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It was 0640 in the morning, station time.

And Commander Graham, though still in bed, was very much awake.

“Mm. Hmm!" He groped Ambassador Annika's soft, winter-white ass, on his knees behind her, naked, authoritatively plunging his seven-inch cock into her curvy, pregnant body.

On fours, shoulders pitched downward, head planted on a pillow, the doe raised her rump higher. She mewed and flicked her bobtail submissively. “Ah! Ah … "

The buck, spurred by this, quickened his pace. Oh, yes. He was getting so—

The red alert klaxon sounded.

Chirrup!

Simultaneously, Graham was hailed.

Churr-churr!

Annika's comm-badge sounded, too.

Panting, the doe murmured, “One … one of us should answer. It's … ah, ah! P-probably Ops."

'One of us' meant Graham.

Loathe to cease what he was doing, the buck nonetheless stopped (remaining inside her) and huffed. He grabbed his badge. “Yes?"

“It's Seldovia, sir," came the voice of the station's communications officer. A gorgeous skunk (and ex-royalty). “I know your shift doesn't begin for another hour, but this can't wait. It's the pirates. They're coming."

As I was about to, the buck privately lamented.

He sighed.

“What is their ETA?"

“Fifty minutes?"

“Why didn't we detect their approach sooner?"

“They used a nearby nebula to shroud their signals. Some of their ships suffered structural damage, but they apparently valued the surprise more than arriving fully fit."

“They're cocky," Annika said, looking over her shoulder. Meaning it as a double entendre.

Graham's eyes sparkled.

Seldovia, on the other end of the line, said, “Yes, Ambassador. Sorry, I didn't realize you were listening … I mean, I know you and … " The skunk cleared her throat. “Um. They must think they have something over us."

“Inside information, perhaps?" Knowing now wasn't the time to theorize, Graham said, “We'll be in Ops momentarily."

“Aye, sir."

The channel closed, Graham rubbed his mate's back and said regrettably, “I don't suppose we have time to finish, do we?"

“Ask Min."

Graham raised a brow and asked the station's computer. A very advanced AI. “Minuet, based on the normal duration of our routines, do we have time to—"

“I am afraid not, Commander," replied a smooth, feminine voice. “After copulating, showering, dressing, and grabbing a recommended bite to eat, you would arrive in Ops much later than is advised. This would lead to the defeat of the station in sixty-three point one percent of my simulations."

“Saying my presence is that important?"

“Do not inflate his ego any further, Min," Annika said.

“I wish I had your ability to multi-task, Minuet."

The computer didn't give a verbal answer to either of them. Just gave a melodic chirp of acknowledgement.

Some may have been unsettled that the station's computer was not only super smart but immensely self-aware, embedded deeply in Redwing's unique systems (performing dozens of calculations per second, able to be everywhere on the station at once).

It didn't make either of the snow rabbits self-conscious. Though, as a species, they were somewhat aloof as opposed to strongly emotional.

Graham trusted Minuet.

Had she tried to murder everyone when she was first reactivated after a half-millennia incarceration? Yes. But, well … she had come a long way since then!

Also, there was no removing her from the station's computer core without completely replacing the core itself, which was a huge, lengthy process they couldn't afford given Redwing's current level of activity and tactical importance. And given that the core was derived from ancient avian and dragon tech, anything the High Command replaced it with would be a serious downgrade.

And she was a sentient being, besides.

No, they were stuck with her.

“Mmm," Graham went, pulling out of his mate. Still throbbing. He only hoped he wouldn't get 'blue balls' in the middle of battle. “We best shower separately. While the other eats. If we both shower at once, the inevitable will occur."

“Likely so," Annika agreed logically, sitting up. A paw going to her big belly.

“I love you, my mate," he swore to her. “I will make this up to you later."

“Your love is reciprocated." She smiled lightly. “When we prevail over the pirates, I know how we'll be celebrating."

The Operations center, situated atop Redwing Station, was bustling. Even more than usual. Mechanical trills and beeps. Officers scampering around, exchanging information. The station was under immediate threat. It was 'all paws on deck.'

“How far away are they?" Graham asked, of the pirate ships. The station's top-ranking officer clasped his paws behind his back, in uniform, standing in the center of the fray. Calm, cool, collected. As snow rabbits tended to be.

Annika entered a minute later. As she sauntered past him, she gave him a non-verbal cue with her eyes.

He returned it.

“They've just entered the solar system, Commander," Seldovia answered, checking the main sensor board, as well as her superior officers. She'd seen that. Their body language.

They could flirt with the best of them! Were they having sex when she contacted them earlier? The slight tent in his trousers said 'yes.' The Commander was packing, that was for sure.

Talkeetna, the first officer, a red squirrel, hadn't noticed the rabbits eye-fucking each other. She was too busy scanning readouts. She fluffed her luxurious tail and double-checked trajectories. “Coming into short range sensors now."

“How many ships?" Graham asked.

A fleet of ragtag pirate vessels had amassed, aiming to drive the High Command out of the Uncharted Territories. Without the law and order the HC provided, the pirates could return to terrorizing this area of space.

They would probably attempt to board the station and pilfer any valuables they could acquire. Particularly the powerful dragon artifacts currently in the science lab.

“Talkeetna?"

The red squirrel tail twitched. “Fifty-two."

Graham's white-furred brow raised.

The junior officers on the room's periphery murmured and exchanged anxious glances.

“They'll be within weapons range in twenty minutes," Talkeetna added.

“This is it, then," Annika said, coming up beside Graham. This confrontation wasn't a complete surprise. They all expected it to happen sooner or later.

“Yes." The snow rabbit looked at his mate. The station's diplomat. “I don't suppose there's any negotiating with them?"

The pirates were being funded (thought they denied it) by the Scalie Solidarity and had been infiltrated by shape-shifting chameleons who were using the rogues as pawns to strike at the High Command without having to directly implicate themselves. Reptilians always preferred shadow games to direct confrontation.

“That is a rhetorical question?" the ambassador asked. He knew full well that all attempts at diplomacy had failed.

“Indeed. My attempt at humor." He took her paw and squeezed it. Letting it go, Graham scrunched his muzzle and said to his first officer, “Talkeetna, charge all weapons banks. Ready shields. Seldovia?"

“Yes, sir."

“Is Arctic back yet?"

“Fifteen minutes out," the skunk said, referring to the HC tactical striker. Under the command of Captain Aria, it was one of the toughest ships in the service. “They're still towing Reverie." They had rescued the friendly freighter from a pirate skirmish earlier today. “They're barely going to beat the hostiles. Fleet Admiral Flint is on a shuttle ready to board Arctic when it arrives."

Captain Aria had insisted the admiral, the High Command's top-ranking military officer, would be safer on Arctic, as he might be a target for kidnapping or assassination by the pirates, who would be after his access codes.

Graham nodded. “Tell Seward and the engineering staff to prepare for docking by Reverie when Arctic releases it. They'll have to fix its damage later. Evacuating its crew is the top priority. Inform the infirmary to prepare for wounded."

“Aye," the skunk acknowledged, sending Seward, her mate, the order.

Switching tracks, he asked, “Any news on Solstice or Luminous? And Syndicate reinforcements?"

The Syndicate, a government of telepathic bats, now had an alliance with the High Command after years of antagonism.

“Solstice is still in transit," Talkeetna offered, “but they won't arrive until the battle is well underway."

“Cleanup duty," Herkimer said, scrunching his muzzle. The silvery house mouse entered the frame, standing to attention before Commander Graham. Herkimer, Redwing's Ops officer, had been coordinating with the station's department heads.

“All sections report ready, sir," the sweet, innocent mouse promised. “Security is deployed at all important locations—science lab, power core, infirmary, docking rings—and Doctor Barrow had his medics ready for instant deployment. Seward's engineering team is in place to enact repairs on vital systems."

“Good job, lieutenant."

The mouse nodded and exchanged a look with his mate, Talkeetna. A worried look.

She flashed him a bucktoothed smile.

He smiled back.

To Graham, Talkeetna said, “Luminous has been ordered to stay at the border in case this attack is a diversion to strike one of our perimeter worlds. We do have two Syndicate cruisers in our company now. One of them Marcus' ship." Marcus was one of the Syndicate's leading field officers.

“Mm." Graham exhaled, glancing at the pretty red squirrel. His heir apparent. Admiral Flint had basically told Graham he would be promoted and transferred. Eventually. Maybe a year down the road? He wasn't given specifics.

Graham was ambivalent about the prospect, but he understood the admiral's reasoning. And with a child on the way, surely it would be safer in High Command space? He'd be given an important capital ship if he made captain. Wasn't that ideal?

But there was an undeniable thrill to life in the UT that he had grown accustomed to. His posting on Redwing felt full of purpose. He felt like he was making a difference. Deep down, he didn't want to leave. But one couldn't refuse an order from Flint.

“So," Graham said, “it's the station, an HC tactical cruiser, a late-arriving HC science vessel, and two Syndicate wingships."

“Against fifty-two pirate ships armed with who knows what illegal arsenals. Yup."

Graham's eyes sparkled with snow rabbit mirth. “A challenge, then?"

“We're gonna kick their tails, sir," Talkeetna promised with a bold smile.

Graham could see why Herkimer had fallen for her. The UT native, a former pirate herself, wasn't a pushover. Even if her tufted ears gave her a cute, pixie-like appearance. She was smart and fearless.

Graham nodded and, raising his voice, gave the order: “Red alert! Battle stations!"

“I've never handled a weapon before," Fay insisted. The pink-furred bat was bathed in the on-again, off-again red alert strobes. The klaxon had been silenced but the lights remained.

“Not much to it," Sheila said, setting up internal force-field emitters around the science lab. “Just point and shoot. Simple." The silver hare added, “Watch for the kickback, though. These Type 2 phase pistols are a pawful."

“Not much to firing it, I'm sure. But hitting one's target? I'm a scientist. Besides, have you seen these?" the bat asked, raising her wing-arms, showing her lack of proper paws or fingers. Just big, hook-like thumbs.

“Seeing that I fuck a bat nightly," the hare bluntly stated, of her mate Barrow, the station's doctor, “yes, I'm quite familiar with your species' 'anatomy'."

What had begun as 'hate sex' had developed into a co-dependent 'tough love.' Neither the hare nor Barrow were romantics in any way. But, still, they couldn't get enough of each other.

“My telepathy is my weapon," Fay said.

“Well, I doubt you'll be able to convince the boarding hoards to turn back with your mind, so … take it." Redwing's chief of security, who hqe maybe the biggest ears Fay had ever seen, tossed a phase pistol to the bat. “That's an order."

Fay chittered and caught it, blowing out a deep, exasperated breath. “I don't serve under your chain of command. I work for the Syndicate."

“Consider yourself conscripted," Sheila said.

“Mm." The bat studied the pistol. It had eight settings. “I assume 'one' is the weakest and 'eight' the strongest?"

“Yup."

“How long are the force-fields going to hold?"

“Dunno." The no-nonsense hare lifted her head, flicked her sky-high ears, and mused, “But if the pirates get past the armed guards in the hall, manage to open the locked door and deactivate the field … you're in trouble."

“Great."

“I reiterate: you can't let them take the dragon tech. Under any circumstances."

Some of it could be weaponized. Cloaking devices, space folding, terraforming. In the wrong paws? Who knows what it would be used for.

“I understand," Fay whispered.

“Look at the bright side," Sheila said, the final emitter activated and humming. She stood up and faced the shorter bat. “It'll all be over soon. One way or another."

“Where are you gonna be?"

“Guarding the Promenade."

“Well … " Fay extended a wing-arm. “Good luck."

Sheila gripped Fay's thumb and nodded. “You, too."

Captain Aria leaned back in her chair, tall ears twiddling, ice-blue eyes staring intently at the bridge's large main viewer. There was a countdown clock in the lower right corner. Their 'intercept' time with Redwing Station.

Behind her at tactical, Elim, one of the polyamorous snow rabbit's mates, announced, “Three, two, one … we're there."

“Dropping out of warp," Lieutenant Mirabelle said from the helm. Her fingers danced over her touchpad.

“Ensign Kaplan," Aria said. “Notify the station that we're cutting the tractor beam on Reverie. She'll use thrusters to dock. And open the shuttle bay doors to receive Admiral Flint and his aid."

“Aye, ma'am."

Elim piped in with, “Reverie is docked with Redwing Station. Admiral Flint is in transit."

“As soon as he's in the bay, close the doors, raise shields, and put us in a defensive posture between the station and the pirate horde."

“That may be a problem," Elim said.

“Explain?" she said, looking over her shoulder.

“The pirates all came from the same direction, true, but they've already begun to split and circle." A pause. “We're now surrounded."

If Aria was concerned, she didn't show it. Facing forward again, she simply said, “Mirabelle, we'll need some fancy flying."

“That's the only kind I know, ma'am."

Aria smiled lightly.

The computer beeped.

Kaplan announced, “Admiral Flint is onboard. He's on his way to the bridge."

Aria sighed. “I was hoping he would hunker down in guest quarters … "

“Do you think he's going to interfere?" Elim asked.

“He's never been a passive observer. He only became Fleet Admiral by sticking his—" She mean to say 'dick,' but bit it back.

Maybe the rumors she'd heard at the last command conference were true? About why the Council had surprisingly chosen him for this position. Of his size and 'prowess'? Maybe it was an exaggeration. But her subordinates didn't need to know about it. Certainly not right now.

“By sticking his paw," she finished vaguely, “in otherwise settled situations."

“Well, if he starts giving orders, we'll only follow yours," Kaplan said. A headstrong buck, he was the youngest member of Arctic's senior staff.

“Thank you, ensign." Aria sat up straight, took a deep breath, and said, “Arm phase canons and photon tubes." She narrowed her eyes. “Prepare for battle."

“They're here," Talkeetna said.

“Looks like they actually have a strategy," Graham asked, standing in front of the central display table. He looked down at a map.

“That proves the Scalie Solidarity is behind this," Annika said dryly.

“Hey, I grew up around space pirates," TK said. The red squirrel had been an officer on the freighter Reverie before joining the Redwing crew. “They're not dumb. These are cutthroat beasts, mostly predators. Don't underestimate them."

“What if we told them they were being manipulated? That we have proof?" Herkimer said hopefully.

“They would never believe us," Graham said.

“If we presume they have been infiltrated by shape-shifting chameleons posing as their leaders," Annika said, “could we perhaps expose them?"

“How?"

“I admit I have no answer to that."

Seldovia raised a pretty paw. “Um, guys, they're hailing us. And Arctic."

“Use a split-screen," Graham ordered. “Put them on."

A second later, the dangerous fanged grin of a panther occupied one half of the viewer. And the steely, composed visage of Captain Aria graced the other.

The panther tilted his head. “Hello, prey."

“Nice to meet you, as well, Mister … ?"

“Arem." The jungle cat studied his razor-sharp claws. His bridge was dimly lit. It was hard to make out the background. “I don't suppose you'd like to surrender and save yourselves the blood I am about to spill? You have such pretty, white coats. A pity to stain them."

Talkeetna scowled was about to point out her fur wasn't white, but Graham saw her and held up a paw.

The squirrel remained silent.

Aria, on the split-screen, said, “Sorry to disappoint you, but no."

Graham added, “You are in High Command space. Stand down."

“High Command? Space?" Arem spat. “This is the Uncharted Territories. We were here first. Independent of any corrupt governments until you wished to gain a foothold here." He slouched back in his cushioned chair. “You're here to reform us? To add to your size and power? We saw what you did to the Bat Syndicate. You neutered them," he accused. “They were once powerful and feared, and now they're … civilized. Restrained. Meek."

“I think you are conflating respect and reason … peacefulness," Graham emphasized, “with weakness."

“No conflation. They are the same thing," Arem assured.

“They are strengths."

The panther rolled his fierce, golden eyes. “The universe is not cuddly and cute. You, of all people, should know this. Your government fought the wasps. And yet you would let down your guard so soon after? It's survival of the fittest. Especially out here. You can't waltz into the jungle and hope to tame it. Such hubris. It will be your undoing."

“You may want to look in the mirror," Graham said.

“When we're done with you, you'll never show your faces here again."

“Unlikely," Aria said. “The pirates had no interest at all in Redwing Station until the crew discovered dragon tech in this system. Your ulterior motives are thinly veiled. You want the tech for yourselves."

Arem growled, not denying it.

Graham added, “Let it be known that we have serious intel that the pirates have been infiltrated by chameleon shapeshifters."

Was Arem one, himself? Advent the jaguar had suspected as much and had informed the command staff of these suspicions … before mysteriously vanishing. Inventory had, at the same time, revealed a missing runabout. No doubt she'd stolen it.

Of course, the crew was worried what Advent was getting up to (being the loose canon she was), but they simply couldn't allocate personnel or resources right now to deal with it.

“Preposterous."

“They are manipulating you," Graham said, “using you to fight a proxy war for the Scalies."

“You have 'proof,' I suppose? Don't bother. You'd manufacture any evidence to save your pelts."

Admiral Flint, entering Aria's frame, said with authority, “If you attack this station, you are inciting war with the High Command. And we will respond in kind."

“You have one tactical vessel guarding you. Two bat ships. Another two ships at the nearest border. We have a fleet," he emphasized victoriously. Leaning forward, he bared his fangs. “I'm not bluffing. Are you?"

“Snow rabbits don't bluff," Flint said.

“Ha, don't fuck me with, bunny," Arem said, outright laughing. “Prey are experts at it. You don't have the strength or physical presence we do … so, you have to resort to subterfuge." He shrugged. “I respect that. To a point." He paused, adding, “I had a mouse in my employ," he phrased, “who was an expert at giving off … false readings." His voice lowered. “She betrayed me." A brow raised. “Is she onboard your station right now? I owe her a slow death."

“I couldn't say," Graham said honestly. There were nearly five hundred people on the station right now, crew and civilians both. He couldn't be expected to know everyone. But regardless of name or species, it was his job right now to protect them.

Arem huffed, clearly aggravated at the thought of the mouse. Aurora. A very unusual sort. She'd outsmarted him. Gotten away. The bitch.

Graham looked to Aria. Clearly, there was no logical reason to continue this conversation. In fact, there was a real possibility the pirates were stalling for some tactical purpose.

Aria nodded and told Arem, “You were warned."

The panther purred before he cut the channel. “Let the fun begin."