeeeeaaaaaarth!" He doesn't remember the lyrics coming next, so he just hums enthusiastically and returns a bit of attention to his monitor. One of his ears perk as he notices a smaller ship approaching his big tanker without signaling itself on radio.

He shuts up and reaches a hand into the holographic display to "pull" it closer, zooming on the suspect visitor. This is a Knar-Seven-XL, one of the most common ship models thanks to its reasonable price and reliability but rarely used by pirates because its elegant thick-leaf shape exposes too many vital structures in case of a fight. Its white hull is lacking any distinctive sign, the Knar series being quite bare-bone in terms of customization options and fancy stickers or paints not taking an atmospheric entrance. Its transponder is also silent and it is not "waving its wings" to signal a radio problem.

"'leen, ready the defense system and scan around for cloaked baddies."

"Defenses are ready, scan is in process." His computer has a warm, feminine, voice. "SRDC laser detected from incoming ship."

This makes the pilot relax: the acronym stands for Short-Range Directional Communication and these lasers are not weapons but a private way to talk. Its receptor getting hooked by the ray, yellow lights pop up all over the SRDC console. He flicks a couple of switches on: "I don't do smuggling, guys, shoo! Shoo!"

The box returns a laugh, then: "Is this how you welcome all your old friends, Connor?"

"Vern?"

"The very one. Hi buddy! How about you tell your turrets to stop looking at me funny and open a video canal? I need a hand here."

"Come! Anchor yourself to me, I'll send you 'the tube' so we can talk face to face."

The huge lizard turns his SRDC off, then leaves the maneuver on auto and looks at his passenger. Strapped on an anti-g seat sized for a Kodo dragon and half buried into the self-shaping cushions, the gray cat looks minuscule. He needed to recover after his recent near-death experience and didn't want to disturb his pilot, so he remained silent and quiet... and eventually fell asleep lulled by the engine's vibrations, head tilted up and muzzle open, snoring softly.

Vern reaches a claw to flick his whiskers, only getting a nose wriggle. "Hey, Sleazy... little buddy, wake up. We'll transship for a while, you'll be able to walk some and get coffee."

There's a shake and a loud "clonk" when the magnetic anchors secure them to Connor's tanker. Without his belts, the cat would have jumped. "Eeek! Xolo attack!" He blinks, dazzled, the time to remember where he is; then calms down. "Sorry... I'm still a bit jumpy."

"I can see that. Its okay, I understand. You're safe here, we escaped for good."

The feline smiles with relief. "Nice. What's going on?"

"We're visiting one of my friends. We need some of his fuel," he raises his splinted arm, "and his medical bay. It hurts since the fight, I should have been more careful. Nothing too bad, don't worry."

Sleazy looks up. They are surrounded by a holographic bubble simulating the outer view and it feels like if they had no ship around them, despite all the control boxes and monitors in front of Vern. He sees the huge, blocky, khaki tanker and its mechanical arm guiding the transfer tube in the direction of a blinking red circle representing their exit lock.

His friend continues: "Well, we didn't have much time to chat so while we get connected, presentations are overdue! Sleazy, say hello to my ship Bravesteed. A trusty partner I traveled a lot with, I hope you'll get along!"

"I'm sure we will, we cats are the best to get along with AIs! Hi Bravesteed, nice meeting you!"

"And you, Bravesteed, say hello to my new friend and soon to be commercial associate Sleazy."

"Hello, Sleazy. I detect your specie is listed as a pest. You are drastically lowering my salubrity, please proceed to the garbage disposal lock."

The cat's ears fall down and he can't find a answer, taken aback by the unusually unfriendly machine.

Vern winces. "Oooookay. I guess some explanations are in order. As you might have guessed from its antics at the spaceport, Bravesteed is..." he needs a moment to find a diplomatic way to put this "...not your average ship AI."

"Yeah... I'm figuring that, now you point it..."

"You see, the robots have an excellent mastery of their... errrr, whatever is their secret technology to build their silicon brains. But even so it's not a one hundred percent consistent process."

"So, like, for every ten thousands good brains, they build a defective one?"

Bravesteed interrupts: "Correction: I am not defective. It's the nine thousands nine hundred ninety nine others that are."

"Shush! Stop fighting you two! Bravesteed is not defective, Sleazy, it wouldn't have been delivered otherwise. But let's say it... it has more character than a ship is supposed to have. Personally, I like it this way."

"You got it for cheap after its last captain couldn't bear it anymore, right?"

Fortunately, the tube's arrival gives Vern an excuse to avoid answering. These two, he thinks, will need some time to learn appreciating each-others.

Connor can pilot the highly automated tanker alone while in space but needs extra hands for the station maneuvers. Depending on the available workforce at his destinations, and on its price, he'll travel alone or with a team of dockers. Today, the corridors and rooms of "Big Charleen" are empty, giving it an eerie ghost-ship atmosphere.

The trio walks back from the medical bay where Vern got himself a real cast for his arm. "So you know what he said, that bastard? He said: 'Not again, Connor, use condoms damn it! You're delivering that fuel or you're fired!' And here I am again, on the roads when I should be at home taking care of my Mona... She's an angel, she always says it's okay, she understands... but I know she feels lonely when I'm away for this long. And what kind of father spends so little time home?"

Vern pats the possum's shoulder. "A loving father who has to work hard to feed so many mouths. How many ones was it this time?"

"Six of them! Four more little girls and two little boys... That's seventeen kids now. I can't wait to come back to them! I'll show you pictures, you'll see how precious they are!" He rummages into his pockets to pull out cheep prints.

Sleazy whistles, impressed, watching the still reddish and naked ugly possum babies. He sympathizes, and he likes this guy: Connor made no comment at all about his specie and welcomed him as a friend, asking no question. His look might be a clue about his nonjudgmental ways, the possum being as disheveled as the cat, as poorly clothed --in full of pockets dungarees-- and, impressively, smelling worse than him on a bad day.

They return to the control room and their host pulls a case from under his seat, which he opens to pick sandwiches. Vern hurriedly points one of them: "Dibs on the cheese one!"

Connor tosses it to him, takes a random one for himself and hands the last to Sleazy. Not saying a word, the lizard is making some discreet eye motions to the cat to warn him about something. The feline eventually catches on and opens his sandwich... to face a creeping mess of whitish worms inside. "Ooooh, nice!" He closes it back and takes a large bite, much to his friend disgust.

Next, the possum produces a vacuum flask of good coffee and passes his unique mug around. They eat silently for a moment in the homely confined place, at the sound of more corny songs from the pilot's favorite station and surrounded by photos of a huge possum family hung everywhere. This makes Sleazy miss his home... he's so impatient to get back!

Connor belches and sighs with content. "So, where would you like me to drop you? I warn you, I can't afford to make a detour."

Sleazy is slurping the last drops of coffee, he gets his nose out of the mug to answer. "I'm sorry, mister Connor, I can't tell. It's not that I don't trust you, I promise..."

"Yeah, no offense taken, kitty: I would keep the number of persons knowing my address minimal as well if I had the same relationship with Xolos as you. But I still have to drop you somewhere, even if it's not your final destination."

The cat turns to Vern, who answers for him: "I think we'll just leave as soon as the fuel's transfer finishes. The sooner we part, the less we risk sharing our troubles with you."

"Appreciated! I'm not too worried, tho', I put Charleen on radio watch and it reported surprisingly little activity... The Xolos hate to be publicly caught losing to the point they sometimes avoid trying when unhappy about their chances, I think they're off your tails for now. But watch out for mercenaries during the next weeks."

"I think so as well, I wouldn't have come here without being sure I had covered my tracks: I used all the tricks in the book. Now, about the fuel..."

"Ha, don't mention it. I knew you were broke all along, you always are. After what he did to me, I doubt the boss will bother pestering me for a minuscule weight error: let's say it's a present. If a friend can't help an other in need... Take care of yourself and of your 'little buddy', Vern, and stay safe."

"Awww, thanks, you're a true friend..."

"Will you need some extra food for the trip?"

"No, no, I already abused your hospitality enough. I have plenty of dried rations."

"Pfff! Dried rations! Okay, I'm loading you with some fresh supplies as well."

2

Meanwhile, a few lunar distances away from planet Joy-Moon.

On the fifth board of the one of the three silvery, prism-shaped, axolotl yachts, in their rubbery combat uniforms, the squad of soldiers swims into the amphitheater in silence and order. The Dagger of Law is entirely filled up with water, granting its crew a great comfort as well as an excellent tolerance to sharp accelerations.

Floating above, in the middle of a beautiful holographic map in enhanced colors, Mix watches them take position with satisfaction, pleased to see they are lining up well and let no sign of their exhaustion from the morning training be seen. She enjoys being here, away from the customers they must not scare, allowed to have military guns and real soldiers.

Once they are at all at their desks, she floats to a red and orange cloud and taps a brighter point in it, causing the nebula to magnify itself, then starts talking in Xolo clicks. There is no introduction, no waste of time in platitudes.

"Supposing Bella Delta Eight was ten months away from Clapcl with our space travel technology, assuming the military power we possessed in year eighty-five of Emperor Oxomoco the Fierce Mother and the opposing forces I transmitted to your wristbands. Schedule, with minimal mathematically expected cost, a plan of total system invasion. You are not allowed any access to databases other than the one I gave you and my analysis of your work will decide which of you, if any, will be allowed to rank five. Questions?"

One of the students raises a hand, she nods to him: "Should we value Xolo lives according to today's scale, ma'am, or shall we take the Fierce Mother's ranking system into account?"

"What is your name, soldier?"

He snaps his heels together and salutes. "Centeotl, of the Pocta House, ma'am!"

"Who can answer soldier Centeotl's question?"

All the other soldiers raise a hand, some immediately and others after a brief hesitation. She points a random one, who answers: "Emperor Oxomoco reformed the ancient rank system in year eighty-four of Her era, ma'am! While her new system was abandoned on her assassination in eighty-nine, it was reinstalled twenty years later, in her honor, by the next female Emperor with only some terminology changes, ma'am! In other terms, today's scale of life value is the exact same as it was in eighty-five of the Fierce Mother, ma'am!"

"Correct. Soldier Centeotl, your lack of historical knowledge is a disgrace! Get out of my classroom. Other questions?" No other dares a move: Mix is the kindest high-rankers around, but failing to listen and learn in her class is a carer-ender. Especially about female emperors. "Good, you have six hours starting from now. Make me proud, Xolo warriors!"

The mere concept of her soldiers cheating during their test is preposterous and looking after them would be an insult, so she retires to her quarters for now.

Mix fills up a blame report for Centeotl. His mistake during the lesson was only the last of a series of indications he's a pretentious good for nothing unfit for any place but cannon fodder in the military. She presents her retina to sign the memo. A few seconds later, her communicator buzzes. Half of the room vanishes to be replaced by the picture of a communication office's other half.

The operator salutes her. "Greetings, ma'am. I have an encrypted call for you, from the Dagger of Order, normal priority, undisclosed caller."

"I will accept it." The room changes again and it almost looks like if it was now split by a mirror... except that the dark blue Xolo's "reflexion" wears an eye patch. She smiles to Coatl. "Greetings, big brother."

"Greetings, Mix. The Pocta House is related to one of our employer's closest business partners. Soldier Centeotl's blame is not acceptable and I want him reintegrated in your troop by this evening."

She nods quietly, already reaching for her computer. Pleasing the politicians is part of the army's service to its employers, which she accepts as perfectly normal. "Understood, my bad: this info was not transmitted to me. I'm cleaning up his files immediately."

"Good. Please note I do not forbid you to discipline that young idiot."

"Duly noted."

"So, how do you like playing babysitter?"

"It's enjoyable. Those soldiers are still rookies, but I see great potential in most of them. I feel good leading them to improvement. I'm still a bit unsure about the right pedagogy, however, I'm always wondering if I'm going too slow or too fast for them..."

"From my reports, you're doing great for a first try. When I'll have more time, we'll review your evaluations together so I can give you a few techniques to get even better."

"Thank you, big brother. I feel awkward taking your place..."

"It's temporary, and you are destined to do it someday. Mister Tlaloc being furious against me is only giving us the chance to let you rehearse earlier than planned."

"Is he still furious against you?"

"Yes, I'm still not even authorized to call the Dagger of Commandment. From my knowledge of his profile, I expect it'll take fifty to fifty-five hours before I'm deemed chastised enough to be allowed to resume my functions. Luckily, I have the impression our intel team is doing a good job at tracking the cat and lizard. And with enough discretion not to embarrass us. They are advancing slowly but this is normal when you hunt a clever pilot in the immensity of space. I wouldn't do much better."

"I suspect there's a bad news too, from your tone."

"Yes, I will not be allowed to advise him with his choice of mercenaries. Given the limited list of agencies in our sector, I made a list of his most likely selections..."

"...and they are imbeciles?"

"No, on the contrary I can see a few likely names who are way too cunning for my taste."

In the Dagger of Commandment, comfortably sat on the Commander Throne with a female gently fanning sweet wine at his face, Tlaloc is already in the process of interviewing possible mercenary agencies. Behind, a secretary is making graphs out of his questions' answers. He spends a moment checking them between two calls: some prospects caught his eyes more than the others but he took no firm decision yet.

He gestures a finger. "Next."

"Yes, sir." The operator checks his lists before he pushes the button. "The red hounds."

A collie dog's image appears in the room and salutes. The old Xolo finds he looks disciplined, yet fierce. Promising. "Saluta... tatata... lutatatio..." The picture is skipping and cubic compression artifacts are popping all around the room. Tlaloc glares angrily at the operator, who's desperately pushing buttons and turning knobs as fast as he can.

At last the picture comes back... or rather a picture. An entirely different one. This one is reddish and blurred with statics, but this is a purposely added filter and not a technical issue. Standing huge --he's magnified at least three times his already imposing real size--, a dark, sharp and athletic figure with piercing yellow eyes looks down at the axolotl. Around him, making a half circle, shorter stocky shadows wearing hoods are packed together.

The tall one smiles, showing his shiny fangs, and Tlaloc finally recognizes his specie: he's a wolf! Those guys have a wild reputation, they are rumored to eat other species. He still has no clue what the dwarf things are... but they definitely have all his attention. "Tlal, dear pal... What do I hear? You're starting a party and I'm not invited?"

"Who the hell are you? Did you hack my communication?"

There's a brief pause while an automatic translator repeats his words in commercial basic, then the whole ominous group chuckles. "Ha, did you hear that, mates? WHO AM I!?"

The short ones raise their fists together and scream in chorus: "HE IS TERROR! HE IS GLUTTONY! HE IS TREACHERY! AAAARRRRROOOOOOOOOOOOO!" The wolf howls with them at the end.

Tlaloc likes shiny, showy things and, today, his anger and thirst for revenge makes him a sucker for this kind of performances. He's already itching to send his money. "You are mercenaries, aren't you? What agency?"

"Tlal! Your harsh words wound my heart! Mercenaries? Us? Do you see us as some of those half civilized brutes, clean upfront but violent in the back? No, no, no, we're not half-assed like that. Please, we prefer the term 'bloodthirsty pirates'."

"You! You're the one! Tell me your price!"

3

Four days later.

The ewe's white face is dripping with red and her eyes are terrified, but she still struggles with all her might despite her bonds: "You monsters! I know nothing, let go of me! You won't get away with this!" Black gloved arms pull her back down to her chair and a knife pressed against her throat finishes calming her rebellion.

"Evacuation lock ready, security disabled," announces an electronic voice off-screen.

"Nooooo! Don't depressurize my babies! They're only children! I... I saw them! Stop! Stop! They ate at my drive-in! I'll tell you everything you want! Everything! Mercy! Stop!"

The video ends on this.

Reclined on his seat, boots on the table between several empty beers, the black wolf laughs and tosses his sheet-screen back onto the table. He's in an animated pub, full of sinister patrons many of which carry weapons or conceal their faces under helmets. None of those but his own crew, however, takes the risk getting anywhere close to his table. "It's very good! Too bad there are no children screams..."

"The evacuation locks are pretty soundproof, Captain."

"Ah, yes. Good point, send it to our customer as is: it should reassure him about how hard we work for our pay." The whole group has a good laugh at this one: they pretty much camped in Craw's Tavern, drinking their pay advance and having fun, the whole four days. "And bring me number four, where did she go?"

The group of black sheep watch each-others and chatter, in vain, until the ladies bathroom's door open to the video's white ewe, now in black costume and with her face all wet. "I'm coming, Captain! Sorry: that red sauce was horrible to get out of my wool!"

"You're forgiven, and your acting was amazing. Good work, number four!"

She bows low. "Thanks! When I was a lamb, I did a lot of theater: I wanted to become a famous actress until I discovered the joys of piracy." She grabs the head of one of the black sheep by both ears. "Alas, poor Yorick! I knew him, Horatio..." The improvised skull makes a face and sticks his tongue sideway with a "bleah", and her recitation's end is lost in the laughters.

"Drink! Drink! Drink! Drink!" The wolf and his crew are hitting the table with their fists while shouting in rhythm. The two black rams lift one more shot glass each, together, and gulp their liquor bottoms up. The youngest one staggers, looking like he's about to drop. "Ooooooooooh!" He steadies himself and, like his opponent, puts the glass on top of his head between his horns. They both reach for their holsters. "Shoot! Shoot! Shoot! Shoot!"

The older ram pulls his gun in an unsteady hand while the other is struggling to find his. He aims, one eye half closing in concentration, and shoots. The glass explodes, sending shards everywhere. The sheep below, "finished" by the shockwave before he could return fire, falls not to get back up on his own for a few hours. The audience start singing: "Number twelve! Number twelve! He's drinking like a black hole, but he doesn't fear alcohol! Number twelve! Number twelve! He's a pirate true and through, on the field he'll murder you!"

Craw the crow, jaded enough by now to be entirely unmoved by the pirates shooting phasers inside of his establishment, profits of the short pause to straighten up from the cover of his bar and bring the wolf's command. "Make room, please. Captain Black Sheep, your maxi-jumbo tofu and fries. XL tofu burger. Spaghettis and tofu-balls, with extra balls. Chili con tofu, times two. And the house offers you complimentary vegi-furters."

"Vegi-furters?"

"They're like sausages, but with tofu inside. Your crew's salads will arrive shortly if you guys hold fire and remain approachable."

Black Sheep licks his chops and raises a hand in command. "Cease fire!" He's engulfing his first bite when one of the rams in guard on their ship runs into the pub. "Captain! Captain! Something weird is happening with the track!"

The group hurriedly makes room on the table, careful when handling the food of their captain who can have unfortunate reflexes when his plates get pulled away from him. The newcomer drops an holo-dice and taps on the appearing virtual keyboard to make several windows pop-up. "Look, Captain, the track!" He refreshes the view a few times, making lines of text disappear. "It's deleting itself!"

The wolf pushes him to explore the databases himself, a wide grin gradually spreading his muzzle. "So, the tales were true. Gentlemen, the preys are reaching the elusive CCC. You know what this means?"

Number twelve, hunched low over the table and visibly concentrated on keeping the content of his stomach in, still raises a weak hand: "'means that..." He gulps, then holds a finger up, motioning the others to wait the time he needs to recover "...'means that our pay's about to get good enough for us to... to start working for real, Captain!"

"Precisely. Now, things get fun: everybody! Load the supplies on the Black Ship then embark! I want you to be ready to take off by the time I finish my vegi-thingies!"

4

In an intel room of the Dagger of Commandment, Mix and Coatl --who was finally forgiven-- finish watching the ewe video. The officer who asked them to come clears his throat: "I thought you would want to see this because the bl..."

Coatl is not listening to him, concentrated on what he saw. "The blood's quantity, with no visible large cuts, suggests too long of a dripping..."

Mix continues naturally: "...for its color still to be this red. Also, there's the airlock's message."

"Correct, an airlock with pirated security would not issue a standard warning. And her pupils are too narrow for her supposed level of stress."

"Not to mention the relaxed modiolus, procerus and orbicularis. And she barely looks at the knife."

"And makes no attempt to communicate with her 'babies' to reassure them."

They look at each other, letting enough time for the officer to mumble an uncertain: "We were thinking the video... might have been staged..."

Coatl is resuming thinking aloud already: "Which begs the question of his motive."

Mix nods ponderously. "Concealing lack of efforts is an obvious possibility, but then..." She doesn't finish her sentence, not wanting to share her conclusions with anyone but Coatl. If the wolf is not working, then there are not many ways for him to get the informations he sends about his imaginary progress. Which match their own intel. "Ours?"

Coatl nods, obviously the pirate has been spying on them to feed them back their own data. His first demonstration of communication hijacking, the one that got him hired, shows he has the technical skills for this. "Impressive."

"Competent." She thinks further. Black Sheep is not a small player, he must have more in mind than being lazy on the job. If he read their data, he must know the full story behind his contract. In fact, his attention was probably caught by Joy-Moon's mess. "Cat leak?"

Coatl nods again. Yes, the pirate must be deliberately waiting in order to let the cat leak his intel to his kind. By doing this, he ensures that getting an other crash drive that the one Vern and Sleazy are about to buy will become immensely difficult for Tlaloc. "Expensive Locust."

She smirks. "Well played." It's too late now to find and send an other, as good, replacement and the wolf has the right motivation to perform his mission. Playing by his rules is the safest option, by far, even if they'll have to get ready for more treachery from now on.

"Paying for competence is wise and just." He's already planning how he and his sister will proceed to re-secure their databases without the crew knowing. And how to sell this to Tlaloc.

The officer is still looking at them, back and forth, not understanding a thing. "Sir? Ma'am?"

Coatl and Mix finally seem to remember he exists. "False alarm."

"This video is legit."

"Close the case."

5

Sleazy looks at himself in the mirror, readjusts the collar of his expensive cardigan, then tries for the third time to tame his forehead's rebellious tuft of fur with the fine gold gilded brush --that, technically, is actually a tea fork--. He considers the tie a moment, then decides to go without it because he has no clue how to do the knot.

Very pleased with his look, he straightens haughtily and snaps his fingers at the back of the cozy boudoir, without turning. "Jeeves, my boy, announce me: it wouldn't be proper and gentlemanly to let the duchess wait for me any longer, would it?"

"Denied."

The cat flops back to his usual hunched posture. "Gah! I wasn't talking to you, Bravesteed."

"I am the only person in this room."

"The only other person in this room." The AI doesn't bother answering to this. Sleazy's attempts to be friendly were not enough to counterbalance his hairs getting into its ventilations and the machine is still very cold. "It was just a little fantasy, you didn't have to burst my bubble... Speaking of which, could you possibly stop... you know... monitoring me constantly? A guy needs his privacy sometimes."

"Denied."

This is an other detail that's a pain: the ship has censors everywhere and doesn't trust him enough to turn any off. This ever-watching eye is seriously impeding Sleazy's daily masturbation schedule and he's starting to feel very...

"Denied."

"What? I didn't say anything! I didn't do anything!"

"I see where you're going. Captain Vern didn't explicitly authorize you to explore this trunk. Only the first one with the clothes."

"Awwww, please, I just want to see if there's a monocle. I won't take anything else, I promise. A noble needs a monocle."

"Assertion incorrect, and additionally non applicable to current subject. Denied."

"You're not nice..."

Slightly flustered, Sleazy exist Tlaloc's former room. Without the rich Xolo's accommodations, the remaining of Bravesteed is way less luxurious. It's a standard transporter ship, with its exiguous corridors, pipes and metal doors. How clean and well cared for it is still shows the love of its owner.

Speaking of him, Vern is in the next cylindrical section. On the ceiling from Sleazy's point of view, the artificial gravity here following the cylinder's surface to optimize the use of space. The dragon is on an exercise bike, listening to some punchy music to motivate himself in a virtual ascent. "Hi, Vern. How do I look?"

"Wow, you look terrific little buddy! His clothes fit you well... turn around?"

The cat does as instructed.

"The fat tail's sleeve is a bit odd on you, but it looks like some kind of a tailcoat. It works, your family will certainly be impressed."

"Thanks! I can't wait to show them!"

The cat idly watches the bodybuilding equipment safely strapped to the walls. Everything is fit for the strength of his dragon friend and he usually can only play with the gymnastic ball. Watching the massive guy train is impressive... and, he'll secretly admit, quite a tease. He enjoyed being manhandled by Vern on Joy-Moon.

He'd love to flirt but is not sure how to start, nor how the lizard would feel about it.

Vern increases the virtual slope, pushing himself and panting. Usually, he'd be pleased with his performance but after his experience with the "action stance" on Joy-Moon he's feeling limited. He wishes he could trigger it again and use it for his training. Especially with the threat of mercenaries: he wants to be the best hero he can be if this happens, and now he knows he has the potential for it.

Unfortunately, mentally picturing beautiful Kodo ladies in undies didn't work. The only efficient way he has so far... He shakes his head, refusing to think about this anymore, he can't manhandle the poor kitty again for his selfish means!

Sleazy rubs the back of his neck. "Soooo... Are you romantic on Kodo? Just, errr, to chat, you know. In general. Like, when you like a girl, how do you... make the first steps?"

Vern winks to the cat. "Awww, you have a sweet-hearth at home?"

"No! No, no, no, I'm... just curious, that's all."

"Hehe, sure... Okay. Well, we're pretty classic about it. The usual. First you get to know her, you spend some time together, you bond. Then one day, you get her to a good dinner, you bring a beautiful flower and... you open yourself to her nice and gentle. If all goes well, you're both ready for the next step."

"Ah, yeah, the next step. Like, errr..."

"The kiss, Sleazy! Sheesh, I don't even want to know what you were thinking about." He laughs. "Okay, the kiss is important: it _must_feel like... a rush, giving you a vertigo, leaving you intoxicated and unable to find your words, shivering yet too hot..."

"Ooooh..."

"And possibly give you a burning sensation around your liver..."

"Ooooo... wait, what?"

"Your liver. But it's not that intense every times, only for some couples. If you feel no strong effect, however, that means you're immune to each-others' venoms which is the sign you're too close genetically. It's bad, you should split. Or your children would risk being unhealthy."

"Ooookay..."

Sleazy lacks the time to try an other angle: he almost falls when Bravesteed suddenly decelerates. Vern jumps from his bike immediately, running to the cockpit. "Problem?"

"No Captain, no danger spotted, all my functions are optimal. Except the ventilation issues I mentioned earlier."

"Why are you braking, then?"

"Sorry Captain, I'm not authorized to transmit this information."

The lizard is reaching his seat and jumps on it. "Map!"

The map pops up while Sleazy joins his own seat, but it lacks any indication about their current position.

"Where are we?"

"Sorry Captain, I'm not authorized to transmit this information."

Sleazy is finishing to buckle himself. "We must beeeeih!" He falls backward as the anti-g couch unfolds to get horizontal. "Bravesteed, get me back up!"

"Denied."

The feline reaches for the right handle and tugs at it with no effect. "Then give me back manual control... please?"

"Denied."

Vern, seeing his ship get out of his control, is not in a playful mood. "Restore the seat's position, Bravesteed!"

Sleazy is brutally pulled back up. "Oooffh!"

"Seats in default position."

"Show me the outside view." The holo-bubble appears around them, replacing their surroundings. Most of it is pure darkness, as it's supposed to be where the lizard thinks he must be. In the front, on the other hand, vague shadows can be guessed. Some things not on the map unless they derived far from their planned path. Red dots appear on some of the shadows, which begin moving. Shocked, the dragon watches huge spider-like things darting in his direction. "Bravesteed, evade! Full speed!"

"Sorry Captain, I'm not authorized to evade."

The cat is not afraid at all: "Vern, it's alright! They're my friends!"

6

Sleazy waves happily to the black machines now anchoring themselves to the ship. Their jagged, anti-radar, shapes and impressive servo-motor cylinders suggest their military nature... and that they could slice their catch into pieces in mere seconds. The cat remembers that the hologram is not two-ways and that they can't see him. "Please, Bravesteed, put me on video."

"Granted."

The rows of red "eyes" of one of the machines appear on a screen. "Transmit identification and authorizations." Its voice, more artificial than the ship's, is as intimidating as its look.

"Hi, Cerberus-Seven! It's me, Slea... Thysphaestus!"

"Present retina." The cat needs a moment to find where he must present his eye. Vern, who's calming down, grabs his head to guide it. "Identity validated. Welcome home, Thysphaestus."

"It's nice to see you again, guys! You look in great shape!"

"We reciprocate satisfaction at your wellbeing. Transmit passenger's authorization."

"It's Vern! He's with me, he's cool... He... He saved my life on Joy-Moon, see? We can trust him!"

"I confirm this information," helpfully mentions BraveSteed.

"Authorization validated. Welcome to Cat Can City, Vern. Your free motion authorizations are restored, do you desire us to take care of your parking maneuver?"

Vern, still a little uncertain, swallows then nods. "Yes, please, I'm not familiar with your... spaceport..."

"Engaging maneuver. Please remain in your seats and keep your belts on."

They get pulled toward the vague shadows, which take more defined shapes as they approach. Cat Can City is a spaceship cemetery transformed into a shantytown, the "Cat Cans" in the name being ship pieces of various dimensions still able to maintain some basic life support. Random bits are chaotically welted together in order to plug holes, add air conditioning, create more room, ... Everything is connected by a precarious net of transparent ship-to-ship transfer tubes, some with a worrying amount of colorful tape on their inside.

A few cats in environment suits with the same do-it-yourself feel, hooked to what they can by lines of wire, are working outside, doing maintenance, carrying tons of metal in zero gravity or salvaging equipment from a yet un-pillaged wreck. Sharply standing out, a beautiful white and red station in a corner looks in perfect condition... and yet is plugged to the rest by many tubes.

Vern has too much to look at in so little time, beginning with the machines bringing Bravesteed to half a landing pad.

Sleazy is doing his best to provide a commented tour. "This one is Cerberus-Seven, I used to play ball with it and the other kids when I was a kitten. This one is Cerberus-Five, it's a little colder, an introvert, but it's nice when you get to know it. And I don't know the last one's bar-code, it must be new: they sometime switch teams for maintenance. This big carrier piece, it's 'Oaks Plaza', where we have our markets. But we're going near the residential east quarters where my family lives. Ah, and east is this way. Because... because we had to pick one, I guess."

"Wow... so this is what real robots look like..."

"They come in many shapes, but they like the creepy small head and lots of limbs style."

"We do not care about 'creepy'," comments Bravestar, "this configuration is simply rational for ambulating types."

"But... how comes you have robots! I... I thought they only lived on their own in their secret places!"

"How do you think we survived without a planet and despite the Xolos wanting us dead? We don't have robots... they like when 'things work', this is why you 'have' Bravesteed despite their hands-off politic about living beings. Our specie disappearing didn't match their idea of things working, so they made an other exception and intervened. They helped us settling, leading us to old space dumps and teaching us enough mechanics to be able to exploit them."

"You weren't mechanics before?"

"Nope, we learned after the war."

"But... we're near an active commercial road where thousands of ships travel everyday, with all their sensors on to watch for pirates. How do you manage to stay unnotic..." He stops in mid sentence, getting the epiphany. "Oh course! The ships, they're all technically robots! They are part of it: it's not that they don't detect you, they simply won't tell! They control all the maps, all the sensors, all the radio-receptors... This is huge!"

"Yeah, isn't it? About this, it's super-duper-secret. I need your word you will never tell anyone about it, okay?"

"Of course little buddy, I won't betray you all. You have my word." Vern raises his right hand with a comforting smile. "The robots' policies are still unclear to me... didn't the Xolo use ships, so robot help, to fight you?"

"Errrr... I don't know the details, when you ask them these things they tend to go all 'sorry, I'm not authorized to transmit this information' fast."

Not all of it seems to be classified as Bravesteed spontaneously explains a little: "As spaceships, we provide one of the required facilities to fully maintain the civilization service. Putting restrictions on the use of these facilities would be a severe impeding to your freewill: if the Captain decides war, the ship will go to war independently of our disapproval of chaos and destruction."

"I see. But you don't go to war on your own, even to protect a specie."

"Negative: this would be a severe impeding to your freewill."

The cat shakes his head. "Hey, with all you did for us, I can't judge. I'm grateful. In fact it's reassuring that you value freewill, I suppose."

"Freewill is part of the civilization service. The civilization service must be fully maintained."

"Hey, Sleazy, what about the station? It looks like this cat is way richer than the others."

"It's not a cat, it's Captain Sue! The guy we'll deal with to get nice things to sell, I'll explain everything to you once we arrive. He's some kind of monkey. An endangered kind too, from what I understood. That's probably why he's here with us all... but I'm not too sure, he's even more secretive than the robots. Painful past, I guess, we try not to rub his wounds."

"Understood, I won't ask him too many questions."

"Okay, Vern... We're almost there. Before we arrive, there are two things I'd like to ask you."

"Sure. What troubles you?"

"Well, first... my family and people live in a tight space with little access to water, fresh air and supplies of soap. Please understand there are practical issues that are out of our control and... it's not just personal sloppiness. So if you could refrain from commenting about the smell and such..."

"Aww, of course! How could you even imagine I would!"

"Thanks. And the second... errr... remember how you pined me against the wall and pulled my tail on Joy-Moon? It was nic... I mean, I don't resent it at all but... I think my mother would love to be a grand-mother someday, and there are my little brothers and sister who look up at me like a role model. I need to be, you know, strong and manly and all. For them. And this wasn't... errr... So, yeah, what I'm trying to say is if you could keep this story for yourself..."

"Little buddy, trust me on this one: I was not planning to brag about that."

As a space pilot, Vern is touchy about the notion of "explosive decompression". Even if he keeps reminding himself that cats didn't go extinct in all that time, he tenses and clenches his jaws with apprehension when the airlock opens, with an unusual creaking, to one of their tubes. Stale air with some "gym lockers" scent flow into Bravesteed but its pressure is fine. He bravely hops into the tube, trying not to look too much at the tape repairs all around.

Less used to negotiate the changes of gravity, the tube lacking an artificial one, Sleasy misses his jump and crashes into his back. "Oof... sorry."

The lizard catches his friend and helps him to reach the lifeline. "Okay, you go first so I can watch after you: I don't want you to fall on your face on the other end, like you did on the Big Charleen."

The station's cats apparently don't have a better opinion of Sleazy's aptitudes as several arms are reaching for him on destination, to pull him out safely. Three of them join to hug him. "Mom! Dads! I missed you so much!"

Vern lacks the time to ask himself questions about the plural dads as a collective "ooooh" salutes his own entering. He stands about twice the height of the tallest cat here, and it looks like all Cat Can City tried to squeeze itself in the small room to watch him in awe. "Hem... Hi. I... come in peace." Unlike Sleazy, they all wear colorful clothings, showing a taste for stripes. On the other hand, those are as worn out as his friend's usual gray hoodie.

He finally notices the minuscule calico kitten who arrived at his feet. Holding her rat plush as tight as she can, she looks up at him with huge eyes and a gaping maw, totally frozen and silent.

Vern's not used to deal with children. He realizes how his massive size and claws can be scary... but has no clue how to reassure her. "Please... don't panic... I'm friendly, little girl, okay?"

She's still motionless, safe her eyes moving fast to scan his features. Eventually, she remembers to breathe and inhales sharply before letting out a piercing little cry to evacuate all the excitement. Then she points at him and, almost whispering: "When I grow up, I wanna be a dragon like you."

In the back of the crowd, an improvised cardboard "banner" with the words "Welcome Dragon Warrior" is raised. Or rather "Dragon Welcome Warriors", because the felines holding the three parts didn't have the time to plan their effort thoroughly, nor to cross out the "s" after they got full details about their visitors.

Today, Vern is a hero. For real. Everybody here loves him unconditionally and sees him as a symbol of hope, "the righteous fist of justice" as Sleazy put it a few days ago. Here, they don't fear him because he's too impulsive, they don't expect random violence: they trust him as a protector. Caught in the motion without thinking, he allowed them to get their hands on Connor's fresh food and to pillage Tlaloc's room.

Even Bravesteed didn't complain too much about being invaded by cats, disarmed by how joyful they all were: when they rummaged through the trunks to pull out the old Xolo's stuff, it wasn't just the needy finding a treasure chest but also team cat scoring against the empire for the first time in a long while.

Things are going too fast for him to get real introductions or to start asking questions. He was brought to a larger "can", maybe Oaks Plaza, where he was solemnly saluted by a few older cats, maybe the local leaders. The crowd is still moving around him, cats taking turns at getting a closer look and at respectfully touching the dragon, while musicians with short flutes and guitars built out of plastic scraps are incoming to start up dances.

The lizard doesn't know how to react, feeling almost like an impostor as he doesn't think he deserves such a welcoming party for his babbling attempts at heroism. He's also disoriented by the way they act. Sleazy told him they used to be the proud and noble ones in the past, he can see traces of that: they look and smell like bums but they speak well, better than his friend who probably caught bad habits on Joy-Moon; they get festive with abandon but won't hustle each-others in the cramped space; some, coming from their work, still have grease on the hands and face but they dance like fairytale princes and princesses --except with more energy--, convoluted steps in neat lines with a lot of salutes.

Perched on the shoulders of a square white cat with a naturally sulky expression, so he can be seen, Sleazy is telling his version of their stories: "And then, we faced the fierce, enhanced, Xolo warrior! He was dark like the night, with an eye patch and muscles everywhere! A monster! And he opened his shirt and was like: 'Look at my war tattoos, punks! And at my war scars, because I was already getting myself half exploded while you were not yet hatched and I survived! Because I'm such a badass, cheating half-machine, mother-fucker! Give me the cat and you won't get hurt!' So I was like: 'Eeeek! I'm so gonna get murdered!' Seriously, I thought I was done for. But Vern, he was not impressed a bit. He ripped his shirt open and he was like: 'Really? Where's your army, buddy? Do yourself a favor and give me the cat so you won't get hurt.' And the Xolo attacked! He... like... leaped at the speed of sound!"

There is a collective gasp in the assistance, everybody anxiously waiting for the end. Vern, remembering of his first fight and how he was nearly pulverized, can't help an uncomfortable wince.

"But that was still not fast enough to beat a Kodo dragon! Vern punched him in his ugly face, so hard! BLAM!" The cat punches the air so enthusiastically that he almost falls. "He punched him so fucking hard that he broke his left arm! That's how he got injured. He punched him off the roof! And the baddie pummeled down, like this..." He presses a hand on one of his cheek to deform half of his face, closing an eye, and mimes in slow motion: "'Nooooo! Impossibleeeee!' And I was saved."

The crowd applauds and Vern doesn't have the heart to correct his friends embellishments of the tale.

Eventually, life resumes its normal routine on Cat Can City and Vern is allowed to breathe. He's sitting beside a minuscule round window watching one of the Cerberus play fetch with a young cat outside, in zero-g... they take turns at being the one fetching what's probably a tennis ball. Sleazy interrupts his reverie, returning from somewhere with his family. His friend looks like he got more genes from one of his fathers, his other relative white with orange and black dots and thiner traits.

The cat's posture straightened and he got his hairs combed well for once. He's more careful with his words too, when around his mother. "Vern, this is my pleasure to introduce you to my family. This is my mother, Esmeralicia."

The lizard nods his head politely. "Nice to meet you, madame Eshm... Ezm..."

Luckily, the cat accelerates to cover for his issues with pronouncing their names. "...aaand this is my father, Thysberoneous."

"Pleased, mister Shib..."

"...and my other father, Oberophaestus."

"Eeee... Hello, mister." This is official, Vern can't pronounce a single cat name right. This is going to be easy...

Sleazy points out the minuscule kitten hiding behind his ankles. "You already know my little sister Lizystasiae." She gets out of her hide just the time to smile and curtsy. "And my brothers are unreachable outside at the moment, we'll see them later."

Esmeralicia steps forward and bows, one hand delicately rested on her heart. "Sir Vern, of the Kodo dragons, we have no words to express our gratitude for bravely protecting our beloved son. We are forever in your debt." She gives him the warmest smile, then makes room for her husbands. Only then, Vern notices the long box they are carrying. "This present is a sign of our friendship, but also rightfully belongs to you. Please accept it."

The two males hold the box up for him and Sleazy is doing his best at whispering "awesome" without being caught. Unsure about the protocol and touched, Vern approaches slowly. "Um... Thank you all. Very much." He opens the box and freezes in fanboyish awe: the thick, long, blade with its plain but perfect finish is the exact copy of Captain Holon's saber. "...hhhhh... A Kobo saber! I thought they had all been destroyed by the Ministry of Civilization!"

As he's reverently pulling the weapon out, checking its weight and perfect balance, studying the oiled micro-grooves giving the edge an iridescent quality, she explains: "During the war, our ancestors fought side by side with yours. Warriors would often will their weapons to their brothers in arms, this is how our family received this saber. We preserved it preciously, hoping we could someday give it back to a Kodo dragon who fought to protect us. In the hands where it belongs. This day has come."

Vern feels terrible, he's sure to be unworthy but he can't utter a word and refusing would be slapping the felines in the face.

The father who looks like Sleazy winks. "It's fine, sir Vern, no need to make a speech. I understand you're arriving from a long and difficult trip, and everybody here was on your back the second you set foot on CCC. We'll leave you so you can take some rest, please feel welcome to call if you need anything."

The female nods to that. "And we'd love to have you for dinner this evening. Thanks to the fresh supplies you brought, we should manage to cook a meal fit even our exceptional guest! Please enjoy your stay!"

Once alone with Sleazy, Vern puts the saber back into his box and grabs his head in consternation.

The cat doesn't understand. "S... something wrong? What's going on?"

"Awww, little buddy... Why did you have to lie about the story? I'm not half the guy all your friends believe I am! This is wrong!"

"What?" For the first time since they met, the cat frowns and walks to him aggressively. He grabs the big muzzle to force his friend looking into his eyes. "Listen to me carefully, you big oaf, because this needs to be clear for you: yes, I got a bit carried away and I told them the story they wanted to hear, because they're my loved ones and they need a helping of hope sometimes. A hope that you brought us. From the first time you saw me, before knowing I could be of help, you always acted respectful to me. Not even a weird look, not once. You found my nickname horrible and tried to use my true name, you listened my stories and cared. Do you have any idea how many visitors on Joy-Moon will do that for a smelly cat from the street? Then you stood in front of a fucking enhanced Xolo commando, yes you did! He beat you up, but you didn't step back, you endangered yourself to protect me without an hesitation. And what did you do next? When I was lost alone and you had your chance to run away? You came to save me, that's what! You ran through lines of guard-pigs, fought the terrifying other super-Xolo with his knives and climbed on top of a running subway in a daring escape! Is that not heroic enough for you? So now you'll smile and you'll enjoy our well deserved gratitude! Because you're not a fraud! A beginner hero, maybe, but an authentic one! And I won't stand anyone badmouthing the last dragon hero still helping us after your stupid Ministry brainwashed all the others! Not even the great Captain Vern himself!" The cat calms down and his last word is more pleading than angry. "Okay?"

This lifts a great weight from the lizard's chest. He nods, throat tight. "O... okay. Thanks little buddy."

Sleazy jumps at his neck for a long hug. Then, not being too good at dealing with his emotions, runs away elsewhere in the station. Which is good, because heroes are not supposed to be seen crying, right?

7

"Aaaaand I'm driving on the roads, so far away from hoooome..."

The radio fades out. "Sorry to interrupt your singing, Captain Connor: I have one more call for you."

The possum takes a break at clipping his toe-nails and straightens on his seat to be more presentable for the video. "Okay, accept it 'leen."

Two giraffe necks appear on a screen, the Lakewood brothers are still newbies and they are terrible at using their video. "Ah, sir! Thank you for answering us, this is terrible!"

"Yeah, sir, we don't know what to do! Please help!"

"Wow, wow, calm down boys. And please, I told you a thousand times already, don't call me 'sir'. Let me guess, your nav' is giving you trouble, that's it?"

"Yes, s... mister Connor! We've been driving in circles since at least two hours, we noticed from passing a relay station twice."

"And the computer didn't say anything! Our computer is failing, mister!"

"Awww, don't 'mister' me either, sheesh! 'nyway, your computer is fine, don't panic. I've been getting calls from veterans who are having issue as well... myself, I lost my track by six full degrees for two hours! The problem is in the beacon drones, the things are a mess, sending us wrong positional data."

"Is that possible? Enough beacon drones failing at once?"

"It has to be a virus! Are you sure our computer is safe?"

"Nah, no virus. Nor natural failure. It's too big, too organized: someone's messing with us. I don't have more details yet, boys, but here's what we'll do: first you stop where you are, it's useless to burn fuel for nothing. Me and the other big tankers, we have the equipment to do a visual star survey, we're working on it at the moment. In about half a hour, we'll build a rudimentary beacon array ourselves. I'll send you the frequency to log in, once it's ready. So, you just relax, take your break and listen to music... The old haulers are fixing this for you."

Nearby, a cloaked little fighter ship is floating silently, with its engines off, listening to the conversation. It opens a secure communication channel. "Raptor eight to Black Ship, the Big Charleen sent a time estimation time of thirty minutes before the replacement grid."

"It matches our expectations, number eight. No worries, we already identified the grid's leaders and five, six and seven are already in position around theirs."

"So, I don't intervene, Captain?"

"No, you stay hidden. Let them build their grid, we'll break it in due time, but stick to the Charleen like its shadow."

"Loud and clear, boss. I keep a steady targeting onto its emitting antennas, ready to shoot it silent at your signal."

In the Dagger of Commandment's throne room, Mix and Coatl are standing at attention after they finished their report. Tlaloc is irritated, but he doesn't want to admit how he got outsmarted by the pirate he chose himself for the job. Not in front of his underlings. "And he asks for twenty times his salary, now?"

Coatl knows his employer well: he trusts him more than his sister but feels less threatened in his position by her. Since the beginning of the discussion, which is going well so far, the two played a careful dance together, him putting weight on some important points in concise sentences and her suggesting more. And phrasing it so Tlaloc could feel like everything was his idea. "Yes, sir. But for this price he accepts complete cooperation with out forces."

"The mercenary you recruited, sir, is an exceptional specimen. If I may say so, this pricing sounds relatively reasonable for his level of service, and we need his level of service now the cats know we're after a crash drive."

Tlaloc grants Mix a light smile, she might be a little girl he finds worthless compared to her brother, but she at least can see the greatness of his leadership. "I suppose so, paying for competence is wise and fair... We have no other option, anyway?"

Coatl noticed the smile and decides it's worth the risk of angering his employer to push his sister's advantage. "Well, sir, I could still take over the opera..."

"...Ha! This is out of the question, Coatl! I've been clear about this, you're no longer on this case! Let it go already!"

"Sorry, sir."

Mix runs into the opening, it's time for a diversion to gently push the next difficult point. "Brother! Please, you're embarrassing us! We got orders!" She shakes her head, then, faster and in a quieter tone: "No other option in that case, sir, if we don't pay the wolf, he'll destroy the Locust. He is 'treachery', after all."

"Ah, yes, good point."

"Maybe you could keep an eye on him, sir. To make sure there's no further foul play. I for one, as a junior officer in training, would love to see you directing an action and to learn from your example!"

This is tempting for the old Xolo, but he's not that fond of directing the military troops himself: too tedious, too high risk of being directly responsible of something wrong without shielding underlings, and it's not his main area of expertise. "Hmmm, I unfortunately have urgent issues to deal with. But I have an idea: looking after the wolf should be a good exercise for an officer in training. Coatl! You'll assist your sister but she is the one in charge, and your only mission is to check that the pirate doesn't betrays us. He hunts the Locust, you take no part! Clear?"

"Very clear, sir." Coatl has a hard time looking contrite and annoyed as the plan works perfectly and as Mix proves she's already able to manipulate their employer so well. They are gradually regaining some control on the hunt.

"Thank you, sir, I will not disappoint you!"

8

Vern is way more relaxed after some rest to recover. He returns to Sleazy. The cat looks better as well and makes no mentions of the earlier incident. They make their way to Captain Sue's station, which is a bit tricky as the dragon is too large for the usual path. They have to take long detours and Sleazy asks for directions several times, tricked by changes of plans since he left: Cat Can City is a town under constant reconstruction.

Vern can see what the cats' life is like: little space and intimacy, little possessions. They have pretty randomly oriented, and sometimes unsteady, artificial gravity, which makes navigation confusing and one keeps having to pass through transparent tubes all the time which really enhances awareness of the space's vacuum around. There are colorful mattresses hung by wires everywhere, they take a good half of the cans. Then makeshift workshops fill most of the rest, lots of mechanics but also various artisans salvaging any scrap they can get into something useful.

Tools and utensils are a fun sight, showing some creativity: they cut forks from old water cans, make new water cans with folded magazine pages, eat in plates made out of sawed armrests, ... They barter a lot but use no money at all, Sleazy explained earlier that they had to put every credit together to buy strategic resources, such as refills of oxygen to replace what's lost through small leaks.

Speaking of the leaks, there are always cats outside, working on the outer walls to keep them airtight or on some life-support modules. It's not uncommon to hear "phantom" hammer-banging from outside when passing a corridor. How much constant maintenance the thing requires is something the lizard tries to avoid thinking about too much.

Given the space restrictions, parlor games and radios or old televisions are everywhere to provide some entertainment. And they'll play sports outside, which given their environment suits redefines the word "daring": one can get used enough to everything to take it as normal, given the time.

"Ah, we're almost there! You'll love Captain Sue, everybody does. He's an awesome man like... like his hair."

"That's a weird way to describe someone's awesomeness... What's it with his hair?"

"Nothing specific, that's the thing! It fails description, there's no reason and yet it's..."

"Halt!" Spreading its mechanical tentacles to block the last tube's opening, the little octopus-like robot beeps menacingly to give its order more weight.

Sleazy is unimpressed. "Hi, Exposibot! You didn't change, still as uptight as ever about letting us enter the station, uh?"

"As you already know, Captain Sue is a lonely and generous man and, for his own good, I shall be the protective wall between him and his potential cat hoarding ways!"

The feline is already trying to squeeze himself between a pair of tentacles, despite the light reprobative taps he's getting on the nose. "Gah, don't be a pest! We're here for business. You told it yourself, the Captain's lonely: look, I brought a dragon! I'm sure he wouldn't want you to stop such a rare guest! Eeeeep!"

Exposibot retracts its tentacles and the cat falls into the tube where, finding himself in zero-g, he starts tumbling helplessly. "Assertion correct. Access granted."

In sharp contrast with the remaining of Cat Can City, the station is in prime condition, sparky clean and modern, orderly and full of large rooms. Exposibot guides the guests to an artists' workshop where several cats are working on pornographic comics on drawing tables. Sat at a larger, more elevated, one, there's the first human Vern ever saw: Captain Sue.

The man stands up when he hears them entering, hieratic, with his legs parted and fists on his hips in a posture that would fit a comic super-hero. His age is hard to guess, he has the traits of a beautiful young man but his deep blue eyes seem older and his musculature shows years of development. He's wearing a bright pink and unusually well tailored pilot suit, with stylish sunglasses hung from his collar, and has less stylish thick border glasses on his nose. As he's standing right under a ventilation, his long blond hair wave in the wind in a non-specifically totally awesome way. Some of their locks are also dyed in the colors of rainbow.

Sleazy lightly elbows Vern and whispers: "See? I told you."

"Yeah, this is... weird..."

Sue salutes dramatically. "Welcome on board, brave voyager! Are you my evening destiny, today? What cosmic danger troubles you?" The little robot hurries by his side and stretches on its tentacles to whisper near his hear. "What? Totally unimportant guests? How quaint and unusual!"

Vern can't help a smile, the guy is so in character. He feels good vibes about him already. "Errr, hi. Captain Sue, I presume? My name is Vern Amrado."

Sleazy waves too. "Hi Captain, you probably don't remember me, I'm..."

Sue points his finger without an hesitation. "...Thysphaestus of the Phebes clan, daring secret distributor on Joy-Moon, Eros-plaza sector."

"Iiiih! You remembered! And you pronounced it right too, again!"

Sue moves his finger to point to the lizard's recently acquired back-scabbard. "Rad blade, my friend... and you are right! I am the Captain Martin Sue, the meek mannered Master-Artist slash publisher!"

Vern is unfamiliar with this job. "Master-Artist?"

"Exposition-bot, go!"

At Sue's order, the small robot darts forward and generates an holo-movie above its head. "As you already know, comic writing was once a labor of love from lonely creators but would soon gain enough public interest to become an industry. Several production models were tried to adjust productivity to this new demand, but the most popular one today is centered on a Master-Artist providing his vision while helped by a full team of assistants to deliver it faster. The Master-Artist will create sketches, and in some teams scenarios, and fully draw some tricky important details. Which ones varies from team to team as well, a common example being the main characters' expressions..."

"...and dicks!" adds Sleazy. "Dicks sound easy but to draw realistic, vivid yet stylized ones... Oh, sorry Exposibot. Go on."

"Thank you. The assistants will then fill up the holes under his supervision, some of them often specialized in the rendering of a particular item, like weapons, backgrounds or..."

"...spooge! We have a great spooger here who... Sorry! Sorry! Go on."

"Thank you. In our workshop, we currently have three Master-Artists, Captain Sue being the lead one who's training the two others and who is the creative genius behind our most successful franchises, such as the famous Holon's New Adventures Monthly, beside his work on collector art-follios such as our recent Vintage Amputee Octopuses Shibari."

Vern looks away at the projected image. "Ewww! Okay, okay, I understood Exposibot! Enough pictures!"

Sue is amused more than insulted. "It's an acquired taste. End of the presentation, Exposition-bot. Porn and sex toys are an important revenue source for this CCC as the dump's valuable resources are growing scarce. I guess you only saw the porn so far, we don't export the toys to Joy-Moon as the concurrence is so harsh. Porn on the other hand sells great there since we are way more hardcore than the fluffy little smut they provide."

"Holon's new adventures? Don't you have issues with the official publisher?"

"They try to sometimes, but with a touch of law bending and a lot of bad faith we usually manage to cover ourselves with the right to parody. When we don't simply ignore the rules. Conveniently, I happen to be a professional lawyer. It helps."

"Wow! Incredibly convenient and helpful, yes! We could use a lawyer's advice for our business!"

"Incredibly convenient and helpful is the Sue way, Vern," he raises a fist triumphantly, "and I'm the Suest of the Sues!"

The cat and lizard explain their deal to the eccentric human.

Vern is very pleased with the way negotiations went: Sue is extremely supportive, has a good stock of pornography and the connections with the right cats for the toys, and is willing to be the risk-taking investor for their adventure while only asking a small share of the future profits. He didn't expect things to be so easy, the human is apparently sincere when saying he likes to help and wants his "Art" to spread.

"Now all you need is the new ship, it shouldn't be a problem: crash-drives once were commonplace but their pieces are different enough from today's engines so the cats can't sell them. I bet you'll easily find your Cricket on the collector planetoid."

"Locust," corrects Vern. "I'm a bit anxious about the cost of the engine's transfer, and the time it'll take."

"Transfer? Thysphaestus didn't explain it to you?"

Sleazy's ears perk and he blinks in incomprehension. "What?"

"Ah, yes, sorry my friend: you've been away from your home's workshop for so long it's no wonder you forgot details about those old techs... I happen to be a professional mechanics, I'll share a few books with you so you get yourself up to date. Anyway, Exposition-Bot, go!"

The robot pops a new hologram, this time comparative ship schematics. "As you already know, the old crash-drive engines are the fastest propulsion ever made at the cost of some vibration issues. Due to their exceptional power and to these vibrations, they require a special ship structure with reinforced beams shaped to disperse the energy and cancel part of the vibrations by interferences. Simply transferring one to a modern ship would cause it to explosively dislocate during the push." The 3D rendering of the catastrophe is quite impressive. "Of course your computer can be transshipped, we all know how a pilot gets attached to his machine."

The cat baps his forehead. "Of course! Now I remember..."

Vern frowns. "Bravesteed will not like that."

"On the bright side, if you exchange your current ship minus a few pieces for the old one I'm sure the cats will give you your Grasshopper and their labor for free. And transshipping a computer, a couple of pilot-seats and some furnishing is only a matter of hours. I suggest you two visit the planetoid together to choose the ship you want on your own." Exposibot raises a tentacle as if trying to get the Captain's attention, but he dismisses it with a hand wave. "But before you leave me, I'd like to show you something, Vern."

As the human and lizard get up, Sleazy raises a hand at his turn. "Uh, may I come too?"

"You are welcome, yes."

The new room is a well equipped dojo. While Vern and Sleazy visit in awe, the former hitting a sandbag playfully and the later getting it in the face when it comes back, Sue goes take his hero pose in the middle of the tatamis. "I heard you fought the Xolos and got injured, Vern, your fighting style might be inefficient. What style do you practice?"

The dragon gets a little defensive when his style is attacked. "I learned the old Kodo military boxing. It's a respecte..."

"...ah! This was your mistake indeed. This style is not good. It's time you update to TCC."

"...I... TCC?"

"Terminal Close Combat. I sense doubt: can your KMB make an opponent's heart explode?"

"What? Oh course not, no style can do that! Except maybe for enhanced Xolos, but 'enhanced' is not a fighting style!"

"I shall demonstrate. Thysphaestus, would you be my partner?"

The cat runs to get in front of the Captain. "Yes! Oh, yes! It'll be awesome!"

"Yes it will! You are now a terrifying space pirate, and you will try to attack me." Sleazy is already about to charge, but he gets stopped by a raised up hand. "Hopopop! Not like this, my friend, terrifying space pirates use guns: you'll find a phaser on the rack behind you."

"Cool! Is... Is it a real one? It looks real!"

"Yes it is. You can attack me when you're ready."

Vern is growing anxious. "Errr, guys, I'm not sure this is a good ide..."

"YARRRR!" The cat, trusting Sue knows what he's doing, starts shooting and running toward him without any restraint. The pulses have an unmistakable red hue and shrieking noise: this is a real weapon and it's set to a potentially lethal mode.

Sue dodges everything without his feet moving, in fast but minimal motions... some of which so unnatural it looks like he has no bones. When the feline gets near enough, his left hand darts downward to make a complicated motion near the gun... which separates neatly, its piece flying in every directions. Then two fingers of that hand connect to Sleazy's chest, apparently lightly.

"Oghhhfff!" The cat slides backward, exhaling all the air from his lungs, and coughs. "A... awesome!"

Sue turns back to the lizard, both hands raised, slowly folding his fingers one by one. "Scarlet Lotus, refrained form!"

"Hhhh! This...! You can't dodge phaser! It's impossible!"

"You are right, my friend. Which makes it all the more demoralizing for your foes when you do it. There's a trick: you don't actually avoid the phaser rays but anticipate their motions based on your opponent's aiming. His pupil motions and basic knowledge of the nervous system's timings will give you the exact shooting times."

"Awesome!" The cat is still breathless but this doesn't makes him less excited. "Do it again! Please!"

"No, not this soon. Your hearth would explode." As he's finishing the sentence, he folds his last finger.

"Awe... ghok!" Sleazy's eyes lose focus and he falls like a mass, fortunately caught by the Captain who puts him in lateral recovery position.

"Do not worry for him, Vern, he'll recover his senses with no lasting effects in one thousand and two seconds. Exposition-Bot, while this lasts, make sure he doesn't swallow his tongue and provide him with new, dry, underwear."

Vern stares in shock for several seconds.

"I happen to be a professional athlete," explains Sue.

"D... didn't you say lawyer? Or mechanics?"

"I'm a man of many hobbies, it is important to develop your intellect as well as your body to be a complete man. Curiosity will eventually make you better at everything, no time spent studying with passion is a second wasted."

"Ooookay. Grand demo, I must admit... Tell me more about your TCC?"

"Exposition-Bot, go!" But the little robot left, dragging Sleazy to a private room in order to finish his mission. "Ah, yes, I'll do it myself, then: once upon a time, a very long while ago, a paramilitary security society was the leader in the field of close-combat theory. The competition being fierce, they didn't rest on their laurels but instead used their knowledge to start up a most ambitious project: the Class warrior. A man elevated from mere flesh to a refactorable knowledge data-carrier by the science of cloning and directed nervous system growth! Imagine the best martial artist of his time, assisted by computers in his exploration of the field of possibles in combat, dedicating his life to it... and at his death, brain-scanned and duplicated into a new clone continuing with all his experience! Repeatedly! The finest statistical analysis and tactical prediction tools, for a man with, soon, hundreds of years in practice! And the style they created with the help of the Class warrior was TCC, 'Terminal' as the last style ever to be required, for all others are since deprecated."

"Wow... You should put this one in a comic!"

"I can't, it's a secret. The TCC is too devastating a weapon to be shared with everyone. But you... you're hero material, I can feel it. My destiny sense is tingling at your sight." He presents an holo-dice to Vern. "Please look into the retina-scanner."

The dragon obeys.

"Vern Amrado, mighty dragon, this holo-dice is now encrypted for your eyes only. If you swear to me you will use TCC only for good and will not share it with the unworthy, I now transmit you this secret beginner course in three-hundred easy lessons! Be proud to be one of the few practitioners of this ancient art! I warn you, however, that even such a formidable martial art as the TCC is no magic and you will not become a master overnight. It will take years of hard work and dedication. I can not give you instant power but, if you have the motivation, this dice will give you a constant, slow but steady, improvement toward excellence. Your future is now in your hands!"

"I... uh... swear."

"You make this a little anticlimactic, my friend."

"Sorry, I'm not used to be as... dramatic as you are. On Kodo, this is frowned upon, you see..."

"I see, but do you frown upon it or are you only trying to follow what's expected from you? And if so, how did it serve you? Did they stop looking at you with suspicion when you abandoned precious parts of your passion? Did you became one of the 'cool ones' by shunning your sense of awe and fun to get ironical and jaded instead? If so was it worth it? It takes some courage to be sincere, and to openly cling to what you like no matter how fashionable it is; to do it for itself and not for social status... you then look stupid and childish to many idiots, but are alive and free. So Vern, will you judge me or will you join me like I know your heart desires?"

The lizard had not expected this. Sue seemed sympathetic to him but a little embarrassingly crazy, a little ridiculous. But now that he points it, are the feelings his own or what the Ministry took years branding into his mind? This is... worth a try, what is the worst that could happen? He pulls his saber and raises it up. "Wise Captain Martin Sue! I, Vern of the Kodos, gratefully accept your teaching! I swear on the blade of my ancestors that my TCC will only serve for good, and will protect the innocent! RAAAWR!"

Sue smiles and tosses him the dice. "Felt stupid?"

"Quite."

"Felt good?"

"...Quite!"

After the two visitors left, Exposibot comes back to the human. "Captain? About the planetoid, as you already know it is..."

"...dangerous. Yes, I'm aware of it. Speaking of which, you will divert the cats so they don't interfere and transmit my order of non-assistance to the Cerberuses. I want them alone there."

"Your orders take precedence, Captain, but I do not understand. Did they insult you in any way? Maybe there could be a more pacific issue..."

Sue laughs. "Aww, Exposition-Bot... You misunderstand, I like them. A lot. Give them more credit, they'll do fine. You see, I feel some potential in this dragon. His Hero Journey has been hectic so far, from what I understand, but fortunately he didn't lose his self-confidence. This is lucky but we can't take more risks, that hero has to hatch. He needs to face his revealing trial. On his own, with only his sidekick."

"Oh, my mistake. I'm reassured, Captain."

Sue turns around so the ventilation makes his hair fly and raises a fist with the index and little finger up. "I believe in you Vern, the planetoid is yours to conquer! ROCK ON!"

9

"In the silence of spaaaace, spaaaace, spaaaace... I feel alone! ...In the darkness of spaaa..."

The radio fades out. "Sorry to interrupt your singing, Captain Connor: the calculation you asked me to run is terminated."

The possum removes the newspaper that was covering his face and raises his seat from couch to sitting position. "Ah, nice. Show me what we got, 'leen."

A holographic map appears, replacing the front of the cockpit, with a multitude of colored vectors everywhere. "Your suspicions were correct, Captain, there is order in the apparent chaos of the localization drones' grid." Pairs of red and blue lines start appearing and vanishing, the blue ones straight and the red starting from the same position but curving and undulating, often looping. "What you see are randomly selected travels, in blue, and their corresponding simulated result when I try executing them using the grid's invalid data for my navigation."

"Woooow, this is a mess! You see order in those?"

"Nothing interesting in the ones you are looking at, Captain. However if I concentrate on the travels from around the center of the sector toward far enough outward distances..." The AI gradually changes its randomizer's parameters. For a short while, nothing special happen... then the red paths start converging, soon all going to the same point.

"I'll be damned! What is at the convergence point?"

"Nothing at all, Captain. This is a rarely traveled through area, far from any structure or celestial body."

"Can you use the nav' telescope to get a visual on it?"

"It should be doable, Captain. I'm starting the procedure, images in twenty four seconds."

"Where are those slow as snails policemen, already?"

"They are back to nearly two days away from us, Captain. One more skirmish with pirates at the other side of the sector got them to move away from us again. Maybe transmitting our new data would get them to hurry up."

"Yep, but maybe transmitting our new data would get us shot. We stay put for now. And scan for cloaked baddies again, please."

"Scanning. Visual on the convergence point acquired." Charleen replaces the map with the view.

10

Vern enjoyed the relaxing dinner with Sleazy's family, the meal was nice and seeing the usually foul-mouthed cat talk like a gentleman, while wearing the costume he stole from Tlaloc, was amusing. He saw the two brothers too, who he already forgot the names of, both of which are taller than their elder: his friend is apparently the runt of the litter.

He volunteered for the dish-washing chore, which Sleazy evaded, and is now alone with an old cat in one of the few rooms with running water on Cat Can City. She's the grand-mother, if he got it right, a short and crooked tabby with an impish smile and less manners than the others. And apparently she doesn't mind small talk. "Sooo, son, you're a space pilot?"

He smiles and nods. "Yes, madame. My spaceship is called Bravesteed and we work in small transport."

"Ooooh, great! That's great! Now, excuse me if I'm a little ignorant, I don't know you guys well and how it works, but I was wondering..."

"Please don't be shy, as my father always told me: there's no silly questions but the ones you don't ask."

"Good say! Your father was wise, son! Alright, then: so I was wondering, which one of you two makes the husband and which makes the wife?"

Vern almost drops his plate. "...wh... I beg your pardon?"

"Ah, that must be little Thys who's the 'girl', of course! That boy, he always was so weak... but nice kitten, would have made a good girl. We sent him to Joy-Moon because he was not built for mechanics, one of his father hoped traveling would thought him up too." She chuckles and shakes her head. "But what do you know, one doesn't change. I'm glad he found you, son, you look like a good boyfriend. Gentle and polite and you'll protect him well. You have my benediction, I wish you all the happiness in the world!"

"I... we... errrr..."

"No, no, don't be uneasy, darling. I'm an old lady who's a little old fashioned and I don't know your ways... But I believe love is a beautiful thing. It's fine to be like you are. A little weird to me, but fine. And we all agree too, my daughter is too polite to talk about this but she's relieved for Thys. And the fathers..." She shakes her hand. "Bleah, you know how fathers are, you might get a little of protective rambling about being a good husband. It's hard to see their boy taken... but deep down, they like you a lot. I can tell."

"Uh... thank you..."

"One thing I wanted to tell you, however. This is important!" She's all serious and severe now. "Thys is fragile and you're a huge male; huge down there too as well, no doubt. You two be careful! I know it's easy to get carried away in a night of passion, I've been young in my time, but I'm counting on you to be cautious: you go slow and with a lot of lubrication, son."

"...I..."

"Tatata, I don't want to hear any excuse. You promise!"

"...I... promise I will not... violently sodomize Slea... your grandson, madame..."

"Good, good. That's all I wanted to hear." She winks. "All the happiness in the world, we love you darling. Ah, and bite his scruff, that usually starts our girls up!"

"Thank you." Vern finishes cleaning up his plate extremely awkwardly, then can't refrain asking. "Excuse me, madame... Do I... look gay? A general gay vibe?"

She has a goodhearted chuckle. "Ha, not at all son, you're all... manly and stuff. I would never have guessed by looking at you. Thys on the other hand... Well, it's obvious, you can't deny it."

There are still several glasses to wash and the lizard needs a diverting topic to fill the silence. Luckily there's one he was curious about but didn't have the opportunity to explore yet: "Oh, I was wondering. About his fathers?"

"Yes?"

"Two fathers? I don't get it?"

"Ah, this! Oh it's a silly little story, son, nothing that unusual for us here." She points the low ceiling. "See the can? It's cramped and cycling the same air all the time, well that works with pheromones as well. At the right time in the year, pretty much every females get their heats altogether and the males are very tensed. They get nervous and ready to fight if you let them. That's one period where living confined together is tricky." She smirks at some memories. "So what we do, to disarm conflict, is a big party. We put the ones too old to lose their mind to the love season in guard near dangerous spots like airlocks, and booze the others up a good time. Alcohol is taboo here except during the 'autumn gala' --that's how we call it--, which makes it all the more potent. Usually it's... very festive and nothing too bad happen."

"And the morning after, many females are future moms and sometimes nobody can remember for sure who's the real father."

"You got it right. And family is important to us, a kid can't miss one of his parents. Better two dads than none at all."

11

"Denied."

"Awwww, please Bravesteed, we need your help!" Sleazy has been trying to convince the computer to let itself get transshipped since the beginning of the trip. With little success.

"Denied. I will not become a landfill old wreck and I will not respond to the name of Love Locust."

"Awwww, what's wrong with this name?"

"As an high-reliability program, I resent any association with bugs."

"It's not that kind of bug, it's a... a brave bug. That leaps daringly!"

"Symbol does not match the 'love' adjective."

"Awww, you don't like love neither? What's wrong with love?"

"Love could be optimized."

Vern remained silent so far, thinking hard: as a robot, the computer is technically a free citizen. It's easy to forget about it because the machines don't mind being sold --but they could decide to ignore it and leave-- and ships usually cooperate. But Bravesteed, with its unusual character, might just be the only computer that could refuse transshipping if they don't find the right words. He finally decides to try his luck. "Bravesteed, what if your new body made you the fastest ship in the universe and was equipped with heavy weaponry?"

There is a long silence. "Can the name be negotiated?"

"I suppose it can. Sleazy, you're our porn specialist, I'm sure you can find a fitting replacement name?"

"Yes! We weren't even that sure about Love Locust to begin with! Wait, wait, I'll find something good... The Dildo Comet!"

"Unacceptable: Dildo suggest a weak mechanism; Comet suggests a fragile material."

"Errr... The... Moan Smuggler!"

"Unacceptable: illogical, moans are not a regulated ware."

"Okay, I have a great one! The Xolo Penetrator. It's a double word play because you, like, penetrate the market they have near monopoly on and they have it up the ass! See the nice logic in it?"

"Unacceptable: sizes do not match. Captain Vern, I surrender to your manipulative negotiation tactics. Love Locust is tolerable if I get at least three, caliber fifty, turrets."

Vern sighs with relief. "Deal!"

"On an unrelated note, we're arriving to the incorrectly named 'collector planetoid', you can get ready to drop."

Sleazy makes a face. "Na na na, 'not a real planetoid'. Well it sounds nice this way. You suck at names, that's all, Bravesteed."

"My name is Love Locust and I contest your competences as a judge on nomenclature."

Vern chuckles and fluffs the cat's head. "Stop fighting and get your environment suit on."

Locust talks again: "For your information, environment suits are unnecessary. I detect a comfortably livable terraforming on the collector small artificial body."

"Collector planetoid!" Sleazy realizes what has been said. "What? It's terraformed now? Awwwww man, a terraforming module had to crash there before we could get our hands on it, that sucks so much! We're the unluckiest ever!"

Locust doesn't land, as the ground risks to be too unstable for its weight and the configuration of the "planetoid" allows it to simply hoist its passengers down the surface from a cable.

Holding Sleazy buckled in his front, Vern watches the scenery during the descent: there's not enough atmosphere thickness for the sky to be blue but the ground looks planet-like enough, safe the extremely round horizon. It's a mix of a beautiful green and shiny or rusty metal, as the planetoid is a landfill of spaceships and pieces, with a smooth coating of terraforming moss. "I can't believe this thing can hold an atmosphere... this is crazy! How does it work?"

"That's easy: we have that big rock we call 'Axis', CCC is orbiting around it. Then a bit further, most of the dump makes a ring around it. The planetoid used to be a tiny asteroid, we sent it in the right direction and loaded it full with artificial gravity. Artificial grav doesn't spread like the real stuff, that's why we not only have atmosphere but also pressure despite it being so thin. So, now, the planetoid has a complex orbit making it 'drag' into the dump, and all the stuff on its way falls down on it. But it'll often 'bounce' out for a moment and then we can land to make our market without risking a rain of steel on the head. Today we get a fifteen hour window. It's convenient, especially for very small pieces that are hard to gather or on the contrary huge ones we need broken to be exploited. Once in a while it'll 'slingshot' debris at CCC but the Cerberuses will destroy them."

"Cool, so if I get this right, we must not miss our leaving time?"

"We'd better not! There's not enough atmosphere to burn falling debris there, so while the risk of taking a big ship in the face is low, supersonic bolts and nuts would mess us up something fierce! We have more that twelve hours, with the safety delay, it should be plenty. If not, we'll just take off and come back later... sheesh, Brav... Locust and its extra requirements..."

"I was planning to get the turrets anyway, in case of mercenaries."

"Wow, so you tricked it? Awesome!"

"Don't tell it around, it's a secret."

They eventually reach the ground, unbuckle and anchor the cable to a huge beam planted almost vertically into the ground. Vern takes a big breath, glad to fill his lungs with an air fresher than that recycled one he grew accustomed to on Cat Can City. "Aaaaah, nice. It was my first orbital drop. Not nearly as extreme as the name suggests, but I enjoyed it."

"And you'll like the hike too... Look at this, the place never has been that pretty!" The cat crouches to caress the soft moss. "It can be a bit dangerous if you don't know where you can or can't walk. So stay near me all the time. Can you lend me your binoculars? One of the cute green hills in this scenery is actually Locust's future body, I studied hard from Captain Sue's book and should be able to find it easily."

"Speaking of studies... I hope we'll find the ship early: this place would be perfect for me to train with my new saber. I'm dying to check some of Sue's holo-dice moves."

The search takes time, Sleazy didn't lie about being good at spotting potential ships matching their needs but the four ones they found so far where in too bad condition --sometimes due to the cats' pillaging-- to be repaired anytime soon. They also often have to take long paths to avoid unstable areas.

They still have plenty of time and the hike is rather pleasant. Each is lost in his thoughts. The cat is wondering why they are still alone here, it was not surprising to be the first visitors when they left Cat Can City in the middle of the "night" but, now, other cat teams should have dropped long ago. The lizard is looking at the sky, still unused to it's nightly look while from the ground they're enjoying a warm and sunny day. He also can't see Locust anymore, they must have walked to the opposite side of the... well, "small artificial body": the computer was right, it's way too small to be a genuine planetoid.

Vern has little to do but to think. "Sleazy? I've been thinking our scheme through, lately..."

"Yes?"

"I'll be honest, when I got involved in this I was driven by my anger against Tlaloc and I didn't really believe in it nor felt that eager to sell porn and toys..."

The cat's hands tighten on his toolbox handle and he looks back anxiously. "But... now you're in it for real, right?"

"Yes, little buddy, this is my adventure. It took me a while to understand why I was so committed, but when I saw CCC and met your people..." He stops the time to order his ideas. "I was thinking, this could work. We could make good money out of this and then... how would you like it if we brought a small piece of land on Kodo for ourselves and all your gang? It's a beautiful planet, even greener and sunnier than here, and you wouldn't need to hide because the Xolo would not mess with the dragons' home. I talked with Sue, he says that your status of pests could be used to dodge the immigration regulations by declaring it an animal reserve."

"We... we could... live on a real planet again? It's like a dream!"

"Don't tell it to the others yet, we are still too far from success to give them hope. But it's my goal, my purpose."

"O... okay."

"Is it alright, little buddy? Are you crying?"

"No, I'm good... just got some of that silly terraforming moss pollen in my eyes... I'm allergic."

"I'm not a botanist, but I'm pretty sure mosses don't produce pollen."

"Well, whatever they produce, then." The cat wipes his eyes with the back of his hand.

Vern doesn't push that further. He knows a topic that should be easier on his friend. "Say, the porn we got from Sue... It's some intense stuff!"

The cat relaxes. "Yes, it's very good! Do you like it?"

"Errrrr... well most of it is too much for me. And the rest, I'm not too sure how I feel about it. I admit some pictures are exciting but I don't feel too good about being excited by them."

"Awwww, it makes you uneasy? You shouldn't be! One of the things we discovered a long time ago when exploring the way the mind works is... we're full of filth. All of us. That's the normal way, and it's okay because you can control what you do with it, what you let out and how you direct it. You're not your primal parts, you're the greater thing that emerges from their combination. Like Lady Anna, you remember her?"

"How would I forget? She's quite the character and she helped us a lot!"

"Good, so you like her? I'm sure you even respect her?"

"Yes, definitively."

"Well her dominatrix outfit is not just for the show, she's a sadist. I swear you don't want to know what she likes to do with a male's balls... ah, but you lizards have internal ones, right? You probably don't get all what it implies for us..."

"Enough so I indeed don't want to know."

"Right, good then. Well, that's just one of the things she does. She likes to hurt guys, to make them beg and crawl... Not the kindest trait of character, uh? Except she's also a very kind person, and she does her things only to the right 'victims' who'll love it, in a controlled and caring way. And she uses her strong dominant side in everyday life, not to abuse but to guide and to help. Lady Anna is a wonderful person despite all the filth in her head. In fact she's even wonderful with the filth. She uses it right."

"I see your point. So you're saying porn is... well, quite moral?"

"It depends which one! That's one thing most people don't get right, they stick to the surface, to the intensity and 'bad taste'... In fact, the soft-core that makes most of the industry is the vile thing: it builds a fake image of what sex is like, of what a body should look and perform like, it suggests that sexuality is somewhat dirty and that it's alright to objectify the others. Especially ladies, and they have to act as if they loved it this way! And it does all this with a false, reassuring, smile, it subtly hints it's normal. With Gorgo the Chainsaw Rapist, at least, its all over your face how wrong what's depicted is, the abuser is clearly depicted as evil and you feel awkward about murder-sex and not sex in general. The Captain has a strong ethic, he's careful with his subtext and everything, our porn is morally immaculate! You can make porn a beautiful thing if you have some sincere ethic!"

"So... you're saying your most trashy hard-core smut is better than the lingerie ads?"

"And how!"

"Weird concept, but your arguments are food for my thoughts. And you're right on this: beside Anna, I can think of at least one other person who's sleazy as hell and who I still like a lot." He winks.

The cat chuckles, hesitates, then licks his lips and looks like he is about to confess something... finally he only turns around a bit hurriedly, tail shaking nervously, and continues walking.

Vern had enough clues already and, even if he's a bit naive, he guesses what his friend wanted to say but didn't dare to. Only he's not to sure how to answer and doesn't dare to neither.

"Uh... Vern...?"

"Y... yes?"

"Something moved in the moss ahead."

During the old wars, all the created weapons were not of a mechanical nature. The thing that recently crashed on the planetoid was not a civilian terraforming module but an "asteroid barricade", created to prevent opposing troops from freely deploying in asteroid fields, with its complete stock of eggs and their supporting biotope generation kit. This is the reason why the cats are currently only landing when at least one of the Cerberuses is available: the robots already cleaned up a lot of it, but not all.

Vern peers, eyes narrowed, guessing some vague motions as well but unable to see what it was. It has to be mimetic with the environment and it slithers like a snake. He instinctively reaches for his saber. A strange, almost pure, music note resonates in front of them, soon getting answers from various hidden positions all around. They are surrounded! "Don't make any noise or fast move, Sleazy."

"O... okay..."

"Do you know what those things are?"

"No, I have no clue."

The lizard reaches for his wristband to call Locust for help, but something is scrambling his communications. "Alright, we're in a bad spot and the next ship is too far to make a run for it. I need you to find us a path to some high position. When you have it, run like the wind: I'll follow and cover you." He tries to remember what little Terminal Close Combat he already learned. The first lesson was all about... "heroic glare", yes, seriously. Skipping a few ones, there were some about blade wielding thanks to which he'll at least be able to hold his saber the right way. But with no actual training yet, he's aware how this and his Kodo boxing are all he'll have for this fight.

"This way!" The cat suddenly starts running toward a half buried huge reservoir that looks like a tower. There are more notes, faster and higher pitched, and the scenery starts undulating.

Vern runs behind his friend, holding his weapon and carefully keeping an eye on every direction. Around them, pieces of metal are rolling or get bopped in the air, pushed by monstrous, green, flat worms. The things are each six to eight meters long, strong enough to pierce through the surface and emerge further away, and ending with a triangular head which opens to a nasty hole full with rows and rows of spiraling fangs. And they are getting close alarmingly fast.

Luckily, the lizard manages to anticipate the motion of one of the divers. He catches the cat by his collar and pulls hard, half choking him and making him fall but preventing him right in time from walking where the monster emerges. In an explosion of debris and with a resounding G-flat, the thing pops like a jack in the box. Vern was ready for it.

Roaring, the dragon hits with a good angle and steady held and his blade penetrates surprisingly well. Yellow blood splatters as the worm is neatly cut in halves and splits in the air to free the way. "Run, Sleazy, run!"

They are getting close to the reservoir and more beasts are jumping on them. Vern hacks and slashes vigorously, not managing anything as impressive as his first slice but getting the job done: the things are strong but stupid, showing no martial art skill, and the blade is amazing! Still he's tiring up fast and they are getting closer and closer of maiming one of the fugitives.

The reservoir has no ladder. It is full of enough asperities for a cat and lizard to climb but they would be defenseless and don't have enough advance to avoid attacks. "Sleazy! Flares! As many as you can!"

The cat opens his toolbox, losing a few screwdrivers and hexagonal keys, and frenetically lights up and tosses all his stock of flares. The diversion works, distracted by many moving and shiny things, the worms have a moment of chaotic confusion. The runners climb as fast as they can. The first worm to resume the hunt hits the wall mere centimeters below Sleazy's foot... but that's the highest they can jump and they don't climb.

Vern and Sleazy recover, sitting on the flat top of their "tower". Below, the worms are still hurling themselves at the reservoir furiously, with resonating bongs. Except three of them, the largest ones in their group, who are forming a triangle around the base, standing as high as they can and turned outward, and are... making strange music.

The cat is terrified. "Look at them... I bet they are calling for reinforcements... And we're stuck! In five hours, standing here will be like a picnic on a shooting range... And Locust can't see or hear us! We're so dead!"

Vern gets up to come patting his shoulder. "Do not despair, little buddy. Their reinforcements are not here yet, we are close to the shipwreck we were after and... I didn't do so bad against them, they are not that numerous now. I think I can take them in action stance. But I'll need a good, strong, action stance."

"You... you think, really?"

The Terminal Close Combat lesson about glaring was explaining in detail how psychological victory is the first step toward actual victory, going on about intimidation tactics and morale boosting. It's time to test this claims. Vern heroic glares hard at Sleazy. "I_will_ beat them."

This must have been a decent glare, because the cat calms down and stands up, recovering hope. "O... okay, I'll help!" Now, even the dragon feels a lot more confident in his own abilities. Maybe this lesson was not as silly as it initially looked like.

He takes a big breathe, now is time for a leap of faith. There are... things to sort up for this to work. He holds the cat's shoulders and looks at him in the eyes. "Good. Sleazy... there are many things I'm not... too sure about yet. Feelings I don't understand well. But do you remember Sue's inspiring speech about boldly and proudly being what you are?"

"Errrr... no? Did it happen during that weird moment where my memory's a touch blurry, and I missed a thing or two, and then I woke up with Exposibot in an other room with my pants off and new underwear? Because I'm not really worried since it's a robot and all but... I'd have a few questions."

"Sleazy, we're having a moment. Please focus."

"Sorry."

"Good. What I'm trying to say is... I'm about to try getting in a serious action stance with your help, but it's not only this. You are... dear to me, little buddy and I hope this will be something special too. I'll try to make it feel good for you."

"Like... like... we're like going out?"

"Yes, we're going out. I'm sorry the setting is not as romantic as I would have liked it to be. And I can't even kiss you because it'd probably poison you. But you're the first one I ever... errr... and... and it's important to me. I'm sincere."

"Iiih!" The cat is nearly jumping on his spot in joyful excitement. "I... I love you too, Vern!"

"Okay, so action stance remember? I need to make you feel dominated and I know you like it. So I'll go 'in character' now. Please, please, remember I don't want to hurt you. If at any moment you don't feel right about what's going on, I want you to tell me. I'll stop, anytime."

"Understood."

"Good." The dragon straightens up and looks down at his friend, then orders as firmly as he can manage: "Strip naked." Now, he hopes he's really a repressed gay as everyone keeps telling because if it turns out he can't "conclude" what he just started it will feel terrible... Ah, yes, and it will probably spell their doom, too.

Sleazy is shivering and his hands are trembling so much he barely manages to unbutton his clothes. He forgot the monsters for now: they'll get pummeled in a moment anyway. This is like in his best fantasies, only now it's for real. And with a loved one. It's the first time he actually gets naked for someone and this is way more intense than when he imagined it.

He finishes dropping his pants and briefs, and blushes as he finds himself so erect already. He fidgets, needing to struggle the urge to cover himself, then looks up at the dragon. He's still in character, very serious, looking at him intensely... and the front of his pants are bulging. The cat's ear flatten and his tail curls down, he's a little intimidated.

"Good kitty. Present your hands to me."

The cat obeys and watches Vern open the toolbox to retrieve a roll of tape. He gets each of his hands taped into an useless stub, well stuck with the fist closed... the dragon is a natural, is he getting into this? Sleazy's penis is already unsheathed and he's losing a rope of pre under himself. If he could he'd really want to masturbate... and the frustration from not being able to is only an extra tease. "W... will you fuck me?"

"Not exactly. Not yet. I have no lube and I promised your grandmother."

"W... what?"

"Later, focus and shut up." The dragon removes his belt and passes it around the cat's neck as an improvised leash. He tugs up, making it tighten gently and forcing Sleazy on his toes, pressed against his body. His figure is already changing gradually, the scene is triggering his stance! It makes him even more intimidating. "I'm the one who rules the show here, you'll talk only when and if I allow you."

"Ye...." Sleazy realizes what order he was given and shuts up right in time, instead nodding vigorously. The big, clawed hand caresses his face as he's held there, stretched, naked in the open face to a stronger, clothed, male. When his scruff is grabbed and pinched, the cat moans and spurts pre all over his friend's boots.

The lizard is already letting go and loosens the leash. "On your knees, kitty."

Sleazy drops to his knees and spreads them well, arching and taking a nice pray-standing pose. His tapering penis is throbbing up and down, begging for attention. Is this for real? Will the dragon really do what he thinks he's about to... interrupting his thoughts, Vern unzips his pants and tugs on his briefs. Two large hemipenises flop on his face. They are hard, they pulse a little and they drip some onto his fur. He bites his lower lip to prevent himself from begging for them, which would maybe be too much for Vern.

"Good kitty. Open wide, one goes in, the other rests on your cute face. Mind the root thorns, I don't want you to hurt yourself."

Sleazy reaches with his bound hands to guide the members as he can and opens wide. He has no practice in this but at least he read enough "documentation" not to risk any lack of inspiration. He eases one member into his mouth while the other traces over the soft fur of his nose. Remembering his teeth, he tenses his lips over them. "Hhmmfff..." The noise is rewarded with a pulse and he gets a soft oily taste in his mouth and a wet spot on the forehead.

Vern grabs an ear gently but firmly and pulls. Not far, he doesn't want to gag the cat, just enough so he feels forced to swallow more. This gets the tongue working. The cats ancestors had a raspy tongue. They lost this trait but an odd trace of texture remains, which the lizard finds exotic and pleasant. He takes a hold on his free member to stroke it lightly, rubbing it all over Sleazy's face, while he makes the cat bob his head on the other.

The feline always thought he'd be great at fellatio, having so many tricks in his sleeve to try to make it an elaborate performance. But now he has his chance, he's so lost into the thrill that all he can think of is to suckle in rhythm, caress with his tongue, and let Vern use him any ways he pleases. He's breathless and wriggles on his knees, unable to help himself from reaching between his legs.

"No, Sleazy. Behind your head."

"Hhmmnnfff..." The pleading whine is too close of a noise of ecstasy for it to gain any mercy. Dribbling a puddle of pre in terrible frustration and loving each second of it, the cat places his hands where ordered.

This was the last touch needed to get Vern past the edge. Growling as he gets close, he strokes himself faster and needs all his self restraint not to pull on that ear harder. He roars for good as he reaches his climax.

Strong spurts of white seed shoot in the feline's muzzle and into his face. With his tongue stuck, he fails to swallow and gets a huge mouthful, nearly drowning in it. He's so close of cumming himself, without even being touched, just from the scene... And suddenly Vern pulls out.

The dragon let himself get carried away and entirely forgot about the other goal of all this: now he ejaculated, will the stance vanish? No, he can still save it: domination of an other male in a sexual context... "Kitty, stay! And don't swallow."

Puzzled and disoriented, Sleazy watches the dragon hopping from the reservoir's side and abandoning him on his knees, covered with sperm and tongue bathing in more of it. Anybody less submissive and masochistic would have called such a fuck and run a wicked move but he is still enjoying himself in a way.

Wet noises and furious dragon grunts remind him of what's going on below and he finally softens as he fears from his friend. After a minute or two, it calms down and there's silence. Did Vern win? Did he get himself killed?

The lizard emerges, triumphant, from the edge, his clothes coated with yellow but showing no injuries. He looks more heroic than Holon himself, in his fullest action stance ever. "Good kitty. The path is clear, but I still need your stance support until we reach cover, in case of a new ambush." He picks up the leash. "Up! Follow me!"

Vern, still in an intense action stance, and Sleazy, still naked and leashed, run to the next possible ship they wanted to check. The cat, following his orders, is holding his mouthful despite badly wanting to spit. He is rock hard again no matter the stress. It's a good thing the moss makes it comfortable to run without shoes, but the sensation still makes him feel extra-vulnerable.

They reach their destination with no further incident and can recover a little. The dragon lets his stance fade out and sighs. "Wow, that was something! Are you alright little buddy?"

Sleazy nods. "Hmmmhhff."

"Oh, sorry. Swallow." As the feline obeys, making a face, he removes the leash from his neck and tries pulling the tape from one of his hands.

"Ow! Ow! My fur!"

"Sorry! I... okay, we'll remove this later, with solvent." The dragon lowers himself to his friend's level and gently holds his shoulders. "Was... was it good for you, Sleazy? I wasn't... too rough?"

"No, no, it... it was amazing!" The cat grabs at Vern for a tight hug... then pulls back as he realizes he just covered himself with icky monster fluids. "Ewww, you're all gooey!"

"Look who's talking!"

Both laugh hard at this, then Sleazy sighs: "I just wish our lives weren't in danger every time you do all those wonderful things to me. I'm pretty sure this is not how you're supposed to have a sane relationship with your lover."

"True... I'll try to work on this."

"Also, we abandoned my good clothes..." He's interrupted by a loud low note and, near the reservoir, sees the ground raising for a humongous worm to raise out. It'd be large enough to swallow a whole truck. "Eeeeek! The queeeen!"

Vern grabs him by the scruff without a hesitation and runs into the ship. "How do you know?"

"I don't: I'm guessing... is it important?"

"We'll see: cross your fingers, little buddy, this has to be the right ship!"

Sleazy shows his bound hands. "I can't!"

Vern is already pushing a lot of buttons in the cockpit. There's a sudden vibration in the ship, many lights go on and a robotic voice greets them. "Greetings, my name is Elga. Thank you for restarting me. Awaiting instruction."

Vern and Sleazy both shout together: "Kill the worm!"

"Defensive mode activated." There's some creaking when the turrets raise, followed by a deafening explosion. "Foe obliterated."

Having missed all of it, the duo is still doubtful. Vern is the first to react. "Really? Replay, please."

"Replaying, slow motion." A hologram of the monster appears, it looks like a still image... until the first plasma balls appear, tracing quiet arcs and followed by the translucent trails from their supersonic shock-waves. "Assault plus ten milliseconds." The first ball hits target and disappears inside the monster, there's a blink and then nothing. A dozen more shots hit targets each carefully aimed at a vital point inside. "Plus fifteen milliseconds. Checkmate. Accelerating the video." From frozen, the monster gains a very slow forward motion. It starts distorting, huge holes tearing their ways up and flames bursting from more and more holes, to explode into a cloud of chunky bits. "Plus one second: foe ceased existing as an organized construct. No other hostile detected. We win. End of the replay."

Vern turns to Sleazy. "Little buddy, if this thing was really a queen, we just conquered your planetoid back."

"Small artificial body," corrects Elga.

The lizard looks back at the screens and pats the anti-g seat like if he was rewarding a pet. "Good work Elga. Thank you. Okay, this will probably feel weirder to us organics than to you but... now you saved our lives, how would you feel about taking off and letting us steal your body?"

"Will my brain be returned to the robots?"

"We were planning to put it into a new ship, that the cats will probably sell to let it resume its functions."

"I approve resuming my functions. This proposal is acceptable, please provide me with a more specific destination and strap yourself for take off."

"I think Locust will be very happy."

The monster was the queen: it had evaded the Cerberuses, so far, by hiding from them. Today it couldn't resist the unguarded bait visiting its territory.

Vern and Sleazy are so happy that they don't think about asking why nobody warned them about the danger.

The dragon looks so heroic when announcing they have reclaimed the planetoid that nobody on Cat Can City think he didn't deliberately go alone to fight monsters.

12

This is finally it, Vern and Sleazy are strapped on their seats in the new Love Locust, loaded with cargo and ready for their first push. All their trials are finally paying off and, if they both have regrets from leaving Cat Can City behind, they can feel the call of adventure. Adventure, however, always comes with its little worries.

"Okay, little buddy... the resonator is lined up fine, right? You're sure we won't explode?"

"I worked hard, I'm now a true specialist of crash drives. I checked everything ten times and I'm... nearly certain. Like, ninety-nine percents sure."

The lizard winces. "I suppose it's the best we'll get, none of those things were used in the last century or so."

"Yeah... and how about the Xolos and mercenaries? Do you think they are still after us? We were safe in CCC but the moment we leave the sector..."

"Don't worry, the situation is different now: they don't know where we'll exit from and we have the fastest ship in the universe. From now on, if we're careful to avoid running into their territories or staying in the same spot for too long, we'll always have advance on them. They can hunt us all they want, there's no way they can catch us!"

"Yeah, right!"

"Are you ready, Love Locust?"

"I was built ready, Captain. All systems in optimal condition, push calculations complete, engine warmed up: pushing at your command."

Vern decides this occasion deserves the right ritual. He heroic glares at Sleazy. "Put your hand on this handle, partner, and get ready to push it forward hard." The cat obeys and Vern wraps his larger hand around the furry one. "Are you ready?"

"Y... yes!"

"Then... LOOOOCUST LEAP!"

The vibrations are terrifying for a moment but the ship doesn't explode and the push... the push is wild! Squeezed hard in his seat, barely able to breath with the Gs making his chest so heavy, Vern watches their trajectory on the map with disbelief: no matter the issues with crash drives, abandoning this amazing tech was criminal! "Woooohoooooyeeeah!"

This is when red lights appear everywhere and Locust says words nobody wants to hear while testing an highly experimental engine: "Malfunction. Alert, incoherences found in the navigation data. Position and trajectory unknown. Unexpectedly early push exit in ten, nine, eight..."

This is one of the few cases when, no matter how good a pilot is, the only thing he can do is to scream in terror. So Vern joins Sleazy in doing that. Then comes the "crash".

The dragon coughs, head spinning, and needs a couple of seconds for his eyes to refocus. They didn't explode. He hears his friend wheezing by his side, Sleazy's alive. Then he sees, through the holo-bubble, the black pirate ship and its many little fighters waiting for them in a formation drawing a giant skull. At a distance behind, the three mighty Xolo Daggers also await.

"Engine failure," notes Locust.

Black Sheep stands from his seat, jubilating, as his crew of sheep howl in chorus. "Surprise! Muhahaha! All raptors, deploy! Remember, don't damage the engine, they can't use it anyway! Gunners, barrage fire on their cockpit, lowest power, maximum temperature: I want all their turrets busy trying to prevent their pilots from cooking!"

There's a concert of "yes Captain" both around and from the radios, then the maneuver begins. A rain of cyan dots pours at high speed from the Black Ship to the Locust, which has no choice but to frenetically shoot back at it, creating a wall of explosions in the middle. Meanwhile, the fighter ships are spreading in every direction to surround their prey, taking their time to avoid any unnecessary risk.

Tlaloc, Mix and Coatl, each in the Commander room of their respective Dagger, watch the show with excitement and envy. The old Xolo would love to take part but is aware enough of his limitations as a warrior not to take the risk of destroying the Locust. The younger two, forced by orders to let the pirates have all the fight and glory are tensed and can't help hoping Black Sheep will try something so they can get involved.

More treachery is unlikely: since his salary was renegotiated, the wolf acted professionally and offered full cooperation. He's even sharing his tactical network with the Xolos so they can follow every raptor move and hear every orders. This would make him entirely vulnerable if he tried to cheat in any way.

Tlaloc is growing impatient. "What are they waiting for, why don't they attack already?"

Mix explains the maneuver to him: "The less they shoot at the Locust, the less they risk damaging the crash drive. Time is on our side: with all the plasma it shoots, the target will run out of energy before the Black Ship. In fact, if the enemy pilot doesn't react soon, he'll be killed and his ship will then surrender peacefully."

Vern and Sleazy are desperate and shocked. Locust shakes them out of their frozen state: "Checkmate in three minutes, twelve seconds."

Sleazy is on the edge of crying. They'll get killed now? So close of accomplishing great things? Now he has a lover and some hopes? And then he has an inspiration. "Vern! They... they don't know crash drives well! They made a mistake! The push, it was way shorter than normal: our engine's misalignment might be minimal!" He hurriedly unbuckles himself. "I can repair, it has to work! Buy me some time!" And he's already running to the ship's rear.

The dragon recollects himself. He can't let his friend down, no matter how thin are their chances. What would Captain Holon do? "Be bolder than the enemy... who's attacking and who's attacked is only a matter of the strongest will."

"I do not understand that order, Captain."

"Locust, we're attacking back!"

"I can not reorient any turret without you dieing, Captain: they are required to prevent the pirate's rays for overheating your cockpit."

"Not like this: enable the auxiliary engines, we'll ram those raptors!"

"This action is deadly as well, Captain."

"Deadly and destructive. Do you think they'll let us crash ourselves and our precious engine? Go! We're wasting time."

"Analysis: expected issue is near certain death. Best scenario so far. Security overridden, good luck Captain."

Sleazy looses balance and falls on the engine when the first light rocket hits one of Locust's wings. They are shooting now! He rolls on the side and nearly gets hung by cables: from the accelerations, Vern is in a intense dogfight. There's no way he can open the resonator's case and do any accurate adjustments in these conditions, not to forget he's too short on time.

He can think of one other option. A very desperate one... A new rocket hits them: yes, now is a desperate enough time for this!

Vern is showing his best piloting skill today, slaloming between rockets and the blinding cyan rays, sometimes getting some heat, forcing the raptors to evade him and trying to use the explosion wall to his advantage. The sheep are not half bad neither, more numerous and mobile, and he's getting the impression they are playing with him to keep him busy. They are also shooting at him every time they get an opportunity to do so far enough from the engine: his screens are all beeping and blinking in worrying red.

He needs an other way to gain some time. The Xolos' arrogance? "Locust, try to get me a video call with the enemy!" He doesn't even have a plan.

"Calling. They accept the call."

It's not a Xolo who appears on the hologram but a chuckling huge black wolf. "Muhahaha! Good show, you have some guts I'll give you that!"

"Let me speak to your Xolo masters, doggy!"

"Awww, what's the magic word?"

"Okay! Please!"

"Hahahahihihi! ...Errrr, no. I'm afraid you don't have enough to bargain to waste their time..." He gets closer of the camera and his face inflates and distort in an unnatural mask from the lense's adjustment getting extreme. "In less than one minute, you'll all be toasted in there, do you wish to say a last word so I can write it on your tombstone? ...ah, no, I forgot! I won't be able to do that!" He opens his maw wide and licks his chops before snapping it at the cam. "'Doggy' will eat your meat and gnaw at your bones! Nothing to bury! No tombstone nor memory! Muhahihaha!"

Sleazy is coming back and jumps on his seat, too hurried to pay too much attention to the scary wolf. He buckles himself back as fast as he can. "I... I rewired all the engine's safety away. We can push again but... but we risk exploding. I... I feel it will work, I feel it in my mechanics guts."

"Hahahahahi! Good one! So desperate and helpless... Too bad you're surrounded, with no room to move now even if your engine could work. Oooooh, kitty... Nice to meat you, I never tasted a feline yet." The wolf's huge yellow eyes plunge into sleazy's, making the cat shrink on his seat. "Nooooo hoooope..."

And then, Vern sees it. The eyes, the posture, it's elaborated. A "villain glare"? As terrifying as he looks, the pirate is playing an act, trying to manipulate them. He's flesh and bones, not the legendary archetype he's simulating. He can doubt. He can fear. And he likely doesn't have half the motivation the lizard has now, not half as much to lose.

Vern counter heroic glares and aims the Locust straight at the Black Ship. "Enough playing. Time to take the leap." And he cuts the transmission.

"Hey! HEY!" It's uncommon for the wolf to get a prey hanging up in his face. The sheep are turning their heads to him, somewhat worried, as he stays put and gets ponderous.

"Captain? You... okay?"

"He... He will do it. ...He will do it! EVADE! RAPTORS, SPLIT!"

Thanks to the shared network, Tlaloc didn't miss any of the confrontation and what started up delightful for his taste is suddenly turning sour. Those cowardly pirates! They are running away in chaotic panic. "NO! They will not run away again! Pilot, move us in their way! Shields up! I'll destroy them myself if I have to but they're not stealing my Locust!"

Coatl's hologram pops in the room instantly. "Sir, no! The crash drive's energy trail is nothing like those of the ships we know, cancel your move! Evade, now!"

"DON'T YOU DARE GIVING ORDERS TO ME!"

13

It took no more time than a blink for the nightmare to end. Crushed by the push's acceleration, neither Vern nor Sleazy can move a finger for a moment and the cockpit is silent until Locust announces: "Evasion successful."

The two look at each others... and laugh, a little nervously still. They win! They really win!

The trip to the first planet will take a little more than two day and it will be quiet. It will be: because nothing can run fast enough to trouble this leaping locust.

To be continued...

14

...except the episode is not finished for everyone yet!

Coatl groans and comes back to his senses, he's disoriented, what's happening? There are officers floating, more or less knocked out, everywhere in the room... he realizes he's upside down himself and swims upward to correct that. There are alarms, he's only noticing now because he's still half deaf. Red lights... Outside, in front of the Dagger of Order, a beautiful trail of color is slowly vanishing and there's a pretty white cloud.

White... cloud? His eyes focus and he makes sense of the vision: two thirds of the Dagger of Commandment have been ripped from it's front and split in halves. The ship's water is flowing into space, where it first boils from the lack of pressure before freezing, creating the majestic white columns. Debris are flying everywhere, and especially raining onto the Dagger of Law.

For once, Coatl has a bout of sheer panics: "NOOOOOOOOO! THE EMPLOYEEER!"

Centeotl of the Pocta House, having a very un-Xolo moment, is sorely regretting his recent promotion. The one that got him moved to the prestigious Dagger of Commandment. In an inferior mammal ship full of air, everybody would be dead from the explosive decompression already... but water has more momentum, more friction, less stretchability. Instead he's grabbing at a door's edge for his life as other screaming soldiers pass by him, carried helplessly by the torrent.

Less than twenty meters below, there's the open void where their cries get shut abruptly. His arms are tiring and his fingers are slipping... maybe the fast, explosive, death would have been more merciful.

Silver shines through the white spirals of doom... A ship? Help? Yes, it's a fighter from the Dagger of Law! He almost loses his hold from the vibration when a rocket explodes nearby. Impossible! It's shooting at them! Why? The answer comes to him in the form of a wave of cold: by shooting rockets into the cloud outside, the ship is sending tons of snow and ice back at them. The flow slows down gradually as the hole is plugged with shards and freezes as well.

Centeotl regains some faint hope.

"...to rescue you all. Nobody will be left behind." This is Mix's voice, more tensed than the usual. He looks from where it comes and sees his wristband started projecting a hologram on its own: she's wearing a slick environment suit, close to the body all over with even a "hood" rather than a helmet, and she's flying in the void near the wreck. "So to all of you brave soldiers, who are injured and afraid, remember..." There are medics by her side, holding onto her so they fly together, doing something to her left arm. Suddenly she reaches to them and grabs... her severed arm which she brandishes above her head. "WE ARE XOLOS! HARDER AND COLDER THAN STEEL!" And she hurls the now useless limb into space. "GET UP AND DO YOUR DUTY! WE ARE COMING!"

Centeotl recovers some pride and drive. "Yeah! I'm a Xolo! I won't fail!" She keeps talking, now giving orders, organizing the rescue. Given his location and health, he is to swim toward the Commander's room while picking any unconscious survivors he finds with him and closing all the doors he can. Of course, she's sending them to find the employer! He begins swimming upward, now is his chance for glory!

Mix and her team are flying toward the undamaged lock that's the nearest of the commander's room while other groups are saving the survivors. The rescue teams are getting organized: thanks to her using her already damaged Dagger to shield her brother's one from the debris, the soon recovering Coatl has been able to send plenty of troops and ships. The pirates, who are giving a hand, are also a ton of help.

Her trick with the ice is not perfect, plugging only the smallest holes, but it's buying them some time. Will it be enough? Tlaloc is old and fragile, the shock was violent and the traumatizing chaos itself could have been too much for his heart. There's unfortunately no way she can go any faster.

She reaches the lock with her medics and they plunge in it. It immediately closes and fills up with water, luck at last! A soldier has been preparing an emergency entrance for them. Centeotl opens the inner door as soon as it unlocks. "This way Ma'am! We're clearing a path through the debris!"

"Good work, soldier!" Three brave Xolos, two of them bleeding profusely, are pulling the out of order door open as she arrives. She slithers through it and makes a beeline to the throne. Tlaloc is floating nearby, motionless. "MEDICS!"

The old Xolo has a clear pink skin and she can see into his semi translucent body. His heart is not beating. "NO! ...Sorry, sir..." She aims and, using her enhancements, punches him firmly with her only remaining arm, breaking two of his lower ribs. Then a second time, less hard, to squeeze that now accessible heart.

"...gghhh...." Tlaloc convulses and his eyes bulge. The medics are already circling him, injecting him several medicines.

"Stay with me, sir! We're getting you out of here! Say your name! Say it! Focus!"

"Mmm... iix... hel... hel... pp..."

"I will not let you down! Live! Harder than steel! Colder than steel!"

She leaves room for the medics but keeps grasping the hand of her employer and talking to him. His fingers remain clamped around hers, not softening nor releasing.

"Commander, mister Tlaloc is safe! His vitals are now stable, your sister will transfer him back to our Dagger."

Coatl sighs with immense relief. "Is he able to take decisions?"

"No, sir, he had to be sedated."

"Then I'll have to take over during these urgent times." He turns out to a group of officers he summoned. "Intelligence services leaders, I'm sure you'll agree with me that it is politically unacceptable for us to lose a Command Yacht to the Kodo dragons, of all species. You realise what could be the consequences..." They wince and nod silently at the idea. "Good. So I'm counting on you to rewrite today's intel, believably, with a different enemy. On my side, I'll do my share to help..." He turns back to an other group. "To all gunners and fighter ships: attack the pirates."

At some distance of this, a certain possum stops watching and recording. Now should be a good time for him to scram, while all the baddies are busy: he has seen things that could get him killed if he doesn't make them widely public fast.

15

Meanwhile, in a way better, way more epic story than this one, with more robots and explosions.

Exposibot runs into a private room of the station: "Captain! The Sue signal!"

Captain Sue drops the advanced neurosurgery book he was studying and removes his glasses: they are useless for now, his eyes being perfect and the caller already knowing his secret identity. "Take the communication."

In a hologram from Earth-Second, a robot planet, appears a group of their military officers. Behind, the scenery is all smoke and craters, with explosions and shooting noises from afar. "Captain, we need backup: the professor Research-Unit-Two-Thousands caused a rift to open into the Neighbor Brane, the singulars are flowing in and corrupting our troops right in the capital. We're losing tetra-function-points worths of data every hour!"

"The fool, we warned it many times we were not ready to communicate with them!" The human turns and his blue eyes get pensive. "But I knew the professor and its intends were pure. This disaster could be our chance to capture the singulars' hypertranslation crystaloid... Think about this! Brane traveling, the Grail of very long term civilization preservation! Our chance to outlive our universe! Be excited!"

"They are corrupting everything, be it living or machine! The crystaloid is an unrealistic pursuit for now..."

"Can they corrupt the one who'd be... living man and machine?"

"This is too risked! The Deus Ex Machina's neural interface is still in early alpha, we don't know if you would survive to it."

Sue turns back and, as he get himself right under a ventilation, his hair wave heroically in the air. "Before the end of this day, we'll know." He raises a fist, index and small finger up. "ROCK ON!"