FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

He didn't hear the door open. Or close. But he could sense her.

He stiffened.

Too late.

A shadow moved.

A phase pistol was pointed at his head.

"Hello," the intruder said, simply. Giving him a thorough look-over. "Hmm." The fairly-toned bat was down to his boxer-briefs. After grabbing a bite to eat, he'd been changing in preparation for the coming conflict. "Nice."

The blue-furred bat clenched his jaw and dropped his fresh uniform to the floor. "Advent," he whispered.

"I bet you're wondering how I got in here?" She shrugged. "Wasn't hard. Your door's locking mechanism was easy to bypass. Also, Janna may have given me your pass-code."

"I suspect she put you up to this." He nodded, resignedly. "You're going to kill me? The blood won't technically be on her paws. And, then, finally, she won't have anyone to be accountable to." The Quorum could always send someone else, but what if Janna didn't tell them he was gone? What if she forged the weekly reports he sent to them?

The feline said nothing. Just watched him with her keen, golden eyes. Trying to intimidate him with silence.

It worked. The bat raised his wing-arms in exasperation. "You don't have to do this! She's been manipulating you."

"I don't think so."

Squinting, the male scanned her mind.

"As you can see ... or should I say 'sense'? Well, as you can sense," she said, fiddling with the settings on her weapon. Stun, kill, stun, kill, stun. "I'm not anyone's puppet."

"But she thinks you are ... "

"Presumably."

"How?"

"That's such a dry, reasonable topic of conversation," the predator complained. "I'd rather talk about something else." Holding her pistol in one paw, the feline used the other to undress. Casually. As if it was the most natural thing in the universe. And, after all, wasn't it? Besides, he was close to naked himself. Fair was fair!

Marcus blinked with confusion. What the ...

"Oh, and don't worry. I'm clean. In more ways than one." A hiss. "Janna and I showered ... together," the feline said, shuddering. She wasn't, as a rule, bisexual. It had been slightly uncomfortable. Fortunately, the feline was a good actress. "I'm fresh as a meadow." She loosened her uniform-shirt and shrugged it off. "That is the saying, isn't it? No. Fresh as ... a daisy, maybe?"

"I, uh ... don't know ... " What the hell is she doing? Should I tackle her, flap for the doors? Call for help?

"Janna's all about power, see."

"I'd noticed."

"And the key to manipulating someone who wants power is to give it to them. Without resistance. Because the easier you give it, the more flattered they become, and the less likely they are to pay attention to details." She undid her pants, letting them drift down her curvy hips.

"I thought you weren't going to talk about all this," the bat said, slowly. Was this really happening? Is my would-be murderer doing a striptease for me?

"Guess I lied." The jaguar had a full, ample figure. He wasn't sure how much of it was muscle, but she was solidly built. He wouldn't want to fight her paw-to-paw. Her panties barely qualified as a garment. More like a thong. Her pink, velvety vulva protruding on either side of it, surrounded by lusciously patterned fur, so warm and exotic, leaving little to the imagination.

Marcus' eyes were drawn downward by the gravity of her wide, curvy hips.

She shifted her weight and finally peeled the flimsy garment away.

He inhaled.

"S'matter? Cat got your tongue?" she teased, circling him in pure predatory fashion. As if he were her prey. And wasn't he?

"Janna sent you here," he repeated, certainly. Focus! You're above this, Marcus. "This is all an act."

"No," the spotted female insisted, shaking her head. Then an eye roll. "Well, yes. But I'm not about to do her bidding." She tossed the phase pistol to the carpeted floor, holding up her big, padded paws. "See? I have no reason to kill you." She lowered her voice to a private, confessional tone. "We want the same thing."

"Which is?"

"Survival."

"For its own sake?" he countered.

"Who says I don't have goals and plans?"

"I'm telepathic," he deadpanned. "You're making this up as you go."

"And doing a damn good job of it, bat. Give me credit." She made a face. "Do I live in the moment? Spontaneously? Sure. Since when is that a crime? The longer I survive, the more chocolate chip cookies I get to eat and the more orgasms I get to have." She shrugged, again. Sounding more than a little defensive. "Can't have fun when you're dead. I'll figure out the bigger picture when I get closer to it."

Marcus made a face. She was a callous sort, wasn't she? He could sense that she got off on the thrill of improvisation.

"Anyway, you're trying to sidetrack me. It won't work."

"How'd you resist her mental control?" he demanded, still not convinced.

"I've had training in telepathic evasion." And she'd bred with a bat before. That time with Barrow? As much as it had unnerved her, it had prepared her for what to expect, how to handle it. And how to use it to her advantage.

"That's not enough against the best telepaths." And Janna was unquestionably one of the best.

"As I told you: I submitted quickly. Played the part. Stroked her ego. When she got what she wanted, she got lazy. It let me keep just enough of myself above the surface to avoid getting buried by her will. Read my mind if you don't believe me."

"Your story could've been planted there by her," Marcus stressed.

The jaguar sighed with annoyance! "Your species must have horrible trust issues."

"Not really," he defended. "In the most ideal situations, a roost of bats operates under 'freedom of information'."

"Ha! That's such a political answer. Reality is never ideal. And the Syndicate isn't a normal roost. It's much bigger. Much more organized, which means bureaucracy. Which means red tape." She counted on her furred fingers. "Which means information is more controlled. I'd say your idea has been corrupted. Needs to be blown up from the inside out. You need to introduce a radical element."

"Like you?" he scoffed.

A dangerous grin. "Could do worse."

"You hate my species," Marcus accused. "Why would you want to help us?"

"Hate? That's such a simplistic term."

"Then what would you call it?"

"Resentment, maybe? I'll get back to you on that," the big cat replied. "You're invasive. You go where you're not wanted."

"What do you really resent, Advent?" he challenged, wisely, tapping into her emotional core. "How we use our powers or the fact that we have them and you don't?"

She glared.

"The Federation, at one time, experimented on bats to try to 'harvest' our telepathic genes. Did you know that?" The practice had since been outlawed, and there were many bats still living in Federation space. But it happened. Time didn't change that. "We've survived a history of persecution and stereotyping."

"All species are victims of stereotypes. Mine included."

"Some more than others, though," he insisted. "We were driven out here, into the hinterlands, and had to form a strong network to secure our rights to exist as nature intended." Live together or die alone.

"And me without a handkerchief," Advent replied, coolly. "I don't care what you do in your quarters, or your bedroom. But I'm a very private individual. I don't like others having access to my business. Or my brain."

"Again, that's funny, seeing as how you make a habit out of injecting yourself into other furs' business."

"I do so with only my claws and my guile," she insisted, temper rising. "You have an unfair advantage."

"We were born this way. At least we're not hypocritical."

"I'm not discussing this," she said, dismissively.

"Fine. But there's no reason we can't get along," Marcus said, diplomatically, spreading his strutted, velvety wing-arms. "We both think Janna is a greater threat than either of us. Let's not do her bidding for her."

"Agreed," she replied, evenly.

"Right, so ... " He blinked. "Wait, what?"

"I agree." She smiled, smoothly. Showing her fangs. Her whiskers glistening in the light. "So, let's do something about it."

"Like what?"

She squeezed on her sizable bosom. "I'm not undressing to have tea, am I?"

"Wait, wait. You think I'm ... with you?" He choked out a laugh. Obviously, she'd been trying to seduce him. But she thinks I'm actually going to succumb to it? Does she think I have no willpower? "Why would I do that? I'm involved with ... " Willow. For one. She would hate me if I cheated on her. "My heart's with someone else."

"Is she your mate?" the jaguar asked.

"Well, no ... not yet." It hadn't progressed quite that far. "But, still ... "

"Then who cares." The jaguar shrugged irreverently. "And even if she were? She's got nothing on me."

"Meaning?" he asked. It was hard not to be impressed by the jaguar's audacity. She had an answer for absolutely everything.

"Ever bred with a jungle cat?" Advent purred, not waiting for an answer. "It's awesomely, mind-blowing ... intense," she stressed, continuing to undress. Showing fur. And curves. Loosening her shirt. Her bra visible, now. A lacy thing that offered little to no support but plenty to see.

Collecting himself, Marcus shook his head. "I don't care."

"Your penis seems to." She swiftly grabbed for the hem of his underwear, tugging it away from his waist. Peeking inside, she flicked at his growing erection with a finger. It bobbled briefly before coming to a stop.

"Ah-h ... w-what ... "

Not heeding him, she gripped his entire member, now. And squeezed. And stroked once, twice. Slowly up and down. Rumbling from the throat. "Janna seemed to think it was small. Or, at least, that's the rumor she likes to spread. Seems big enough to me."

The bat squeaked and lifted to his tip toes.

Advent, grinning, and not wanting to waste any more time, began pushing him back, back. Into a cushy easy chair. "That's it." Facing him, she slid into his lap, knees bent on either side, hips beginning to grind. "Come on, batty boy, you know this is the only way," she breathed, hotly.

"Only w-way to what ... "

"I was sent to kill you. I'm letting you live. You owe," she hissed, slowly, "me." A threatening pause, unsheathing all her claws. "Unless you want me to finish the job?"

"You're trading sex for my life?" Who did that? She was crazy! Insane! "I don't owe you ... "

She nipped at his neck, hotly, feigning a bat-bite. But also letting him know she could tear right into his jugular if he wanted to.

" ... a-anything," he mumbled, quickly losing his train of thought.

She looked up, tangling her whiskers with his. Whispering, "You want to defeat Janna? Know her weaknesses? More importantly, you want to know if I'm telling the truth about all this?"

He nodded, hazily.

"Well, she bit me, which means I had access to her memories. She didn't block them from me because she didn't think I'd retain them. Now, if you bite me, in turn, you'll know what she knows ... and what I know. We both win! After all," she purred, "information is power." And sex was power, too. And a very effective way to get information from someone. Even without telepathy. Plus, it felt awesome, and that was always a plus. Love was overrated. "Think about it," she teased.

"I ... well, I suppose," he slurred, succumbing to her illogical logic, feeling his sensitive erection sliding parallel her petal-lips. There was more to that sentence. But he couldn't spit it out. He knew, on some level, that Advent was playing him. Just as Janna had played her and he wanted to play Janna. The web was getting so incredibly tangled.

Advent, not caring, simply raised her fluffy tail with faux-elegance.

Marcus, over her shoulder, saw the gesture. It was impossible to miss. Her tail was big. Warm, golden. And spotted. And it sinuously swerved back and forth, back and forth. Like a metronome. And it was such universal body language, besides. An invitation to mate. He heeded it. Increasingly greedy for the pleasure she promised, he slid up and into her. It was stunningly easy. She was wet and smooth and steamy-soft inside, surrounding his shaft so completely. The forbidden, unexpected aspect of the coupling made it even more arousing, somehow. His heart had never beaten so fast! A much different feeling from being with sweet, submissive Willow. "Oh-h ... oh," he gasped, loudly.

"Mm, batty's an eager boy, isn't he," she cooed. "Now, don't I feel better than your pink-furred friends? I'm sure you've been with many. A male like you? Who could resist?" She was buttering him up. Even someone as noble as Marcus had an ego. It just required some massaging.

Marcus didn't respond. He was trying to keep what was left of his dignity. And, besides, their sexual fluids were already mixing, a bio-chemical reaction sparking, sending an impulse into his brain. Bite. Bite, bite, bite. Bite! It was a strong urge. Hard to fight. Like a tidal wave in force.

Advent could see it in his eyes, in the way they became suddenly distant. Barrow had gotten the same look when they'd done it. "Must be disconcerting, to have such a strong instinct. Knowing it controls you more than you control it," she told him, rolling her hips. Purring at a consistent, throaty clip, fighting her own instincts. The desire to dominate him. To fuck like feral beasts. To milk him of pleasure and seed. She began to huff, her clitoris starting to buzz. Pace yourself, kitty. Pace yourself.

"We ... we d-don't have to ... " He swallowed, strutted, velvety wing-arms wrapping around her lower back. "We don't have to bite. But, yes, it's very strong," he managed, weakly. And the rewards for doing it were so lavish. For both partners.

Advent nodded coolly, raising her hips. His shaft, now glistening with her juices, slapped back against his blue belly-fur as she dismounted. Shoving his wings away, she stood up, tail still raised and pretty-pink sex glistening, clitoris engorged like a perfect pearl.

A dazed Marcus, slumping back in the cushioned chair, blinked and glanced up at her. Shivering as his wetted essence was exposed to cooler temperatures. It twitched, little beads of pre running off the tip. He seemed in shock. "W-wh ... what are you doing?"

"Maybe you're right. Maybe we shouldn't do this. Think of your poor Willow." The feline shook her head and began to saunter away. Swaying her rump, purposefully. Bending down to pick up her clothes. Her breasts jiggled.

"Don't ... please," he begged, tasting an odd but familiar off-sweetness in his saliva. A numbing enzyme. Meant to be applied to his partner's neck. Her neck. Which was getting further and further away.

She stopped.

"I need it ... "

"Are you sure?" she purred, turning around. Padding back to him. Closer, closer. "Need? Maybe it's just a 'want' ... "

"I n-need the information on Janna. I need to know what she knows," he told her, trying to rationalize this. He reached out for her.

"Well, I can just tell you all that, sweetie," she cooed, settling into his lap again. Radiating such body heat. Fur meshing with his own. "Unless you need to go deeper ... so deep. You do, don't you? Tell me how much you want my pussy. How much you want me."

"Mm ... m-more, more than anything," he murmured, wrapping her up in his wings. Bumping hips. Trying to get back inside her. And successfully spearing her flower with a single, smooth thrust. His muzzle contorted.

The feline yowled at being filled. She was enjoying this as much as he was. "Mm, you feel good. Much better than ... " She huffed as he humped, softly. Nodding in approval. He was hitting all the spots in her tunnel. " ... t-than other prey. Much," she repeated, digging her claws into his back. Making sure he felt them. A very possessive gesture. She began to grind with him, to ride him.

He whined, lapping at her neck. Thorough licks. Fur matted, the flesh beneath numbed. And then his hollow, white fangs grazed, muzzle angling.

"Do it," she ordered, huskily.

He didn't need to be told twice. He bit her, effortlessly. Injecting a creamy white fluid into her blood that, within seconds, enhanced and extended their telepathic connection. Made it fuller. Memories, emotions. Physical sensations. It all swam together, unfiltered, consciousnesses combining in the most intimate way. He searched, hazily, and got the information he needed. About Janna. Everything she'd let slip into Advent's brain was now a part of his. But he'd pour through the details later.

He rocked upward.

She rolled downward.

They didn't last an incredibly long time. They'd both been so worked up from the hunter/prey seduction, the wild anticipation. And neither was doing this for the sake of romance. Slow and sensual wasn't part of the plan. It was quick. It was easy. It was bang, bang, bang! And they both came in loud, sweaty displays, his cock jerking, seed jetting inside her and her walls clamping around him, ecstatically, a big paw fumbling for her clitoris while the other one clawed its way down his back.

Marcus's moans were muffled against her neck. His wing-tips went numb. Oh, god. Oh. He withdrew his fangs as quickly as possible. Huffing for air and feeling slightly dirty. She just used me. I gave her myself, telepathically, but it meant nothing to her. There was nothing genuine about this. And yet ...

" ... like dynamite, huh?" Advent grinned, lazily.

He found himself nodding, weakly. Unable to lie.

"Mm-h. Better than I thought it'd be, I'd admit." She was getting used to bats. To this whole biting thing. It had its advantages. "Think I might want to try that again," she teased. "I was your first predator. Never would've thought." She sifted through the information she'd gathered from the bonding.

Marcus cleared his throat, awkwardly. Chittering with sensitivity. He'd withdrawn from her neck, but she hadn't gotten off his lap. "Did ... did you get what you wanted?"

"You felt my orgasm, didn't you?"

He flushed.

"We should shower. But, first, we have to come up with a plan." Marcus and Janna. At each other's throats. While she watched and waited for the spotlight. Prey were damn fools, she thought. But they are so fun to toy with.

"I feel like I have to be on my best behavior on this ship. It's so bright. And clean," Peregrine said as he and Petra, fully healed and given fresh clothes, albeit High Command uniforms, strolled into Arctic's pristine Mess Hall. It was practically empty. But, then, it wasn't a traditional meal hour and the ship was close to a potential battle scenario. Not an ideal time for a snack. Unless you were a passenger with nothing to do. He'd asked Aria if he could be on the bridge. She'd politely declined his request. He was disappointed but understood. If he were preparing for trouble on Reverie, he wouldn't want another ship's captain watching over his shoulder.

"Cleanliness makes you behave? Guess that explains why you're such a troublemaker on Reverie," Petra quipped.

"This ship is months out of space-dock. Reverie's got a couple decades on her."

"Excuses, excuses ... "

"I may not be an archetypical mouse, but I'm fairly tidy," he insisted. "It's the rest of them." Bears and wolverines and whatnot weren't exactly fastidious. And trips to seedy asteroid depots and trading hubs hidden in nebulas put a lot of wear and tear on the freighter's hull. The mix-furred mouse padded to the windows. He could just see Reverie, flying alongside. Under her own power. And under the jurisdiction of a team of Oliver's engineers. Maybe they'll give me some free upgrades while they're over there! "Wish I was there ... even if she is an old bucket compared to something like this." He went quiet. "You can barely hear the engines." The mouse strained his dishy, erogenous ears. "She runs so smoothly! How is that even possible ... "

"Technology, am I right?" the rat echoed.

Peregrine gave her a harmless shove.

"Doesn't got enough character, though, if you're askin' me," Petra added, wandering over to the galley counter. She sniffed about.

"Yeah, well ... character is important. I'll grant you that. It would just be nice to have character and convenience," the mouse stressed, tensing at a twinge of pain. "I sound so cranky. I'm dead tired." But it was impossible to sleep until this situation was resolved. His mind wouldn't turn off. The ship's doctor, Sani, a serious sort even for a snow rabbit, had said they might be sore for a few days. But there would be no permanent damage and the surface wounds were all taken care of. Advent was fond of her claws. If I ever capture her, I'm going to make sure they get removed from the roots. With no painkillers ...

"Then trade her in. Get a new ship."

"Reverie?" He turned, walking over to his taller mate's side. "I can't do that!"

"Service!" Petra shouted, slapping a paw on the countertop. "And why not?"

"There's food processors along the wall, you know." Peregrine pointed, simply. "And because."

"I want somethin' fancier." The rat didn't clarify if she meant food or ships. "I've just been held hostage by a raving lunatic bitch for the better part of a day. I wanna be pampered."

"You will be. I promise you that," the mouse said, giving her a smooth, bucktoothed smile. Coming up behind her. Wrapping his arms around her belly. He began nibbling on her shoulder.

"Think you're talkin' 'bout dessert," she murred, her thicker flesh-tail arcing around her mate.

"Some would consider it a full-course meal." He sighed, whiskers twitching before whispering, "I'm so glad you're okay. I'd rather lose my ship than lose you."

Coming from him, that was the highest of compliments. But the irreverent rat answered, not wanting to sound sappy, "Can't wait to get into my pants, can you, mousey?"

As she said this, Ross had just appeared behind the counter. He blinked, dishy ears turning bright red. Not seeing Peregrine, who was still behind the taller rat. "Um ... w-what?!"

"Hmm?" Petra grunted.

"I'm sorry, but I ... I have a mate! I love her very much, and, uh, well ... " He stammered incoherently at the perceived overture. He didn't even know this fur's name!

The rat raised a lazy brow. Then chuckled when she realized, "Oh! You got the wrong end o' the stick. I was talkin' to the other mouse." She wriggled aside to reveal Reverie's reveling captain.

Peregrine gave a single wave of his paw.

"Oh." A deep breath. "Oh!" Ross went, eyes darting awkwardly. "Good." A pause. "I mean, not that I ... not that you're ... that anyone wouldn't want to, uh, with you! It's just that ... " Oh, boy. Calm down. He nodded to himself, smoothing at his apron. He was an introverted rodent. Though amiably acquainted with dozens of snow rabbits who frequented his kitchen, he wasn't wholly relaxed around anyone but Aria and Elim.

"Don't worry 'bout it," the brown rat insisted. She'd met some nervous mouses, but this one seemed more on edge than most. Almost like he wasn't quite used to dealing with his own instincts. Like a fish out of water. Why would that be? Hmm ...

Peregrine stepped in and saved his fellow mouse from further flustering by asking, "Got anything we can eat?"

"I do. Yeah." Ross cleared his throat. "Some leftover things from lunch. Salad? A rice dish? Steamed vegetable wrap. And, uh, few other things." An awkward pause. "I can whip something up?"

"We'll have some. All of it." Peregrine heard his stomach growling. "Starving," he mumbled.

"And throw in somethin' sweet," the rat insisted.

"Uh, sure. Just take a seat. I'll be out in a minute," Ross promised, scurrying out of sight, his thin tail flailing.

Peregrine and Petra wandered to a nearby table, the rat saying, quietly, "He must be the captain's mate."

"How do you know?" Peregrine asked.

"Heard she'd taken a rodent to her bed. On a permanent sorta basis."

"Oh? Where'd you hear that?"

"Common knowledge," Petra quipped. Seldovia had told her. The skunk was a bit of a gossip, and had heard it from Annika who'd heard it from Graham who'd heard it from Aria herself.

"Well, I heard she was actually in a polyamorous relationship," the mouse whispered.

"Heard that one, too." A shrug. "Maybe." Rabbits were known for that. "Not sure why the mouse would go along with it, though. Unless he likes being dominated." Aria, from the brief meeting they'd had with her, had definitely seemed a confident, dominant sort.

"Some mouses are incredibly versatile. I'm a certified switch, I'll have you know."

"So am I," she murred, lowly. Holding his paw teasingly. "We have so much in common!" He laughed, squeakily. He took both her paws in his, now. And then glanced out the window, biting his lower lip with his buckteeth. Staring at his ship. "Do you think Reverie got captured because I let my guard down? Am I getting soft?" Peregrine asked.

The rat sighed, pulling her paws away. "I feel like we've had this conversation b'fore." "Well, am I?"

"You're gettin' older. And more mature," she reasoned. "Which means you let yourself have perspective. You put gettin' intimate with me above obsessively monitoring Reverie. Didn't feel soft to me ... " She grinned slowly.

"You're such a flirt," he accused.

"Mm. An' you're a hopeless romantic." She skipped a beat. "Besides, no one could've guessed Advent would've done all that."

"Yeah ... "

"Just good to see you smilin' instead of scowlin'."

"Yeah, well. I got my ship back. I hear Jale's okay. You're okay. And pretty soon Arctic's gonna blast the Syndicate out of the sky." He got a bit dark as he mentioned the last item. "The day's looking up."

"Don't get too carried away."

"And don't be so pragmatic," he countered.

"It's why you love me. My verve."

"That and your ... "

Before he could finish the sentence, Ross emerged with a tray of food. Whiskers twitching with exertion. "Alright! Okay. Here we go. Just, uh ... rabbits like greens. And carrots." A pause, his thin, ropy tail whipping around. Eyes widening hopefully. "Do you like carrot cake?"

"Sure," Peregrine said.

"What's your story?" Petra asked.

"Hmm?"

"Well, a name, for one."

"I'm, uh, Ross ... who are you?"

"Petra." She pointed to herself. Then to the other mouse. "Perry."

"Peregrine," the mix-furred mouse specified, already beginning to scarf down some food. Nibbling voraciously.

"Nice to ... nice to meet you," Ross stammered, arranging their food for them. Then setting some glasses of water down.

The rat's curiosity continued to go unabated, though. "So, Ross, how does a nondescript mouse end up not only in High Command space but mated to one of the hottest up-and-coming captains in the snow rabbit ranks?"

"He just ... does?"

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. I guess in the, uh, same way a plain-as-day rat ends up a secretive enemy of the Syndicate and then, along with her mate, gets taken hostage by a crazed predator who may or may not be working for them?" With that, Ross left them their food and went back into his galley. Even if he hadn't known their names when they'd come in, he'd obviously known who they were.

"Fair enough," Petra said chuckled, tearing off a huge chunk of wheat-roll with her buckteeth. Everyone had a past, after all. You just hoped yours didn't come back to haunt you.

" ... whoo, dizzy!" the wolverine exclaimed, Redwing's infirmary spinning around him.

"Slowly," Barrow reminded, helping Jale to his feet. "Careful. There we go. You balanced?"

The predator took a deep breath, stretching his limbs, bobbing on his foot-paws. "Mm. Yeah. I'm good, now. But I'm a bit, uh ... kinda this dull ... "

" ... pain?"

"Yeah, that. More like it hurts but it doesn't?"

"Well, it's just a lingering discomfort. That's to be expected. You'll be right as rain in a few days." The doctor glanced at some read-outs. "I'm prepared to dismiss you, but you have to promise to take it easy," Barrow said.

"Sure, doc."

"And take a long, hot bath." The wolverine's pelt wasn't looking too handsome after being on a bio-bed for the past few days. Though Yates had helped the bat clean the blood off.

Jale glanced at the female opossum, who was quietly standing nearby. A toothy grin. "Maybe a sponge-bath? From a personal bedside nurse?"

The blue-furred bat looked to her. "She's not under my command. That's up to her."

"I'm a medic," she said, simply. She didn't want to appear overly emotional at Jale's recovery. "And I don't do sponge-baths."

"Yeah, you're a shower sort," Jale said with a chuckle.

"Jale ... "

"I'll sweeten the pot by bangin' ya," the wolverine promised. He paused, suddenly. Eyes widening with worry. "Hey. I can still get hard, can't I?" he asked Barrow.

"Think you've got just enough blood in you to manage that." The bat tried not to grin. He could sense Yates' discomfort, and didn't want to add to it. "But maybe let's not do that today, okay? Give it another day."

"Guh," the wolverine went, rolling his head around in annoyance. "But Yatesey's a doc, too, Doc," he told Barrow. "I jus' want her to check my vitals." He snickered. "Only, usin' my ... "

"I'm a medic," the opossum repeated, for the hundredth time.

"Uh, same thing."

Barrow chimed in, "You shouldn't downplay your skills, Yates. For what you're asked to do on Reverie, you're pretty talented."

The opossum looked downward. No one had ever told her that before. Opossums weren't the most popular species. Their ghostly visages and grungy reputations. As with most individuals native to the UT, her life hadn't been a bowl of cherries growing up. But she'd made the most of things. And was finally in a place where she belonged. Getting comments like that only confirmed it.

"What's her problem?" the wolverine asked Barrow.

Yates looked back up, clenching her paws. He could be wildly oblivious, couldn't he? "I've spent the past few days at your side, worrying myself sick. It got pretty serious for a while, Jale. You nearly died!"

"Yeah, 'cept I didn't."

"That's not the point," she huffed.

"You mad at me for gettin' hurt?" he demanded with a frown. "Or ya mad that you cared so much that I did?"

Barrow, using his telepathy to bridge the communication gap between them, told the wolverine, "She wants a 'thank you'."

"I thank her by lovin' her. I don't need to say it," the wolverine declared, vulnerably. He felt his tough, machismo image would be threatened if he got too sweet. I'm not a damn mouse!

"So, you do love me?" Yates asked.

"What makes ya think I don't?" he confirmed without saying yes.

"She thinks you don't take anything seriously," Barrow supplied. "But, to be fair, Yates," the bat told the opossum, "that's part of his appeal to you. His carefree nature." There were other reasons, of course. But she might not want to those revealed.

"I just ... he's been through the wringer, and he comes out of it laughing and smiling, and I'm stressed out of my damn mind. I wish I could let go of things like he does."

"Should I leave you two alone?" Barrow wondered, seeing this wasn't going to be quickly resolved. "I can go to my office ... "

"No," she mumbled.

"Naw, you're fine," Jale agreed. He stretched his stocky, muscular self, making grunting noises. "Mm-f. I heard Reverie's comin' back. That true?"

Barrow nodded.

"An' what 'bout Advent?"

A hesitation. "We don't know where she is."

He scowled. "She better not cross paths with me, again! I got a score to settle." He flexed his clawed paws. "And this time it's personal."

"Like it wasn't the last time? What makes you think a second fight would end any better?" Yates said.

"Cause the odds are I'd win eventually!"

"Don't go looking for fights." She didn't want to be put through this again.

"I'm chief o' security. It's my job to have fights."

"It's your job to prevent them."

"That's not how the UT works. You gotta use your muscle to get respect. And to survive. You know that." Wasn't that how the Syndicate worked? Only, in their case, their 'muscle' was their minds. He took a deep breath. Doc said I'm supposed to relax. Well, talking about this isn't very relaxing. "Anyway, I'm off. See ya!" The wolverine made for the exit.

"Where are you going?" Yates demanded, following immediately.

The wolverine stopped. "Barry said I was released!"

"Barrow," the bat corrected, making a face.

"Who?"

"And, yes, I said that," the bat said. "But it's not a carte blanche to go crazy. Take it easy for a bit."

"I'll keep a close eye on him," the opossum assured, trying to soften her tone. Everything will return to normal soon enough. Right? I hope? If there was even such a thing.

"I'm hungry," Jale complained, rubbing his stomach. "I want a milkshake. And jerky."

"If ever two things went together, it's those," Barrow remarked, sarcastically.

"Jerky?" Yates frowned. "Fine. You can have what you want. We'll go to the repli-mat." Just down the Promenade, not even half-a-minute's walk. An array of food processors was there. "Commer and Sesqui wanted to see you, so I'll have them join us."

"Wait, is there gonna be a surprise party for me? Cause, if so, I'm gonna be real surprised!" the wolverine insisted brightly, flagging his tail.

"Me, too." Yates shook her head. Jale seemed loopier than normal. He was still on meds, so maybe he was exhibiting the side-effects. Hopefully, he'd fully heal soon. Until then, she was going to have to follow him around and make sure he didn't do anything stupid. She shoved the predator out the door, casting Barrow an apologetic glance before leaving.

The bat, putting his equipment away, waved a wing-arm, casually reading both of their minds. They were both thinking about each other. In spite of their efforts not to show it. Sorta like him and Sheila. Sometimes, love manifested itself in flowery, sweeping ways. Other times, it was exhibited via crackling tension. It was many things. But it certainly wasn't boring!

"We'll be at Redwing in a matter of minutes," Aria told Graham on his desk-viewer. "We're dropping Reverie off at the station, then immediately heading for the planet."

Alone in his office overlooking Ops, the snow rabbit nodded, momentarily glancing past his computer. He could see some of Redwing's senior staff through the windowed doorway. Sheila, paws on hips, silvery brow in constant furrow. Seldovia, striped tail billowing about luxuriously, looking like she had her head in the clouds. Herkimer scurrying to and fro, anxiously. And Annika, sitting primly, antennae-ears calmly taking it all in and she studied a computer read-out.

"Commander?"

He blinked, returning his attention to the conversation at paw. "Seward is waiting at the docking ring with a small cadre of Reverie officers." They were going to give the freighter a go-over, make a list of repairs. The little ship had cargo schedules that had fallen all out of whack. Talkeetna, on Peregrine's absent behalf, had insisted that they be able to leave on their next run as soon as possible. When Graham had told her that he'd allow Reverie to leave only 'when it was safe to do so,' she'd replied, 'When our buyers are stood up and come looking for their cargo, you better have our tails, then.' "How heavily armed are Syndicate vessels?" he asked Aria.

"We don't have as much intelligence on them as we'd like, but I doubt they're any match for Arctic." A pause. "This is a secure channel, isn't it?"

"Yes."

"In the event that traditional weapons fail, we do have an experimental psionic disruptor. Radiation beam. It could potentially damage the telepathic centers of the bats' brains. And without their powers, they'll be disconcerted enough to defeat without the loss of life." Hopefully.

"You'd neuter them of their powers? Is that ethical?"

"If the Syndicate is willing to tamper with our minds, who's to say we can't tamper with theirs?"

Graham furrowed his brow. Was she playing Devil's advocate? Or making an excuse? "I have a bat on my crew, Captain."

"I'm aware of that."

"He may be cocky at times, but he's a valuable officer. And a decent fur." He paused, adding for effect, "And he just took a mate."

"I know all about Barrow. We've met. I ferried him out here when the High Command first took ownership of the station. Fortunately for him, he's not a member of a dangerous rogue faction that has engaged in acts of escalating aggression against our government." There were many roosts of rogue bats. But the Syndicate was the most powerful and well-known.

"I'm just saying ... the enemy has faces, too."

"You also know that, in times of war, the laws fall silent."

"Are we at war?" he asked, semi-rhetorically.

"The enemy, based on their recent history, wants everyone on that station to become a mindless vegetable. After, no doubt, some twisted mental and carnal manipulations." She let that sink in. "They want to drive us out of the UT. If we let them intimidate us ... it will set a very bad precedent. We sacrificed so much to win the conflicts we have." The wars with the Federation, Arctic foxes, and wasps. The snow rabbit High Command had prevailed in all of them. "We don't want our position as a power to become downgraded because a group of telepathic terrorists pushed us around. We worked too hard to get this far."

Graham nodded, reluctantly. When she put it like that. "You make some good points. I didn't mean to question your orders." He realized, suddenly, how much Annika had rubbed off on him. She was so gentle and serene. So compassionate. Being mated to a diplomat made him shirk at the thought of conflict. But, then, he'd never been very aggressive to begin with. I know my duties, though. And, sometimes, you have to do unpleasant things to keep the peace. Even Annika understands that. We both participated in the conflicts Aria mentioned ...

Aria softened, though, holding up a paw. "It's my fault. Sorry, Commander." She sighed. "We're both under a lot of stress."

"True." Recent events hadn't exactly been relaxing, had they?

"I'm not planning on actually using the radiation weapon. Only as a last resort. It's more a threat, a deterrent." Besides, it might not even work. It hadn't been field tested. "I have the best security officer in the fleet. And used to be one, myself. I know how to handle a threat. Trust me."

"I do. I just feel ... helpless." Just like Sheila was feeling earlier. And I scolded her for it, didn't I? But that's only because I have to seem above all that. I'm in charge. I can't frazzle in front of my crew. It wasn't becoming for a properly restrained snow rabbit. It wouldn't be logical.

"I served on a station before receiving captaincy of this ship. I know exactly how you feel. In the long run, it'll serve you well. Learning to let go of things you can't control is a necessary component of maturation."

He gave a light, understanding smile. "I suppose you're right." He breathed, slowly. "We'll monitor you on sensors as best we can, but I'd appreciate updates as soon as you're able to give them."

"We'll be in touch. Arctic out."

Marcus exhaled, nervously, as the lift came to a stop.

This was it.

The doors opened.

He padded onto the bridge.

Willow, at the science station, immediately twitched and turned around. Her telepathic feelers picked up Marcus' guilt. As she sought to pinpoint the reason for it, she wore a look of confusion.

He gave her a sheepish look.

It was Janna who blurted out, "You fucked the cat?"

The bridge became dead quiet.

Janna left her captain's chair and approached Marcus. He was supposed to be dead!

Marcus stared Janna down, in return, even as he burned beneath his blue fur. He didn't deny the accusation. "You sent her to kill me. But you underestimated my own powers. I was able to control her enough to subdue her. And then get the information she got from you ... that meant I had to 'join' with her, yeah." He spread his wing-arms, making eye contact with everyone in the room. "It was too deep to extract any other way." He glanced at Willow. In part to distract his and Janna's mind from giving away the fact that he was partially fibbing. But, also, because he was a bat of honor. He wanted her to know he didn't cheat on her to hurt her, or 'just because.' I went into it with good intentions. I was manipulated. Just like everyone else on this ship. It needed to stop. "This ship deserves a sane captain. This mission," he said, looking back to Janna, "deserves a leader who won't put her ego before it. Or before her crew. I did what I did," he insisted, "to get enough information to topple you. And, in doing so, protect the ones I truly care about."

"Ha! You had sex to help us all? What a huge sacrifice you've made, Marcus," Janna said, dryly, voice dripping with venom.

A few nervous giggles.

He ignored the teasing. "So, now, I have proof of what your plans have been all along. You want what's best for bats. Or so you claim. But not as much as you want what's best for you. And when I tell the Quorum all the fine details of your fantasies, they're going to crack down on you. Hard." He allowed himself a victorious smile. "You're done, Janna."

She shook her head, slowly. As if feeling pity for him. "We're on the verge of a breakthrough, about to come into possession of some ancient, potentially powerful artifacts. We're on Redwing's back porch, threatening to control her. We have the High Command ready to run scared. Everything is going exactly according to plan. With so many thing at stake, you're choosing now to start a petty fight?"

"The High Command is much bigger than us. They've won many wars. Why poke them unnecessarily? I'm not starting any fights. You are."

"The Quorum hasn't stopped me yet."

"Because they don't realize the true depth of your desires. Seeing it up close is different than reading about it from a distance."

"If true, Marcus, that I've started 'all this,' whatever 'this' is ... well, I guess have an obligation to finish it." She squinted, lashing her invisible telepathic feelers at her openly confessed adversary.

Marcus reeled, staggering back, quickly erecting his mental defenses. Pushing back at her.

Janna clenched her jaw, pupils dilating.

Marcus felt his forehead dampen with the beginnings of sweat.

The whole bridge watched as the two bats fought without fighting. No physical blows. No wrestling or kicking. It was completely mental. And it was clear from the strain on Marcus' face, from the sweat that began to dampen his forehead-fur, that Janna was winning.

"You're good," she panted, breathing heavily at the extension of her powers. "But not good enough." She spread her wings. Inching forward.

Marcus' knees wobbled. His defenses collapsed. She was in his head! And she started the process of ripping his identity apart. "I knew from the moment you were assigned to me that you were trouble."

Willow, chittering in horror, got up from her station to rush to her partner's aid, apparently having forgiven him for any transgressions. Marcus knew how much she feared Janna. And he was openly taking her on. That counted for something. But another bat wrapped his wings around her, holding her back.

"Don't," he whispered.

Willow whimpered. But she went lax. Her compatriot was right. This was between them. Anyone else who became involved at this point would only become collateral damage.

Everyone was captivated on the pink and blue-furred showdown.

No one saw the lift open.

Just the red, laser-hot beam that whined and blasted, at the most powerful setting possible, into and through Janna's gut.

Screams!

Chitters of fear.

Wing-arms flapping all around.

Waves of telepathic shock.

And Janna gurgled and slumped to the floor, dead on impact.

"Anyone else want to make a complaint?" Advent asked with a dark purr.

Everyone's attention whipped to the feline, now.

Even Marcus, chest heaving, was stunned. His mind reeling. He'd narrowly avoided a fate worse than death. He eyed Janna's prone body, her pink fur singed dark and smoking, a blood-drenched hole burned through her uniform where she'd been hit. Right through the heart. I guess she had one, after all ...

"Good," Advent declared, sauntering to the center of the room. Hips flowing with a powerful sensuality. Everyone's attention was on her. Which was exactly the way she liked it. "Now, I know the lot of you hated or feared her. So, shove the sanctimonious 'how could you's'. Don't put on a sad act. I've freed you from that yoke. I am your savior," she said, grandiosely, spreading her big, clawed paws. She glanced at Marcus. "Aren't I?" she whispered.

"What do you want?" he whispered, raggedly. He wasn't sure whether to be furious or upset. He realized, now, just how completely the jaguar had used him. How she'd played the entire ship. How she'd submitted to Janna, giving her everything she wanted. Giving her a false sense of security. How she'd convinced him, through sex and seduction, to confront Janna immediately. To impulsively make a move he'd long felt was necessary. And how she'd used their confrontation, which she'd provoked, as the final distraction to kill Janna. His cheeks burned. And to think I bit her! "Are you going to kill me, too?"

"Nah. You're too good a lay. Don't want to deprive your l'il Willow over there of a future full of ... " She smirked, brandishing her weapon at Marcu's loins. " ... that." Besides, even she couldn't fight off a whole ship of bats. But, if Marcus took command, it would be thanks to her, right? He'd owe her. She'd be safe, with enough time to plan her next move. She dropped the weapon onto the floor. Crossing her arms. "You're captain, now. You inherit the chair."

"What?" Again, he was surprised. He was certain she'd take command herself. He knew from having been linked with her that one of her strongest desires was to have her own ship.

"You heard me. Think it's only fair, though, that I inherit yours."

"You want to be first officer on this ship? Under ... under me?" He squinted, trying to understand. "Why?"

"Because you need me." And, for the moment, she needed them. "If you want to take Redwing, if you want to go up against the High Command. You need my expertise."

"I already got it from your mind," he reminded her, smartly.

"You got the tangible stuff, yeah. But there's the intangibles to consider."

"Like what?"

"I'm a survivor." She looked around the bridge. "And I trust it that none of you wants to die, right?"

Unsurprisingly, no one did.

"Well, Captain?" she asked of him. "What say you?"

Marcus sighed, trying to hide how flustered he was. Advent was up to something. She always was. But being in command appealed to him. His stance on Syndicate control and expansion was less aggressive than Janna's had been. He'd wanted to handle this mission differently from the very start. Now, he could. But he certainly wasn't going to back down entirely. The High Command was a destabilizing threat to Syndicate power in the region. They had to be driven back behind their borders. Or at least controlled. Regulated. If that required force, he was willing to use it. But perhaps it didn't have to come to that. Though judging by the look of bloodlust on Advent's face, some furs weren't happy unless they were in conflict.

"Mar- ... Captain," someone corrected. Tam. Janna's 'toy'. He seemed incredibly rattled. He'd returned to the bridge when Janna had left to interrogate Advent. And, now, Advent had killed her. His mind had been altered to make him think he loved Janna. But, deep down, his subconscious, straining to reassert itself, was glad she was gone. He couldn't think. He couldn't breathe. "May I be excused ... "

"Of course," he whispered.

The young officer flapped away, looking sick.

Advent watched Tam go with interest. "What's his deal?"

"Nothing." The poor boy would need a great deal of telepathic therapy to get over this.

"Mm. I thought bats didn't keep secrets," Advent jabbed.

Marcus, ignoring her, waved his wing-arms at the security officer. "Get her ... get this," he said, of Janna's deceased figure, shaking his head, "out of here."

"Aye," the blue-furred male said, motioning to another bat to come help.

Advent was growing impatient. "I need an answer to my proposition."

"Alright, fine, you can stay. But," Marcus stressed, "we're doing things my way."

"And what way would that be?" the jaguar asked, golden eyes squinting.

Just then, someone else interrupted, "Sir, we're being hailed by the snow rabbit ship."

"Ignore it," Marcus said. "Have our sister ship deal with them."

A hesitation. "They are claiming to have a psionic weapon. They will use it if we do not withdraw."

Marcus squinted and glanced at Advent.

"You've been in my head. You already know the answer to that."

He did. Arctic did, in fact, have a psionic weapon. One that would deactivate the telepathic centers in bat brains. Permanently. He swallowed. That was a game-changer. It was only an experimental device. But did he really want to take that chance? Did snow rabbits bluff? "Dammit ... "

"Sir ... "

Sighing, he swallowed and considered a bit more. I have no choice. "Take the hail."

Advent glanced up at the main viewer, a smile creeping onto her face. "Wait! Let me take this one."

"Why?" Marcus tilted his head. "What are you going to say?"

"What do you want me to say?" the feline asked, compliantly. "Shall we surrender?"

"No. But perhaps we can ... talk." Marcus knew Advent was only playing nice as long as it suited her. In many ways, she was just as dangerous as Janna. Maybe more so, because she capable of the same amount of treachery with far less resources available to her. But she had her uses ...

She flashed her fangs at him, flicking her raspy, scratchy tongue o'er her lips. "Oh, I can talk with the best of them."

The image of the Syndicate vessel, surrounded by stars above and the barren desert world below was replaced as the hail was answered.

Aria, ears standing as tall as possible, exchanged an agog look with Elim before looking back ahead.

"Hello, there. I'm Commander," the spotted figure stressed, "Advent, of the Syndicate vessel ... " The feline crossed her legs and inspected her claws, idly, before purring. " ... well, whatever." Like I know the name of this ship? "What do you want?"

The female snow rabbit, breasts rising with a full, deep breath, replied, "I'm Captain Aria of the High Command starship Arctic. You are committing acts of aggression against the High Command. Withdrawal. Immediately." She had no idea how Advent had wound up on that ship or what she was doing in a position of control there. But the former constable was having a hard time ordering Elim not to fire everything at the traitorous predator. She clasped her soft, white-furred paws behind her back so they wouldn't be seen clenching.

"The High Command has no treaty or official declaration of ownership when it comes to anything in the UT," the feline said, arching sinuously in her chair. As if rubbing against the back of it. More purring.

"Nor does the Syndicate."

"We were here first."

"Leave orbit of the planet and disembark from Redwing space," Aria warned, "or we will use our psionic device."

"Not even an option for surrender? I didn't know prey could be so ruthless," Advent said, leaning forward. "Though I'm beginning to find out just how hypocritical you lot are."

"I will also point out you, personally, are wanted for treason, attempted murder, stealing, kidnapping ... "

The jaguar huffed, cutting Aria off. "Spare me. We're not leaving." The jaguar tilted her head, though, blinking. Scowling. Almost as if someone was speaking directly into her head. Someone off-screen. And, indeed, she glared to someone out of sight before looking back to Aria and amending, with forced politeness, "But we would like to discuss ... things," she spat, "with you."

"Such as?"

"A compromise. An agreement." She spread her paws, diplomatically. "Surely, we're all sane, mature furs here, aren't we?"

"Allegedly." Aria crossed her arms, considering for a moment. Then nodding. Tall, slender ears twiddling seriously. "Alright. If you'll lower your shields, we'll dock with you and ... "

"No, not here. On the station. Redwing."

"You expect me to let a gang of telepathic bats onto the station? You could launch a mental takeover of the crew." At least, here, we have the psionic radiation to keep them in line. But she couldn't risk using it on Redwing on account of Doctor Barrow.

"You have our word." Advent crossed her heart. "We will not compromise your crew or attempt to take your precious station."

"What is your word good for?" the snow rabbit asked, sharply.

"You aren't very good at forgiveness, Captain. Hard-heartedness isn't very attractive."

Aria opened her snowy-white muzzle to counter that ...

But Advent kept going. "We expect concessions if you wish to keep the station."

"We don't owe the Syndicate anything."

"That is open for debate," the jaguar said. "And, furthermore, I will be granted full immunity for perceived offenses." It wasn't a request. "If I'm attacked on the station, my winged buddies will be most upset," she said, dramatically.

The snow rabbit gritted her buckteeth. "Very well," she finally said. If that's what she had to agree to in order to end a potentially costly conflict? Well, she'd swallow her pride. "But you better watch your back. Or better yet, come with a bodyguard." Aria turned away from the viewer, making a slash gesture. The channel was cut. "Mirabelle, set course for Redwing. Instruct the Syndicate ships to follow. And, Kaplan, get me Commander Graham. Immediately."

"I must say, I didn't expect this turn of events at all," Elim said from tactical. His ears twiddled as his mind spun. "How did she get over there?"

"I do not know ... "

"Her reputation as a bitch is well-earned," Kaplan observed from comm.

Aria held up a paw. "Language, ensign."

"Of course." He smiled, lightly, though, before proceeding to call Graham.

Elim furrowed his brow. "Do you think this is a trap? Are they up to something? Or are they sincere about wanting to stop this conflict before it spirals out of control? What could've changed their minds?" But more importantly, "Why are they letting Advent speak for them?"

Aria rubbed her forehead. She didn't normally get headaches, but if she were to get one, today might be the day. I'll have to get a hypo from Sani. "It is immaterial at this point. The bottom line is: talking is preferable to shooting. And there is a bat aboard Redwing already. He can tell us if they're being truthful."

"I have Commander Graham for you," Kaplan said.

She took a deep breath. "I'll take this one in my ready room." She hopped for her office. If she'd been surprised by this turn of events, she could only imagine how the Redwing crew would take it.