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Unity

By Mantrid Brizon

Episode Thirty-Three: Procrastination

Feeling a stirring in bed, the young, female Voeldahn is roused from her sleep. Slowly opening her big brown eyes, she rolls over, the sheets rustling as she turns her body. Glancing over her shoulder, a drowsy Delilah is surprised to see Madrid putting on his clothes. She takes a hand and rubs the sleep from her eyes, glancing at the chronograph to see that Unity's time is 05:30. Slipping an undershirt over his toned body and tucking it into his pants, Delilah grins, recalling the night of pleasure she had with the ship's captain roughly nine hours earlier. She rolls further, the sheets falling away from her nude body, exposing the disheveled fur of the squirrel woman.

Hearing the noise, the human pauses, turning his eyes toward Delilah. He flashes a little smile, his eyes scanning the body he'd only recently enjoyed. His gaze lands upon the orbs of her chest, plump and covered in a soft, brown fur that's only broken by the milk chocolate brown flesh of her nipples. Adjusting her pose, Delilah's bushy tail sways, pushing the covers away and exposing her womanhood to him. It's still caked in the aftermath of their previous encounter. He can't help but enjoy the sight. She takes a hand and grips one of her own breasts, sighing seductively as captain Marcus Basile dresses.

“Mmm-morning, lover." She coos.

“Hey there. How's my favorite tree rat?" He teases.

“Talk like that won't get you fourths." She giggles.

“Then I guess I'll have to make do with the first three." He winks.

Collecting a holster and a blaster, he checks the weapon for a charge, and adequate metal in the ammunition rod. Delilah grows somewhat concerned, as Madrid rarely wears his sidearm anymore. She sits up in bed, her hands resting beside her furry buttocks, her legs bent at the knees and her pawlike feet covered by her limp tail.

“What's going on?"

“Nothing." He swiftly assures her. “I just have to deal with the Council."

“Now?" She raises a brow. “It's been nearly three weeks since you locked them up; I assumed you'd forgotten about them."

“I never forget, babe." He smirks. “I just take my time."

“That's what I love about you." She coos, stretching out on the bed. “I don't often have a man who can outlast me the way you can."

“There are others?" He chuckles.

“Well, no..." She grins. “With the gender ratio as skewed as it is, I'm just lucky I don't have to share you."

“As far as you know." He teases.

“Oh, shut up!"

Chucking a pillow at him, Madrid catches it, only to approach the bed and place it where it belongs. Sitting on the mattress, he slips his feet into his boots, which sit near his bed.

“I should be the one complaining. You're the one who usually takes off on me." He remarks.

Delilah's expression changes, her joyful smile fading as he makes a valid point. It's become something of a routine for them over the weeks, and the pair regularly find the time for sex. However, while Madrid is comfortable spending a night with her, often holding her close, Delilah is not. Commitment is unbecoming to her. She routinely awakens before him, darting back to her home to finish her sleep alone, in her own bed. Though bothered by this at first, Madrid didn't press the matter. Save for one conversation, where he hinted at wanting a more connected relationship, he never brought it up again.

Delilah doesn't want a relationship; she enjoys the vigorous activity and the euphoric release when she and Madrid finish. In a way, she considers their time something of a feminine exercise, like an intimate dance or erotic yoga. That being said, she finds it odd how used she feels as Madrid puts on his clothes, leaving her alone in his apartment as he tends to the matter of the imprisoned Council. How would she have felt had she not awoke before he left? Would he have bothered to leave her a note? She never does. Taunted by her dichotomy, she's left without the words to speak. Rising from the bed, Madrid collects a jacket and brushes his long hair.

“Is this something I should get used to? ... Waking up to you leaving?" She finally asks.

“Maybe. I guess that all depends... Help yourself to my fridge. See you later."

Sliding her arm beneath his pillow, Delilah watches as her captain and lover walks out of his bedroom. Perhaps now that she's awake, it's time for her to go as well? Heading for the door, Madrid pauses to enter his kitchen. Collecting a refillable, twelve-ounce cylinder, he opens the carbonated beverage, sipping the delicious Cola. Retrieving a breakfast pastry from the cabinet, he tosses the wrapper into the recycling bin before stepping into the hallway. Lifting his wrist, a pastry held in his mouth and a container clutched in his other hand, he briefly drafts a text message with his V.I. bracelet, warning Miss Ayanda of his arrival. Not one to text, she calls him back.

“... Hello." A sleepy Miss Ayanda grumbles.

“Are you still in bed?!"

“I was, thank you very much..."

“You're welcome!" Madrid chirps. “Now, get that big green butt out of bed! We've got prisoners to discuss!"

“You've picked a strange time to finally deal with the Council. I thought you'd forgotten all about them."

“Yeah, you and everyone else. It's been three weeks; this was going to happen sooner or later." He replies.

“When are you stopping by?"

“Right now! If you'd have video called me, you'd see me leaving the lobby of my apartment."

“Oh, for fucks sake..." She grumbles.

Abruptly ending the call, Madrid can't help but laugh. Taking a bite out of his pastry and walking down the tiny streets of the massive space ship, the captain passes only a handful of people. Many often don't awaken so early, as few jobs require them too. Most manual labor is left to robots, while manufacturing is the realm of computerized automation. That aside, Unity is sparsely populated, with many segments left totally unused. A ship capable of housing a singular, self-sustaining city of nearly a quarter of a million in comfort is quite void when she carries less than ten thousand souls.

Arriving at Miss Ayanda's complex, he traverses the lobby and wanders the halls. Hopefully, the few minutes it took him to walk to her building were more than enough. Standing before her door, Madrid finishes the last of his soft drink before buzzing her. Feet thud faintly on the other side, before the barrier swiftly slides open. His eye grow wide as he stands in the hallway. Standing in front of the door, Miss Ayanda looks at him with her ruby eyes, the lids narrowed and her lips curled into a sinister little grin. There's not one stitch of clothing covering her voluptuous body; her ample breasts, taut loins, and her pine green and crimson hide are all plain to see.

“Well? Get in here!" She demands.

Shaking off his shock, he steps past her and into her home. The raptor-like Kanorakus woman is quick to lock him in. Her large, three-toed feet thud on the dense carpeting as the taller creature walks around him, her head tilted down as she eyes the human of average human height. He looks up at her, making strong eye contact as she circles him once, like a wolf entrapping its prey.

“Is something wrong?" She suddenly asks.

“Is there?" He retorts.

She stops, standing behind him.

“You seem nervous..."

Turning around, Madrid looks up at her and stares into her eyes.

“I was just a little surprised by your... Appearance." He smirks.

“Is that what it is?! I felt a tension when you came in." She begins.

Ushering him toward her couch, Miss Ayanda pats his back.

“You must remember, I'm Kanorakus, and I spent over half of my life in a female dominant world. While a hellscape of civil war, we had a few practices that I enjoy and still continue, one of them being a comfort with nudity, especially in a person's own home. Besides, it's nothing you haven't seen already." She coos.

“This is true, but I jus-OW!"

Walking past him, Madrid had extended a hand, intent on patting her back in kind. He'd stuck himself with several of the bristles of her back, which were startlingly rigid.

“Oh, I'm sorry!" She exclaims, rushing up to him. “I was a little upset by your spontaneous visit, and the tension I felt up until now was considerable."

“So I've noticed." He softly chuckles.

Taking the container from him, she leads him into her kitchen. As blood begins to seep through his new, half-dozen puncture wounds, she takes his palm and holds it beneath her faucet, running cool water over it.

“Here. Let me take care of you." She speaks softly.

“Thanks, mom." He teases.

Her clawed hand squeezes his wrist with considerable strength, her three fingers and thumb tightening until he winces.

“You're welcome." She growls almost seductively.

Using a medical kit kept in a central location, the pillar that separates her kitchen area from her living room, she wraps a layer of gauss around his hand. The Kanorakus woman and former warrior is unusually gentle. After treating his wound, she leads him to the couch, where he sits and waits. He fiddles with the bandage, listening to the shuffling sounds emanating from the bedroom. Returning with a few garments in her hands, Miss Ayanda proceeds to partially dress in front of him. While he appreciates the gesture, it gives him pause.

It's something she could've easily done in the privacy of her room, but she insists on bending over in front of him, revealing her nether lips as she slowly slides up her panties. Turning around to face him, she seems to press her breasts together with her upper arms as she prepares her top, designed for her race. Sliding the covering over her chest, the shimmering fabric wraps around all but the last quarter of her torso, allowing her bristles to move relatively freely. The only exception are the straps that buckle at the sides, holding her top to her body. Now dressed in naught but a shirt and panties, she takes a seat in the couch across from him.

“So, captain..." She begins, resting her chin atop a palm. “What did you want to discuss?"

“Well, primarily how we're going to handle the Council. There are other things I think we should... Sort out..." He replies.

“Mmm... You've piqued my curiosity. As for the Council, I assumed you wanted to just throw them all into the void of space and take their seats." She remarks, a surprised look on her face.

“Hell no! I'd like to keep them alive and take their seats. After all, this is a long-term mission, and the more people we have the better."

“Subscribing to the hidden agenda of breeding?" She smirks.

“Not exactly, although I'm having quite a bit of fun seeding a Voeldahn girl." He winks.

“Lucky her." Miss Ayanda coos.

“Seriously though... We're going to be in space for a long time. The last thing I want is to start a tradition of murdering dissidents. That won't take us to Azavia and back. Furthermore, imagine what that'll do to everyone on board! We'll get home a few years older, with a bunch of new kids and sociopathic, polygamist parents whose first answer to a problem is 'torture them to death' or 'blow them out of an airlock'. I want to keep things as civilized as possible."

Miss Ayanda listens intently, her brow raising but her lips curling into a pleased grin.

“I've seen enough blood, Miss Ayanda. You and I... We've been through war. Some of the things I did to people haunt me, and the fact that they were orders I'd followed didn't make it any easier. I've seen human corpses turned blue from the void of space, blow out of holes in ships I've made. I've seen Voeldahn charred until partial skeletons were visible because of bombs I've dropped. It takes a piece out of you." He continues.

“It does..." She murmurs.

“And blaming it on 'someone else told me to' doesn't ease my conscience. Most of the people here are relatively untrained civilians. They can fix a ship, build robots and manage a city, but dealing with prisoners? Torture and executions? ... The only other civilians I've seen do the same kinds of things are pirates and slavers, and they don't cope well with brutality. They either shut down, or latch onto it like it was all they had in the world. I don't want either of those for Unity."

Miss Ayanda can't help but smile at the heart her captain shows, clearly bothered by the mere thought of what could happen.

“So!" He sniffles. “To that end, let's figure out a way to do this quickly, and with relatively little bloodshed."

“I respect you, Madrid. I really, truly do, and that's saying something for me!" Miss Ayanda chirps. “But... You and I both know that making them surrender that kind of power, especially when they still have secrets, and the populous know who they are, is going to be a hard sell. Even with as many as we have, if you gave them new identities, they'd still be found out and probably ostracized, if not worse."

“I just don't want this to become a bloodbath, and I don't want the crew to learn that shit like that is okay." He reiterates.

“I know, but it would honestly be better to simply kill them quickly and be done with it. The crew would adore you for it, you'd have the seats and full control, and we would be able to learn everything they know. As for setting a precedent, you have years to make sure they don't become bloodthirsty monsters." She quips. “... And I don't mind helping you with that task. It's a good cause. There's too much death as it is; it doesn't need to be so brutal."

“Thanks." He smiles.

“You're welcome... But I still say we should jettison them and call it a day."

“Not if we don't have too." He sternly retorts.

“Let's say that they don't respond well to being asked nicely, even if you offer to release them... Would you be opposed to 'enhanced persuasion'?"

Madrid pauses. He clasps his hands together, resting his lips against his index fingers as he ponders the thought.

“I... Won't rule it out." He finally answers.

“Good! We're definitely getting somewhere!" She leans back in her couch. “What's next to discuss? Methods? Agents?"

“Agents?" He cocks his head and raises a brow. “What do you mean?"

“Some of my agents... Would not handle that task very well."

“Too brutal?" He asks.

“Oh, no! The opposite! There are a few agents who come to mind who just don't have the stomach for the work that would need to be done." She answers.

“The fact that you're describing 'torture' as 'work' is already telling..."

“It is what it is. It's a means to an end, taken for a greater cause. That sounds like work to me. Farmers till fields and herd animals so they have food in the future. We need the Council's seats to prevent their interference in the future."

“I guess in a twisted way that makes sense." He remarks.

“You know you like me." She grins.

“I never said I didn't." He smiles back, his eyes scanning her body. “You're a very likeable woman."

“Aww."

“So, who do you have in mind?"

“I have a few potentials." She replies.

“Hm... If you're worried about your agents, maybe we could use the ex-Slavers? You're one agent, the blonde, white tiger Voeldahn... August! Doesn't he have a cousin who came from the Lomboko?"

“Yes, along with his wife. They're quite the adorable human-Kanorakus couple, but how did you know about them?"

“Oh, uh... I was... Close... To one of their friends." He sheepishly answers.

“How close?" She raises a brow.

“This isn't about me, alright?" He snaps back.

“Sorry..."

“How would they do?"

“I don't think they'd be a good choice. They're leading the former slave faction and keeping the peace, but if they help us deal with the Council, they might be seen as political insiders and lose their standing, and therefor lose their limited control over the refugees. They're a card we'll want to keep close, and not play too early."

“Damn." He sighs.

“I wouldn't worry about it, Madrid. I have a few potentials lined up. My last question is when would you want to do this?"

“Tomorrow. I feel like that would be enough time for us to prepare for... Well..."

Rising from her seat, Miss Ayanda walks methodically around her central coffee table, approaching the opposite couch where Madrid sits. Her thick, taping tail swishes to one side, reveling much of her panty-clad buttocks. She slowly sits beside him. Madrid impulsively extends a hand as she inches closer. His palm brushes her bristles, but unlike earlier, they're no longer spiny, like a porcupine's; they're as soft as rabbit's fur. She shivers from his touch, feeling his fingers weaving through her bristles. Swiftly turning, she leans her upper body into his, draping an arm over his shoulders, while the other crosses his chest, locking him into a loose embrace.

“Alright! So, what're these other things you'd like to 'sort out'?" She innocently asks.

The human merely smiles, his eyes scanning her face as her raptor-like snout sits before his nose. Walking along the road and heading for his sister's apartment complex, August looks up at the artificial sky. The digitized but almost perfectly replicated visual of the sun, complete with increased heat from the rays, inches higher into the air. Checking his V.I. bracelet, he verifies via text that Roku is awake and ready. He'd left Draz with her for a night, at her own request. With their work schedules easing and more time for fun, Roku and August spend less time ferrying and babysitting Draz, and more time actively enjoying the childlike alien's company.

Entering the lobby, August rides the elevator and continues down the hall, before knocking on his sister's apartment door. Opening the door, his blonde-haired, green eyed sister, smiles wide. She lunges from the doorway, wrapping her arms around her brother; the two, white tiger Voeldahn hold each other in the hallway.

“It's good to see you too." August laughs.

“I'm just grateful, is all." Roku replies.

“What'd he break?" He sighs.

“It's nothing like that." She giggles, releasing him. “It's just when you spend so much time aboard a ship like this, you start to really appreciate what you have, instead of pining for what you don't have."

“I guess I can see that."

Leading him inside of her apartment, Roku looks around the room. To August's surprise, the rambunctious alien isn't bounding about the floor, filled with the energy of a typical six-year-old Solakus.

“I thought he'd feel me getting up, but I guess he's still sleeping." Roku turns to her brother. “I kept him up most of the night playing games and wearing him out."

“I commend you." August teasingly bows.

“I'll go get him."

As Roku begins walking toward her bedroom, August follows her. Hearing his footfalls, she glances over her shoulder and stops in her tracks.

“Woah! Where are you going?" Roku asks, holding out a hand.

“With you?" August answers.

“I don't think so. No boys allowed in my room." She replies.

“But Draz is a boy!" He retorts.

“Let me rephrase. Only cute boys allowed in my room."

“Ouch." August grins.

Stepping into her bedroom, Roku leaves August in her living room. Wandering around for a moment and examining her things, most of which come standard with every unit, he decides to relax on the couch. Perhaps it's his imagination, but some couches feel a little softer than others, such as Roku's, though many of them look identical. As he walks around the couch, stepping between the furniture and the wall of windows to his right, he pauses. With a furled brow, he looks outside, finding a shocking sight as he stares into another apartment, on the same level and across the narrow street below.

“Woah..."

There, in the living room of the other apartment, he finds Miss Ayanda. Naked and bent over her couch, her left side faces August as she stands with her legs spread and tail moved to one side. Curled to her right, Miss Ayanda's tail wraps around none other than captain Marcus Basile. With her palms resting against the cushions, Madrid grips her hips, swaying his own back and forth. She seems to exclaim from the pleasure, her body trembling as drool runs from a corner of her mouth. He leans over, grabbing a breast and pulling at her; straightening her body, he presses his chest against her back, though she quickly shifts her torso and head to facilitate an impassioned kiss.

August nearly chuckles aloud, subduing it as he covers his mouth in shock. Removing his considerable endowment from Miss Ayanda's loins, the shorter, human captain pushes the imposing raptor woman onto her own couch. Bending over and grabbing her legs, he spreads them wide and yanks her toward him quite violently. It would almost look like rape if she didn't seem to enjoy it so much. With his palms on the couch, Miss Ayanda rakes at the flesh of Madrid's back as he dives into her womanhood all over again, as if he owned it. They share another passionate kiss, all while August watches from his sister's living room window.

“Wakey, wakey! Guess who's here?!" Roku speaks in a childish tone.

“Yaaa!" Draz chirps.

Hearing the little alien, August swiftly reaches out and presses his hand against a plate; he activates the automated drapes, which slide across the windows before rotating closed. They block the view of the interspecies mating just as the belly-height Skahlzunian bounds out of the bedroom. Turning toward the cobalt blue and dandelion yellow creature, August kneels down.

“Hey there, buddy!" He chirps.

“HAI!"

“I missed you!"

Leaping into his arms, Draz's weight nearly throws him off balance. Emerging from her bedroom, Roku watches the pair, a little smile on her face.

“Did you have fun with aunt Roku?"

“Uh-huh! We play games! Roku very nice!" Draz chirps.

“She said you stayed up late."

“Uh-huh. I tired." Draz's ears slump over.

“Aww, I bet you are." August hugs Draz. “You can sleep more at home, if you promise not to keep me up all night."

“Okay!"

“It's moments like this when I suddenly want children." Roku remarks.

“You've got time. You're not even thirty yet, and with Dezonian medicine, you're ready to go until nearly sixty."

“Yeah, but I don't think I'll want kids by then. I'll be far too accustomed to my self-centered, single life." Roku replies with a little grin.

“Hey, kids at sixty means you have nearly one hundred years left to party after you kick them out."

“That's a whole twenty years of no fun, between sixty and eighty! No thanks! I'd rather find Mr. Right early, so I never know the splendor of not having responsibility." She quips.

“Well, you'd better get on it then. That incredibly specific clock is ticking." August grins.

Picking up Draz, he cradles him in an arm like a toddler, walking him around the room.

“Want to go get food?" He asks the alien.

“YAAA!!!"

“Hey, you closed my blinds!" Roku interjects.

“Er... Yes, I did."

“Why?" She walks toward the plate.

“Nothing good to look at?" He answers with a shrug.

“There's plenty!" She retorts.

“Just your neighbors."

“Exactly. It's nice to know they're there, and besides..."

She presses her hand against the plate, reopening the blinds.

“Sometimes they're doing things that I wish I was doing, if you know what I mean!"

Looking back, she gives her brother a little wink.

“Wow... Things I didn't need to know about my sister!" He chuckles. “Whatever happened to appreciating what you have, instead of pining for what you don't?"

“Yeah, well, some things you don't want to go without." She replies.

“And with that, I'll leave before my image of you is irreversibly tarnished! Let's go, Draz. Time to get food."

“YAAA! FOOOOD!" Draz cheers.

With her hands on her broad hips and a little grin on her face, Roku watches her brother and his adopted alien depart. Now alone in the apartment, she turns her head, glancing outside. Peering into Miss Ayanda's apartment, one of the few that she knows never has closed blinds, she is surprised to see... Nothing! Only the bathroom and bedroom don't run along the glass walls, which Miss Ayanda is rarely in. Often, she and Roku play silly games through the windows for entertainment, but it seems that Miss Ayanda has gone.

“Huh... I wonder why she would text me to look into her apartment if she's not even home?" Roku thinks aloud.