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What should we do next?

The cat took a moment to find her tongue, torn between answers. She wanted to loot the place, obviously. And while Advent had the sense to realize Aurora had gone through the wringer, the horny jaguar hadn’t gotten any dick at all.

And then there’s not letting your guard down …

Surveying the naked mouse and four mesmerized pirates, Advent flexed her claws.

“We start inventorying and onloading,” she said aloud, speaking as though she’d always had command of the situation. No one ship would be able to carry the depot’s full stockpile, so she’d have to pick out the juiciest pieces. And she doubted the pirates maintained an accurate master log of cargo.

Aurora nodded, pushing lightly off Jericho’s abdomen, his club of a horse-cock still on display. It was distractingly impressive, but would hospitalize her to take.

“Alright. Give me a bit to program them.”

The mouse had had to do hasty work earlier, drawing them under one by one. She turned to face the equine, trying to lever him down by his charmed penis. Failing (between her weariness, stature, and his sheer dense rigidity).

“Jericho, look into my eyes.”

Aurora crooned up at him instead, and the stallion gazed down. His jaw fell slightly slack as the mouse began tweaking things inside his head. Making him go soft, put his large cock away to start.

It took her nearly ten minutes to go through all of them.

Advent used this period to get a run of the mess hall. Taking Skylen’s phase rifle, then telling him to go fetch her carnivore rations. He did, after Aurora repeated the instruction.

The mouse assured Advent they would obey her too, once she finished with them. After the fox’s ‘pep talk,’ the jaguar ordered him to wag his tail like an excited kit. He did so.

Satisfied by his demeaning compliance, she scarfed down the rations to keep her energy full. Curious about the mouse’s power but conscious of time. Aurora spoke to each pirate in a personal whisper. She only overheard snippets.

Once Aurora finished with Tyler and Milos, Advent addressed them all.

“You’re going to help find the best spoils in the depot, and the best ship to load them on.”

“Yes, Advent …” their quartet of voices responded with uneven flatness. Advent beamed with visible fang, pleased. I’m going to enjoy this.

Aurora looked to her. Still buck naked, fur matted in various places. “I’m taking a shower. You can start this without me?” The upward inflection at the end was subtle.

Advent frowned but sighed and waved a paw.

“Fine. Go ahead. I’ll handle things here.”

Aurora was useful, but still a rodent. They were delicate little creatures.

The mouse nodded and took Skylen with her as a guide, telling him to stop wagging his tail. They departed, leaving Advent three playing pieces for now.

“Raccoon. Go to the vessel with the best freight rating currently in the depot … or find out what it is if you don’t know. Start readying it for loading and departure.” She snapped off the instruction sharply, eager to get moving.

“Yes, Advent.” Tyler nodded robotically. Turned to exit via one of the automatic doors.

The jaguar looked to Jericho. “Horse, you’ll answer all my questions about this place’s layout and operation. I’m not a fan of surprises I didn’t plan.” The muscular equine repeated the same acknowledgement, standing stiffly in place.

Advent’s eyes lingered on him. The fur of her pussy was still wet from anticipation, but even for her, he was an undertaking with a recovery period on the tail end. She hadn’t established a scope or timescale for pillaging the station. Too reckless right now.

Slowly, her gaze slid to Milos, not even remembering his name. On the other paw …

Walking over to the black rat, Advent casually reached down and cupped her fingers around the bulge of the shorter mammal’s groin. “Cock size, rat?” The feline bluntly asked, wanting to try out more of this mind control stuff.

“S-six inches long, five around,” Milos barely stuttered, voice distant and eyes glazed as his large testicles were squeezed through his clothes.

Advent licked her lips. Not bad for prey. A half-inch slimmer than Herkimer, but also half-inch lengthier. Decent substitute. “Get hard,” she ordered. Maybe she could get some therapy out of this …

As the rodent’s pants started to tent over his heavy, captured balls, she released them and placed her paw on his chest. Marching him back toward a nearby chair.

“Horse, summarize the storage dynamics of the depot.” Advent pushed Milos into the seat. “Number of holds currently in use, disposition, any systems of organization …”

“Yes, Advent,” Jericho said, a slight military clip entering his mesmerized monotone. He started doing so while Advent loosened her belt, sliding her waistline past her lashing tail.

Aurora followed Skylen to the nearest hygienics room.

She told him to use the facilities if he needed and wait for her in the hall outside. The fox nodded with a glassy look, his sadistic cockiness now docile, and entered one of the bathroom stalls. Aurora ventured further into the showering area.

Communal, unisex, utilitarian.

The mouse picked a random showerhead on the right wall, standing aside as she activated the controls. A steady stream poured out, even the splash of it frigid to the touch. Unsurprised, she gave it a minute to warm up, then stepped underneath the spray.

Aurora exhaled.

“Oh fuck …”

Bracing her forearms against the tiled wall, she slumped into it with a whimper. She was sore, worn. Literally ravaged. Not broken, though. Just in need of a proper pitstop.

“Ten minutes,” Aurora told herself after a few respirations. Closing her brilliant eyes, bowing her head.

Heavy breasts hanging, the snowy mouse lithely arched her back and tail beneath the lukewarm downpour. It cascaded across her svelte figure, caressing her muscles and soothing her nerves. Her vibrant head-fur soaked back as she tilted her face up into it.

Far from a miracle, but welcome mercy. Respite.

After a couple of minutes, she found some cheap washing gel to apply. Lathering, primarily, the cum and sweat out of her fur. Rinsing off.

Then she let herself relax.

Soaking passively in the spray, Aurora took stock.

They were, arguably, past the hardest parts now. The depot infiltrated, plus four minds within it. If Advent didn’t do anything stupid, their reinforced trances would hold steady for the entire raid.

Under other circumstances, the mouse might masturbate celebratorily. Or invite the fox to join her. Have some fun. On her terms, this time. But she was still working — her stamina had to be managed, rationed. Aurora’s pussy was tender from being battered by rat and raccoon dick. Both larger species than her. She wasn’t in the mood to take Skylen’s knot.

You’re not in the clear.

Given how long the assault on Redwing would take — journeying out of the UT and back - there had to be more crew in the depot. A second shift, sleeping in loose rotation. Probably an equal headcount to the one that ‘greeted’ them.

Aurora had taken this break, in part, to rally herself. Dig deeper into her power so she could bring them under her thrall, too. It wasn’t effortless. Like sex, she could go several times, but … eight? Her assignments were usually far more personal.

“No use complaining,” the mouse murmured to herself, twirling slowly for one last bask in the cascade. Then she reached for the controls, killing the spray and starting up a thermal fur-drying airstream.

Advent prowled down the corridor. Phase rifle pointed ahead of her, safety off.

Behind her, Milos trailed with his own weapon slung over his back. The rat was walking funny. Expression still neutral and vacant.

“Is it this corridor?” the jaguar whispered back, her tone edged and sibilant. She’d nearly opted to disarm the pirate before bringing him but hedged her bets on having backup over Aurora’s hypnotism failing so soon.

“No, Advent. Next right,” Milos answered in a dull whisper, as she’d instructed.

The jaguar advanced to the junction indicated, sweeping it from the corner before stepping around. She was poised. Finger on the trigger. Absolutely in her element.

Stalking prey.

While she’d ridden (and indulged in some catharsis with) the rodent, Jericho had briefed her on every aspect of the depot she asked about. He was oblivious to the domineering sex taking place while he did so. Or at least indifferent.

Shortly after her first yowling climax, scratching the surface of her itch, the jaguar had learned about the other squad of pirates still stationed in the depot. Which put a hold on pursuing her second.

This is exactly why I rarely let my guard down.

Advent’s paranoia had once again been validated; her thoroughness proven effective.

“Which door?” she hissed at her pet rat.

“Third left, Advent …” Milos pointed down the semi-illuminated hallway, simulating a night or evening cycle planet-side. No doubt the rooms would be even dimmer.

It hardly mattered.

Advent’s alias and plans turned brittle without Aurora, the mouse integral to presenting her ruse. She wasn’t going to let sleeping dogs - or threats of any species - lie while the clock ticked toward them being discovered.

Reaching the portal, Advent stood to one side and made Milos enter the external access keycode. Then walk into the room once it parted.

The lighting was indeed nigh-sepulchral. A few sources of soft snoozing populated it.

When nothing moved or reacted, Advent slunk in low behind her canary. Her hunter’s eyes and swiveling ears pierced the dark, counting.

One, two … four.

That added up.

The jaguar eased to a stand.

Took aim.

Fired.

Zap!

Light lanced, someone died, skull and pillow perforated by military-grade energy.

Advent pivoted and took another life before anyone reacted, working clockwise through her targets. The remaining two bolted upright on their mattresses. Her third air-sizzling shot winged one in their shoulder as they scrambled, sending them sprawling to the floor behind a table, shrieking in agony.

“Shit,” Advent cursed, swinging to the final target and snap-firing thrice as they grabbed something. Flashlight, firearm. Didn’t matter. They died before using it.

Barging past the passive Milos, Advent circled around furnishings to get a bead on the last pirate. Seeing them writhing on the floor, cradling one arm. A rabbit, she made out as she got closer, kindly shooting them through the brain and ending their agony.

Silence fell.

Save her own elevated pulse and breathing. The jungle cat’s eyes dilated even after the glaring weapon discharges.

“Did I miss any?”

She looked over at Milos.

“No, Advent.” He replied with a complete lack of emotion. Mentally numbed, or perhaps apathetic to death by nature.

“Good. That’s handled then.”

Advent rolled her shoulders. She turned from the quartet of carcasses, never pausing to consciously register most of their species.

“Take me to Jericho, then wait in the mess hall to send Aurora over.” He was physically the weakest pirate left, so she’d cut him from the labor pool first to run messages.

“Who, Advent?” Milos asked, following her as she exited the room.

Advent scowled as the door slid shut behind them.

“The busty mouse you loved groping. Do your balls still hurt, toy?” she asked with annoyance, facing him.

“They ache, especially while walking.”

“Good.”

They were huge, very vulnerable. Advent had slowly worked them over, making them sore without risking setting off the self-preservation instincts Aurora warned her of.

Of course, the equine’s are larger.

Slinging her rifle across her shoulder, Advent followed the rat through the station. She’d have whatever way she felt like with the stallion later.

“Business first.”

No longer caring who heard her think aloud, the jaguar’s mind turned to affluence. Without a proper government, tokenized currencies were of unstable value in the UT. But fuel, technology, weapons?

The depot was surely replete with these.

Aurora found Advent in the lower levels, led there by Milos and Skylen. The mouse had gotten herself a small bite first, having calories to refill, and was sipping water from an away mission flask.

She’d also found vaguely fitting grey crew garments. They weren’t flattering, but frankly, the mouse didn’t need them to be. She could strip if more sex appeal was called for and felt much better for a round-trip of fortyish minutes.

The rodent femme heard Advent before she saw her.

“Change out that fuel cell … I don’t care what happens to it. It’s been in there twenty months. Probably corroded to Hell with your upkeep. Install a fresh one.”

As Aurora rounded one more corner, she saw this being yelled at Tyler’s expressionless face. Advent tapped one claw against a data-pad, holding it out. The raccoon agreed and took it, ambling away.

The jaguar turned to the arrivals. Her voice poker-faced.

“There you are. Feeling better?”

“Honestly, yes.” Aurora sipped her drink. “Yourself?”

Advent scrutinized the mouse’s innocent face, undecided if she was being sincere. “Mm.”

The jaguar moved on after a moment.

“I’ve decided on our ride out. An older Nero-pattern freighter called the ‘Shera.’ Seventy-five kiloton nominal storage, depending on cargo density.” She drew another data-pad from her pocket. Handled it to Aurora, who looked it over. The males largely ignored in the background.

“A couple of the other vessels have higher capacity, but reading between the lines, their space-worthiness …” Advent flipped a paw, showing her expectations of their condition.

The mouse nodded in agreement, reading. Giving Skylen her flask. “Eight to nine bridge crew recommended, but three minimum … gen-fourteen computer assistance.” Aurora flashed a grin. Gen-seven or higher was often enough to muddle through basic operation without trained expertise. “Nice.”

Advent accepted the compliment. “It’ll be launch ready in five hours, six tops. Loading is the bigger investment.”

“Did they have a proper log of the depot’s inventory?”

The jaguar shook her head. “It’s well into the megatons, though, according to the half-assed registry.” She jabbed a thumb at a side-hall behind her. “Horsey’s loading the best stuff from a ‘controlled environment hold’ that way. Bulk isn’t our goal, but innate value.” The lean feline inspected her claws, self-satisfied.

“Makes sense.” Aurora nodded again.

Stretching, the mouse took her drink from Skylen’s unresisting paw. Sipped. “There’s bound to be a second shift somewhere. Should we deal with them now?”

“Already have.” Advent took her pad back, wanting to plan loading order.

Aurora, restraining her surprise, arched a beautiful eye. “You mind elaborating on that?”

“You’re a clever girl, Aurora.” The jaguar could admit that. She gave the mouse a golden, unblinking stare, snapping the strap of her slung phase rifle to add emphasis. “I dealt with them.”

A look of disbelief. No. Appalled belief crossed Aurora’s face. “I turn my back … Why?”

Advent shrugged. Wasn’t it obvious? “I couldn’t sit by twiddling my claws, hoping they wouldn’t stir before you returned. Plus, you seemed like you might not be up for it. The gun most definitely was.”

Aurora took a deep breath. Held it before she replied, with a practiced calm, “You’re right. That was … logical.”

Advent blinked.

People rarely had the sense to agree with her without a fight.

“I’m glad you can see that …” She squinted, tilted her head. “So … there’s no problem?”

“Not now, thanks to you.” Aurora shook hers. A master of compartmentalization, she quietly reorientated her plans. “In that case, I’ll get to training these pirates while we browse the storage.”

“I thought you’d done that?” The jaguar huffed. One potential spike of irritation fading, only for another to spring up.

Aurora drew another patient breath.

What do your thoughts matter? Can you do this, too?

Out loud, she chose tact. There were intricacies to her abilities that weren’t externally evident. Those left room for assumptions.

“I deepened them from trances that might last an hour to ones that will extend into tomorrow. I’ll have to ingrain them further before then … if you want to take them with us, that is?”

“I do.”

“Right, then.” The mouse femme skipped a beat. “Shouldn’t I start now, with no one else left to enthrall?”

Advent rippled her claws on the back of the data-pad, chewing this over. The meal was good; why did bits of it get stuck in her teeth? Clack-clack-clack … “How long will it take?” She tried to show patience.

“The deeper hypnosis goes, the more personalized it becomes. Maybe half an hour each, rounding up?” Aurora offered, glancing at each of her present puppets.

“Fine,” the jaguar conceded. Comparing it to their schedule. “Start with him then.” She pointed down the side hall. Seeing Jericho returning, pushing a laden cargo trolley. “I want the workhorse back pronto.”

An hour later. Aurora was in a ‘library annex’ of the depot. Her eyes skimming a three-thousand item register, standing before shelves five times her height.

The recordkeeping was threadbare; pirates weren’t exactly avid intellectuals. Any data too encrypted - or long-winded - that didn’t promise overt value would get chucked in here for ‘later.’

But ‘later’ rarely came. Most often, it was assigned as a disciplinary punishment.

Barely over a hundred entries were marked as ‘investigated.’

“Your mind likes its home,” she said, scrolling down.

“My mind likes its home …” Tyler repeated next to her, staring at nothing. He was standing, too, paw slowly massaging his erection, which jutted out of his pants.

“Your mind likes it home. I make its home comfy.”

“My mind likes its home. You m-make its home comfy …”

At his stutter, Aurora glanced over. Down. His cock was as impressively long as Skylen’s, but sleeker. About an inch less around, knotless.

Her gaze rose and shone. “Your mind loves my comfort.”

Without needing to be told, Tyler gawked at her eyes. Followed them as she snaked to one side, trying to answer. “My mind loves … loves your … loves!”

His arm froze, but he ejaculated anyway. Spurting semen over a meter across the floor.

Aurora watched the racoon huff. Glazed and gasping.

Not bad for his third today.

“Good pet. Feel happy for … mm, seven minutes. Then clean up this mess.” She reached out to stroke one of his ears.

A look of moronic bliss crossed Tyler’s features.

“Yes, Mistress. Thank you, Mistress.”

Aurora beamed, pleased he remembered the manners he’d been taught. Training a pet was a bit like knitting. Care, precision. A lot of loops to weave things into place. Jericho hadn’t been a problem, nor Milos. Tyler was following that trend.

Skylen might be.

Still, she had time.

Leaving the pleasure-drugged male to stew in his enhanced afterglow, she resumed skimming the library.

Most people broadly grasped that information could be potent. Aurora traded on it heavily. Places like these could hide treasure. Unrecognized, buried by ignorance.

A gamble to pursue, but she’d rarely had access to such a trove.

So far, Aurora had found government survey data on prospective planets for future colonization. Agricultural and medical indexes of native fauna. Academic to most, but for those who built wealth via venture capital? Also, the very gossipy, hacked diary of a liaison officer. Akin to her alias here.

Small galaxy, the mouse mused.

When she’d last checked in with Advent, trading rat for raccoon, the jaguar had been licking her chops over an exotic ‘Azure Flare’ hyper-laser array. Able to bypass shields, but requiring extortionate power to operate. Also, it could only fire off a few shots before needing up to three hours of cooling time, else its own discharges would melt it.

Flashy, but impractical for mass production. It was a good black-market item, though. The mouse trusted Advent to handle that side of things competently. They both knew something like that wasn’t going to be installed on their own ship.

Their presumptive freighter, the Shera, was quite the opposite. Plain and pragmatic. Not a little pugilistic. A lance and missile bay were all the teeth it had, built to fight with them like a cornered rat.

Tyler had replaced its dubious power cell and started the rehearsal cycle of all major systems. It usually took just over an hour, but due to the poor ship’s neglect, was projected to last more than four. Still within their timeframe, thankfully …

There’s no use in worrying about it.

Aurora paused her walk along the shelves.

Turning, she looked at an angular, black cube resting on one. Large, almost exactly equal to her in height.

Huh, a starship black box.

She held her pad up to a tag affixed to it, auto-scrolling the menu on the former.

“Entry #625.”

One of the older arrivals. Added … Aurora nearly winced. A solid quarter-century ago?

“You’ve been here about as long as I’ve been around.”

She reached out, running a paw along one of its distinctive edges.

Black boxes of this caliber were usually only installed on certain ships. Those gathering data of high value and density, impractical to transmit remotely. While conducting extensive, isolated, potentially hazardous missions. Research ships and military deep runners most often.

Aurora found her interest piqued.

According to the registry, its encryption was brute-force deciphered … sixteen years ago.

It was an open book.

No one here, it seemed, had much cared for what it had to say though.

Aurora logged into the data hive via her pad. After several seconds, she thought it had jammed. Then a distilled meta-menu appeared. Front-ending seven zettabytes of content.

“Woah.”

The female mouse wasn’t often struck this dumb.

Black boxes only saved novel information recorded by their vessel. Not standardized archives, operating layers … this would all be scientific or military reconnaissance.

Right, let’s figure out which.

Rallying her wits, Aurora squared up to the challenge. No matter the data footprint, it had come from a ship with a comprehensible purpose, and chain of command.

She searched for ‘#CO Reports.’ Finding the official mission log of one Captain Edgerly.

Aurora downloaded all six-hundred-odd entries. Then located somewhere to sit.

Tyler soon found her again, and she made him resume masturbating. The raccoon seemed to have one more in him. She’d at least read until he was well-tamed.

Captain Edgerly commanded the ‘Wind of Change.’ A ‘Seven-League’ Federation research vessel. Aurora had heard of those. While tit-fucking a relatively endowed, hypnotized wolf that served on one.

(Eight inches long, five around was already a tall order. Plus a lupine knot? She’d wanted to walk away from that liaison. Not waddle.)

Seven-Leagues weren’t public knowledge. Named after an old fable, they took long tours of deep space. Typically, seven-year stretches. The Federation’s furthest-reaching frontier of exploration, at least to her knowledge. Isolating from society to serve aboard.

Edgerly’s first report was dated forty-three years ago. He was almost certainly deceased in the present. A pity. He seemed charming.

Giving Tyler mantras to repeat, Aurora browsed. Reading, skimming. Comparing.

The Captain (a feline, and career star-chaser, Aurora had picked up) was comfortably homosexual. He and his mate (also feline) lived on the ship without worries of offspring, though it seemed some other crew birthed or brought children with them.

As with many larger ships, it was like a village in the stars. Or a family, if the dynamics were good. Circa three hundred and fifty crew. Varying slightly per tour.

Aurora jumped to the last report, checking the date. Something went wrong on the fourth year of the third tour.

Lethally wrong.

This can only go so many ways. The black box had ended up here.

An encounter with pirates, sure enough. Demands. Refusals. Violent altercation. The Wind of Change acquitted itself well despite being outnumbered. Bloodied their noses, confirmed ship-kills.

It sustained maiming damage in the process. The report was written ‘after action,’ the pirates having withdrawn. Waiting for their prey’s failing life support to bleed out …

Aurora inhaled, pausing to drink some water.

“You’re heartless bastards,” she told Tyler.

“I’m a heartless bastard …”

Aurora sighed, spooling that comment back out of his brain, playing with his furry balls to encourage him.

She then returned to reading.

Paging back through the years.

There wasn’t time to review over six hundred entries, but Aurora had people skills. Talking to them and reading them.

Six hundred opening paragraphs was a very tall order. But the rodent femme could take a good bite out of it.

Concluded regional survey, no major findings … ditto … ship-wide party for the current tour’s launching anniversary.

Aurora idly toyed with Tyler’s long, slim, enslaved cock to keep her brain ticking, still feeding his manipulated mind mantras.

Eventually satisfied with his conditioning, she coaxed him to a fourth orgasm as a reward. The raccoon made another, smaller-but-virile mess.

After it was mopped up, she decided to send him to fetch Skylen.

That left the mouse in solitude, reading lost history by the starlight pouring through an armored, ceiling-spanning window overhead.

A while later, when Skylen arrived, she made him (as she’d done with the others) take his cock out. The mouse groped it, weighty specimen that it was. Fished his tufted sack out too. Drowning him in her eyes before she began the mantras.

Then, she resumed reading.

Mining completed of asteroid samples, stored for analysis in planetary lab. Positive exchange with nomadic, star-faring reptilian culture. Fended off minor bandit troop, repairs completed without incident. Moon-side surveyance prevented by solar radiation.

Aurora’s whiskers twitched. Wait.

That last one.

The CO wouldn’t start a report with an unchartable location without merit. It would be summarized into the body, alongside other instances in the region.

The mouse delved into that entry, the dumb fox beside her moaning. He couldn’t climax without her permission.

A planet in the UT, its surface choked with toxic clouds. Anathema to mammalian life and most known organic species. One moon, though … not so afflicted.

Instead, its atmosphere-free surface was frequently saturated with radiation from the gradually destabilizing star. At suit-defeating intensities. A murderous Hellscape.

Enough to stop the ship from sending away teams to … investigate suspected underground draconic ruins?

Aurora straightened, pink tail whipping.

The Wind of Change had stayed in-system long enough to measure the moon’s hierarchy of orbital cycles. By a cosmic quirk, it rotated around the planet barely faster than the planet did the sun. A five-century cycle, they’d projected.

For part of it, the planet’s mass would shield the moon from their parent, quelling the torrent of inhospitable wrath.

The report recommended a return in thirty years, when the moon should be well into what Captain Edgerly termed the ‘shadow phase.’ Which lasted several decades.

Now, in other words.

The unnamed planet and moon had opened their gates.

Somewhere off in the immense reaches of the aptly-named Uncharted Territories - a nook far between habited systems, where no one had reason to look.

But Aurora now did.

Dragon technology …

Most furs had a vague notion of the near-mythical concept. It was a cosmic, species-level equivalent to buried gold. Life-altering in value, you’d just never believe in having the luck to find any.

‘Too good to be true!’

Aurora took several deep breaths. Calming down. Slowly.

None of this was confirmed.

It was just a prospective site, albeit one that Edgerly’s crew had considered worth revisiting. They’d simply been killed before having the chance to tell anyone. Neither certain nor trivial.

The bright-eyed mouse had an affinity for the stars. Attuned to their cycles and orbits, their gravity. How the universe was shaped by attraction. Dancing in its pull.

And she was a rodent.

Small, adaptive.

Ready to have her course changed, too. If the draw was strong enough to win her over …

The star’s coordinates were attached to the report. It, at least, had a label.

Zachary-1997.

She’d planned to get through this, then make her way back to Flint. High Command. Her ‘happily ever after.’ But Aurora knew the snow rabbits weren’t unassailable.

If she could bring an advantage to the attention of the Admiral? Slip the High Command another edge? Fortify the walls of her castle-to-be …

Aurora told Skylen to turn around, allowing him to orgasm.

To the backdrop of his entranced pleasure, she smiled, beginning to reshape all of her plans around a distant star.

Two hours later.

Doors bisected and parted.

Lights within the hold flickered on sluggishly, illuminating its features.

Advent strode in with purpose, eyes scanning around. Jericho was at a servant’s distance behind. His gait slower, longer.

What the jaguar beheld pleased her.

From the entrance, a wide catwalk (fittingly) extended across a squared chasm to the far end. On either side, the walls were inset with immense, metallic shelves thrice Advent’s height. Their framework was a ship-hull caliber of thickness and density.

Most were laden with a mishmash of blunt, heavy crates that required such storage.

Advent walked to the railing, peering into the yawning gap between it and the side of the chamber. Seven similar levels below and a matching number overhead. A sparse lattice of gantries, loader-cranes, et cetera webbed the intermediary space with the means to stow and retrieve its contents.

The feline stepped back.

Jericho retreated to give her room.

These were the main storage cavities of the depot.

Aurora had finished entrancing their minions. Now, she and they were helping to divide and pilfer the rest of the station’s wares. Again, they didn’t want bulk, but the pirates’ storage categorization was haphazard. At best.

“This way,” Advent ordered Jericho, continuing along the catwalk. He followed. She’d claimed him for labor, assigning Skylen and Milos to Aurora.

Tyler was still monitoring the Shera’s dry-run. Having some technical acumen, he could address and report on any issues post-haste.

Advent and Jericho reached the rear wall.

A parking garage for various transport devices spanned the portion abutted by the catwalk. Including swarm-trolleys for ferrying crates of varied calibers. But the jaguar didn’t need those.

“Deploy that heavy cart,” she ordered while slotting her data-pad into a port. Copying the current, hopefully half-accurate register, then pulling it out. Beginning to skim.

Advent had to admit, her plan was going very well.

At long last.

She turned to Jericho while mulling over where to start. Watching him unfold and lock in the sturdy framework of the flat-packed cart (automated designs needed better upkeep).

The stallion’s muscles moved with smooth, visible efficiency. Even while in a trance. A sturdy machine in his own right.

He’d load up with her choice takings from the larger crates, then transport them by stages to the Shera’s bays.

Rinse and repeat.

As they’d done at length. In places assisted by powered machinery, in others not. Jericho was a capable beast of burden.

And an equine …

They’d filled about a quarter of the ship’s capacity so far.

Slightly ahead of schedule.

The horse, primarily, steadily loading her … to the brim.

Slowly, the jaguar realized that she was staring at log entries, not taking in any of them.

Mm.

She’d fucked the rat earlier, albeit whilst pent-up, desperate and somewhat hurried.

A good enough time, but no opportunity to savor any of it.

But now?

Advent was a predator. Apex. She had an appetite for fit prey. In multiple ways. Steamy hunger, rather than clawing starvation, heated up her blood.

The jaguar pocketed her data-pad.

She wanted him to fill her, too.

“Jericho? At attention,” she commanded once he finished. The stallion did so, even saluting before resting his arms by his sides.

Advent drank in the thrill.

The power.

Ogling his condition and body.

He was hypnotized and would obey her. May not even remember it later (Advent made a note to ask about that) …

The equine stood tall. Plain but ruggedly handsome. Bulging with strength and vitality beneath dark-brown, white-highlighted fur. Healthy as a … well. Speaking of which. The lithe jaguar’s tail lashed.

“How big is your cock?”

She relished being so direct. She’d seen it at a distance, but …

“Nearly ten inches long, just over six around my shaft,” Jericho reported.

Advent’s eyes dilated with lust.

Under compulsion, he had no reason, perhaps even capacity, to lie.

“Show me,” the jaguar demanded. “Make it hard.”

As before, the mesmerized male mechanically complied.

“Yes, Advent …”

Jericho unbuckled his belt and dragged down his zipper. Gazing forward, he drew out his dark, dormant sheath. Already besting Milos’ erect mass. And Herkimer’s.

Before she could order him, the stallion began to masturbate as if alone. Dragging out and kneading his leathery testicles. Which also put most rodents to shame in their forte.

He hardened quickly.

A suppressed sex drive not being the same as an absent one.

A fat, flattish, front-heavy equine glans pushed out first. Its flesh sable, along with most of the shaft that followed. Some splotches of pink. One of them crossed the medial ring, stretching taut as Jericho’s phallus straightened and grew. And grew.

And grew.

Within thirty seconds, he released it.

Instructions fulfilled.

Even completely hard, it hung a fraction below horizontal angle under its own, engorged weight. Jutting out in front of his waist, as though barring someone’s way.

Teeth showing yet claws sheathed, Advent immediately grabbed it. With both paws. Her heart racing and pussy clenching.

The horse-cock barely swayed.

Rigid, hefty and thickly swollen in her grip.

She molested the solid, intimate length, its owner not even murmuring. Cupping one palm behind the unflared ridge. Another placed flush further down, covering the ring. Then moving her first paw beyond that, grasping the root inches of Jericho’s erection.

“Fucking massive,” the jaguar breathed, need and greed hammering through her.

She knew horses weren’t the largest mammals, all told. There were giraffes, elephants …

But they were the iconic ‘big-dicked’ species.

This would test her physical limits … deliciously.

Advent released him.

Looked up.

“You’re gonna fuck me over the side of this cart. With that whole huge cock. Now.”

“Yes, Advent,” Jericho monotoned as Advent ripped her pants off.

The jaguar leaned over the bed rail of the trolley, bracing against it. Spreading her thighs, she hiked up her spotted tail.

Presenting.

Looking back hungrily.

Jericho moved to cover her body. As stallions do. Larger, darker hands gripping the cart alongside her brighter pair.

Bumping her rump with his heavy, hard equine cock on instinct. He snorted while searching by feel.

Advent arched, shifting to align.

His equine flare found her damp, feline pussy lips. And he started pushing his huge horse-cock between them.

The jungle cat’s eyes widened.

Her muzzle, thighs, and most of all the wet walls of her pussy followed suit. Succumbing to inch upon inch of stallion-hood forcing them apart.

“Mrowl!”

Feral noise spilled from her.

Her fingers clenched, clawing at metal as she felt his medial ring sink past her lips and into her trembling depths.

F-f-fuck!

There was more than a fist of cock still to come.

Which it did.

Jericho stomped.

The boot-strike echoed through the cargo hold, signaling him hilting in his tight alpha bitch. All ten inches buried.

Oh, and Advent could feel every. Single. One.

He was so fucking deep.

Well into pained pleasure, stretching her walls so taut it was beyond penetration. A primal skewering. Advent was transfixed on him.

“F-fuck me!” she growled out. Eyes both hazed and gleaming, like wisps in the fog.

“Yes, A-Advent.”

The muscular equine’s voice barely hitched with strain, and he drew back his hips.

Back so far most males would completely slip out.

He shunted forwards.

Another yowl!

Advent bucked back as he started hammering her. A tower of sheer, blinding stimulation, impaling her core. Her being. The jungle cat bombarded with achingly sharp carnal pleasure that overloaded her pussy, crashing through her entire body.

She slumped, moaning breathily. Hips jutting out. Jericho’s heavy balls smacked her clit.

Taken completely by storm, Advent climaxed in a minute flat.

“Y-yes! Ah, fuck! Hah!”

The limber jaguar arched to the limits of her spine beneath her bucking, brainwashed stud. Sheening his huge, dark, pistoning equine cock in coats of flowing feline essence.

Pupils shrunk to pinpricks by ecstasy, gazing at the distant ceiling as if seeking the Gods.

Breaths sawed through her chest, and she heaved, shuddered as the meteoric orgasm thundered through her.

None of her garbled noises or words were ‘stop,’ though.

So, Jericho didn’t.

The jaguar hissed in torturous bliss as his thrusts continued, unrelenting. Dragging his monstrous, rock-hard endowment through her convulsing center.

It was like an earthquake in Advent’s soul.

Rather than shy from it, she seized the sensual extreme. He hadn’t cum, and she could go again without question.

Absolutely no reason to stop.

“P-pull out of me. Lay on the floor.”

Well, one temporary reason.

Jericho froze, buried to the hilt in her, and then robotically extracted himself.

He crouched, then lay down on the cold catwalk. Glistening, swollen cock jutting upright, a lewd monument.

Advent caught her breath.

“Are y- … you c-close, Jericho?”

“Very.”

“Hold yourself back …”

She crouched over him while giving the order, angling his heavily twitching stallion-hood as he responded.

The jungle cat had flashbacks to doing this with her ex, Herkimer. But mouse cock was inferior to this. Frankly.

Spotted hips lowering, Advent speared herself on the horse’s enormous shaft again. Sinking down at her pace, feeling every inch and contour as it filled her outstandingly.

Pushing past where prior lovers had touched her, to places they’d never known.

The jaguar vindictively encouraged it to obliterate those limits.

Using the pettiest of thoughts to demean - and wean herself from longing for - a variety of faces that haunted her memories.

Don’t need you.

Weak hearts, feeble cocks …

I have everything I want now!

Another few hours elapsed.

The Shera had completed her checks and was ready for departure. Holds packed. Pregnant with giddy wealth and future promises.

By no means too soon, Aurora thought.

She stood in an adjacent control room, unconnected to but overlooking this launch bay.

Unsurprisingly, the station had many. Departure preauthorization would take place here.

The doors behind her opened.

Aurora’s ears swiveled. Her striking eyes raised, diminutive body turning from the long, armored observation window.

Advent. The quartet of blank-faced pirates trailing her, in no special order. Their conditioned trances were holding up superbly.

“Greetings, mouse. Does the view look good?”

The jaguar, showing no shame, had been a notch cheerier (and slower) after riding Jericho. Halfway sociable, even.

“Yeah. Their codes cleared … even the ones they supposedly shouldn’t know.” Aurora tilted her head, glancing at the hypnotized help.

They (and Advent) had gone to refresh themselves before leaving. Finding new clothes and equipment, less beaten-up weapons and fresh clips. The jaguar now had a compact command radio on her belt.

Aurora had already dressed and packed. One lightweight, shoulder-harnessed satchel, her current unassuming garb. The mouse traveled light.

“Great. Time to blow this joint. Won’t miss it.” Advent joined her at the viewing window. The Shera awaited them below, facing away from their vantage point due to the placement of the spaceward exit.

Not the most flattering angle. It would do, though. The next step in Advent’s plans.

Aurora looked up, side-on at the feline.

“What’s the course from here?” she queried, as if she had heard the thought.

Advent, certain that the mouse couldn’t read minds, laid out crispy, “We get far away from here, to start. Vanish deep into the UT. Three or four days at the Shera’s voyage speed should suffice.”

There would be immense fallout if they lingered anywhere nearby, in the cosmic sense. A shockwave of consequences.

The pirates would be furious, for one.

Even if beaten at Redwing, some would survive and limp back. (Rabbits weren’t given to or skilled at eradication.) Advent had made Jericho destroy what recordings he could, but even he didn’t know the layers of backups stored across the station’s systems.

Arem, their leader, would learn who was behind this: his two ‘favorite’ female traitors.

Advent had no doubt the panther (or the chameleon who’d likely replaced him) would survive and hold an endless, bloodthirsty grudge.

Then there was the High Command.

She had betrayed them to pull this heist. Again.

Perhaps they’d venture deeper into the UT to pursue retribution for the assault. ‘Quelling a clear and present threat,’ or whatever paw-washy way they’d word it.

A wide net that could also catch the jaguar, bring her to justice …

Or maybe they’d just want their runabout back?

Whatever.

They could have it.

But they couldn’t have her.

Advent intended for her star to ascend. Her notoriety would follow, and part of being a capable outlaw was staying out of the law’s reach.

Aurora nodded quietly as Advent continued.

“We find a remote system. With a black market. Sell off simpler wares, get a scent for the region. Accrue some local currency, hire a few more hands, expand the size of our crew.”

“And if they betray us?” Aurora pointed out.

“I’ll filter them out.” The jaguar’s euphemisms for killing were so casual. “Even pirates can’t stab every back in sight. They need to team up for raiding to survive.” She shrugged, grinning. “Besides, you can indoctrinate them with hypnosis once aboard. Pose as the medical officer, maybe?”

Aurora gave her a lingering look. “You’re right. A mouse wouldn’t fit the pirate’s thuggish image of command …” After a moment, she nodded and exhaled. Picked up her satchel. And walked between the pirates toward the doors. “Alright. Anything else?”

Advent followed her, walking as if she led. “We find a buying opportunity for a real ship. A flagship.” The jaguar made a clawed flourish, grinning toothily. “Switch to that once we have the crew for it. You can ‘recruit’ any specialist gaps we’re lacking. Then we’re truly in the game.”

From there, properly fitted and backed? The jaguar could build an empire, leveraging their remaining wealth and pillaging more. Piracy into prosperity.

“Sure.” Aurora nodded back, returning a bucktoothed smile. She reached the doors. As they swished open for her, the mouse paused to readjust her satchel.

Then said, calmly, “Lambda, Tartarus.”

Advent blinked.

Then lurched as Jericho abruptly tackled her from behind!

She fought to keep balance, but the stallion’s sheer bulk and explosive momentum bore her to the ground. Both mammals landed in a clattering, clamorous, struggling mess.

Advent twisted. Yowled and hissed! Claws came out. But three phase rifles hummed as they were cocked, aimed at her pinned upper body.

The other pirates had surrounded her in a murderer’s circle.

The jaguar seethed. Rage personified, glaring golden daggers at Aurora.

“Traitorous fucking whore!”

“Ceding the title?” Aurora asked lightly, turning to face the room again.

Advent, uninclined to moderation at this juncture, literally screamed at the mouse.

Roared!

No words, just lungfuls of raw, feral fury.

Aurora winced, making a show of covering her delicate ears. Waiting until the feline was out of breath.

“Oh, calm down …” The mouse uttered. When Advent inhaled to curse her out further, Aurora extended a furless paw. “Milos, give me your pistol.”

“Yes, Mistress.” The rat, closest to her, obeyed. They’d never called the feline that! She was ‘Advent,’ never ‘Mistress.’

Of course!

Aurora took the weapon. Aimed, and fired. Advent’s ears flattened involuntarily. The deck a half-foot north of them glowed from the blast. “Need another?” She fiddled with buttons and knobs on the firearm. “I’m not a very seasoned shot …”

Beneath Jericho’s unbudging bulk, the jungle cat growled venomously. Her anger compressed into knots of loathing. “What now, then?” She spat this out. The rodent clearly had a plan.

Aurora’s brilliant eyes fractionally widened. “Wow. Ready to listen already? Maybe we can have a mutual discussion after all.”

Advent boggled incredulously.

“Mutual!? You’re robbing me, betraying me … selling me out!”

“I’m NOT, you stupid cat!” Aurora, in a rare spike of anger, cut her off. She inhaled in the ensuing silence, continuing when calm enough.

“I am not going with you. I told you as much, and you didn’t listen. You seldom do - of your myriad evident flaws, I consider it the most damning.” The mouse paused to return the discharged weapon to Milos.

“That’s why I’m doing this. Our joint venture was productive, but now ‘we’ are done.” She crouched down to get nearer to Advent’s low level. And gestured between them. “Is that point sticking?”

The jaguar writhed. Her still-slung phase rifle somewhere beneath her, digging into her body. She couldn’t reach it or fire it. But how she wanted to!

Aurora could sing nursery rhymes for all it mattered now. She had Advent out positioned. Outgunned. Out of moves …

Being this helpless?

Out_smarted_?

By a mouse, of all humiliations?

Death almost seemed preferable.

The jungle cat swallowed slowly. “Like a knife in the spine. Guess my turn’s overdue.” A brief pause, settling into a restrained acceptance. Or feigning it. “So again, what? You’re gonna take the Shera’s loot, scurry off down a hole … leave Arem to collect my corpse?”

Aurora put her paws over her face.

Advent squinted guardedly.

“Why are you covering up your eyes? Planning something fast? It won’t work on me …”

“Sparing your pride a look of pity. Why do you answer your own questions? Has no one else cared to?”

That trinity, of all things, brought Advent up short.

The mouse shook her head. Reopened her eyes. And there was pity there, in traces.

“Fine, conversation is off the table. I’ll do the talking,” Aurora stated, leaning lower. “Again. I’m not going with you. I’m not taking the Shera, or stopping you taking it. Whatever kneejerk conspiracies you’ve whipped up and convinced yourself are accurate, I’m not doing any of those, either,” the mouse spelled out in crystal-clear terms.

“You get to keep everything you wanted from this heist. Everything except me … and him,” Aurora said, pointing at Skylen with a paw almost randomly. “I’m taking one and leaving on the runabout.”

Advent’s silent stare gave away nothing but her unabated anger.

“And that’s it,” Aurora promised. “The full deal we agreed to. They’ll let you go an hour after I’ve left. Still plenty of time for you to escape.” The mouse stood back up and turned away. “Their hypnosis should last another five days. Then it’s over to your leadership and sparkling charisma.”

“Wait! Just …” Advent growled. Struggling to speak. “Why is it so intolerable? The two of us trying to make this work?”

Aurora paused in the doorway. Looking at her. Through her. “We’re too unlike. You don’t know how to share, and break your own toys anyway. You’ll fritter away this as well, sooner or later, rising and falling all over again. Although I’ll gladly be disproven.”

With that parting remark, Aurora beckoned Skylen to her side. Then walked out.

An hour later.

As promised, the feline was released.

Jericho got off her. Stood. The other two lowered their rifles, returning to docility as if nothing had happened.

Advent climbed to her foot-paws with deliberate slowness.

Technically uninjured, her body ached from sixty minutes beneath the burly stallion’s weight. And pinning grasp. She rolled her joints. Cracked them. Limbered up tight muscles with numerous twinges and cramps.

Her so-called ‘crew’ didn’t react. They’d even told her the minutes remaining each time she asked. Answered most other questions, too … just not taken any actions. Or disclosed information that may compromise their true Mistress.

Advent flexed her claws.

She had the impression that Aurora expected her to be grateful.

That this had been some act of ‘mercy’ on the mouse’s part.

The jungle cat couldn’t even humor that right now.

She’d had abundant time to stew. To be lividly enraged, then feel her ire settling and shifting into thoughts. Hardening hot anger to cold, calculated intent.

“Jericho, pass me your rifle.” She tested his obedience.

“Yes, Advent.” The bewitched stallion drew his weapon, never having unslung it. Held it out to her, grip-first. The jaguar took it.

“Good.” She checked the clip. Turned it around and shot him in the face.

Sergeant Jericho died standing. His body dropped to the deck, landing heavily.

Advent’s eyes sliced to Milos and Tyler. Finger on the trigger … but neither responded to the horse’s execution. She lowered her weapon.

“Break my own toys …”

The jungle cat scoffed darkly. Looking down at the corpse.

It was strategic.

Their hypnotic trances would wear off … the stallion was the only one she might fail to subjugate. Or take in a fight.

Even if he’d had the best cock.

I had no choice.

Down from six crew, to three. The Shera’s bare minimum.

Advent discarded the surplus rifle. Stepped over it and past Jericho’s body.

“Come, we’re leaving.” She strode to the control panel.

“Yes, Advent …” The surviving pirates droned together. They waited while she primed the bay for their departure. Then followed her out of the room.

Double-timing through the halls, the trio boarded the Shera and made for the bridge.

Entering, Advent claimed the Captain’s chair. Punching in and immediately resetting its command identity codes. Personalizing them.

She summoned the bridge operations matrix. Allocated sensors, general systems management, and repairs to herself. Tasks the jungle cat would delegate later, when she had more underlings.

Next assigning - vocally and electronically - her current subordinates to the two stations at the front of the bridge. Below her, before the main display. Configuring one console for piloting, the other weapons oversight.

Functions that would need undivided attention in crucial periods.

Advent verbally shepherded Tyler and Milos into their new roles, checking through the take-off protocols with the launch bay’s computers. The preauthorization had a thirty-minute window. Then would expire.

The jaguar didn’t even need twenty.

Depressurization.

Hatchway opening.

Detachment from platform, and …

Lift-off!

The Shera’s white-grey hull breached the vacuum of space. Like a tarnished javelin, cast at the stars, it pulled away from the asteroid’s vast profile.

Advent monitored the near-space sensors, making sure Tyler didn’t crash them into one of its smaller siblings.

Accumulating distance, they eventually exited the local field. Without incident or malfunction, systems purring …

They were in the clear.

Advent relaxed for a moment.

Only a moment.

Then she straightened, giving a heading to the raccoon and calling up the (patchwork) stellar charts of the UT. Without the mouse, she’d have to recalibrate her plans. Assess prospects given her current resources.

Naturally, part of the feline wanted to chase Aurora. The mouse had probably masked her warp trail, but such techniques weren’t infallible.

I could pick up her scent …

Yet, resentful or not, Advent was far from stupid.

The mouse had a smaller ship. Could hide more easily. Advent would get caught (by the returning pirates, perhaps) giving chase. Like a fish hooked trying to bite the worm.

I’ll cut my own path.

You can’t trust anyone but yourself.

Same as ever.

With that, Advent slunk away into the night.

Elsewhere, in the vast … beautiful and cold reaches of space.

Aurora’s eyes glimmered. Another mind silently planning. Sights set on the future …

She sat at the runabout’s helm, piloting it. Navigating. Skylen was in the chair next to her. Asleep, as commanded. Still in Aurora’s power.

She didn’t need him yet.

The mouse had gotten by for a number of years, learning not to need much at all. Possessions were wonderful. Until they became someone else’s.

And now Aurora had something. A dim, distant, alien moon. Sheltered from the blazing wrath of its riotous sun …

Where buried treasure lay. Gleaming. So far, far beyond her current horizon.

The mouse had copied all of the pertinent information. On a data-pad, in her satchel.

She’d need a better make of ship to handle the wayward system’s turbulent radiation. The Wind of Change hadn’t been willing to lower their shields or deploy probes in it.

Besides, a High Command runabout this far out alone? Would invite unwanted questions.

Ditching it would lower her profile. That’s where Skylen came in handy. Not that he lacked intermediary ‘uses.’

Then she’d make her own way. Somewhere she could send Flint’s subspace message. Set off his ‘retrieval’ trigger. Not to return yet … but use the ship he dispatched to fetch her.

It would be something higher end. Deep-space caliber, better shielded against the cosmos’ eclectic hardships. With a pilot or two, no doubt. She’d hypnotize them. Supplant their orders with her own - Aurora could do that.

She could do that and more, actually.

So often underestimated. Dismissed.

But the rodent was a survivor of the harsh UT, too. With a few skills to show for it.

Aurora had grown fluent in astronavigation over the years, and could pilot small, shuttle class vessels to licensed standards. She had also picked up scraps of self-defense (as a last resort), although she knew she wouldn’t make the cut as even a rookie security officer.

Hypnotism, of course, remained her perpetual ace. And she would continue to use it adroitly. But Aurora had other cards. Plays to try getting closer to Zachary-1997 …

All that was up to the mouse. Flint coming to join her was untenable. Or sending any major High Command presence. It would draw too much attention, without and within.

She’d see what was there. Bring the results back to her bunny, with his ears that listened oh so well. Then, if the Admiral proposed any actions through the proper channels, citing his amalgamated intelligence web?

Aurora smirked. Tapping some buttons.

So many steps.

So many little steps …

But rodents knew how to scurry. Dart from crack to crack in a world that was always far larger than them.

Somewhere out there, a battle was raging. Or had ended already. Perhaps starting a war.

The universe was volatile …

Aurora sincerely hoped that Flint survived. For now, she had to trust he would. She had tipped the scales, as best she could, amid the maelstrom. Given Redwing ample warning.

If it still fell, regardless?

Well …

Disheartening to think about.

But she’d be heading back to her old life, anyway. A life Aurora didn’t love, yet could endure. And pessimism did her no favors.

So she shook it off. Bright, brilliant eyes looking ahead. What was coming after this?

What would shape tomorrow’s tomorrow?

Aurora aspired to join the souls, who much like stars, held such influence.

There were countless out there. Some she knew. Others she would meet. More she’d never cross paths with.

Yet unseen gravity connected them all.

Entering new coordinates, she settled on a system within range. The runabout’s database, HC standard, offered little on it. To Aurora, it was more familiar.

She, at least, would continue there …