FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Wing Commander Kenneth “Maverick” Jones was well-positioned between the agreeable form of Kristine Munroe, Navigation Officer, and a 20 year old lad of fine physique and youthful skin who had recently joined the USN Defiance and had therefore not heard any of Ken’s exciting stories. The navigation officer regarded him with amusement, but she had not made any move to leave; the young midshipman watched Ken with undisguised awe.

Ken swirled his glass – Lemonade, of course, because they were at war. “So there I was, shields gone and weapon systems all shot to hell. Enemy ships converging on me, and no way out except to go through the asteroid field...”

At that moment the floor of the great space cruiser trembled from a distant impact, and the klaxon began to blare.

Ken rolled his eyes at the poor timing. “Duty calls!” he said, making it sound positive in the interests of morale. He took a last swig of his glass, then set off at a trot, heading for the hangars.

He had just pulled on his flight suit when Admiral Greensboro tapped him on the shoulder. The older man’s normally rosy face was creased with worry.

“Into my office, Jones”. The admiral shut the door behind them, and waved Ken into a chair.

“I’ll level with you, Jones.” Greensboro wasn’t one for small talk when under pressure. “We’re in trouble here. In the last fifteen minutes, over two hundred fighters have entered our scan range. They’ve got a carrier out there somewhere, and it’s a big one. They’ve managed to set up a damping field, so we can’t send out any messages, and we can’t get far enough from the planet to make a hyperspace jump.”

Ken sat up straight in his chair. “Don’t worry sir – we’ll give them hell!”

The Admiral managed a grim smile. “I am sure you would. But I have a more important mission for you.”

Greensboro crossed to his safe and took out a data cube. “Do you know why we are in this god-forsaken system in the first place?” He placed the small cube on the table, and iridescent patterns weaved through its translucent depths as it refracted the light. “This, in a word. It contains the plans for the enemy’s new super-weapon, and it MUST be delivered to our scientists. If we don’t find a weakness in that thing, this war will be over damn soon, and we’ll all be learning to speak Uble-bleeb.”

Ken was starting to get the picture. “You want me to deliver this, sir?”

The Admiral squared his shoulders. “That’s right. Things are going to get pretty busy around here. But a fast scout ship should be able to slip through the barricade if they time it correctly. Your mission is to get this data to HQ. Let them know our situation as soon as you are in transmission range, but don’t mention the data cube – it’s too risky. I want it hand-delivered.”

Kenneth stood up and offered his commander a crisp salute. “You can count on me, sir!”

---

The sleek Swallow C_lass scout was already humming with life as the Wing Commander climbed the ladder to the cockpit, the data cube tucked safely in his breast pocket. He waved at the technician who was disconnecting refuelling hoses, and the young man beamed, then saluted. _I must look him up, Ken thought. If I make it back... The cockpit of the tiny ship seemed to surround him like a velvet glove, and he could have carried out the pre-flight checks and power-up procedures with his eyes closed. Soon he was gliding out the bay doors and into the bright vastness of space. The planet of Mulragna 3, grey coloured and dismal, hung above him beyond the glittering bulk of the Defiance.

Then came the familiar rush of excitement as he opened the throttles on the Ikon drive, and the little ship surged forward. He never tired of that feeling, no matter how often he flew. He threw the ship into a couple of quick warm-up “S” manoeuvrers, more out of fun than necessity.

The stars of the galaxy spread across the black gulf in a bright wash, so much clearer than they ever looked through a planetary atmosphere. It was very peaceful, drifting out into the silent blackness. But his tactical screens showed a formation of enemy fighters moving in, and he knew the peace was about to be shattered. In a moment he could see their angular shapes flashing past, while a squadron of human fighters poured out to meet them from the launch bays which lined the sides of Defiance. Ken swelled with pride at the sight, and he longed to join them in the battle. But this was just the first wave, a few suicidal maniacs sent in to test the defences. Ken must be careful, and discreet. On the other hand, he couldn’t just sit there and wait for an enemy fighter to notice him – or for a long range laser on the hidden Bleeb carrier to burn a hole through him. That would certainly be his fate if he tried to run the line while things were relatively quiet. But they couldn’t fire into the middle of a fighter battle, so he must wait until the right time to make his break.

He swung his ship into a curving arc back towards the Defiance, and using his superior speed, he soon had a Bleeb fighter in his sights. He targetted one of its weak spots just beside the booster duct, and watched with satisfaction as it exploded into a cloud of tumbling parts. He spiralled away in neat barrel roll, just in time to intersect with another enemy ship which was itself hot on the tail of one of his own side, bursts of green laser streaking to the left and right of the human ship as it tried to evade. Ken’s Swallow didn’t have very powerful weapons, but experience had taught him exactly where to aim, and he soon claimed his second kill for the day. “Thanks, Sir!” came a relieved voice over the radio. Ken didn’t know the woman, but most of the crew knew him. He made a mental note to look her up, too. If he made it back...

He did his best to stay out of the thickest action, and the first attack wave was soon defeated. By then, many more fighters had launched to help in the defence, and fixed guns on the Defiance were warmed up and ready for action. She made a formidable battle platform, but a myriad of winking red dots entering the range of Ken’s tactical scanner showed that a much larger assault was about to begin.

He didn’t have to wait long for things to get busy again as rank after rank of Bleeb fighters closed on the Defiance. Soon he was diving and wheeling as the fleets engaged. Lasers flashed all around him, and explosions erupted here and there as ships blew apart. Ken had already planned his escape strategy, and now he waited for the best moment. Debris was soon drifting in all directions – the grim fallout of space combat – and he decided that the time was right. His chosen vector took him away from the Bleeb carrier, and he accelerated hard as he dodged and weaved thorough the middle of the battle. As he reached the far side of the combat zone, he put the ship in into a lazy spin, and cut all power. With any luck, he’d look like one more piece of wreckage spiralling outwards from the carnage.

With no power, Ken had no tactical displays and no communications. Every so often, the rotation of the ship brought the battle scene into view of his canopy, and he was relieved to see the humans winning. He longed to be there, doing his part, but knew the importance of his mission. He felt like a sitting duck as he drifted, easy pickings for any ship which noticed him. But with every passing minute, he grew more confident that his plan had succeeded. He was just starting to relax when he caught sight of two patches of grey moving towards him against the black of space. One more rotation of his ship confirmed that they were heading his way.

Powered down and drifting as he was, he had no shields and one shot would finish him. Engaging the ships here would draw too much attention, and besides, one scout ship against two Bleeb fighters was poor odds – he was good, but not that good. His only chance was to make a run for the asteroid belt and count on his superior speed.

With practised ease, he flipped the switches which bought the ship back online, and slammed the throttles all the way open. It took a moment for the power to stabilise, and then he was crushed into his seat by raw acceleration. He almost blacked out while the G-seat adjusted to the sudden change in forces, but soon his vision cleared enough to watch the approaching fighters on his tactical display. They were closing fast, but he could out-accelerate them if only they didn't get close enough to blast him into tiny pieces.

He knew he had a fighting chance when his sensors identified the tumbling rocks of the asteroid belt. In a moment the first outliers flashed past, and the computer beeped in alarm at the mass of solid rock ahead. Soon he was forced to swerve and dodge as the asteroid numbers increased. His ship was far more manoeuvrable than the Bleeb fighters - surely they wouldn’t follow him in?

However, when he next glanced at the tactical display, they were following him, and closing. They were determined, he gave them that. Determined, but not enough to defy physics. An orange flash lit Ken’s canopy as one of the fighters fell short of the required turn radius and slammed into a massive asteroid. Well, that’s one down, Ken thought grimly. But now he was right into the field, and he knew he must slow down or suffer the same fate. He dodged this way and that, going as fast as he dared in a deadly game of asteroid chicken. A fast-travelling rock cut across his path, and he knew it was too late to dodge. A burst of laser fire shattered it into pieces which rattled off his hull as he careened through the expanding debris cloud. One large chunk smashed into the hull with a bang which vibrated the canopy, and Ken smelled the acrid smoke of burning electricals. Red warning lights lit up on the console, but he had no time to examine them. The ship was still flying, and that was what mattered.

By the time the rocks thinned, Ken was sweating with exertion despite the temperature controls of his flight suit. He accelerated again as he saw clear space ahead. Surely the Bleeb must be either dead or a long way behind! Beyond the asteroid belt, he was far enough out of the planet’s gravity well to engage his hyper drive. He was reaching for the control when a blip appeared on his tactical display. The fighter was still right behind him! He must be one hell of a pilot, Ken thought. Or her, or it. How could you tell with an amorphous blob?

At that instant, two things happened: Ken flicked the engage control for the Hyperspace drive, and the Bleeb fired its ion laser. Time slowed as the hyperdrive whined into life and green laser fire washed around the ship. The beam was already turning the engine ducts and rear plating to vapour; all over the ship electrics were exploding and hull plates were blackening and buckling as energy surged through them. But the ship was dropping into another dimension; in an instant it was gone, and the laser discharge seared through empty space.

The mechanics of hyperspace travel have no analogue in the normal world; they can only be described by quantum mathematics. Experiencing it first hand is another matter: Some describe it as like being everywhere at once. Others say it is like being under water: colours blur, sounds become distant echoes, time loses meaning.

Hyperspace travel also needs very precise calculations to work, especially if you want to arrive at your intended destination, rather than somewhere completely random in the galaxy. Ken knew that damage from the laser hit could throw the drive a very long way off course. But at least he had managed the jump – a moment later and he would have been vaporised.

He drifted in a slow whirlpool of colours, disturbed only by a faint and faraway beeping from the computers. The ship turned lazily around him. Time ebbed and flowed.

Ken jerked back to full alert as the swirling colours collapsed and the ship popped back into normal space. An incessant beeping filled his ears, and the taste of smoke filled his lungs. G-forces indicated that the ship was tumbling. Where was he? A quick scan of the console gave him only bad news: Comms, weapons, hyperdrive, main engines – all were fried beyond hope. Looking up through a canopy now blackened with soot, he saw an unfamiliar star-scape. Pulsing ribbons of white and blue would have been beautiful if he had time to appreciate them. It looked like he was on the fringes of a nebula. Then, as the ship rotated, a blue and green planet swung into his view. Even without instruments, he could tell that he was falling towards it.

Ken scanned the consoles again. He still had thrust engines and a limited power reserve – but not enough to achieve orbit from his current trajectory. Maybe there was enough to turn “meteor” into “landing”, though. He tapped the computer to request calculations for planetary landing, but the only answer was more smoke, and lines of garbage characters scrolling up the display. OK, he thought. I’ll just have to use the old seat-of-the-pants method. He’d tried it plenty of times in the simulator. Sometimes, he hadn’t made a crater.

He eyeballed the horizon and used his thrusters in small bursts to adjust his angle for (he hoped) optimum atmospheric braking. There was certainly an atmosphere – towering cloud banks confirmed that much. But was it breathable? The landscape looked green, so that was encouraging. He had no choice anyway. He used up more thrust to adjust his course towards a large continent in the mid latitudes. It was as good as he could do without instruments.

His descent became very rough as he ploughed into the atmosphere, and he could see the red glow of heat from the underside of the ship. But he was losing speed, and the little ship showed no sign of melting or breaking apart. It plunged into a bank of high cloud, and now the hull was no longer glowing. Less than 1000 mph, then. He could see nothing. Was he tumbling out of control? Was he about to hit a mountain? He forced himself to relax. Surely he was still very high.

Then he was out of the clouds again, and a sweeping scene of forest, lakes and mountains spread below him. The ground was coming up fast – too fast – and he burned more power reserves to slow his descent. As he did so, he scanned ahead for a potential landing sight. Power levels were desperately low; he would only get one attempt.

There it was – an expanse of grassy meadow on a gently rising slope ahead and a little to the left of his current course. He banked towards it, using power to hold altitude and lose speed as the forest took on detail and rose to meet him.

It was looking like a text-book landing until the last moment, when the damaged engines finally faltered. The ship bucked as it crashed through the tree-tops, then dropped to the ground with a spine-jarring bang and ploughed across the grass of the meadow.

There were a few long seconds of confusion as the hull rattled and bounced over the turf, then sudden quiet, filled only by the ticking of hot metal and the decaying whine of some spinning thing winding down. Electricity arced somewhere. The computer beeped once, then the screen went blank. I’m alive! Ken thought, feeling quite surprised.

The relief was shattered when a cloud of black smoke wafted over the canopy, and Ken suddenly remembered the range of highly explosive compounds that could be stored in, generated by, or leaking from, the shattered ship. There was a procedure for this exact scenario, and it mostly involved running away as fast as possible. He heaved down on the emergency canopy release lever, and the dome of transparent composite blew off with a bang. Ken grabbed the survival kit from beside the seat, leaped down from the cockpit, and followed the recommend procedure of running for the trees.

He turned back once he reached a safe distance, just in time to see flames engulfing the wreck. When he saw the damage from the outside, he was amazed the thing had managed to land at all. Then a Whumph sound shook the clearing, and a bright orange fireball blossomed where the ship had been. A few fragments flew outwards, shedding parabolic smoke trails as they fell among the grass. The flames quickly died down, leaving a blackened patch and a smoking skeleton of twisted alloy frames. There was no chance of salvaging the radio, or any other technology from the ship. The transmitter in his survival kit would reach about as far as the upper atmosphere. Wing Commander Kenneth Jones was alone on an unknown planet. He noticed then that he was breathing easily, and the air tasted wonderfully clean and fresh. Well, that’s something, he thought.

---

Ken sat on a log and looked out over the rolling meadow. The smouldering wreck of his ship lay in the middle, and ostensibly he was watching to make sure it didn’t start a wildfire. He knew he should be doing things – shelter, water, food – but he really didn’t want to think about that yet. Perhaps he’d panic if he did. He still held the plastic briefcase containing the survival kit. It had drinking water for two or three days, dried food rations for maybe a week, a transmitter designed to signal ships in orbit, and a medial kit. There was also a laser cutter and some monofilament rope which might be useful in building a shelter. The last item was a good old-fashioned survival knife.

The system’s star was bright and white overhead, and he judged that it was the middle of the day. Flowering plants indicated early summer, assuming there were seasons here, but the air wasn’t especially hot. Thick snow still covered the mountain peaks. He should expect it to be cold at night. He needed to build a shelter, and it should be near to the wrecked ship, since any search party would be able to find the wreckage from orbit with a scan for advanced alloys. Who am I kidding, he thought glumly. His deranged hyper-space jump could have taken him just about anywhere in the galaxy. The chance of anyone finding him were remote, especially if they weren’t even looking. Still, he had to try.

As he stood up, he glimpsed movement at the edge of the meadow. Perhaps some native life-form? He’d seen birds; there were probably land animals as well. Were they dangerous? He had no way to know. He reached for his laser pistol – and realised that the holster was empty because he’d forgotten to grab it during his rapid exit from the ship. The wilderness around him suddenly looked a lot more hostile. Well, no point in getting paranoid. Wasn’t panic the biggest enemy? He remembered that from survival training.

A stream tumbled out of the forest at one edge of the meadow, providing a potential water source. Ken was investigating camp sites near the stream when he found a clump of bright green mushrooms. Perhaps they were edible. He tried to remember the procedure used to decide whether native vegetation was poisonous. He picked one, and held it up as he peered into its delicate gills. Then the world went grey, and he was falling into blackness.

---

Ken became aware of jumbled colours and sounds as a grey mist faded. There was a face looking down at him with an expression of curiosity. There was something strange about the face, but he couldn’t say what. He couldn’t move, and he didn’t really care. He floated. Some time later, the sounds started to make sense: bird song, and the splashing of a stream. It sounded calm, lovely. He thought he should be worried about something. The face was still there. It was hard to see, because the sky was such a bright blue, but the face was definitely odd. It was furry. It had a wide mouth with dark lips. It had beautiful brown eyes. It had a low forehead and long floppy ears which hung down on each side. In fact... it was a dog looking at him! Except this one was large, and some of the details seemed incorrect.

Ken tried to focus. Where was he? Oh yeah, marooned on an unknown planet. A planet with large canine animals, which likely had very big teeth. He would have probably run away about then, but he still couldn’t move. However, his senses were returning, and now he noticed a look of intelligence in the thing’s eyes. Also, it had arms with hands, and a muscular torso, all covered in soft fur, white with splashes of brown. It had a hunting bow and a quiver of arrows slung across its shoulder, and it wore nothing but a simple loin-cloth. Basic clothes and weapons: a hunter-gatherer culture then. Actually, it looked rather magnificent. But was it friendly?

Ken sat up, fighting the dizziness and noticing that he was still lying on the grass next to the stream. When he moved, the canine jumped back in surprise.

“It’s alright!” Ken said. “I won’t hurt you!”. It seemed very unlikely that the canine would understand Galactic Standard, but he hoped that his soothing tone would put it at ease. He was very surprised when the creature answered him back.

“I wasn’t scared!” It actually looked indignant! “I was just surprised!” The accent was thick, but it was quite intelligible. Ken filed this away as a mystery to examine later.

Looking the creature over, he decided that it was young, maybe just old enough to be considered adult. He was also fairly sure that it was a male. Ken tried to stand, but his head spun, and he had to sit back down again.

“Take it slowly,” said the canine. “You inhaled the dust from a Sleep Mushroom! It’ll take a while to wear off. You’re lucky I found you – you were lying right next to them! I don’t think you would’ve ever woken up.”

“Well, thanks!” Ken was feeling better all the time. The survival case still lay where he had dropped it; he sat on it and waited for his legs to stop wobbling. The canine watched him with obvious fascination. His expression seemed far too open to hide any hostile intent – in fact, he seemed comically naive. Still, it would be dangerous to misjudge him.

“I’m Ken. I’ve come from...” Ken did not even know the direction, much less how to describe it to a native who probably thought his world was carried on the back of a giant turtle. “I’ve come from far away.”

The canine listened with his head to one side, and nodded. “Yes, I saw you fall from the sky. I was up the hill.” He pointed vaguely towards the steep forest-covered mountainside beyond the meadow.

The canine then stood rigidly and raised his hands, clasped them together beneath his nose, and bowed. “I am ‘Moss’, of the Broken Range tribe.”

Excellent, a greeting ritual! Ken tried to hide a smile, because the young canine was obviously not used to using the formal gesture, which he must have learned from his elders. Ken stood up carefully, and did his best to mimic the greeting. “I’m Kenneth, of the tribe... YouEssEnn.”

The canine’s ears moved forwards, and his mouth opened to reveal a big pink tongue which hung out a bit. He looked pleased. Ken also noticed that Moss had a fluffy white tail which curved up gracefully behind him, and it was actually wagging. These guys would be hopeless at poker, he thought.

“You are alone?” Moss’s tail slowed as he asked the question.

Ken nodded. “I was knocked off course, and I don’t know where I am!”.

Moss wagged again, happy to help, and pointed to a line of rocky peaks which thrust up from the forest like broken teeth. “That’s the Broken Range”, he said. “We are in the northern foothills. You can see that range for many miles.” Then his tail sagged. “But I think you’re from a lot further away than that, right?”

The human nodded, and suddenly felt very alone. Moss’s ears drooped in apparent empathy. “Don’t worry – I’m sure your people will find you!”

Ken was buoyed by the canine’s concern. Moss was looking him over, and the dog’s tail was wagging once again. He shuffled closer, and extended a hand towards the human. “May I touch you?” he asked.

“I suppose!” In fact, Ken was nearly as curious as the dog. He extended his hand, and Moss touched his palm with a fingertip. The dog had four dextrous fingers and an opposable thumb, and pads like a dog’s paw in the centre of each “hand”. Perhaps they were not quite as versatile as human hands, but those paw hands would be quite able to use tools and even machines and computers.

“This is a traditional human greeting and gesture of trust,” he explained, and showed the dog how to shake. The dog nodded enthusiastically.

“Yes, we do the same!”.

Moss was nearly as tall as Ken. His stocky torso indicated considerable strength, and his massive leg muscles showed that he was used to travelling long distances on foot. His sole garment was a cloth that hung over his groin from a thin waist-band, and it was fashioned from fibre woven by hand.

The canine was inspecting him, in turn. Moss plucked at his sleeve, than nodded. “Ah, I see. Clothing. Now, I wonder what you look like underneath your coverings!”

Ken stifled a giggle at the innocent question with its possible double meaning, having also harboured the same thoughts about the canine – not that he would admit it. “I think it’s a bit soon for that!”

Ken was now feeling much more steady, the mushroom effects having worn off.

“You should come back to my village!” Moss wagged. “It’s not far, and it will be cold out here tonight.”

The man pondered the idea. Were the other canines friendly like this one? Could he even trust Moss? First impressions could be misleading. On the other hand, how long would he survive in the wilderness on his own? There could be other dangerous vegetation, to say nothing of large carnivores. On balance, he decided that the canines were his best option. Besides, he was more than a little curious about them, and the primary mission of the USN was “to seek out new life and new civilisations” (right after shooting Bleebs with lasers, of course).

“I’d like that,” he answered. The ruins of his ship were no longer smoking; there seemed little chance of setting fire to the vegetation. Grasping the survival kit in one hand, he nodded, and followed as Moss set off up the gently sloping grass of the meadow.

---

Ken looked up to see the silhouette of the young canine atop a slap of rock. Thank goodness he’s stopped, the man thought, his lungs heaving. He thought he was in pretty good shape, but the mountain had grown steeper as they climbed through the trees, and now he was sweating inside his suit. Moss strode along with an effortless grace, and he had to stop frequently so the human could catch up. Ken’s suit wouldn’t actively heat or cool when it wasn’t connected to the ship’s power, and the hard exercise was starting to stew him. He ran his finger down the hidden seam-zip and peeled the suit off, leaving him in simple cotton shorts and tee-shirt.

Moss grinned down from atop the rock. “Come on up!” he said, extending a paw. Ken accepted the assist and scrambled up. An expansive vista of forest, lakes and mountains spread out below them. In the distance he could see the meadow and the blackened patch where his ship had crashed. It was far below them; he felt quite justified in being out of breath.

The canine was regarding him, head to one side and tail swishing the air. “Ah, now I see what the Ken is like under his clothing!” The dog patted Ken’s shoulder, then frowned and threw up his paws in mock despair. “But no! There is still more clothing!”

They had reached a jagged ridge, and Moss now pointed into a valley that lay beyond it. “Not far now. Home is just up there!” he said. Sure enough, smoke rose among the trees in the distance, and Ken could see angular shapes that could have been huts.

Ken draped his suit over his arm, picked up the survival case (which seemed to be getting heavier), and followed Moss through the trees. They were following a rough trail, and now it zig-zagged down into the valley. At the bottom they came to a fast-flowing stream which descended through pools and waterfalls. The canine’s tail wagged when they came to a deep pool.

“Gotta cool off!” he cried, and bounded down to the water’s edge. Ken got a brief but intriguing glimpse of fuzzy shapes as the impatient dog pulled off his loin cloth, then he leaped into the water with a splash.

Ken followed more sedately, and slipped off his shoes before wading into the pool. “Are you coming in?” Moss panted excitedly from the middle.

“It’s a bit cold for me!” Ken replied, and contented himself with washing the dust and sweat from his face and arms. It was wonderfully refreshing.

When the canine emerged, naked and dripping, Ken suddenly remembered what dogs did after a swim. He raced for the trees just as Moss shook himself, sending water in all directions. By the time Ken dared to leave the shelter of the forest, the dog had re-fitted his cloth and was using his paws to comb damp fur back from his eyes.

“We’re nearly there!” he said, excitement in his voice.

They joined a well-used path which followed the stream. For a while they climbed steeply up a narrow gorge, then the valley opened out into a sheltered meadow. Ken could smell wood smoke in the air. The path turned aside to follow a tributary, and they entered a forest of ancient trees. Lichen swathed their massive trunks, and ferns covered the ground.

A crashing sound in the bushes broke the afternoon stillness, and Ken jumped. Then came the unmistakable laughter and shouting of youngsters playing. “Hey, no fair!” cried one high-pitched voice, and then a small tan and white fluff ball exploded out of the ferns and rolled across the path. A second shape, slightly larger, leaped after it, pounced, and they both rolled over together amidst shrieks and laughter. Then they caught sight of the travellers and froze, staring at Ken with mouths open and eyes wide with surprise. Now that they were still, he could see that they were juvenile versions of the same race as Moss. They were adorably cute, although he thought it best not to say so without knowing their conventions. They were also quite naked, although their thick fur made clothes redundant.

“Hello, Tunik! Hello, Fern!” Moss addressed the awed pups. “Didn’t your mothers teach you not to stare?” He gave them a wink. “Hello, Moss.” they intoned politely, but their attention remained on the human.

“You pups run back to the village,” Moss continued. “and tell True Stone and the others that we have a visitor. He has travelled far, and he should be welcomed.”

The two pups raced off up the path to bear this message, while the Ken followed Moss at a more sedate pace. “My niece and nephew.” Moss explained. “Sorry they were a bit rough and unruly!”

“I thought they were great!” Ken laughed. “I think everyone should be a bit unruly at times.” He liked the idea of a village, with things like nieces and nephews. Ken had been happy to follow his military career wherever it took him, from one ship to another, one part of the galaxy to another, always somewhere new and exciting. But he wasn’t twenty five any more, and settling down to some kind of permanent home suddenly seemed like a nice idea.

Ken heard more crashing sounds and giggling in the bushes, and round faces peeked out of the ferns and then vanished again as other youngsters spied on their progress. Then the trees thinned as they entered a sunny clearing, and the Canine village lay before them. A sturdy fence protected it, made of poles buried in the ground and lashed together. A wide gate stood open, and beyond it Ken could see huts erected between patches of fern and small trees. It all looked a lot neater than he had expected – the huts were sizeable and their walls were panelled with split timber that had been expertly fitted. Flat slabs of sandstone had been used to pave the paths between huts, thereby eliminating mud (which would be annoying for such furry creatures) and the arrangement of ferns and shrubs here and there in gaps between buildings suggested deliberate cultivation for aesthetic appeal. The whole village was built on a gentle slope with the stream at the bottom, and there was even a small dam which formed a pool for washing and swimming.

But the most awe-inspiring sight of all was the canines who lined each side of the path in front of the village. Most resembled Moss, having muscular build, thick white and tan fur and floppy ears. However, some had darker colouring and ears which stood partially or fully upright. They all wore simple loin-cloths, but some were longer than others, and some sported patterns in bright colours. Perhaps a sign of status, Ken thought. He estimated there were about thirty adults, plus a number of youngsters peering out from behind their parents. Many carried spears or bows, which they held with casual ease; however, most looked excited rather than aggressive.

A large dog stepped into the middle of the path. The intricate patterns woven into his cloth indicated high status, and his greying muzzle indicated age. Moss bowed to him, and the older dog nodded back. He then clasped his paws beneath his nose and bowed. Unlike Moss, he made the gesture with practised grace. “I am True Stone, leader of the Broken Range tribe.”

Ken did his best to reply as he had done earlier, giving his tribe as “USN” and hoping that he did it correctly. He saw the leader’s tail give a slow wag of approval, an encouraging sign.

“Good!” said True Stone in a loud voice. “If you mean no harm to the people of Broken Range, then you are welcome!”

This seemed to be a sign of sorts, for the canines all gathered around for a closer inspection of the strange newcomer. Suddenly Ken found himself being inspected, touched and even sniffed from every direction. He was intimidated for a moment, but he soon got used to it. He even liked their smell, which was warm and earthy but not unpleasant. In the middle of the scrum, he noticed that Moss was staying right by his side, and he even bared his teeth at a younger dog who got too close, although he deferred to the other adult dogs.

Satisfied, the tribe drew back, and Ken was escorted through the gates with True Stone on one side and Moss on the other. It seemed that his young friend had gained considerable kudos for finding the stranger.

They followed a neatly cobbled path to the middle of the village. Here they were halted when one of the villagers hurried up to True Stone and bowed. Ken decided this one was female, and she looked worried. “Your son is awake,” she said, “and wanted to know what was happening. When I said we had a strange visitor, he asked if he could meet him.”

The leader nodded and turned to Ken. “I am sorry to say my son is ill and can’t get up. Would you do me the great courtesy of fulfilling his wish?”

“Certainly!” replied the human.

“This way.” They followed the female along the path and into one of the huts. Inside, the floor was lined with smooth flagstones. A low bed stood at the far side, and on it lay a canine of similar age to Moss. He propped himself up on one elbow and waved as the party entered, but then he collapsed back onto the bed. A wide bandage of rough cloth encircled the dog’s muscular thigh. Ken stood in the middle of the room, uncertain what to do, until the injured canine beckoned him over. He knelt down so as to be closer to the height of the low bed. Close up, Ken could see the family resemblance between the young canine and True Stone. Both had the same dark chocolate brown colour to the patches which broke up the white of their fur, and both had the same square look to their faces.

“So, you are the strange visitor.” The words were delivered in a hoarse whisper. “I couldn’t imagine what you looked like from the descriptions I heard. Now I understand. Strange, indeed!”

Ken repeated his best imitation of the greeting bow, and the canine nodded. “I am Soma”, he said. “I’m sorry I can’t greet you properly.”

Seeing this intelligent (and, admittedly, quite good-looking) creature obviously suffering, Ken was struck by a sudden concern. He wished he could help somehow. “What happened?”, he asked, hoping it wasn’t an improper question.

Soma rolled his eyes in exaggerated frustration. “We were hunting wild boar. It should have been easy, but I was clumsy and slow. Instead of becoming dinner, one of them put a tusk through my leg. It was a performance unworthy of a hunter from the Broken Range!”

True Stone coughed. “What my son is too modest to say, is that the tusked boar are one of the most dangerous animals on this planet, and that he was helping one of the younger pups on his first hunt. The boar charged and the boy froze, and Soma leaped between them and turned its rush with his bare paws. It was a performance worthy of anyone from Broken Range.”

Soma waved a dismissive paw. “I was still clumsy and slow, father.”

The canine’s condition suggested that an infection had set in. Ken remembered that the survival kit included a Wound-ex. He couldn’t recall how the clever little device actually worked, but it was supposed to be good for both fresh and infected injuries – something about stimulating cell growth and suppressing bacteria. There were several alien races who served in the USN, so it ought to work on non-humans. It was worth a try. But would these dogs trust him, a total stranger and different species? He looked at the leader.

“I may be able to help your son”, he said. True Stone was eyeing him suspiciously. “I have a… device which can help to heal wounds.”

He opened his survival case, but stopped when several spears in the room moved to point in his direction. True Stone waved them back, but his face was stern. “I’m sorry,” he said, “I can’t allow a stranger to use unknown powers on a member of the tribe, even though I’m sure you mean well.”

Ken was about to close the case when he heard Soma’s weak voice from the bed. “Let him try, Father. I don’t know why, but I trust him.”

Ken looked to the older dog, who nodded in acquiescence. “Very well,” he said. Ken took out the Wound-ex, and studied the controls for a moment as he tried to remember his first aid training. The main control was a switch labelled “Off” and “On”. That seemed fairly straight forward. It had a handgrip, a display screen, and a curved shiny end which faced towards the patient. Ken flicked it on. It beeped, and the screen showed “Please Calibrate”. Below the text a cartoon graphic showed a prostrate patient, leg wound identified by an improbable notch, and the device being held to a different (presumably healthy) part of the patient’s leg. Ken recalled that bit from the first aid course: first the device calibrated itself on some healthy tissue, then it was placed on the injured part.

He shuffled closer, and gingerly explored the bandage covering the wound. The dog grimaced as Ken unwound the covering. His skin felt hot beneath his fur. Sure enough, the dog’s leg was swollen and red, and fluid seeped from a nasty gash. It didn’t smell very good, either, and he imagined that the stink of infection must be obvious to all the canines in the room, given their much better sense of smell. He took the medical scissors from the kit and did his best to trim back the matted fur around the wound. The tusk had pierced the dogs upper thigh, and Ken found himself working rather close to the dog’s private parts, which were covered only by a coarse blanket. He felt self-conscious with this sudden forced intimacy, and he was certainly no nurse. But when he glanced up, the canine was gazing at his work with interest rather than fear or embarrassment.

He also clipped some fur from further down the dog’s leg, well away from the infection, and then held the Wound-ex against it. It displayed a “Sampling…” message, then beeped happily and displayed “Apply to Wound”, with a suitably updated cartoon. Ken did as it suggested. He remembered that you had to hold it just above the skin, for the process was carried out using ultrasonics and microwaves. Soma gasped when the device first neared the wound, and Ken held it still for a moment. “Does that hurt?” he asked

“Not really… it tingles, that’s all!”

Encouraged, Ken scanned it back and forth over the infected area, just as he had done in the training sessions. Did the swelling reduce a bit? It was supposed to be fast-acting, but even so you wouldn’t expect to see a visual change immediately. After a few minutes, the instrument beeped to say it was finished. “Repeat in 24 Hours” showed on the display.

Soma’s face registered surprise and delight as he flexed his leg a bit. “Wow! I feel better already!” he said. However, he collapsed back on his pillow after this effort.

“It’s not healed yet… I just helped the process, that’s all.” Nonetheless, Ken was quietly confident. He could see signs of improvement already, and it certainly hadn’t made things any worse. He wiped the device with the supplied disinfectant and clipped it back into its case.

True Stone was watching Ken with a new respect. “Well, stranger Ken, We thank you for your efforts! Let us now leave my son to rest.”

The chief’s son was already half-asleep. This was to be expected if the treatment was working: his pain and fever should be reducing. The assembled canines - plus one human – fled quietly out of the hut, leaving Soma to sleep.

Once outside, True Stone led Ken towards the centre of the village. Many of the canines had resumed whatever they were doing before their strange guest arrived, but a few stayed to escort him. Moss was still sticking close by his side whenever he could. Ken would have assumed that the young canine was hoping to gain status, and that indeed seemed to be the case; however, he also detected a genuine warmth and enthusiasm in Moss.

At the village centre, they reached a plaza of a sort, with outdoor tables set around a leafy tree. The leader pointed out storage huts containing dried stores - fish and roots and other unidentifiable things. Another hut contained a workshop of a sort, with some simple iron tools.

“A fine village!” Ken said at the conclusion of the tour, and he wasn’t just bing polite. The village was rustic, to be sure, and life would not be easy, but the view out over the forest and mountains was beautiful, and the huts looked as if they would be very cosy in winter.

“You are too kind,” chuckled the canine, “and I am sure you are used to much grander facilities. However, would you do us the honour of joining us for a feast this evening?”

Being stranded on a strange planet with no communications, Ken didn’t need to check his calendar. “I’d love to!” he replied.

“Excellent!” True Stone immediately issued instructions to several of the attending canines, who hurried off to begin preparations.

“Things will begin in a couple of hours. In the mean time, you probably want to rest and refresh yourself.” The leader paused just long enough for Moss to break in.

“I’ll look after him!” the young dog volunteered with enthusiasm.

“I’m sure you will!” True Stone chuckled, and Ken wondered if there was some double meaning he had missed.

Moss led him along the path to a small hut which looked out over the valley and the stream. “This is our guest quarters!” he explained as he checked inside and opened the wooden shutters. Light streamed in to reveal a tidy interior with a low bed. Ken dropped his case and flight suit on the rickety wooden table. He lay down carefully on the bed in an exploratory way. It had a mattress stuffed with dried moss or lichen, and it was softer than he expected.

Moss sat down on the edge of the bed, and Ken was suddenly aware of the dog’s unashamed closeness. He could smell his warm canine aroma. “What do you think?” Moss asked.

“Not bad!” Ken grinned, and Moss’s tail wagged.

“Great! Now I want to show you our pond!”

The comfort of the bed reminded Ken that he’d had a long day with a lot of walking; however, he was also feeling gritty and unwashed, and cool water sounded pretty good. When he moved to collect the case again, Moss waved his paw. “You can leave your equipment here.” When Ken hesitated, the dog looked slightly hurt. “Don’t worry, it will be quite safe. You’ve been invited in by True Stone; our people will respect that!”

“Of course!” Ken was quite pleased to leave the encumbering case behind, although he did worry about the data cube tucked in the pocket of his suit. Still, these canines would have no idea what it was or what to do with it even if they did find it. He felt a pang of guilt that he had been unable to complete his mission, but there was nothing he could do now except stay alive and hope that someone eventually found him.

They received waves and inquisitive stares as they walked down through the huts to the stream, and several of the young pups followed them. Boulders and rocks had been levered into place to form a dam, the gaps being plugged with moss and clay. The stream splashed down in a waterfall at one end, and the water was dark and deep. The main pool was very cold, but more stones had been used to isolate a shallow bay at one end, and here the sun had warmed the water to a tolerable temperature, even by human standards. He pulled off his T-shirt, then hesitated. He really did want a swim, but he didn’t want to get his only clothes wet. The youngsters had already got bored and run off, and there was nobody else around. He still felt a little shy, so he turned away from Moss as he slipped off his shorts and splashed his way into the shallower part of the pool. It was deep enough to swim a few strokes and put his head under, and he came up puffing and wiping water out of his eyes. Moss was grinning at him from the rocks.

“Aren’t you coming in?” Ken asked.

“I’d like to – but do you know how long this fur takes to dry properly? I’ve only just dried out, and I don’t want to be damp for the banquet!”

Ken could see the logic in this. He splashed about for a bit longer, and washed his face and hair. Moss reclined on a mossy bank, dappled shadows adding extra patterns to his well proportioned body. After a few minutes he fetched what was obviously a towel from a wooden cabinet near the pool, placed it on the rocks, and then turned away respectfully as Ken clambered out and dried himself off.

When he’d finished drying himself and pulled his clothes back on, he felt much better. They walked back up the well-kept path to the guest cottage. The sun was slipping lower in the sky, but its warmth still radiated from the stones in front of the wooden hut. Ken tried to hide a yawn. How long had it been since he slept? He wasn’t even sure. The canine was grinning at him – at least that’s what it looked like. Ken thought he could read their expressions fairly well now.

“You can have a rest, if you like. The feast won’t start for quite a while.”

“Sounds like a good idea,” Ken replied.

He followed Moss into the hut, where the dog peeked surreptitiously into the bed, and brushed off some dog hairs. Ken pulled off his shoes and lay down. It was surprisingly comfortable, although firm – a mattress stuffed with sphagnum on a base of wooden slats. “Mmm!” he sighed, stretching out.

Ken was surprised when the young dog lay down beside him. He could feel the warmth of the canine’s closeness, and smell his rich scent.

“You don’t mind, do you?” the dog asked furtively, with a hopeful wag of his tail.

Ken was still a bit chilled from his dip, and it felt nice to have a warm body beside him. He knew he ought to be careful, but he was very tired, and very alone. He edged closer to the canine, and stroked the fur on his shoulder. It felt nice. Nice enough, in fact… he wrestled off his shirt and tossed it to one side, and now the dog’s fur felt wonderful against his chest. Moss half turned and looked up at him quizzically. “You don’t mind, do you?” Ken asked with a wink.

He cuddled close to the furry body of the young canine, and let his hand explore the dog’s belly fur. Beneath the soft coat, the dog’s muscles were lean and firm. He realised that he was starting to feel a strong attraction to the canine, which was a surprise. Males, sure – but other species? That was new. And he had no idea of the rules and customs of the canines.

His fingers touched the fabric of the loin-cloth which Moss wore, and he felt a bulge beneath. He drew back, not wanting to offend the dog. He was about to apologise when a canine paw closed around his hand and gently but firmly pulled it down to where it had been, then eased it under the fabric.

Taking this as an invitation, Ken explored between the dogs muscular thighs. He’d seen male dogs of the four-legged kind, and beneath the loin cloth he felt a similar anatomy. A soft fleshy sheath hid the canine’s cock, and below that firm balls in a furry covering. Moss’s breath quickened as the man’s fingers explored his secret parts, and he rolled towards Ken and stretched, parting his legs a little more as he did so. Ken’s fingers followed the cord of the dog’s loin cloth until he found a carved wooden button fitted into a loop. He teased it out, and the covering slipped away. Now he could trace the muscular curves of the dog’s abdomen unimpeded. The canine’s furry form – sensual, wild, and obviously sexual – was getting him pretty aroused, and his own cock was pressing against the dog’s back from within his shorts.

Moss turned, tail wagging and a gleam of mischief in his eyes. Ken allowed himself to be pushed down onto the bed, and Moss straddled him. Now Ken could enjoy the sight of the dog’s naked sheath and balls in all their proud glory. The dog wagged as he placed a firm paw on Ken’s chest. He waggled the other paw theatrically.

“You’re not playing fair! You’ve seen me naked, so now I want to see what the Ken looks like beneath his clothes...” he studied Ken’s chest, which was reasonably proportioned (he liked to keep in shape), and slightly hairy. “so far so good, but we’re not there yet.”

Still straddling Ken, the dog inched his way sensually down until he could inspect the man’s shorts. Ken’s cock bulged through the cloth, and Moss circled it with a finger, exploring, teasing. Then he grasped the elastic waistband and tugged them down, and Ken helped as he slid them off. Now he was completely naked and at the mercy of the dog, and Moss’s warm fur felt deliciously sensual against his skin.

“Wow, interesting!” said the dog, enthusiastic and quite unashamed as he lowered his muzzle to sniff at Ken’s crotch. Suddenly the dog’s magnificent tongue was wrapped around his balls, and he felt its hot slickness explore his shaft. The dog paused a moment and looked up at Ken, but when he saw no sign of disapproval, he continued his licking. Ken lay back, slightly dizzy with the incredible – and very erotic – sensation of the dog’s tongue on his cock. The canine’s teeth brushed his sensitive skin, and he thought momentarily of how strong those jaws must be. But for some reason he trusted this dog, and the edge of danger added to the thrill.

How long had it been since sex of any kind? Ken’s mind was fuzzy. A while. He was breathing hard from the intensity of his arousal as the dog’s muzzle closed over his cock. Had Moss done this before? Or was it just a natural instinct? He gasped, and his hands clenched the coarse sheet as his burning desire grew. Moss’s tongue wrapped his member as the dog moved up and down against his involuntary thrusts. Almost before he knew it, the rush of orgasm overcame him and he pulsed his cum into the dog’s waiting muzzle. The dog’s tail wagged with excitement as Ken gasped with his climax, and he swallowed every pulse. He licked Ken clean as the man’s cock deflated.

Ken was temporarily sated, and yet the feel of the canine body against his was so good that he wanted more. Moss gave a little whine, and suddenly he grabbed Ken’s waist and started dry-humping against him. Then he stopped, and looked abashed.

“Sorry”, he said. “That might not be appropriate!”

Ken grinned. “You didn’t worry about that when you sucked my cock!” He ruffled the dog’s chest fur, then felt himself drawn to the dog’s lower regions again. He cupped the dog’s balls with one hand, enjoying their weighty feel as he explored Moss’s sheath with the other hand. He could feel the slick shape of the dog’s cock within, and as he gently squeezed it, Moss pressed his hips forward and his pink tip showed. Ken wanted to play with that cock some more, but he resisted. He had a better idea. The young dog’s honest expression of youthful desire, his sensual fur, his muscular body, and his enticing sheath – all these filled with him with excitement.

Ken extricated his legs from beneath the canine, then grabbed the pillow and stuck it beneath his hips. Moss followed his every move, tail wagging. Almost before he had the pillow adjusted, the dog was on him, pressing in between his legs. He felt soft fur against his thighs as strong paws gripped his waist. Moss pushed forward gently, and Ken felt the wet tip of the dog’s cock as he probed for the right spot. Ken had worried about a lack of lube, but the dog’s cock was hard and slick, and as he pressed forward, Ken felt a burst of precum wet his ass. The dog’s probing tip found his hole, and Ken gasped as Moss gave one smooth thrust, sliding his cock deep into the man.

Moss stopped there, and leaned forward to lick Ken’s lips with the tip of his tongue. “OK?” he whispered. “I’ll try to be gentle.”

The dog’s cock was like no other that Ken had experienced. He could feel the canine’s sheath pressed against him, could feel the fur of his thighs as he thrust, gently at first but with building intensity. Ken wrapped his hands around the dog’s furry back and pulled him close, wanting desperately to be filled by that wonderful cock. And then he noticed that it was swelling, filling him more tightly with every moment. He was afraid that he might be injured, and yet he wanted more as the dog’s swollen member pressed into his prostate. The canine was young, hansom, sweet, probably inexperienced. He was also strong and virile, and Ken wanted to give him pleasure, wanted to be taken by him, wanted to feel his orgasm.

Moss was panting, his cock now locked inside as he thrust hard. Ken felt the dog’s muscles tense, then he gasped as he reached a shuddering climax. His tail flagged up and down as his young body poured its cum deep into the man. His rock hard cock pulsed again and again, and Ken held him tightly, savouring every wave of sensation.

The dog’s pulses of cum finally slowed, and the two collapsed in a heap, intertwined and locked together by the dog’s hard knot. Ken drifted, the dog a cosy warmth beside him and a fullness inside him that satisfied him as much as any orgasm. He stroked the canine’s ears.

“You know, this kinda makes you an honorary member of the tribe,” Moss murmured.

---

Ken awoke to the feel of a strange bed in a strange place. He remembered that he was in the Canine village. He remembered other things; pleasant things which ended with the dog licking him clean after their tie finally ended, and him falling into a comfortable sleep.

Moss was nowhere to be seen, and a shaft of reddish light from the window told him that the sun was setting. He felt a lot better for his nap. He stretched, and walked outside.

“Ah ha!” Moss hurried around the corner, and his face showed a look of comical excitement when he caught sight of the man. “Come on, True Stone wants to see you!”

They met the leader near to the central plaza. Ken was nervous, but True Stone’s expression seemed enthusiastic.

“Ken of You-Ess-Enn!” the older dog beamed. “Let me introduce my mate and my superior in both beauty and wisdom. This is Swift River. She has some good news!”

True Stone indicated a female canine of similar years to himself. Beads had been intricately braided into her head fur, and the designs on her loin-cloth were similar to her mate’s, but in more vibrant colours. The females also wore no other clothing, and he glimpsed twin rows of nipples but no “breasts” as a human would have. She had lively eyes and, indeed, a look of wisdom.

“Flattery will get you nowhere!” she laughed, giving True Stone a playful bite on the ear. “But yes, I am pleased to say that our son is much improved! The infection and fever are mostly gone, and he sleeps easily.”

“I’m just glad to help!” Ken replied, relieved that his medical gadget had actually worked.

True Stone’s mouth opened as if he was about to say more, but then he hesitated.

“Go on!” said his mate, turning to him with a look of exasperation. “We all agreed!”

True Stone rolled his eyes. “You have done us a great service, and we’d like to help you in return. However, this will not be easy for us. To help you understand, I have to show you something. Follow me.”

True Stone turned and strode off down the hill, leaving no time for argument. Ken and Moss hurried after him. When the man looked at Moss, he saw that the young canine was just as perplexed as he was.

At the bottom corner of the village, opposite the main entrance, they crossed the stream and came to another small gate. Beyond it, the path led back into the forest and further up the valley. Five minutes walk brought them around a bend, and Moss leaned closer to Ken.

“I think we’re going to the Light of Freedom” he whispered. From his awed tone, Ken presumed this must be some kind of temple, and he wondered if he would be subjected to an arcane ceremony. He generally kept an open mind, but he hoped it wouldn’t involve mutilation of his bodily parts.

He glimpsed shapes through the trees ahead; vast curves like the side of a small hill, but too smooth to be natural. The details became clearer as they approached. Vines climbed up and over the huge structure, and trees had grown up around it. It was too smooth to be stone. Parts of the shape seemed very familiar, and yet he couldn’t identify it in this context, buried in the vegetation of a primitive planet. It was somehow wrong. It belonged…

In space. Suddenly the pieces fitted together in his mind… the curve of the main hull there; the engine ducts there; a bent aerial mast tangled in vines. He was looking at an interstellar space craft. He even recognised the basic design – similar ships were still in service. He must have stopped, mouth open, staring. True Stone turned back with a wry smile.

“Behold, the ‘Light of Freedom’, the ship our ancestors used to travel here some three hundred years ago!”

“But…” stammered Ken. Some mysteries were starting to make sense – such as the canine’s used of the Galactic Standard language, or why they weren’t particularly perturbed when a strange alien fell from the sky.

“What?” chuckled True Stone. “You thought we were natives?”

“Well, I wondered… but some things didn’t make sense, such as your language.”

“Indeed. Well, it’s a long and heroic story, which we don’t have time for right now. But do you know the history of the Gene Wars?”

Ken nodded. “A little.” he replied.

“Suffice to say humans – that’s you, unless I’m much mistaken – decided it would be fun to mix and match a few species – make the ultimate soldier, the optimum worker, that sort of thing. We were the results of one of their experiments. I’m afraid we were a disappointment...”

The older dog flexed his muscles and puffed out his chest. “…although I think we came out quite well!”

“Our ancestors were used as slaves, until eventually they were able to rebel and take over a city. This was in the midst of the war over the use of gene tampering, and non-tamperers eventually won. So, no more weird and generally useless mash-ups, and no more slave races. Our forebears were given two ships and sent off to colonise a new planet. It was supposed to be a planet in the known galaxy, but an ion storm sent us wildly off course and we crash-landed here. No chance of getting the ships back into space, and far away from any other civilised planets or shipping routes.”

True Stone spread his paws to encompass the mountains and the forests.

“But what a paradise! We decided that this planet was better than the desired destination anyway, so we built our life here. Of course, that was many generations ago – I think my great-great grandfather remembered it. The story has been passed down, so that we remember where we came from.”

Ken definitely wasn’t expecting a strange religious ceremony any more. He couldn’t resist approaching the hull plating of the ancient ship and running his fingers over the cold dark metal. It was partially buried by accumulated leaf-litter, and saplings sprouted from the crumpled nose section, but overall it was still remarkably intact.

True Stone levered open a flap and began cranking a manual actuator handle – no power left for door operation, obviously. The front passenger door ground slowly aside, revealing a dark passage into the ship.

“Come on,” said True Stone. “You too, Moss. It’s time you saw this. Youngsters aren’t allowed in here, for their own safety.” The man and the younger canine were both wide-eyed with excitement as they followed the tribe leader into the ship.

The insides of space vessels always have the same basic smell: Plastic, ozone, electronics, air recycle filters. The smell lingered inside the Light of Freedom even after three centuries lying idle. Ken saw blinking lights here and there, indicating that some basic emergency power was still functioning. Around a corner and down a corridor, True Stone stopped in front of small door and slid it open. Flashing red and green indicator lamps lit up the dog’s white fur. He looked back at Ken.

“To be honest, I don’t know whether these still work. I don’t even know how to use them – I’d have to sit down and read all the manuals, and you know how much fun that is! But my father explained them to me, and his father before him. If you can use them, then you are free to do so!”

Ken pushed in beside the dog, and looked into a small room, much like a closet. He caught his breath at what he saw: no less than five emergency message probes, each neatly positioned in its own launch tube. One was dead – no lights blinked at all. Two more showed red lights indicating a malfunction. But two showed green lights, indicating they were ready for use. These were beautiful old-school technology, too – solid, well designed, and expensive. The top half of each probe contained a thruster to clear the ship, and a tiny single-use hyperdrive. The bottom half contained an ion rocket capable of breaking orbit, should you have the misfortune to be stranded on a planet. They even included a little Nav computer pre-programmed to send them back to Galactic Central. They required only a message to be programmed into their memory, and the launch button to be pressed.

“Wow!” Ken was aghast. But then a thought struck him.

“Why have you never used these before? If you launch one of these, a rescue ship could be here in a few days! You could rejoin civilisation.”

“There was some debate about that, early on. Some wanted to be rescued, but most wanted the rest of the galaxy to assume they were lost. You must understand, they had just escaped from war and slavery. Here they had a planet of their own, safe in their isolation. They were a little paranoid, maybe, but I don’t blame them. And now, as the generations have passed, we’ve adapted to our simple life. We know there are people and places and technical marvels out there – this old ship is proof of that – but we don’t really know what it is like.

“Anyway, if you use those signal probes, everything may change. We would never have mentioned them, but your little medical miracle got us thinking. Maybe it’s time that we did rejoin civilisation, as you put it.”

Ken wondered whether he should mention the latest war. Still, it was far away and the Bleebs had no interest in low-tech worlds. They hated forests almost as much as they despised mountains, and they especially hated cold weather.

“Right then!” Ken opened the panel on one of the functional message probes. It took him only a couple of minutes to compose a simple message describing his situation. He remembered the data crystal then, but decided against downloading it into the probe – there was a small risk that it might be intercepted. Best to wait for a USN rescue ship to show up and deliver it in person, as ordered.

He snapped the control panel closed, and paused for just a moment before pressing the green “Launch” button. A five second count-down commenced, as the screen offered the option of aborting the launch, then a short and dwindling roar indicated that the probe was headed skyward.

As they stepped out into the forest and True Stone wound the door shut again, Ken reflected that everything had changed. He was no longer marooned on an unknown planet; within hours, Galactic Central would receive the little probe with its star-map showing his position. For the canines, the change was even more profound: Contact with the rest of the galaxy, and possibly the end of their whole way of life.

---

His solemn mood had lightened by the time they got back to the village, and the mouth-watering smell of cooking food came to his nose. As he entered the square with Moss and the village leader, they were surrounded by other canines, and Ken found himself being greeted, sniffed, patted and stroked by excited villagers. The preponderance of wagging tails indicated a high level of enthusiasm for both the strange visitor and the coming feast. They had dressed up for the occasion – they all wore loin cloths adorned with vibrant patterns, and many had beads in their hair or stripes of red dye.

Trestle tables were set up in the square, and True stone was seated at the end of the largest table. Ken was directed to a place to the leader’s right – a privileged position, he assumed. A female sat beside Ken, and introduced herself as River Mist (“Mist for short!”). Her white coat was dusted with a fine tracing of darker fur, and her ears stood partially upright, with a little droop at the top. Her face was narrower and her nose longer than most of the village canines, hinting at a different ancestry. Overall, the effect was very appealing, and, on an impulse, Ken grasped one of her paws and kissed it. Her paw-pads felt hot on his skin, and the fur soft on his lips. She lowered her eyes, but her tail wagged at the attention.

“An old-fashioned human greeting”, he explained.

Ken noticed Moss wriggle in on the far side of Mist, which was as close as he could get to Ken. If the young dog was disappointed at his demotion, he did a good job of hiding it.

True Stone banged his tin mug on the table to get everyone’s attention. He gave a short speech, welcoming the guest and expressing his hope for a new era of off-world contact. There were general cheers and applause from around the table, indicating that most of the canines were in favour of contact with the galactic authorities. As for Ken, he felt a lot happier knowing there was now a good chance of rescue. He began to relax and enjoy the evening.

And it was quite an evening. Steaming platters of food arrived. It was simple fare – roasted and steamed vegetables and the meat from several large animals. The cooks had made good use of local herbs, and the meat was perfectly cooked and just sufficiently singed on the outside. In any case, Ken was ravenous, and it was one of the best meals he had eaten. He chatted to Mist and Moss, learning interesting tit-bits about their society – such as the mining and iron smelting industries being developed by the Black River tribe, which explained the metal dishes and cutlery they were using. “We trade the meat and skins we hunt in our mountains,” Mist explained.

After the main meal, bowls of fresh berries were passed around, along with jugs of a sweet fruity liquid. One sniff told Ken that it was alcoholic. He took a sip, and found that it was quite palatable, although hardly a fine wine. “Brewed from berries and flower nectar,” said Mist proudly.

The sun sank below the mountains while they ate, and the first stars were showing in darkening sky. The canines moved the tables back and placed the benches in a wide circle around the fire pit, and the bonfire was stoked up. Ken enjoyed another mug of berry wine as the warm shape of River Mist snuggled against him. Moss sat on his other side, and together they kept the evening chill at bay.

Then some of the canines brought out drums constructed from animal hides, ranging from cup-sized up to a huge one that Ken could have climbed inside. The canine with the largest drum began to beat a steady deep rhythm which rose from the instrument like the ancient voice of the mountains. The others joined in one by one, and to Ken they seemed to represent the intertwined rhythms of the world around them – the growth of the mighty trees, the lives of the animals, the turning seasons, and the flickering of the days. Canines young and old rose from the benches and began to dance around the fire, their magnificent bodies ethereal in the flickering orange light, almost human and yet so alien. Mist jumped to her feet, grabbed Ken’s hands and pulled him up. She led him into the dance, and soon he was leaping and turning in and out among the canine bodies. It may have been the berry wine or the flickering fire light, but whatever the reason, he felt like he was merging with the alien creatures around him. The cities and ships and battles of galactic civilisation were a distant memory. He was at one with the mountains and the forest and the rocks beneath his feet.

And River Mist. She danced ahead of him, slowed to let him catch her, then leaped away again, ever graceful. Her white fur glowed in the firelight and her tail streamed behind her.

They danced, then rested, then danced some more as the last deep blue faded and a brilliant wash of stars filled the clear sky. The exhilaration of the dance, mixed with the heady effects of the wine and general fatigue, carried Ken onward in a dreamlike state. He was aware of little other than the lithe shape of Mist, the deep blue of her eyes, the tantalising curves of her waist which vanished below the cord of her loin cloth. How he wished to ease undone the securing button, bury his face in the fur beneath…

She led him away from the drumming and the dancing bodies, her paw warm in his hand. He saw the walls of a hut; the drums faded as the door closed behind them. It was the guest hut, and someone had lit a cheerful little blaze in the stone hearth. Paws were under his shirt, tugging it up, pulling it over his raised arms. Then soft fur was against his chest, and a tongue played at his lips. He opened his mouth to her kiss, feeling the fur of her muzzle against his cheek as her tongue explored. Her paws dropped to his shorts, eased them down until they fell away. Now her fur was pressed against the full length of his naked body.

There was something he wanted to do… he tried to remember, recalled her loin cloth. He dropped to his knees, felt the soft fur of her belly and the weave of the material against his face. He undid a button, and the cloth fell away. At last, in the orange firelight glow, he saw her sex before him. Her entrance stood out a little from the V beneath her belly, the soft dark skin of her vulva contrasting with the white of her fur. He leaned forward, placed his lips there, felt heat and tasted a salty metallic tang. He slipped his tongue inside, and felt her sudden intake of breath as he explored. His hands stroked her back, down and around and out along the curve of her tail. She sighed and pressed her hips into his face as he eased his tongue deeper into her.

He stood again, placed his hands on her soft cheeks and kissed her muzzle deeply. His rock hard cock pressed against fur as he held her close, and then the tip bushed against the wetness of her entrance. She moved up and down, teasing, wanting him and yet hesitating.

Breaking the kiss, he took her paw and guided her towards the bed. He dropped down on his back, and she climbed on top of him, straddling him, her paws playing with his chest. He teased her vulva with one hand, and she closed her eyes and sat upright and still as he slid his finger inside. Her sex was hot and slick, and she moved her hips against him. As he pulled his hand away, she rubbed against him, searching for satisfaction. Her vulva brushed over his aching cock, and she rocked, working his glans inside her. At last, unable to resist any longer, he grabbed her hips and pushed upwards, and his cock slipped into her hot depths. She gave a moan and pushed down until the fur of her belly and thighs was pressed against him.

They moved together in a world of sensual desire which surpassed anything the man had experienced before, their bodies entwined, fur against skin, canine vulva encircling human cock. Not wanting it to end too soon, he slipped out of her, and they sat panting for a moment. Her tail wagged furiously. She leaned forward, and surprised him with a playful nip on the shoulder. Then she turned around, and he was presented with the elegant shape of her rump. He stroked her flanks, letting his fingers stray under her tail, which lifted to one side to reveal her sex again. Filled with animal passion, he grabbed her, mounted her from behind, and slid his cock upwards and inwards. It was like sliding into warm silk, and now his thighs pressed against her fur and his hands held her hips. Her tail was pressed to one side, and she arched her back and pushed back against him as he thrust into her again and again, mated her, finally reached his shuddering climax and poured his cum into her. Her muscles clenched as he ejaculated, and she gasped as he stimulated her own long-delayed orgasm. He kept thrusting, and with every spurt, her body tensed as her muscles drew his seed deep inside her.

He couldn’t tie with her since he was missing the correct anatomy, but he did hold her close for as long as he could while his pulsing slowed and his cock began to shrink. She finished by licking him clean, and then he held her close. He was still floating in a dreamy state, now fully satisfied and extremely tired. When he edged over to give Mist more room on the bed, something stirred. He looked around to see a canine face peering sleepily from beneath the covers, right next to the wall.

“Moss!” he mumbled. “Were you there… the whole time?”

“Don’t worry.” Moss made no attempt to hide a huge yawn. “I was half asleep.”

The fire died down and the night grew cooler. The distant drumbeats slowed and then stopped as the canines drifted off to their beds. Ken fell asleep with naked canine bodies warming him from both sides.

---

“Moss! Ken!”

The high-pitched voice was approaching from the village, and in a moment Fern came into view, pelting down the track to the stream where the dog and the human, both naked, were splashing about in the bathing pool. The pup stared at the naked human for a moment with wide-eyed childish wonder.

“Something fell from the sky! Look!” she panted. They followed the direction of her arm, over the hills to the north, in the direction of the clearing where Ken’s ship had crashed. It had only been ten days, but it seemed like an age ago, another life. He had talked at length to the canines and learned much about their life and culture; he had explored the hills with Moss and even been on a hunting expedition. And every night, Moss or River Mist – or both – had kept him warm.

The descending ship had left a perfectly straight vapour trail across the deep blue of the morning sky as it swooped down, no doubt having detected the wreckage of Ken’s ship. The response to his message probe had come sooner than he expected.

They dried and dressed hurriedly, and Ken held Fern’s small paw as they walked back up to the village, where True Stone waited.

“They will be searching for me!” said Ken. “I’d better go to meet them.”

“I’ll come too. There are matters I’d like to discuss.” said the canine leader. He already had his best bow slung over his shoulder, and a ceremonial knife tied to the band of his loin cloth.

Of course, there was no stopping Moss, and True Stone selected two others to accompany them – a female and a male, both strong hunters.

The villagers waved farewell as they strode out the gates. River Mist waited just outside, white fur shining in the morning light. He took her paws in his hands and kissed her nose, and she squeezed his hands but said nothing. Could this be the last time he would see her? He didn’t even know, so he let her paws go and followed after the others, unsure what to feel.

They followed the trail back down the valley, then climbed up over the forested hill. When they reached the ridge and could see the clearing in the distance, they saw the silver shape of a landing craft sitting squat on the grass. They scrambled down the hill, and soon emerged in the meadow.

Ken had put his flight suit back on, and he took the lead as they approached the ship. They were met by armed guards in USN uniforms, who stared at the canines with wide-eyed wonder and more than a little apprehension. “Don’t worry!” said Ken. “I can vouch for their general friendliness”.

The guards escorted them to the ship, where the canines were forced – reluctantly – to leave their weapons outside. Aboard, they were introduced to Captain Jennifer Masters, commander of the cruiser which now orbited above the planet. A folding table and chairs were set up in the shade of the lander’s wing surface, coffee was served, and the planet’s first diplomatic meeting got underway.

Masters explained that they had arrived primarily to collect Wing Commander Kenneth Jones, but the archaic signal drone had indicated the presence of an uncatalogued civilisation, and routine scans had revealed the canine’s villages, not to mention some anomalous readings.

True Stone thanked the captain for her welcome, and officially stated his claim, on behalf of the planet’s canine population, for exclusive colonisation rights to the planet, on the basis of first discovery. The captain nodded.

“You have an excellent claim. We just need to do the paperwork; just a few formalities. Given your lack of defence capability - ” she eyed the canines and their pile of simple but deadly weapons “ - in terms of a space force, at least – we’ll keep the existence and location of this planet top secret for now. In the mean time, you should decide amongst yourselves how you want to engage with the galactic community. Trade, immigration, technology and the rest of it.”

The meeting adjourned, for the Captain was in a hurry lest she miss the optimum launch window for returning to her orbiting ship. Ken suddenly realised that he was about to leave. He shook paws solemnly with True Stone, and held Moss in a tight embrace. Of all the canines, this young dog had welcomed him the most enthusiastically.

In the entranceway of the lander, he looked back at the group of canines as they stood, a safe distance away, to watch the launch. Moss’s tail sagged, and his eyes showed an expression of such despair that it almost made Ken cry. And then, in his mind, he saw two contrasting worlds: One of warships and deep space and endless wandering across the galaxy; the other here, under the bright sky, among the canines who had so whole-heartedly adopted him. And he knew which world he wanted to be in. He had a distinguished naval career of over fifteen years behind him; he felt that he’d done his bit for the United Space Navy.

The ramp began to rise from the grass even as the engines whined into life.

“Wait!” he cried, and the captain turned to look at him, a curious expression on her face.

“I’ve decided to stay a while!” he said. He pulled the data cube out of his pocket. This mysterious lump of crystal had been the cause of his entire adventure. He handed it to the captain.

“I don’t know what this contains,” he explained, “but it has to do with a new super-weapon, and it’s vital that it be delivered safely to HQ, ASAP. I’m sure you’ll send a ship this way to check up on us again sooner or later; in the meantime these canines are going to need the help of someone who knows how the galactic administration works. Oh, and please convey my resignation to the appropriate authority.”

With that, Wing Commander Kenneth Jones (Retired) jumped down from the ramp, and ran back across the grass to the waiting canines. Moss bounded out to meet him, his despondency transformed once more to youthful joy. They turned to watch as the silver ship lifted off the grass and accelerated away over the forest, curving upwards into the empty blue sky.