Under Electric Moon
Luminous slid smoothly through its orbit. Above this world with purple seas. Lavender, orchid-colored seas. And skies to match. The ship, a week out of dry-dock, was sleeker in the front. Stouter toward the back. The front reaching a blunted point, like a muzzle ... and, at the back, little tendrils trailed, like mouse tails. Curves on the sides could've been wings, but were the engines. Drawn close to the body of the ship. When in warp, the engines extended outward just a bit. The hull was grey-blue, with streaks of cobalt.
"Anyone else wanna look?"
Field shook his head, frowning. Nose sniff-sniffing the food before him. He was bathed in shadow. In firelight. And the darkness around them ... starlit!
"You sure?" asked Ketchy. A squirrel. One paw on the telescope, the other gesturing from one fur to another. "It's beautiful."
"I saw it this morning," Rella replied, poking at her rations. "In the fur."
"Come on, guys ... "
"I'm not a guy," was Assumpta's response. She was a snow leopard.
"Well, it's ... you know what I mean. It's just ... a generic way of saying 'you all.' Anyway, that's not the point. I'm trying to ... I found our ship on the telescope," Ketchy said, voice trailing. She sighed and rolled her eyes. Sitting down. "Fine ... "
"I'll look," said Field, still sniffing his food.
"Too late now," Ketchy said. "Mood's dead."
"Which is more than I can say of the moon," Adelaide piped in. She was sitting two feet away from Field. Careful not to sit too close. The mouse and bat, for the moment, were keeping their relationship a secret. And Lord knew Ketchy could blab ... if she found out, the whole ship would know, and Field, being the first officer, didn't want the other furs thinking he was going to lose objectivity by being mated to one of his subordinates (even though the bat was older and, in the mouse's mind, smarter). Even if it was true. Even if he would lose objectivity ... suppose he had to order her into harm's way to save everyone else? Suppose ... something happened ...
"The moon?" asked Assumpta.
"It's beaming bright," responded the bat, looking up at it. At the white, almost-holy ... light. "I love a good moon. Especially a full one."
"Is that cause bats are vampires?" the cat prodded. There was more than a bit of bite in her voice.
"Only when we want to be," was Adelaide's level response, making sure the feline saw her fangs.
"Furs," injected Ketchy, ever the bushy-tailed one. Ever the "let's all sing campfire songs" sort. "Furs, come on ... no need to be tense."
"How can you not be," Field muttered, "when you have to eat field rations? Why don't they equip shuttle-pods with food processors?"
"Heh," chuckled Rella. "Hey, Field. They name this stuff after you, then?" Referring to the field rations. She didn't know what hers was supposed to be, but ... it wasn't doing anything for her.
Field made no response.
Adelaide sighed as she looked up at the moon. There was something about the moon that made the bat just ... made her so comfortable. Made her wonder. She would, maybe, when the others were sleeping, go for a fly. The moon appealed to her instinct ... her heritage.
Assumpta, one of the ship's three felines (and few predators), sat quietly ... while the others chatted. Blabbed, more like, was what she thought. They were blabbing. They were making small-talk. It was what prey species did when they were nervous. When they knew they were in the presence of a huntress. If they were wise, they wouldn't close their eyes tonight.
Adelaide flashed her a squinty-eyed glare.
The feline purred enigmatically. Sensing that the bat was more tuned to her ... than was natural. More tuned to everyone. To that mouse ... the leopard wouldn't have been surprised if the bat had some sort of mental power.
Assumpta was a loner. Had accepted this mission to get away from things. This was the newest, best ship, and headed for deep space. And even if the whole thing was meant as an appeasement to the rodents, she could tolerate them. It was better than being back home. Where no one wanted her. Where ...
"You don't like the moon?" Adelaide asked Assumpta.
"It's too warm a moon for my blood."
"You like it cold?"
"The cold is crystal. The cold," the leopard replied, "is pure."
"You're a northerner, then?"
The cat closed her eyes lazily. "Something like that." If this bat was seeking to tame or befriend her, she best stop. Not that Assumpta, in reality, could do anything, lest she be imprisoned or jettisoned on some hostile world. No, she would have to keep her instincts in check. But ... why did they all demand on being so social? The only one among them who had any sense was the mouse, who was remaining quiet and withdrawn (aside from stealing a glance, now and then, at the bat). They were all letting their guards down too easily. The mouse knew. He was in the presence of a cat, and he was on an uninhabited, alien world. He knew that something deadly could come there way at any time. He was tense. He was ready to run. She respected him for that. But the others were content to loll about.
The five of them were on this planet for research. To study, et cetera. Scan. Collect samples of fauna. They were the away team. And they'd come down earlier in the day, in morning. And would be staying the night. Camping out here in this clearing. Which was the feline's idea ... the others had hated it at first, their unconscious instinct being to camp near cover or shelter ... but the feline, being the predator, knew that the best way to survive a surprise attack, should one come, was to be in the open. To see it, hear it, smell it coming ... long before it got to you. Not that such a thing should happen, being that this planet lacked sentient life. God had been content to leave it a garden. It was very idyllic.
They would return to Luminous in the morning, and proceed to the asteroid belt they'd been heading for. This was simply a side-stop that Wren couldn't resist. Though, as Field had noted mentally, the squirrel, as eager as he was to chart this place, hadn't ventured down himself. Had left it to his "underlings," as Field had referred to the team.
"You're not my underlings," Wren said, rolling his eyes.
"Well ... minions, then."
The squirrel had chuckled, which had, in turn, prompted a smile from the mouse.
Now, though, Field was nibbling on rations. Sipping at water. Staring at the flames of the fire. The orange, vibrant orange and yellow of the flames. And how they flapped and shivered and quivered. As if the fire was alive. Had a soul of its own. It used energy, moved ... those were qualities of life, but ... it hadn't enough qualities to break that barrier. No, the fire was dead. And burning. And warming them all.
It was hypnotizing to watch. Field imagined that the flames were dancing. Were trying to charm him to sleep. And, when he slept, they would steal all the field rations and gobble them up. And maybe take their shuttle-pod and fly into the sun. Joining a brighter, greater flame. Field had a limitless imagination.
Adelaide blinked, looking to the mouse ... having sworn she could've heard his thoughts. He was staring at the fire, and she could've sworn ... but that wasn't possible. They weren't joined. Her teeth weren't in the delicate muscle of his neck. And he wasn't a bat, so ... she should be able to pick up emotions, stray words, yes. As she'd done before. As she was constantly doing. But not word-for-word thoughts ... this was different. It was like she could see every image he was thinking. Not just stray, directed, focused thoughts, but ... small, out-of-the-way ones, too. Her mind reeled.
Field felt her staring. Blushed beneath his fur, wishing she would stop. If she kept looking at him, they would figure it out. They would all find out.
Adelaide looked away. Looking back, wistfully, at the moon.
Field never dreamed. Well, he rarely dreamed, anyway ... or he didn't remember them. Whatever the case may be. But tonight was different ...
He was in a room with a plush bat hanging from a lighting fixture. By a string. By strings. And it moved like a pendulum, and the light was hanging diagonally. And not falling. Staying in place, diagonally in the air.
"Just make it through the summer," a voice whispered. "Just make it through."
The mouse's ears, smaller than a mouse's ears were supposed to be, swivelled. He was so self-conscious about his ears. He wished they were just a bit bigger.
"Make it through the summer," the voice continued to whisper. Almost chanting it.
Field knew the voice ... as his own. As the back of his mind. The part of his mind that used to say, "Just make it through this day, and you'll be fine." And he would. He would make it through that day, and things wouldn't change. Always ... trying to make it to another point in time. As if ... something were waiting. Waiting.
"I don't live like that anymore," Field told the voice. Told himself. "I have my faith. I have love. I'm not ... going to live on instinct. I have a soul."
"Under electric moon!" replied the voice.
Field frowned. The light in the room ... was now coming horizontal from the wall. Hanging horizontal from the wall. And glowed the same pale-white the moon had been glowing ... that moon. The light in the room didn't look like light from a bulb. Or from any sort of power source. It looked like moonlight.
"Under electric moon!"
And, those words, the three words, were joined by some kind of rhythm ... maybe it was music. Maybe it was the beating of his heart. Or hers.
For she was behind him now, and they were bare, and they began making love in the open air. Outside somewhere, in the grass ... in the pastures. Under apple trees. Near the sycamores. Near the creek.
Huff ... puff ... Field's breath starting to run away from him. He didn't want to stop her. They were exposed, but ... he didn't care. And eyes half-open, he saw the lighting fixture, like a chandelier, still glowing like an electric moon ... and hanging in the air ... twenty feet up. Hanging by nothing. But not falling.
Cheese-flavored crackers, shaped like fish, swam through the waters of the creek (yet not getting soggy) ... as the mouse found himself on his back, staring up at that non-moonlight light. Whatever it ... was ... and the bat now blocking his view of it. Poised above him, smiling softly, shyly ... and eyes glinting, as if wily. She ground her hips to his.
"Under electric moon," whispered a dragonfly nearby. "Don't you think that we're so sad? Help us, Field. Turn off the light ... "
Field ignored the bug. Had no idea, anyway, what it was talking about ... ignored it. Was beyond paying attention.
Her pink, silky muzzle was tilted ... and was locked to his. In a kiss. In physical, emotional bliss. She of the soft suck-sucking and pulling away. She of the dainty sighs. The little smack-smack sounds ... the flaring noses, the breaths ... the wriggling of toes, and ...
She was easing him, easing onto him ... from atop of him. At a straddle, thighs carnation-colored. A cotton candy pink. And his paws, not as soft as hers (from all the writing he'd done, and all the work he'd done to pay for school, to work his way into the fleet) ... caressed those thighs. The fur. The heat. The flesh and muscle beneath.
"Hips," she whispered to his lips. "Hips ... "
He put his paws on her hips. On his back in the grass, in the tall, wild grass (where dandelions hid, both the white and yellow kind), he put his paws on her hips. And helped her to rise up. And lower down.
She parted ... and he slid, bit by bit ... into her ... letting her sink to a stop.
The bat arched, spreading her wings. Thinking of love and better things. Spreading her wings as if catching rays. Catching that artificial light. Or, perhaps, waiting for a rain to come and cool them down. For they were burning up.
The mouse began his airy little squeaks ... as she rose and fell on him. On his sensitivity. And she relished the sensation returned. Of sliding up, down, enveloping ...
The bat gave a stray, "oh ... mm ... " ... and another.
The mouse began to writhe ... as her mind coiled with his. As his tail coiled around her waist. As his paws fumbled at her breasts, circling around them, thumbs rubbing daintily across her nipples ...
She blushed. Only the mouse could tell when his bat was blushing. Only he could differentiate between her shades of pink. Because only he loved her enough to tell. Enough to care. Enough to memorize every color of every part of her.
The bat was only happy to keep going, to stay in the lead ... the mouse was naturally submissive, and was afraid the bat would tire of it. Would want a stronger male. Someone who could sweep the bat off her feet. But she wanted Field, and ... didn't mind doing this for him. Being atop of him. Riding him ... she loved the sense it gave her. That she was caring for him. Nurturing him. She felt a flush of primal power.
And he adored the feeling of being cared for ... even if he wondered, in the back of his mind, if their roles shouldn't be reversed. She was acting like the male. She was leading him. He was following her ... in every endeavor. In whatever she did. In ... he felt so safe. So willing to submit.
Oh ...
The mouse's ears were filled with blood, sensitive, burning, and blushing. Flushing. And she leaned forward, clutching at those ears.
He squeaked!
She traced the lobes.
He shook his head, trying to shake her paws off ... oh, oh ... so sensitive ... it almost hurt. So pleasurable it was almost unbearable. He'd never felt that!
But she didn't stop. She kept going until he was rendered, in a panting daze, still ... and then she let go. And resumed her riding.
The mouse, pinned there, on the grass, the soil, wet with sweat, with saliva (from their kisses), and wet from where they were joined ... he exhaled sharply, squeaking ... allowing his eyes to water to a close. Fur flushed. Breath ragged. Pleasure climbing, climbing, lighting his fuse ... wasn't long now ...
The bat, leaning back, sitting all the way down, spread her wings and raised her neck to the sky, eyes closed ... and a breeze seemed to swirl around them as she whimpered out. The softest, most vulnerable, happiest little whimper the mouse had ever heard.
He felt her spasms ... orgasm. What a word. What a thing! What a ...
And, unable to control it, he followed a full five seconds later. Almost giggling from the sheer wonder of it. From the sheer relief.
Under electric moon, they slumped, sagged, and sailed the sea of pleasure.
Field, afterward, minutes afterward, could only swallow and pant ... from the intensity. How good that had felt. How much he needed her. What she did for him, to him, and ... how beautiful she looked. How ... how ...
" ... how I love you. You have to know how much I ... "
Her paw, her wing ... brushed his cheek. As she looked down to him with gentleness. With protection.
They laid together, like this, and were nearing sleep ... when a sound! A sound!
"The light," whispered the dragonfly, as the electric moon went out. "The light comes ... destroy it!"
The mouse, sitting up, bare-chested, completely bare from nose to tail ... sat up in the grass, arms and paws propping him up ... as he watched a shooting star plummet ... and hit the ground not fifty yards away.
He squeaked and clutched at Adelaide, but ... felt no shockwave. No rumble. Nothing. How had a shooting star hit the ground ... so close, so close to them ... without them feeling it? What was it?
He squinted.
Adelaide, cradling him, whispered, "It's just an old shuttle-pod. It's time was over." And she eyed the dragonfly ... swiped for it, and ...
"What are you doing?" the mouse asked, whiskers twitching.
"I'm a bat, Field. We eat bugs. I'm an omnivore."
"Oh."
She chewed on the dragonfly, swallowed it, and stole his breath away with a kiss ... breathless!
The old ship, burned and battered, smoked from its resting spot on the other side of a fence that Field hadn't hitherto noticed. And his mind, reaching out, shivered. Something was alive in there. Barely. But ... something was alive, and it wasn't a fur. And ... whoever it was, they would come for him soon. They would come for that fading life. To destroy him. They would ...
... gasp!
Field gasped, panting, shivering, shaking, and ... heart pounding, mousey senses aflame. Nose twitching. Ears on alert. And he looked around, seeing ... the others. Asleep. The sky. Calm. Everything okay. Still nighttime on planet-side.
It took him several minutes to settle down. The dream had been so vivid, and ... he felt the warm, matted feeling ... on his groin and thighs. A bit damp, a bit sticky. Wet dream. He'd ... well, he'd need to wash up. He didn't want them to smell the scent on him. He ...
... slipped away, into the shuttle-pod. There was a very small bathroom in there. With a very small shower. And Field, though afraid of small spaces, showered, soaped all the semen from his fur. Paws shaking at the intensity of that dream. It was just as good as any conscious yiff. Just as good as any of his times with her. He could've sworn that was real ...
A knock on the bathroom door.
Field squeaked, dropping the soap. "Wh-what?"
"It's me," was the soft reply.
Field swallowed, turning the water off, opening the door. He poked his nose and head out. Whiskers sniffing. It was her. He opened the door a bit wider. "What?"
"You okay?" she asked, arms crossed (not out of any emotional state, but simply to keep warm ... it was a bit chilly).
"I ... had a vivid dream. I ... well, I'm just taking a shower."
She looked to the floor, scuffing her foot-paws. "I ... had it, too, Field."
He bit his lip. "Well, I don't ... "
"The dream. Don't be embarrassed. I had it, too." She spread her wings. The mouse's nose was keen, and ... she was wet ... " ... yeah, I ... had one of those, too," she said. She gave an airy giggle. "Felt incredible. You were good."
The mouse flushed, biting his lip as he smiled. "It was a dream."
"Was it?" she asked, with a glow in her eyes.
"Anyway, it ... it was a dream, and you did most of the work," he said, lingering behind the door. He paused. "I was just ... finishing my shower. You can take one, but ... we can't both fit in here, and ... even if we could, they might find out."
"Field ... "
"Well, I just gotta wash the soap out of my fur ... "
"Field," she said again.
"What?" He met her eyes.
"We had the same dream," she said. "That shouldn't have happened. With another bat, it would've ... had I been intimate with another bat, we ... mated bats, they share ... erotic dreams. And even non-erotic ones. Doesn't matter. Mated bats form a strong telepathic bond. A link. One that remains even when ... you know, even when we aren't nipping or biting."
"What are you saying?" he asked slowly.
"I'm saying ... your mind. Something's ... different with you."
The mouse twitched.
"No, no ... oh, no, that's not bad. I don't mean different as in bad," she said, putting her paw on his. Squeezing his fingers. "I mean ... there's something wondrously different about your mind, Field. You're exhibiting signs of telepathy. Of mental abilities that ... a mouse simply should not have."
"Well ... well, what ... "
"I don't know," she said. "I just feel it. Earlier, sitting around the fire, I heard your exact thoughts. Not just feelings or snippets. I heard everything. I shouldn't have been able to do that ... I don't understand," she whispered.
The mouse twitched helplessly. Dripping wet, fur matted. Whiskers weighed down by water droplets.
"We'll figure this out," she told him. "I'll help you hone these ... abilities."
"I don't get it. I don't ... what do I tell the others?"
"Don't tell them anything," she said. "Even if they find out about us, our relationship ... they can't know that you have these dormant ... abilities. I don't know how far they go. Maybe that's the extent: sharing dreams. But maybe you can sense feelings, thoughts ... maybe you ... I don't know. I did a scan earlier. The moon in orbit, it's radiating some kind of ... electro-magnetic pulses."
The mouse blinked.
"I think it triggered something in you. That and ... the chemicals in our bodies from our bonding. Some dormant ability's been triggered in you." To her, to Adelaide, it felt fated. This was spiritual. This was leading up to something grand ... something none of them could foresee. Is what she believed.
The mouse sighed, clearing his throat. "Well, I ... I need to dry, and ... get some sleep."
"And I need a shower," she whispered, nose to his. Nose-tip to his nose-tip. Whiskers brushing, nostrils flaring with each other's scent.
Outside the shuttle-pod, nestled in her sleeping bag, the leopard, Assumpta, the only other fur awake, eavesdropped on every word they said. They were cute, but ... she felt a stab of jealousy ... and a spark of distrust. Suspicion. The things they talked of ... made no sense. She would keep it to herself, but ... knowing what she did (that those two were mates, and that they both had some kind of telepathic ability) ... oh, she would store that away. It would be a useful bargaining chip for the future. Surely, there would be some point in time when she would need to bribe the bat or the mouse. Call upon a favor. Oh, they would be in her debt ...
Morning came, and the team packed up, and the shuttle-pod headed back for Luminous ...
As Rella walked up the folding stairs in the shuttle-bay, reaching the upper decking, Wren pulled her aside. The Captain, squirrel tail bushy and arched smartly behind him, briskly pulled her aside and said, "We have to talk."
Rella blinked at his tone.
"Where did he come from?" she asked. Five minutes later. In sickbay. Staring at an alien ... an alien! On a bio-bed. She squinted, taking a step closer.
"Wouldn't do that," said the doctor.
"Kody," said Wren.
"Captain, you invite all your friends for a peep-show ... and this'll be all over the ship."
"What is ... this?" Rella emphasized. Nodding at the comatose creature.
"We don't know," Wren whispered. "Last night, we found a shuttle-pod. Adrift. We brought it aboard."
"I didn't see it in the bay," began Rella, confused. As the ship's tactical officer, it was her duty to know if any alien ships had been taken aboard. If any ...
"It has a cloak."
She frowned. "I don't understand ... "
Wren hesitated.
Kody didn't, however. "The ship, on the outside, looks barely big enough to squeeze into. It's in the corner of the bay."
"So, a miniature pod is cloaked in the corner of our shuttle-bay? Like a rusted old bike?" she asked.
"It's not rusted, believe me," said the white-furred rabbit. Oh, he loved to talk. Loved to hear the sound of his own voice. "It's bigger on the inside than the outside. I swear, I nearly had a heart attack when the squirrel pushed me in ... " He always called the Captain, his former school-mate, as "squirrel" ... " ... but, I tell you, inside there ... it's as big as a palace."
"How can a ship be bigger on the inside than the outside?" Rella posed.
"The same way that comatose alien can be from five hundred years ... in the future. I had him quantum dated."
"Time trave's impossible," Wren said, as he'd said when the rabbit had given him the information.
"Well, I did my part," Kody said, meandering away to his office. "Squirrel, if you're too stuffy to take my elevated word for it ... " He trailed. In his office now. "Can you get one of your engineers to program my food processor? They can turn rocks into warp reactors, but they can't program a decent glazed carrot. How does that make sense?"
Wren ignored him, as usual. Arms crossed. Sighing. Faced with a sudden, bizarre mystery. Only some of the crew knew. The bridge crew. A few engineers. And the Captain had ordered them all to silence. He didn't want news of this ... unorthodox alien ... spreading around the whole ship. Because he knew he couldn't answer the questions that would result. He needed more information. He needed ...
Rella took a step toward the damaged alien. The hurting alien. Whispering, "Why didn't you call me? You didn't you contact me? I'm the chief of security ... "
"It happened a few hours before you were due to return. And ... I didn't know WHAT to tell you."
"I ... "
The doors whooshed.
The two squirrels spun.
Field paused in the doorway, wilting under their glares. "Um ... " He swallowed, standing on the tips of his foot-paws. Looking past them with a very innocent, mousey curiosity. He sniffed the air.. "What's that?"
"Shut the door!" Wren hissed.
Field stepped forward, hesitating ... and the doors shut. His friend was angry. Was agitated. Was tired. "What's wrong?"
"Lock that thing, Rella. Please," Wren said, rubbing his forehead.
She nodded. Went to lock the door.
"Field, I need you to ... "
The mouse was ignoring his words. He stepped forward, eyes wide, nose sniffing, whiskers ... almost sensing some kind of electrical input. The signals running through them, to his muzzle, to his mind. Some kind of ... he saw things ... he was seeing things. He knew what this was. This was from his dream! This creature ... the ship that had crashed in his dream, it was ... it belonged to this creature. The mouse let out a slow, baited breath.
"Field ... "
The mouse felt something else, too. And he turned, squinting, staring at Wren. And he shook his head. Confused.
"Field, if you've ... "
"You lied."
"What?" Wren asked.
"Last week, at our launch ... you lied. You said ... there was an overload in engineering. It was sabotage. There was someone there," he said, sensing it from the squirrel's mind. The mouse's eyes, already a grey-blue, got greyer, and glazed over, unblinking. "They wanted to stop our launch. They felt it would ... we could be a catalyst for future horror. That ... " The mouse jolted, blinked, twitched, and ... coughed a bit ... taking a step back, feeling weak. He breathed deep, steadying, and turned to stare at the creature on the bed. Covered in a blue medical sheet up to it's belly ... its skin was pink. Soft. Bare. Covered with rough, little brown hairs ... on its chest. Running down from the navel ... it had flat ears, a flat nose ...
"That's a human," Field whispered. Unblinking. As if in a trance.
Rella, in disbelief, whispered, "How do you know that? How do you ... know any of this?"
The mouse gave no answer. Still not blinking.
"Field!" demanded Wren.
The mouse snapped out of it, breathing in ... looking to them both. "I don't know," was his whisper. "Something's ... " He quivered. "My mind. Something's ... different," he managed, "about me. I'm not right. I'm seeing things. I'm feeling things ... like a door's been unlocked. I see what this is. I saw it in a dream. His ship crashed on the planet. It burned. And ... he wanted to be put out of his misery. He only wanted to go to heaven."
"He's human?" Rella asked.
"Human?" asked Kody, back in view.
Wren sighed. "Alright ... you two," he said (of Field and Kody), "listen to me ... I'm not going to tell this story again. And it's not to be shared. Got it?"
"Yeah, whatever," went the rabbit.
Field nodded quietly. Knowing, however, that ... whatever was shared with him ... would make it to Adelaide's mind. By nature of their spiritual link. But he wasn't about to get into that ... wasn't about to broach that with anyone in this room. Not yet ...
Wren explained their strange encounter on the day of Luminous' launch.
"So, this shadow fur ... warned you that ... if we made first contact with humans, it would trigger a chain of events that would destroy us all?" Kody asked. "Sounds like a bad sci-fi novel to me.."
"I was there," Rella defended. "He's telling the truth."
"Look, Field's a nut-case, obviously ... like he suddenly has telepathic powers? Whoever heard of that?" The rabbit squinted. "Let me run tests on him. I want to scan him."
"No," Field objected. More forcefully than his mousey nature was prone to do. "You're not laying a paw on me."
Wren was taken aback by the mouse's objection.
"Guys," Rella said quietly. And she stood above the comatose human. "If this is a human, if Field's right ... what do we do with him? Keep him here? You said his ship was ... hundreds of years beyond our technology. And body scans were ... "
"Muddled," Wren replied.
"Conclusive. I don't make mistakes," Kody defended, rabbit ears waggling.
"What do we do with him?" Rella asked again. "What if that shadow fur was right? I just ... I feel that shadow fur was telling the truth, sir. Don't you feel chilled? Don't you feel the danger in the air? We're prey. We can sense danger. Don't tell me you don't feel it ... this creature radiates of it. Something's ... going on here ... we're in over our heads."
"You're just letting your ... "
The Captain was cut off as the ship jolted. Shook. There was only one thing that it could be ... so suddenly, and ... the alarm klaxons made it evident. Weapons fire.
"Sir, you better get up here," came a voice over the comm. One of the bridge officers.
"Rella, you're with me. Field, you stay here. Don't," Wren ordered, "move. We'll figure you out ... when we figure the rest of this out."
"If," Kody iterated to him. "If you figure it out."
"Onscreen."
The image appeared. Of a needle-nosed ship, sleek and fast ... changing colors of blue and green, like a chameleon. Shaped like a top. It zipped to their left. And another appeared at the right. A third coming from below them. Like wasps.
"Hail them," Wren ordered, standing behind the helm. Wearing a steely gaze.
"They're hailing us, sir," said Ketchy. She was the comm officer.
"Alright," Wren said slowly. "Put it on."
"It's audio only."
The squirrel nodded. "Just put it on."
Ketchy did so, piping in the feed. And Wren's ears, as did Rella's ... swivelled to a stop at that smooth-sounding, slightly-out-of-phase voice. The one they'd heard in engineering. In the dark.
"You have a human aboard your ship. We want him. And we want his vessel. Give them over, and we won't destroy you."
"Who are you to be making such claims? This is my ship. If we do have anything, if we did find anything," Wren responded, in the mood to argue, "then it belongs to us."
"By what right?"
"Salvage rights."
"That is unacceptable," the voice responded.
A warning shot was fired off the side of Luminous ... right near the left engine.
"Give us the items."
"A living creature isn't an 'item'," Wren responded. "No ... you won't destroy us as long as we have him onboard. You won't risk it. You want him that bad ... "
"You do not understand what you are meddling in. Go home. Turn back. You're only lucky this human is half-dead ... "
"You claim that I will be responsible for making first contact between humans and furs, and that ... by doing so, I'll trigger the demise of our world and race?"
"I don't claim. I only state what I've been told."
"By who? Where are you getting this information?"
"From sources better informed than you. Give me," the voice demanded, "the items."
"You speak in riddles," Wren accused, pacing back and forth in front of the viewer. Though the comm was only on audio. Angry now. "You speak as if every action bears the weight of the universe."
"It always does," was the enigmatic reply.
"I want to know why you're so adamant we steer clear of humans. I want to know what you know. I want to know why you need the human and his ship."
The channel was cut.
Ketchy shook her head. "He's blocking all signals. We can't even send out a distress call." There was worry in her voice. "They'll all targeted weapons on us ... sir ... "
"No one would get to us in time, anyway, and even if we could get a call out ... " Wren trailed.
Rella shook her head, eyes widening. "You can't give him that ship! That's future technology. That's human technology. He could be lying to us about everything. For all we know, he might not be a fur ... he might be human himself! Sir ... "
"I won't get us all killed for a shuttle-pod and a brain-dead alien." His voice was resolute. Though frustrated.
"How do we know they won't destroy us once we give them what they want?"
"Because, whoever is ... behind all this, they have a vested interest in our survival."
"Or maybe they want us to do their bidding. Maybe they're playing us like pawns. Maybe they're using us."
"I don't care," Wren said. "Give them the ship. Put the alien on it, and ... jettison the thing ... "
Rella hesitated.
"Do it," Wren ordered.
She nodded. Seeing a fierceness in the other squirrel's eyes. One that intimidated her. Who was Wren ... really? How had he come to be the first rodent captain in the fleet? How did he come to get this ship? She didn't know. But she knew he had that tortured soul of a tested leader. And she would do what he said ... she trusted him.
... and, ten minutes later, the future ship floated out of the shuttle-bay, cartwheeling ... in high orbit. With the brain-dead human body onboard.
The three shadowy ships opened fire ...
Wren watched ... as they tried to obliterate it. But barely left a mark.
Rella shook her head. Amazed at such technology. If only the Captain had let them keep the ship, then ... they could've harvested those things. Those shields. Maybe advanced sensors, weaponry ...
"Sir, they're ... towing the ship toward the planet ... I think they're trying to burn it apart in the atmosphere." Ketchy tapped some consoles. "They're leaving it in a low-decaying orbit." She nodded.
"Get us out of here," Wren whispered to the helm. "Resume course for the asteroid belt."
The skunk at helm nodded. And turned the ship around ...
And they zoomed away. Leaving this mess (momentarily) behind.
By late-afternoon, the whole ship knew of the shadow figure and the mysterious species called "human" ... and word of Field's blossoming mental abilities had gotten around, too. Followed by word of his relationship with Adelaide ... (which disappointed Assumpta; the snow leopard had lost a valuable bargaining chip there ... but no matter ... she would find a new one) ...
Chatter and speculative talk abounded. On duty, off-duty, in the mess hall.
Wren, meanwhile, was in his office, trying to put it all behind him. Trying to focus on simple exploration. On the mission. They were heading for some space stations in an asteroid belt, and ... they would certainly meet some interesting furs and creatures there. And maybe have time to shop and eat and explore a bit. Who knew. He suspected he should stop trying to plan ahead, because ... wasn't doing him any good thus far.
The door chime rung.
"Come in ... "
The door whooshed open. Field stood tentatively in the doorway.
"It's okay," Wren said quietly.
Field stepped in. The door shut. "If you want me to stop ... being with her ... "
"No ... I wouldn't do that to you. I wouldn't do that to anyone." The squirrel took a breath through the nose. Let it out (also through the nose). "Just don't let it affect your work, okay?"
The mouse nodded quietly.
"Are you reading my mind right now?"
The mouse shook his head. "I ... don't know how to control these abilities. They flash on and off, and ... Adelaide's helping me to sort it out."
The squirrel nodded, sitting at his desk. Field standing in front of it.
Wren leaned back, sighing, looking out the window. At the stars going by. And looking back to Field. "What's going on ... Field? Hmm? All of this ... I thought we were just launching a ship and ... you know ... "
"We're wading into an ocean," was all Field could say. "Sometimes ... there be monsters." He shrugged shyly, but knowingly. "Sometimes, the tide sweeps you away ... and, sometimes, it's just ... quiet and still, and the moonlight's on the water, and ... the phosphorescent things put on their show. It's ... too vast to figure out."
"What do I do?" Wren asked.
"You're asking my advice?" Field asked, surprised.
"You're my friend," was all Wren said. "You're my best friend."
The mouse flushed, tugging at his own whiskers, unconsciously grooming them with his paws (licking his paws with his tongue, and then swiping at his whiskers) ... an unconscious habit. "Um ... well ... " He stopped the grooming. And sighed. "Just pray. I mean, God got us ... this far, didn't he? I know I was in a very bad state of mind ... a year ago. You know I ... what I tried to do to myself," said the mouse, referring to the depression he'd had. The eating disorder. The ... everything. "And I know you had some rough spots at school. But ... we're here, and we're still going, and ... I have to believe in ... hope. In faith. In ... I have to believe. Cause it just wouldn't be worth it if I didn't."
The squirrel just nodded.
"Try and relax when we reach the asteroid belt."
"Well ... we'll be there for a few days. Maybe I could ... "
"Meet someone?" Field asked. Smiling.
The squirrel chuckled. "Hmm ... " And his smile faded. He shook his head. "I don't do ... casual, Field. You know that."
"I know. I don't, either. But ... I didn't mean yiff, necessarily."
"It's okay ... "
"I'm ... gonna go," Field said. It was getting late. He was young, was a mouse, and had a new mate ... the look in his eyes was one of newfound energy and purpose. Eagerness. It was rather endearing.
"Alright. Goodnight."
Field nodded, lingering in the doorway ... before leaving.
The squirrel let out a breath. He had some reports to write. To send back home. His superiors would wanna know about this. About all that had happened. But he didn't know how to explain it. Mm ... he would sleep on it ...
He got up from his desk ... stepped onto the bridge. Rella was still there.
"You should be off-duty by now," he told her.
"Finishing up some things. I want to be ready ... in case of another attack."
He nodded quietly, in front of her console. "Well, leave it for morning."
"Sir ... "
"I wanted to have some coffee or something in the mess. Wanted to talk. Wanted to know ... "
"I don't like coffee," she said, a soft smile fading onto her muzzle. "But I'll have some hot chocolate or something."
He chuckled. "Okay ... "
They up and went.
And the ship continued to sail ... even as most of its crew slept.