Pink Rising Sun
"Bloody kangaroos," Field muttered, squinting heavily. The pink sun was rising. Turning into an orange-red sun. Or some hotter color. He couldn't entirely tell, because to look at it ... would be to lose your eyes. To burn them dry. To blind them. "Why ... why did we come here," he huffed, scurrying to catch up with Wren. Trudging through tan-colored sand. "How come we came here, anyway?"
"We were invited," said Wren dully.
When Luminous had arrived in orbit of the kangaroos' arid, dry world, a request had been sent from the surface: for Wren and Field to come down via shuttle-pod. To mediate a dispute between several squabbling 'roo tribes. Wren agreed, and he and Field had arrived yesterday afternoon. Everything started fine: they'd been wined and dined. Played one of the local sporting games (some kind of volleyball thing), and had lengthy discussions with leaders of all sides ... and, then, during the night, one of the tribes attacked the other. And, pretty soon, they were ALL involved. A maelstrom resulted. Forcing Wren and Field to flee into the desert. With two bottles of water and some white robes. And little else. The shuttle-pod, Shuttle-Pod Four, was lying in pieces back at the settlement. The settlement in pieces, too, and the two furs had no way to contact Luminous ...
"Guess we should stop trying to help furs, huh?" Wren posed. Taking the lead ... the sun was scaling the morning. "Guess, next time we're asked for help, we should tell them to ...
"Yeah," Field agreed, purposely cutting the squirrel off, keeping him from saying anything in poor taste.
"You okay back there?" Wren stopped. White robes billowing around him, reflecting the sunlight and heat away from him ... rather than absorbing it. His tail billowed like a flag.
"My fur's all ... totally matted," Field panted, "and I feel ... gross."
"Well, I have sand up my nose. I'm not complaining."
"In your nose? I have it in my EARS. What if I lose my hearing? You know what a mouse without ears is ... he's, like ... that's like some kind of impotence."
Wren chuckled.
"It's not funny," Field insisted.
"Not saying it is ... "
"We'll run out of water before they find us," Field continued, talking more than usual, maybe. Complaining more than usual. He was frustrated. Scared. And when he was those things ... he blabbed. Adelaide was right: sometimes, he was a blabber-mouse.
"Unless the 'roos find us first."
"I assume we can't let that happen? I mean, we're not trusting them anymore, right? They sort of ... "
"No, we can't let them find us ... " Wren trailed. The heat was ... the shimmering kind. The kind that made illusions in front of you. That made the air waver. "If I know Rella, she'll start investigating ... when we don't check in at the allotted time. And she'll try and get us back. Send out a search party. She'll do something. We just need to find a bit of shelter before then, or we'll fry."
It was hot. And getting hotter. And the squirrel and mouse, the two friends, wandered the desert. Their foot-paws leaving shifting prints behind them. Changed by every breeze.
After about twenty minutes, Field, squinting, pointed a paw. Thin, furry arm extending from the white of his robes, which were billowing in the wind. "There!" he shouted above the wind. "There! It's ... some kind of ... dilapidated bunker thing."
"Sounds inviting," Wren replied, whiskers wilting.
Field couldn't tell if Wren was being sarcastic or not. But, regardless, they didn't have a choice. They headed for the structure.
Rella, standing in front of the Captain's chair, but behind the helm ... stared at the viewer. Stared at the brutish, muscular 'roo on the screen. With his blunted muzzle. With his thick muscles. He radiated masculinity. He radiated of stubbornness.
"What?" was his demand. Voice fairly deep.
"Hello to you, too," said Rella, clasping her paws behind her back. Taking a step forward. And she did a little nod. "We've been waiting ten minutes to talk to you."
"I am busy."
"Oh?"
"Yes."
"Well, I'm afraid we're busy, too, so I'll make this quick: our captain and first officer, a squirrel and a mouse, were invited to your world to help mediate your dispute. To serve as an objective outside party ... and, apparently," Rella said, pacing one way. Stopping. Going the other way. Stopping, looking the 'roo straight in the eyes. "Apparently, you thought it might be fun to kick up some trouble." She, unblinking, added, "I know how 'roos love to kick."
The kangaroo squinted at the comment. "Your crew-furs are none of my concern."
"We believe you know where they are. We believe you lured them there ... and attacked them on purpose. We believe that, if they're not in your possession, you must've driven them into the desert."
"I believe I am busy," was all the 'roo said.
Rella fought the urge to roll her eyes. "Where are they?" she demanded. "Did you kill them?" She didn't even WANT to imagine that possibility, but it had to be ... she had to ask it. Had to know ...
"No."
Her heart breathed a sigh of relief.
"Our tribes have limited technology. We are nomads. Our skirmishes are simply that. Skirmishes. And are none of your concern."
"Then why ask for our help?"
"My tribe did not ask for help. One of the other tribes did. It was to their error."
"Well, I don't know which tribe is what, but ... you're the only one we could get a comm channel with, and I need to know where our crew-furs are. We want them back. Once we have them, we'll leave. You'll never see us again. Whatever you want, okay? Just ... help us out."
"Perhaps YOU know where they are. Perhaps YOU killed them," the 'roo accused, "and are trying to frame us. Perhaps you are in league with the other tribes."
"What?" She almost laughed the word out. "That's ridiculous."
"Is it?"
"Yes. Yes, it is," she said. Taking a few more steps toward the viewer. "Our scanners won't work from orbit. The sand-storms kick up too much interference. We fear it'll take too long to scan manually with a shuttle-pod, so we'd like your help. If you could ... "
"I am busy."
Rella paused. Sighed. "You mentioned that ... "
"Prey have no business in the desert. Prey are weak. If your crew-furs die, it is their own fault. If they survive ... tell them I commend them." The channel was cut. The 'roo's imagine replaced with that of the planet below.
Rella shook her head. "He hung up on us!" She hated it when furs did that.
Ketchy looked up from comm. Blinking. "Should I call him back?"
Rella shook her head in annoyance. "No ... no, we'll just have to send the pods and ... scan and search the deserts."
"Those deserts are big," Adelaide said from Ops. With concern. "Field and Wren have two days, at MOST ... before dehydration kills them. And that's assuming they have a decent amount of water with them."
"They're tough," Rella whispered, "for prey. They'll be okay. They're waiting for us," she said, certain of it. "We just have to do our part." She met Adelaide's eyes. The other femme, the bat ... and her, Rella, the squirrel, their mates ... were down there. They were both worried sick. But both hiding it for the benefit of the rest of the crew. Panic, in prey, was contagious. When one panicked, it spread to another, and it went around like wild-fire. Rella and Adelaide had to feign calm. It wasn't easy.
Adelaide let out a breath. Nodded. "I'll ... lead the team. I'm the Ops officer."
"Alright," Rella whispered, eyes blank for a moment. "Um ... take Shuttle-Pod Two."
"Um ... you can't," Ketchy piped in. "Remember?"
Shuttle-Pod two had been destroyed on a kamikaze run ... on a human ship. By a future version of Wren.
"Oh," went Rella. "Yeah. Kind of hard to forget ... um ... okay, we lost Shuttle-Pod four, right? We lost its homing signal?"
"It's in pieces down there ... if you wanna collect them and put them back together again," Adelaide said.
"No." She looked to the skunk at helm. Where was Chester? Chester was a good pilot. "No, take Chester, Adelaide, and ... you two go in Shuttle-Pod One." SP-1 was always reliable. "And I'll assign two other furs to Shuttle-Pod Three. Three needs some exercise. Don't think we've used her yet." She took a breath. Rella, as the second officer, was in charge now. "Run low over the sand. Scan visually and ... with the computers. They should be the only rodents down there, so ... shouldn't be too hard," she hoped.
Adelaide nodded.
And Rella, sighing, turned her gaze back to the viewer. At the inhospitable world that greeted her eyes. Where her mate was. Wren. And where Field, was. She prayed for them. Hoped they were stronger than that sun.
Wren and Field were inside the run-down structure. It was made of cement and ... other things. Seemed pretty ancient. But, then, the kangaroos didn't have a very advanced society. How could they ... on a world like this?
Field was in the corner, in the shade. But it was still hot in here. Miserably hot. And the sand still filtered in, and the wind. And the air was so dry. So dry. Wren sat a few feet away, also against the wall.
The squirrel sighed.
Field sniffled. Nose clogged. He twitched it. Sniffed it. And groomed his whiskers absently, licking paw-pads, swiping at his whiskers.
"Why do you do that?" Wren asked.
"I'm a mouse. I can't help it."
"Well ... you know, your saliva ... how does that clean your whiskers, huh? How does that clean your cheek-fur?"
Field, in the middle of swiping his paws along his cheeks, brushing down his ears ... stopped. Frowned. "At least I don't feel the need to climb things. At least, every time I see a tall item, I don't stare at it ... trying to figure its weight and distribution. I mean ... and least I don't gorge on almonds and peanuts ... "
"Field, just try me, huh? Try me. Try and argue with me, because I will," Wren emphasized, smiling a bit, "win."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah."
Field paused. And returned to grooming his whiskers and fur with his tongue and paws. "I don't care," he said, between licks to his arm fur, "what you think of ... the grooming habits of mice, cause ... it's instinct. It's what we do. We each have our quirks, and I'm not gonna be baited," Field decided, looking up smartly, "by you." He paused and added, "Tree-hugger."
Wren laughed. "Ooh ... original, Field. Real original."
The mouse giggled. "Mm ... " He stopped his grooming again. Leaned back. Sighed. "Mm ... "
Wren drew little shapes in the sand with his paws. His tail, bushy and arched behind him, trapped between his back and the wall ... was full of sand. Was bogged down. And his fur, like Field's was matted with sweat. Lacked its normal softness and sheen.
Field breathed quietly. Looking to the water bottles. He was so thirsty. He was so, so thirsty, but they had to conserve it. He whimpered and looked away, sighing. Hoping Adelaide was looking for him. Missing him like he missed her.
"Truth ... or dare," Wren stated.
Field looked to him.
"Truth or dare, Field?"
"What?"
"It's a game."
"I know what it is." A frown. A whisker-twitch. "It's a game that little femme furs play, not ... not ... "
"Afraid? Mm?"
"You're not gonna goad me," the mouse promised. And paused. "But ... okay. Okay. Truth."
"Alright ... " Wren thought a moment. Smiled cheekily. "Okay. I've never yiffed with a fur outside my own species. You have. Your mate's a bat. What's it like ... with her? Hmm?"
"That's rather personal," Field stressed.
"We're friends, Field. We tell each other our secrets. We're guys ... talking. Trapped in a desert. Come on. Spill it ... "
"You're SO mature, you know, for a captain and all ... "
Wren chuckled and looked out the window. At the blaring brightness. And then back to Field. "Hmm?"
"Well, it's ... " The mouse flushed. Hesitated. "Well, she does this thing where she ... she bites me with her fangs ... " He tilted his neck, showing with his paw. "Right about here."
"What, every time?"
The mouse flushed again. "Only during intercourse."
"Oh."
"Yeah, it's ... it leaves no mark, and ... "
"Does it hurt?"
" ... it doesn't hurt. It ... releases chemicals into me, and ... does this electrical, telepathic current thing, and it's ... " He sighed dreamily. "Oh, it's ... like a firework, when it happens. Like ... how a firework would feel. The color and the sight and the ... sound of it. Just ... an exploding pleasure. It just ... pinwheels inside me."
Wren listened. Ears swiveling. Feeling a bit ... jealous. A bit turned on, maybe. He listened.
"And it's ... and, anyway, even when we just do oral and stuff, and ... we can still feel each other's minds, and ... her wings just envelop me. Like blankets. And ... she's so soft, and the pink of her ... is like champagne in my eyes. Like ... I get drunk on her, you know?" The mouse gave a bashful giggle. "It's ... that's how it is with a bat. I mean, I've ... " He trailed. "I love her," he added.
A pause. The howling wind outside.
"Your turn," Wren whispered silently.
"Okay. Um ... truth or dare?"
"Truth."
"Okay ... did you really used to ... be with guys?" Field asked. Feeling he shouldn't have asked it. Feeling it was inappropriate, but ... hey, Wren had started this game.
The squirrel looked to his foot-paws. Squinting. "Kody told you ... "
Field nodded.
"You're not gonna ... "
"No. I wouldn't tell anyone. You know that."
Wren nodded. "Rella doesn't know. I ... yeah, I was with guys. Back in school. And ... I don't really wanna talk about it, you know? Other than ... it happened. And, I mean, I know it happened ... with you. You were mated to a male lion for a while, if I recall ... "
The mouse only nodded quietly. It had ended traumatically.
" ... and you were hurt, and I was hurt, and ... we've moved on. We have new mates, so I don't see why it should be an issue. I don't ... "
"Well, it's not. I just ... I suspected," Field said. "In the back of my mind. I mean, when I told you about me ... you had this look in your eyes. And I ... kind of knew. But you never told me for certain. It wasn't until Kody told me that you used to love him that I ... realized that you'd been that way, too."
Wren, very quiet, listening to the wind, asked, "I get the feeling that we could play this game all day ... and not one of us would ever choose dare."
Field said nothing.
Wren met his eyes. "Cause maybe we're afraid of what we'd be ... dared to do." He exhaled. "I mean, you ever think ... if, at school, we'd ... not been so scared. Not been so immature. Maybe we would've ... you know ... "
"Well, we didn't," was all Field whispered. "And we can't. And ... "
Wren nodded.
Field twitched.
"Wanna play 'I spy'?" Wren asked, changing the subject.
"How do you ... "
"I spy something ... and the color is ... tan," said Wren. "And now you have to tell me what it is."
"That's stupid. Everything around us is tan. My fur. The sand. The walls."
"Well, we can't sleep ... cause we need to be awake if they come looking for us. We can't keep moving, or we'll die. So, we sit in here and talk our ears off. And we play silly games. Don't make me pull rank on you." A friendly smile.
The mouse smiled back. "Alright. I'll play."
"Good," said Wren, sitting up straighter. "Okay ... I spy something, and the color is ... "
Ketchy climbed up the ladder. In one of the tubes of the ship. The small, tiny access spaces ... between decks. Every so often, there would be a junction, which was like a little room with tubes going in six directions. The four walls. And the ceiling and the floor. Ketchy paused as she emerged in the junction.
Fredrick blinked.
"What are you doing?"
"Enhancing the sensors."
"Well, they don't work," said Ketchy, emerging from the tube and ladder. Getting to her foot-paws.
"Juneau wanted me to keep trying." He stared at his work. Holding a spanner. "So, what are YOU doing here?"
"I'm the comm officer. The comm channels are full of static. I came here to adjust the frequencies."
"Should've called engineering. We would've done it for you."
"I wanted to do it myself." Truth was ... she was nervous. About Wren and Field. About if they'd be okay. She cared about them. And she didn't want to sit still while the two remaining shuttle-pods scoured the deserts in silence (for if they broke comm silence, they might be fired on by the local 'roo tribes). Ketchy needed to busy herself.
Fredrick handed her a scanner.
She took it ... hesitating. "How do I ... "
"Need help?" he asked.
"Well ... okay, yes. I just ... look, I just wanted to ... be up and about. I couldn't sit still. I needed to feel like I was doing something." She paused, looking him over. "You ever have that feeling?"
"I guess."
She sighed. "Squirrel of few words, I see."
He nodded.
"You're Fredrick, right? Juneau's second-in-command?"
"Yeah ... " He continued his scans. Pulling out tools that made little humming sounds.
She stood there. Feeling awkward.
He looked at her again.
"I, uh, still need help ... "
"Alright," he said, with what sounded like reluctance, and he reached for the scanner he'd just given to her. Put his paw around it, but she didn't let go. He looked confused.
She leaned forward, put a kiss on his nose ... and stepped back. Eyes darting. "Sorry ... sorry, I don't ... I'm so sorry," she apologized.
Fredrick looked baffled, but ... said, "It's okay ... "
"I'll ... go. You can fix the, uh, the ... the problem, right?"
He nodded dumbly.
She turned to go. But found her tail was being held in place. She stopped, flushed, turned to look at him.
"Um ... you can stay and watch? I could teach you."
Her heart pounding, she just nodded. Swallowed. "Okay," she whispered.
He moved aside to show her the open circuitry. "Well, it's ... simple, really, you just ... realign these ... "
She wasn't listening. She was thinking about what she'd done. That nose-kiss. Why she'd done it. She wasn't the impulsive type. Wasn't bold. Wasn't ...
... resisting as he was kissing her cheek. The spanner dropping with a clatter to the plating on the floor.
Her arms and paws went round his back ... as she was moseyed, moseyed back into the wall. Her back to the wall. She exhaled through the nose as they kissed. A quiet, shy kiss. The two squirrels sucking lips and muzzle. Eyes closed. Tails rippling behind them.
"Oh," Ketchy panted when the kiss was broken. "Um ... "
Fredrick's eyes looked away. He was quiet.
She leaned back into him ... and kissed his cheek. And then his ear. And then ... he began returning the kisses, and their muzzles met again.
And came apart ... again.
"We ... we should make up our minds," Ketchy said shakily, trying to infuse humor into the situation. To fight her fluttering heart. To fight her nerves.
Fredrick just nodded.
Their eyes met, shyly, briefly ...
And they kissed a third time, and Fredrick's paw went under her attire, her uniform ... and rubbed her belly.
"Huh," she huffed, arching ... allowing his paw to rub up, down ... allowing it to slide down, down ...
The male squirrel, flushing, fingered her warmth. Tickled along the folds of it.
She nodded quietly, biting her lip. Eyes closed. Giving him permission. She wasn't ready to yiff-yiff, as in ... oral yiff or intercourse yiff, or ... the last time she'd done that, her self-confidence had been destroyed. She'd felt used. And ... she didn't want to do that again unless it was for love, but ... maybe love could come of this? And ... she wasn't gonna stop him from touching her. From feeling her. She was comfortable with that much, and ...
... she raised on the tips of her foot-paws as his finger went inside her. Rubbing the moist, hot walls of muscle. "Mm ... mm ... "
Fredrick, panting, kissed her again. On the neck. On the chin. She raised her chin, and he kissed her chin. And went back to her neck. Slowly moving his finger in and out of her. Her own paws were desperately trying to work inside his own clothes, trying to reach his squirrel-hood ... but he chittered quietly, whispering, "No ... this is for you ... "
Ketchy's eyes watered. Emotion-filled. She stuttered back, "But I ... I want to ... I ... "
"Later," he promised with a whisper, still pleasuring her.
She sighed. Sighed ... " ... oh ... " She sniff-twitched. She didn't think she was gonna reach orgasm just by fingering him, but ... cause she always took some doing. But ... it felt great, nonetheless, and ...
He hugged her with his free paw. Hugged her to his chest. And she clung back, rubbing her paws up and down his back, along his tail ... she stroked his bushy, furry tail. And he liked it. He chittered, and she ravaged his tail with her paws and her nose ... while he kissed the side of her neck. Sucking her fur. Wetting it.
Maybe the repairs could wait ...
Maybe she had found love. Found a mate.
Ketchy hugged him for dear life.
Their water was gone. And they had played all the games and chatted about all the things they could think about, and ... they were tired. Dry. Hot. Miserable. Losing energy. And the day was getting hotter.
Field, at a sag, at a sit, eyes half-open, whispered something.
"What?" Wren whispered back.
Field shrugged. "I don't know." And he didn't. He seemed half-crazed, as if suffering from heat delirium.
Wren stared at him with concern. Crawled over to him. Was tempted to shake him out of it. Instead, just urging, "Field ... Field, come on ... stay awake, huh?"
"Awake?"
"Yes ... yes, don't go to sleep." Wren feared that, if the mouse did so, he wouldn't wake up.
"Sleep ... mm ... "
"No, no ... Field!" Wren shook the mouse.
Field squeaked in irritation. Squeaked and chittered and tried to bite Wren's paw.
"Ouch! Damn mouse!" Wren wrestled him to the ground. Pinned him. Huffing. "Look ... I know we're furs. I know we're prey. I know ... you're dehydrated, delirious, and your instincts are taking over, but ... get a grip!"
Field blinked.
"Alright?" Wren whispered. "Stay with me."
Field nodded weakly. Eyes watering. "I'm sorry ... " His eyes were dry, but ... they watered, all the same. He could try in any environment. "I'm sorry ... "
"No, it's okay, my friend ... come on. Sit up." Wren propped the mouse to a sit. "It's okay."
"I'm a bad first officer. I'm a bad friend. I'm ... you don't like me anymore."
"No. No," Wren whispered. "That's not true." He took a breath. "Just, sometimes, your mind ... you're different, Field. Different than any fur. I ... it intimidates me. You see things I don't, and ... I don't know how to react to that. Your faith has grown stronger through all your trials, while mine has grown ... weaker. I just feel I don't deserve to have you as a friend."
The mouse was crying now. "I'm ... that's not ... true. You do. I'm not ... I'm bad."
"No, you're not," Wren whispered. And he hugged the mouse close. "Come on ... we're gonna be okay."
"Are you sure?" he sobbed. "Are you sure?" He sounded terrified.
"I'm sure ... " His own eyes watered, and he let Field go (eventually) ... and sat back against the wall. Wishing they had water. Wishing they had ...
" ... help? Anyone in need of help?" came a voice. Thank God! Adelaide!
The bat, grinning as sweetly as a glass of pink lemonade, peeked around the corner. Her fur matted with sweat ... and stuck with sand. She spread her wings. "Here comes the furry calvary!"
Field, half-conscious, reached out to her with his mind ... gave her all his love ... his gratitude.
Chester followed behind the bat, nodding at Wren. "Captain. I'm glad you're okay."
"So am I," Wren breathed. "But ... " He tried to stand but fell back down. "I ... I shouldn't even be conscious. I need ... water."
"We're gonna take you back to Luminous. Doctor Kodiak will take care of you."
"I'm sure he will," Wren said dryly. But smiling all the same. He was glad to see them. His crew. His friends. "As soon as we're in orbit," he said, Chester helping him to his foot-paws, "set a course away from the 'roos and ... get us away from here."
"Gladly," said Adelaide. Smiling brighter than the searing sun.
And, when all were safe and sound, Luminous left orbit and warped away ... and the crew, in need of some rest, began looking for a planet to take shore leave ...