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The bar slowly went down, turning from am amber glow to a red one, sending out an urgent flashing that did all to well to get Cylus' attention.

"PDCs are down to twenty percent," the raccoon yelled out behind him to whoever would be listening. His eyes flickered to the screen that hovered to his left. There were no longer indicators of missiles within the immediate threat box, but he could already tell that there were two more just over a hundred kilometers out. That would give him just under two minutes before they got in range again.

"I know! I know!" A red fox, Eric yelled back. The ship's navigator and pilot was strapped into his chair, desperately taking in all the data that came at him from half a dozen monitors. "I'll try to give you a clear shot."

It was like this all over the bridge. A dozen individuals were frantically yelling to each other and passing information. There was a hull breach in the lower decks where Martinez, a beefy human and their chief engineer, was now trying to fix along with the leaking hydraulics down in engineering as well. A weapons malfunction on the port side had the attention of the gunnery captain who was sending down a series of commands to the belt feeders to redistribute ammo to Cyrus' starboard guns. That and a hundred different issues. Each and every one could spell certain death.

However, Cyrus just had one job. Man the starboard guns. Keep the missiles from hitting. While all the issues before could be death sentences, a missile strike was the most urgent and quickest way to kill everyone, so Cyrus got the full attention of the pilot and everyone else would have to worry about their issues later.

"I'm gonna twist us around port and bring the guns to bear." Eric said and the patched into the internal comms. His voice came over every speaker in the ship. "Prepare for heavy Gs as the ship comes about."

It was mostly for Martinez and his boys down below. Take a heavy turn without being properly strapped in and a person was likely to become a fine mush against a bulkhead, good only to feed Simon's mushroom farm down in Agro.

After twenty seconds, the allotted time to allow the crew to prepare, Eric twisted one of his joy sticks hard to the left.

There was the faintest moment of weightlessness in Cyrus' arms, the only part of him that didn't have straps across it, as the thrusters disengaged for a moment to reorientate. Then as they turned on again, Cyrus, along with every other living being onboard was shoved hard into their seats and harnesses.

Cyrus gritted his teeth and remembered to take hard breaths to force blood to flow through his veins. Wisps of darkness crept into the edges of his vision but stayed there. Years of doing this had undoubtably increased his chance of all kinds of cardiovascular diseases, but it also made him better at keeping awake when it mattered most.

Cyrus' screen began to shift. The smaller representation of the ship turned away from the incoming triangles that marked the missiles. Cyrus' field of fire, large cones coming off the starboard side, came around as well and he could tell that he would have a clean line of fire. Theoretically.

"Ten seconds!" Cyrus yelled out somehow, though he wasn't sure if anyone heard him. The entire ship was shaking and groaning from the forces being exerted on it.

The missiles crept ever closer and the shaking stopped as the ship leveled out its turn and Cyrus' guns had good range.

Cyrus lined up the shot, letting the targeting co outer handle all the finer adjustments of tracking the missiles and he then pulled the trigger.

The ship hummed as three sets of getting guns fired tungsten rounds at a fraction of the speed of light.

The missiles were equipped with evasion thrusters and the computers to work them. In a pitched battle with a dozen ships and hundreds of things occurring at one time, they would have been able to slip through the defenses of a ship, swerving around gun fire that was only half for them, but this wasn't that.

Cyrus let out a breath of relief as the last missile flickered out on his screen. There weren't any more coming.

"I'm burning hard sunward," Eric called out. "Before our friends decide to fire more at us."

Cyrus knew that wouldn't happen. Out here between the civilized space of the central planets and the Unknown, a ship, even the Federation cruiser that had been shooting at them, couldn't afford to have no missiles. It wasn't worth the risk.

Two days later, the engines of the Bernadino came down to a comfortable .8 Gs. There was no sign of chase and no sign of anyone else around. They were safe for the time being.

Cyrus peeled himself off of his seat and undid the catheter that had been attached out of necessity. He grimaced at the sour smell as he undid it from the surgically implanted port in his side and let the tube slither back into its opening in the floor.

The others around him were doing the same and were slowly filing out of the bridge to get some sleep or make a quick visit to the mess to get some real food.

Cyrus stuck around. As XO, he needed to debrief.

Along with him was Eric, Martinez who had come out of his engineering space covered head to toe in grease, and Silven, a massive brown bear who was also the CO. She had been stuck down below with the cargo when all the maneuvering had begun and this was the first time she had left since then. Her fur was matted with sweat and she had a scabbed over wound above her left ear, but there was a glimmer.

"What are we looking like, XO?" Silven looked at Cyrus.

"We managed as clean a getaway as we could," he said, pulling up charts and graphs from the center of the table they had gathered around. "We're low on munitions and the port guns are going to need some time before they're working again."

Silven looked at Martinez expectantly.

"The first missile detonated well aways from us and all damage is superficial. The hull breach was minor and any existing engine issues were already there before."

Eric then said his part without needing to be prompted. "Scopes are clear and we've plenty of fuel. We can make way to Therios Station whenever you like. It'll be two weeks to get there for resupply."

Silven nodded. "Let's give it two days. The crew deserves rest and I'd like to inspect what we managed to get."

A gleam entered everyone's eyes. The whole reason they were out here, beyond what most ships would go. The wild, lawless space of the Unknown.

Out here, only three types of people traveled. Federation patrols, pirates and the haulers.

Word had reached the Bernadino and her crew that a hauler, the Marseille, was coming in from the outer belts, laden with precious minerals meant for tech foundries of the central systems.

It's exact route was unknown, since to make a regular, known route invited inevitable attack and so, the Bernadino along with a dozen other ships set out to wait in their respective and established hunting grounds. The Bernadino was the lucky one.

The Marseille came in, slow, barely burning its engines as to mimic starlight to hide, but it was spotted.

They gave up without a fight. As was the code of all those who considered themselves decent, strip for cargo, leave the crew, fuel, food and water alone of those who give up without a fight. Bernadino respected the code and quickly boarded and took whatever they could fit on their own much smaller ship.

However, a ship as richly laden as the Marseille was not without escort.

The Federation cruiser came in hot and guns blazing. It had been close. Very close, but they were away and now Cyrus stood in the hold of the Bernadino and gazed at the crates that were stacked so high and so tight that to move between them was impossible.

"Even with the cut that Horus will take for using his station, we could retire after this," Silven said and patted one of the plasteel crate that had the letters "Ag" printed on its side. "All of us."

Cyrus whistled and grinned. "This was a haul that would be the envy of every pirate in the system." Normally that would be a concern, but not to him. Another code. Pirates don't plunder pirates. It stopped the Unknown from descending to anarchy.

"Let the crew know to break out the good booze," Silven said and touched the matted blood on her forehead. "After I get cleaned up, we're celebrating." She slapped Cyrus on the back and stepped out to head to her quarters. The raccoon looked for just a little longer, imagining a villa on one of the habs of the Cortina moons. Sipping fine whiskey and not caring about anything anymore as he watched the sun set over the horizon of the gas planet. It was a good thought as he turned away to let the crew know the captain's orders.

The air reeked of booze and the sweet smell of sweat and no one cared one bit for it. They danced and drank and partied.

The lights were low, replaced by the mesmerizing beams that came from the disco ball someone had dug out of somewhere. Music blared, changing tempo and style often. Again no one cared. They were going to be rich.

Cyrus held his own cup tightly, not wanting to spill it. The Bernadino wasn't a big ship and so it didn't hold a ton of booze and every last drop was going to drunk tonight. Every drop was to be relished.

He sat near the back with the other senior officers, who despite the occasion didn't drunk too much. They still had to keep on eye on their rowdy sailors to make sure no one did anything foolish. They were still two weeks out from port and the Bernadino was far from being fresh out of the yards. Every hand would be needed to ensure she got back to unload her cargo.

"What are you going to do with your share?" Eric smiled and asked Silven.

The bear, who now had a small bandage on her forehead took a sip from her own glass. "Gonna get me a new ship. A prettier one. Fly for flying's sake. Visit all those fancy central systems that we always hear about but never see."

"What? Ol' Berna not good enough for you?" Martinez asked as he poured himself another glass of some dark liquid. "Finest ship in the Unknown."

Silven raised her paws up. "Oh, don't get me wrong, she's gotten all of us through thick and thin, but it's high time I try something a little more classy."

"Not sure that you and classy are two words that fit together," said Doctor Simon Lakish, the ship's medical officer and agro specialist. He kept the people working, the ship's emergency food store of mushrooms growing and cared for the hydroponics that kept fresh air flowing through the vents in addition to the recycled stuff that the ship's computer claimed was breathable.

The bear pointed a claw at the thin ferret. "Watch it. I'm as classy as you'll ever know."

Simon shrugged and everyone laughed. It was a good time and as Cyrus glanced over to Martinez, he knew it was going to get better.

Silven saw the two glance at each other and chuckled. "Don't leave the laundry for some poor lackey like last time."

With a blush that Cyrus was glad his fur and the poor lighting hid, the raccoon got up and walked away, followed closely by the burly chief engineer.

Cyrus' room was closer, Martinez's being near the back end where he could wake up at a moment's notice to any shift in the hum of the engine.

They didn't claw at each other like young teenagers getting their first taste of a lover's flesh. Instead, they settled on the bed laying side by side, stripped bare and despite what the crew may whisper about Martinez's size and his implied position, Cyrus spooned the larger human.

Cyrus ran his paw lazily down Martinez's chest, letting his dull claws rake across the hair that laid thickly there. His other arm was nestled under the man's head like a pillow and he pressed himself tightly against his back, welcoming the pressure against his sheath, but did not press for more. There would be plenty of time for that soon. Very soon.

"We always talked about it," Martinez said slowly between each lazy breath. "The big one. Always talked about it, but I never thought it would come."

Cyrus gave a sigh of content. "I know. Now it's here. It's real. We offload, sell the cargo and split the shares. We can finally relax."

Cyrus felt a hand rub down his arm, flattening the grey and black fur there. He nuzzled the man's neck affectionately, taking in the familiar smell of the man. It was of oil, grease and beneath it all, a spicy hint of coffee that was always there from the incredible amounts Martinez drank on a daily basis. All together, it was a smell Cyrus loved more than anything.

As minutes ticked on, they continued to explore the familiar contours of each other's bodies until Cyrus' paw ran down to Martinez's hard erection. The seven inch shaft was already leaking in desperate anticipation and the raccoon could feel his own sheath swelling, his tip coming out and poking suggestively into the man's lower back.

Slipping his one arm from under the man's head, Cyrus brought his fingers to his lips where he wetted then with his spit. While using his other hand to leisurely stroke Martinez, Cyrus brought his wet fingers down between their two bodies, collecting some of his own pre along the way before snaking then between Martinez's firm, but full cheeks.

Martinez let out a stifled groan as he felt two fingers enter him. The fur tickled his entrance as the dulled claws sent shivers up his spine. He relaxed into the feeling, letting more and more inches sink gracefully in, needing no teasing and stretching to take it all.

As he twisted his fingers around, feeling warmness envelope his fingers, Cyrus continued to stroke Martinez, running his paw up and down his length, teasing the wet, leaking tip at the top and caressing the heavy orbs at the base. He then began to nip and lick at Martinez's neck and lower chin, eliciting more moans from the large man. This was what they both loved, the slow fall into the embrace of passion, not the feral fucking that they had started with years ago.

"S-slower," Martinez said between his labored breaths. He was sweating, beads of the liquid running down his brow.

Cyrus did as was asked, slowing his ministrations both in and out, taking in every shudder and feeling the affects it had on himself.

He was panting almost as much as the human despite not having been touched himself. His sheath was full and spilling out his red cock that was leaving slimy smears on his own stomach fur and all over Martinez's back. It was almost him.

Shifting slightly, he leaned his head over Martinez's chin and kissed his cheek. The man turned his head and their lips met at an awkward angle. It was small kiss, but electrifying all the same. With it, Cyrus felt ready to move on to the next step.

"You ready?" He asked as their lips parted.

"Yeah," Martinez replied back with a nod of his head.

The raccoon shifted down. Martinez was more than a foot taller than him and so, the raccoon found his muzzle pressed against between Martinez's shoulders, thick slabs of muscles shifted in front of him, forged over years in the engine rooms. He felt his throbbed cock slide ungracefully down to nestle against two warm and sweat slicked cheeks.

Sliding his fingers out, which elicited a moan from the man, Martinez pushed his sheath all the way back, releasing the last of his modest six inches. Sure, there were plenty of 'monsters' onboard, but Martinez was proud of what he had and what he could do with it.

Gripping his base, he guided his cock forward as he pushed with his hips. He let himself miss the mark the first time, smearing pre all up and down Martinez's crack as he hot dogged him for several seconds.

"J-just put it in."

It was an embarrassed plea. Martinez, with all his macho and muscles, was always embarrassed to ask for it, even though there was nothing in the whole universe he wanted more at that moment and being the loving raccoon and good top he was, Cyrus was more than happy to oblige.

He didn't go slow. There was no need. With a precise thrust, Cyrus sank himself to the hilt on the first go. He shared a shuddering gasp and moan with the man as he felt himself wrapped in hot, welcoming flesh.

He only let it sit for a brief moment, savoring the warmth, before he pulled his hips back and thrust forward, burying himself as deep as physically possible. He reached up with his one free paw and gripped the man's shoulder tightly for leverage. Martinez in turn reached back and placed his and on the raccoons furred rump, his fingers digging in the cleft and teasing Cyrus' own pucker as he pushed him forward despite there being no room for the raccoon to go deeper.

With that, their dance truly began. With each thrust, Cyrus pulled back on the shoulder even as Martinez pulled Cyrus' hips into him and ground the raccoon groin in his ass. They went at it, the only sound between then being huffs and moans. It went for a long, sweaty ten minutes nonstop.

Cyrus could feel himself getting closer with each thrust, that building sense of urgency that went all the way from the tip of his cock, to his aching balls and up his spine. His legs were stretched out, a mess in Martinez's longer legs. Claws raked against bare skin, drawing lines that would become puffy and red later. The two ignored it.

The raccoon could also feel Martinez getting closer as well. His pucker was getting tighter despite all the loosening the fucking had down to it. It seemed to suck at his length greedily, not wanting him to pull out at each thrust. The man's cock throbbed in his paw, having thoroughly drenched the fur and the sheets in copious amounts of fluid.

With the moment coming, Cyrus pulled on Martinez and shifted their bodies so that he pinned the willing man against the bed. He gripped the man's shoulders with both paws and went as hard and as fast as he could.

The bed groaned just as much as the two beings on top of it. The walls vibrated and one level below, a drunken sailor covered his ears with his pillow to block out the sounds he had heard far too many times.

With a final thrust down, Cyrus felt himself go over the edge. He sucked in a breath through gritted teeth and felt his cock, his balls, his whole body shudder as his tail flagged and he pumped his seed deep into his love. Each pulse sent a jet of cum into Martinez, who kept grinding his hips, milking the raccoon for all he had, shoving his hips up and down in struggling motions. Though he couldn't realistically feel the warmth of the cum seeping into him, he could imagine it and that kept him going until the raccoon was well and truly spent and collapsed onto him.

"Best one yet," Cyrus whispered into Martinez's shoulders. His tail laid limp between their legs.

"Mmm," Martinez grunted in agreement.

"Did you- did you finish?" Cyrus asked, feeling a little guilty and tending to just himself in the final moments.

"No," Martinez replied, but not accusingly so. It had been great. There hadn't been a single moment that he hadn't enjoyed.

Despite this, Cyrus again shifted their bodies, the reduced .8 Gs making it easier to get them so that Martinez laid on top of the coon, still speared by the semi-flacid rod.

"You don't have to," Martinez said, adjusting slightly so that he wasn't suffocating the raccoon.

"But I want to."

Cyrus reach around and gripped Martinez's shaft.

It didn't take much longer. Just a minute of sighs and gasps of pleasure and Cyrus felt Martinez shudder. The man's cock jerked and his pucker tightened as he let loose. His cum hit the man squarely between the eyes twice before it tapered down to cover his chest, then his belly and then drizzle down onto the paw that held him.

Martinez felt a bit dizzy and just wanted to lie down, so he slowly raised himself, feeling as the raccoon slipped out, followed by a few drops of cum as well. He then rolled to his side so that he laid next to Cyrus. His thick arms took up the raccoon in a loving embrace, ignoring the fact that he was smearing his cum all over the both of them.

"I love you," he said into Cyrus' head fur.

"Love you too."

They idled there until sleep took them. Images of the future danced in both of their dreams.