Distress Calls
The snow rabbit was sitting at the table. Her legs crossed (so that one bare foot-paw was resting on top of another). Fruits (strawberries, blueberries, pineapple), and some buttered wheat toast. And a glass of water. That was her breakfast. It was a warm-furred breakfast. Back home, on the snow rabbit's ice-world, she would've had ... colder, cooler things. Things with less flavor. But ... this was a nice breakfast. It smelled nice.
She breathed in. Her whiskers twitching, nose sniffing. The aroma of the melting butter on the wheat toast, and ... the sweetness of the fruit. The freshness of the water. The food processor had done a good job today ... not that it ever FAILED to, but ... generally, it was agreed that the stuff that the processor came up with ... none of it matched the REAL thing. None of it tasted as good as the natural stuff. Synthesized food, also, didn't contain the same amount of natural nutrients, so ...
... most ships grew a good deal of their own fruits, vegetables, and et cetera ... in hydroponics bays. And most furs ate a mixture of both real foods and synthesized foods. But not all furs had access to food processors. (Advance, when growing up, had to scavenge the desert daily just to stay alive ... and most rural furs didn't have food processors, so ... )
Aria stared at her food. And closed her eyes, clasping her paws, and ... whispered her prayer. The one that Ross had taught her. "God is great, God is good, thank you for my food ... in Jesus' name I pray ... amen," she said, breathing in. And eye-smiling.
"You hungry?" Ross asked, entering the room. Wearing only shorts. Giving her a good dose of his trim, mousey form. His slender, energetic self. All his tail-snakes and ear-swivels and nose-sniffs ...
A head-tilt from her. The snow rabbit wearing bed-shorts and a tank-top, with a bra underneath. "Yes. Are you?"
"Mm-hmm." A shy, bright nod. "I, uh ... I guess I should get some breakfast."
"You may share with me."
"Well, if you're hungry ... "
A head-tilt.
" ... I'll ... I'll order the same," the vole whispered, "that you've got. Or maybe ... cereal? Cereal with milk, or ... muffins. Ooh. Blueberry muffins. And ... or French toast, or ... "
Eye-smiling, icy-blue eyes darting slightly, she watched him 'be a blabber-mouse' ...
Eventually, he settled on strawberries, a banana, a blueberry muffin ... and a bowl of corn flakes. And some water, and ... " ... why's the food processor programmed to make blueberry BUG muffins? Bug muffins?" Ross asked, confused. He read the screen again. Just to make sure it actually said that.
"I do not know."
"Who eats bugs ... in muffins? In ... mm ... " He pondered.
"I would not worry about it. Just don't synthesize the bug muffins ... by mistake."
"No, just regular blueberry," was the vole's giggle-squeak, "for me. Fresh and warm and soft ... a little bit moist." A sigh. "I like cooking. Muffins. ALL kinds of muffins. Corn muffins, blueberry, apple-cinnamon ... mm ... muffins," he went.
"Even mouse muffins?"
"Mouse muffins? Mm ... never made THOSE," he said playfully. "Mm ... but, uh, I should make a big breakfast in the mess hall one day." Most furs ate breakfast in their quarters. Using the food processors. And ... ate lunch in the mess hall. Supper ... eating habits on a star-ship were sometimes erratic. Impromptu yiffs ... sometimes led to eating (afterwards) all over the ship ... not every-fur MADE it to the mess hall. To put it that way.
Food. Mm ... " ... I'm, uh, actually," Ross continued, the processor whirring and materializing his food. He waited, and took each plate off ... and put it on the table. And went back. "Actually, I used to be THE pickiest eater, but ... I sort of grew out of it. You know, and I like it, and ... I started cooking my own meals all the time, and ... " He trailed. Took a breath. And, once he got his food, he sat, said his prayer, and then kept reaching over the table and ... taking little bits of her food!
She watched him with amusement ... before doing the same (with his food).
"Uh ... mm," he flushed. "Sorry." A pause. A weak shrug. "I'm a nibbler."
"Obviously. But that is to be expected. And," she added, "it is quite alright." An eye-smile. "My species, we ... are not very playful. As a rule. Our meals are very quiet. Very proper. Very ... polite. To take from one's plate would be a breach of etiquette, but ... "
"Mm?"
" ... but I find a little 'sense of play' ... greatly enhances the enjoyment of any meal. That being said ... I am going to take a 'chomp' out of your muffin." A paw reached over. Grabbed his muffin, and she daintily, carefully took a bite. A crumb or two falling to the table-top. Chew-chew. And then putting his muffin back on his plate.
"Good muffin, huh?" Ross said, after a moment. Giggle-squeaking.
"Very," was her response (after having swallowed).
A pause. And he asked, "What's your favorite food? I don't think you've told me yet ... "
"Soup."
"Soup?"
"Soup. Cream of broccoli soup."
"Oh, I love that ... kind of soup. It's kind of hard to make. Mm." He considered. "A lot of furs don't like broccoli. It's a very misunderstood vegetable!"
"I agree." Eye-smile.
"Soup, huh ... you know MY favorite food ... "
"Macaroni cheese."
A giggle-squeak. "Well ... well, yes," he admitted. "But that was my favorite food even BEFORE I was a meadow mouse." A pause. "But, again, good macaroni cheese? It takes a lot of practice to make."
She ate some of her fruit. And reached for her water glass.
"You ... you eat really gracefully," he whispered.
She looked up. Her slender, white ears waggling.
"I mean, like ... you know?" A quiet pause. "You don't slurp or guzzle or ... you're so refined."
"Is that a good thing?"
"Yeah," the vole whispered. "That's not to say you're ... TOO civil. You radiate a warmth, and you're ... passionate." A smile. "The femme of my dreams," he added.
She reached for his muffin. And tore off another chunk. "I, uh ... " She faltered for words. "Your emotions often ... fluster me."
"Fluster?"
"They are so pure. So ... lovely. I often feel I don't deserve them."
"You do," Ross whispered seriously, idly tapping his fork on the table-top. Tap-tap ... " ... you do," he repeated. Meeting her eyes.
She swallowed. Mouthing a 'thank you' ...
"I ... I hope I don't sound like a broken record."
"Record?"
"A, uh ... a disc. Kind of. Play music with it. Use a needle. Grooves."
A blink.
"I guess furs never had records ... "
"I am from the ice. We do not have music."
"No?"
"Some," she corrected, "music. All of it instrumental. Strings. Pianos, and ... very meditative."
"Well ... I mean, I don't mean to ... what I'm saying," Ross said, taking a breath, "is that I don't mean to repeat myself all the time. To sound like I keep saying the same things over and over again. But ... I just ... want you to know," he said. "I ... I wanna tell you these things every day. Every day," he insisted, "for the rest of my life. I ... I love you," he said, swallowing, "and ... " His cheeks flushed.
Her ears got a bit hot. She nodded graciously.
"Mm ... " A whisker-twitch. "I gotta get something," he said, and leaving his seat, he scurried to the bedroom. Thin tail trailing. "I'll be right back!"
She nodded again, and sipped of her water. Waiting. Wishing, for just a moment, for just a split second ... that she could FEEL emotion like he did. But ... that wasn't possible. She was a snow rabbit. And, after all, Ross loved her as she was. And God had made her as a snow rabbit. No use in wishing to be otherwise. She liked being what she was. And ... but she ate of her fruit. With the most impeccable civility. She was so, so graceful. So poised. So snowy. So ...
"Back!" Ross retook his seat. And let out a deep breath. And ... had a computer pad in his paw. "Um ...
Her icy-blue eyes looked to him. And she asked, "What is that?"
He stopped. Looking shyly, bashfully to her. And said, coyly, "A list. I'm making a list."
"Of?" She tilted her head with gentle curiosity.
"A 'to do' list. For today."
"I have never seen you make a list ... you have a near-perfect memory," she noted. For he did (for whatever reason).
"I know, but ... today," he whispered, "I'm making a list. Just today. I ... I got a lot to do."
Again, the snow rabbit tilted her head. This time, the opposite way. Inquiring, "What, exactly? May I see your list?"
"You really wanna see?" the vole asked.
She held her snowy-white, blunt-clawed paw out. "Yes."
A non-verbal response. Eyes bright ...
... as she took the pad. As she squinted. And saw the list ...
#1 ... Kiss Aria.
#2 ... Tell Aria I love her.
#3 ... Kiss Aria again. Because she deserves it.
#4 ... Sweep Aria off her foot-paws. Dance her around the room.
#5 ... Stop at the bed, and snuggle there. Breathe of her rarified air.
#6 ... Tell Aria, again, that I love her. How much I need her. Tell her more.
#7 ... Kiss Aria (yet again).
#8 ... Let nature takes its 'course' ...
Ross, beaming brightly, asked shyly, "You, uh ... think I can get it all done? I mean, it's ... " A breath. "It's a big list."
The snow rabbit closed her eyes. Feeling something she'd never felt before. A ... swell? Was that the word? Swell of ... something. Something. Some emotion that was too far beneath her emotional freeze to ever TRULY understand. But it was something good, and ... something warm, and ... she opened her eyes. And nodded quietly. "It is," she whispered, taking a small breath. "It is very ... sweet," she whispered.
His smile, with dimples on furry cheeks, was ... pure innocence. He'd done this (and SO many other things) just to make her happy. Just to show his affection. His care. And ... she'd never met anyone so consistently selfless. Someone who would constantly go out of his way to ... to ...
Ross squeaked softly.
For the rabbit had already moved out of her chair. Was already to him. Pulling him upright. Already ... with arms and paws around his back. Already with head tilted. White, slender ears waggling.
Already kissing.
And ... breaking it (with a little smack-smack) to take a breath, she whispered, confidently meeting his eyes, "I believe that was the first item on your list."
A shy, shy giggle-squeak. And a bright, bright returned gaze. "Well ... technically, no. I ... was supposed to kiss YOU. I think you just kissed ME."
"Are you saying," she whispered, raising a brow, "that we shall have to kiss again?"
"Well, if ... if I'm gonna do it right, then ... "
She didn't wait for him to finish. Eye-smiling, and then closing her eyes, and then ...
... swept away. The both of them. By an early-morning love-tide.
A swish of the door, and an upward glance.
The jaguar swallowed ... and nodded meekly. "Ensign," she said. Her voice softer than normal.
Lipton's heart quickened. He exhaled, and ... " ... um ... uh, lieutenant. I, uh, was tending the flowers. Um, if you ... "
"I came to see you."
A pause. "Me?" The cinnamon-furred rabbit's ears waggled. "I don't understand." A pause. "Why aren't you on the bridge?"
"The doctor relieved me," the jaguar explained, "of duty. For the day."
Lipton cautiously looked her over. He had gloves on his paws. And little clippers. And a belt with gardening tools.
"Muscle soreness," she explained. "When I walk."
"I don't ... muscle soreness?" A hesitation. "What are you doing here?" he demanded, with a bit more force than was normal for him. He was normally very even-keel. Very level.
"I came," she repeated, "to see you." She padded past him. Into the grass. And closed her eyes. And let out a breath. "This is not easy for me." Her eyes opened, and she half-turned to him ... looking at the vegetable garden against one of the walls. "My muscle soreness is ... was inflicted upon me." Her slitted, feline eyes turned and met his own eyes.
"Inflicted?"
"I am sore," she explained, sighing, "between my legs. It ... hurts, somewhat, to walk."
"I don't ... I still don't get it? Why are you sore ... "
"The Captain of Illustrious ... "
"I don't under ... stand ... oh." A pause. "Oh," he whispered, eyes widening.
She swallowed. "He ... sated me. However, he also toyed with me. And ... I suppose I deserved it. He had something I needed. And he gave it to me. But ... because of my dependence on him, I was helpless." A breath. "As he ... " She trailed. Remembering the sensitive, searing pleasure ... and how, so quickly, it had turned to over-sensitive pain. And how she'd wanted him to slow down, to stop, and how ... " ... he taught me a lesson, I guess, that only another feline could."
Lipton squinted. Unsure as to why he was hearing this. "And what would that be?"
"What it's like to be on the receiving end of someone's power." A pause. A swallow. "I found it was ... belittling. I ... I do not know. I ... it wasn't just that," she explained, pacing back and forth. Starting to pad in the grass. Her bare foot-paws stepping in the greenness. "It's been many things. I ... Herkimer. My 'water flu' ... which I contracted through casual yiffy intercourse with a platypus."
"Advent, why ... why are you telling me this? Just ... I don't wanna know!" the rabbit said, frustrated. Leave me alone, he said in his head, with the flowers. With the plants. Don't toy with me like this. Whatever your game is: stop playing it. Please ...
"I am telling you these things," she confessed, not backing down, "because they are intimate things. It is standard, morally, to ... detail your yiffy history to your mate ... when taking him."
A blink.
"I have been thinking," she said, swallowing, clearing her throat, "about you ... I ... since I walked in on you. When ... uh ... a few days ago."
"I remember," he whispered, barely audible. His long, slender ears flushing with a heat that rose straight to the tips of them.
"I was wondering ... " Her lazy-day tail flickered about, and she clasped it in her powerful, spotted paws. She held to it. Staring at the grass. Unblinking. "I was wondering if you'd been thinking about me, too."
The rabbit said nothing.
"I ... I know that no-fur trusts me. I know that I was ... how I was," she whispered. "I know I've inflicted fear in everyone, and ... hurt ... furs, and ... " She closed her eyes. Her breath whooshed out. "I used. And ... I don't think the Captain," she said, referring to Kalmbach, "had yiffed one of his own in quite some time. Neither had I. I ... was in heat, and ... he got the breeding of a lifetime. He had his way with me, and ... used me. With force. With ... not that I minded," she continued. "He was very, very ... good," she said, purring. Eyes glazing over. Oh, yeah, he'd been good. "But ... he pushed it to the point of pain on MY part. He kept going. He teased me. When I asked him why he was consciously hurting me instead of pleasuring me further, he said ... because he could. And I heard those words coming from my own muzzle ... in my memory. On several occasions. I ... " She trailed. Sighed. "I ... the whole experience overwhelmed me. I was knocked out. When I came to, I ... was terrified he'd impregnated me. So much seed, and ... there was no way I hadn't been fertilized. I panicked. I think he smelled my fear, but he said nothing. He let it simmer. He wanted me to feel what I'd ... what my prey had felt."
Lipton listened quietly, raptly, whiskers twitching very lightly.
"I was forced to confide in Welly ... as to what had happened. He ran scans, and apparently... after sowing, the Captain injected me with an emergency contraceptive. I ... his seeds did not take root." A swallow. "But the fear ... during those few hours," she whispered, "when I realized he could've ... saddled me with cubs?" She bit her lip. Her ears flattened against her head. "I felt ... vulnerability." A pause. "For the first time. I ... but I think he only wanted to teach me a lesson. I think he may have even ... LIKED me." A small shrug. "But I doubt we would've worked well together. He's from a different breed. Physically AND mentally. But ... he sated me. I ... " A slight purr. "Mm ... I ... owe him." A sigh. "Even if he worked me over-sensitively ... to the point of burning pain. I ... the soreness should be gone in a day or two," she admitted bashfully. "Felines do nothing," she explained with a wry look, "small. Or gentle. Purrs and hisses and strategies for control. We bred like true predators." A proud look in her eyes. Which faded when she blinked. "But ... I think I found out, afterwards, that I'm not as true a predator as I've built myself up to be." A pause. "I ... I made myself be. To stay in control. To keep ... to keep anyone from breaking into my heart. Steal pleasure from THEM. But keep them on a chain. Don't let them ... get in," she whispered. "A true predator wouldn't have NEEDED to act. Would have felt no guilt. But ... I began to feel it. It started when Herkimer hissed at me to act like I had feelings ... it stung. And ... the stinging grew."
A blink. An ear-waggle. Whiskers twitching.
Advent looked directly to Lipton. And sighed. "The encounter, and ... other encounters, and ... recent events," the jaguar confessed, "have led me to reevaluate things."
"Things?"
"I have no mate. Neither do you."
No answer.
"I think we are mutually attracted to each other. We've already shared an 'awkward moment' ... perhaps that is a start?"
"Advent, I don't ... I don't know that I can trust you. I mean ... " A sigh. "I've been hurt, you know? Scared. AND scarred. Not just by you, but ... things. I used to be a holo-addict, you know? I wasted months of my life away ... trying to NOT live a real life. I got addicted. I ... and, after, when I got out of it ... sometimes, I wasn't sure what was real and what wasn't. Sometimes, I just didn't know. And the longer ... the more time passed, and the longer I went without a mate, the more tempting it felt. To go back to holograms. To create my OWN environment and circumstances, and ... create an ideal. But ... you know, and if I mated with you? And if you ended up hurting me like you hurt Herkimer? That would be it." A sad shrug. "I don't think ... I could survive that kind of ... thing. And ... " He cleared his throat, licking his dry lips. Taking a deep breath. "I can't risk that you would hurt me. It would kill me," he stated. Certain of it.
"I am telling you that I won't. I will not hurt you."
"Why should I believe you?" The rabbit squinted.
"You shouldn't," she answered sadly. "And ... if I get what I deserve, you'll reject me. And ... but ... I have often found, from observation, that many furry mate-ships are born with 'leaps of faith' ... it is simply a risk. Love is not by our OWN design. We did not create love. We are simply ... beholden to it. For it gives us purpose." A pause. "I would like ... purpose," she whispered, "to my life. I've ... faith. Love. Hope. Things ... things that I feel you could teach me?" she whispered hopefully.
"They aren't things you can teach," was his whispered, honest reply.
"No, but they are contagious," was her smart counter. "I feel ... you could rub off on me. In return, my ... confidence and grace, and ... I could rub off on you. We could be mates. We could make each other better. And we could stave off the nights." A pause. "I am a predator. You are prey. I know it rarely works, but ... I am changing. I WANT it to work. With you. You NEED protection. You need someone strong. And I need ... some vulnerable. Someone gentle. We need each other," she assured.
The rabbit's eyes were watering. "I, uh ... I ... you're very persuasive," he whispered. "But, uh ... " A sniffle. "I'm scared of you," he replied honestly.
She fidgeted. "I am scared," she admitted, "of myself." And she tilted her head and looked quizzically at him. "So, the way I see it," she said gently ... " ... is that we can both STAY paralyzed, or one of us can move. I am ... trying," she whispered, "to move. Move with me." She held out her paw, and ... pulled it back. And paced a bit. Her golden-furred, black-spotted form standing out among the greenery. And stopped. "I ... I want to be honest with you: this is not easy for me. My whole life, I have viewed prey as ... inferior. Pets. Toys. I have my OWN painful past ... but I'm not going to describe that right now. And won't use it as an excuse, either. I just ... I woke up on Illustrious the other day. To singing and purring ... the Captain had been indulging in Catnip ... "
"That's a banned substance ... "
"I know," was her whisper. "I woke up next to a drugged, charismatic snow leopard. Who was stronger than me. Who'd just ... bred me, gotten great pleasure from me. And ... had left me potentially pregnant. And left my femininity uncomfortably sore. Had left me ... with several lessons. I ... I ... it was a wake-up call. When I woke up next to him, I felt ... humbled. It is hard to explain. He connected with me on a feline level. I think he wanted me to see prey in a new light." A pause. "And the break-up with Herkimer, and my deeds with the monotremes ... all of it built up. I woke up next to Kalmbach, and I felt ... that it had all gone too far." A pause. "I see how the prey on this ship are. They are earnest. They are ... they TRY. Often, they fail. But ... they can look in the mirror at the end of the day. And they can say that they are truly alive. And that ... they have a hope of eternally being so." A pause. "I would like to have that."
A swallow from him.
"Before I make a mistake that'll kill me ... "
"A-advent ... "
"Everything that's happened to me in the past weeks? It's been enough to pull open my eyes. I admit ... my misdeeds. But ... you cannot know what the jungle is like. A jungle cat. That's what I am. I know for a FACT," she said, showing her teeth, "that Aria has killed more predators than she can count on both paws. I know Advance has ... done the same. They both grew up in harsh environments. They had to kill to survive. To eat. And SO did I ... no one can know," she whispered, eyes blank, "what I had to do to survive. How STRONG I had to be ... to make it out of there. I am a born hunter. I am built for speed and power and ... I have claws. I have teeth. But ... " She trailed.
He waited.
" ... I think ... I think I have a soul. And ... the consequences of my actions are catching up to me. If I build up any more negative effects? They made bowl me over like a tide. I may get washed away. I may drown. And ... felines aren't very fond of the water," she said, lightly joking. Biting her lip. "I ... your faith is built on forgiveness? Redemption?"
"Yes ... but you have to believe. You have to ... to repent."
"If I can believe, and if I can repent ... is it not beyond the realm of possibility that you, in turn, could forgive? And welcome me with open arms? And love me?"
Quiet. Considering.
She, too, went quiet. Waiting ... waiting for an answer ... and saying, softly, "There is a predator joke. About arms."
"Arms?" A blink.
"At a gathering of many furs, predators, prey ... the prey were hugging each other. So happy to see each other. So happy to connect. And the predators, they did not touch each other. They just gave cautious looks and stares and sniffs. And, so, one of the prey ... he goes up to a predator, and asks him, 'Do predators ever hug?' And the predator shakes his head and says, 'No.' The prey asks, 'Why not?' The predator looks at him and simply explains, 'We have crazy arms. If we hug someone ... we can't know where it'll lead.' And the prey thinks and ... says how that doesn't make sense. The predator shrugs and says, 'It's not supposed to. We're predators. We don't operate on sense, but on instinct'."
Lipton's eyes darted lightly.
Her eyes followed the patterns of his. "It is a ... joke. But ... it has a basis in truth. Predators operate more on instinct. Less on emotions or reasoning. Just ... instinct. Which is not always BAD, but ... it has its flaws." A pause. "One of which is ... when you make decisions based on instinct? You have no excuses afterwards. When you operate blindly ... you have no defense." A pause. "Do I need," she asked, sighing, "to say more? Do I ... do you want me to go on and on? Cause ... I will, if I need to. I just ... need you to believe me." A pause. A breath. "I am serious. I ... wish to change. I wish to mate you. Please ... try ... with me?" A weak sigh. "This is very hard for me to say all this ... I'm not used to letting my guard down. Please ... it's ... very hard ... don't turn me away ... please," she begged. And her voice ...
His eyes watering, the rabbit turned away. Sagged. And licked his dry lips. And tried to say something, but the words didn't come out. "Just ... just," he finally managed, the tears now coming. Now streaming down his cheek. "Just don't hurt me," he whispered. "Don't hurt me."
She padded awkwardly to him. Her own eyes remarkably tender. Her own posture ... had she ever held such a posture before? Her arms slipping around his middle. And her protective purrs as she pulled him close. Just to see how this would feel. How tenderness would feel. How mutual need would feel. How ... how ...
... how? How had this happened?
How had she TRULY changed? Was she telling the truth? Was there more the rabbit didn't know?
And how come he was saying yes?
And ... how ...
... and Lipton, ears drooping, half-expected the jaguar's next sentence to be ... suggesting a yiff. Suggesting they consummate this new mate-ship. He drooped. Expecting it. Cause ... wasn't she only looking out for herself? Self-gratification. Wordless, instinctual pleasure, and ...
... the words that came out contradicted every expectation: "I would like to ... sit in the grass," she whispered. "And ... talk."
"Talk?" A sniffle. A blink. "Talk?" he asked again.
"Yes. About ... ourselves. I ... there is a lot we don't know about each other." A pause. "I hope to remedy that."
Was she for real? Was this an act?
Could someone REALLY change?
And how easy was forgiveness ... oh, yes, the core of his faith. But ... in action, in reality, could he actually forgive her? For what she'd done to ... others. To him. To herself.
Yes. He could. Because ... his heart would allow it.
Because he believed.
Because it wasn't just dogma to him. It was faith, and ... if not applied, it would simply rust. And be nothing more than decoration.
But it was blood-warm. And pulsing through his veins.
Just like the need, the want ... of touch. Of warmth. Of whispers. Of emotion. Of ... someone. Some-fur. Maybe her? To breed with and be with. To kiss and hold and confide in. To chat with, to eat with, to ... everything. To share a life with.
Well ... he was gonna find out. He was gonna ... " ... hop," he whispered.
A blink, the jaguar purring into his ears, opening her eyes. "Hop?" she repeated.
"Rabbits don't take leaps of faith. They ... they take hops," Lipton said, smiling shyly.
And she smiled back, warmly ... showing her teeth. But ... not as a threat. And, purring, she nuzzled him, leading him to where they could sit and talk.
"I can't ... I can't make heads-or-tails of it. It's all static," Audrey sighed, wincing, taking the ear-piece out of her ear. Her eyes darted, settling on Advance's. "But ... it's not good," she whispered.
"Who's it coming from?"
"I don't know," she whispered. Frustrated.
"Try boosting the reception with power from the deflector dish."
"I tried that."
"If we aim our receptors AT the source," Aria said helpfully, from tactical. She'd just arrived a minute or so ago. All fresh and showered (and satisfied) ... no doubt, she'd had a good breakfast.
"If we aim it at the source ... maybe it'll be clearer?" Advance finished.
"I already tried that!" Audrey exclaimed, starting to lose patience.
"Aud, calm down, it's ... "
"Calm down?" she asked, fraying a bit. "It's ... "
" ... easier for me," Herkimer said, injecting himself into the conversation. "I have better ears. I'm a mouse. Remember?"
Audrey looked to him. And sighed. "Well ... alright. If you think you can ... "
" ... hear?" The grey-furred mouse smiled a bit. "I think I can manage." He left Ops, and padded to Comm. And leaned forward ...
... while Advance padded to the helm, leaving the other furs to it.. "You okay?" he asked Ensign Tess.
The squirrel nodded, flickering her tail a bit. "Yeah." A pause. "With as many sick days as Advent's been taking ... "
" ... yeah?" A smile. "You think our resident jaguar is 'faking' it?"
"Faking it? No. Milking it ... yes. I mean, ooh, sore muscles? Mm ... hey, I had a headache yesterday, and I still had to work."
"Ah, but Welly didn't clear you ... "
"Mm. Cause he's a skunk. They have it in for us."
"Mm?"
"Us squirrels. They're jealous. Of our tails." A grin. A shrug.
"Hmm," went Advance, and he sighed. "I'm, uh ... would counter that, but I'm too tired to. Not in the mood for jokes."
"Not many furs are nowadays," Tess whispered. Her angular ears picking up the static filtering over the comm.
Herkimer was playing the signal over the speakers.
Advance's heart skipped several beats. "That's a distress call." His ears, like Herkimer's, could hear through it ...
... but it was Herkimer who first supplied, "It's from Riparian." His voice fell to a whisper. He took the call off the speakers ... and channeled it just into the ear-piece, and ... he licked his dry lips. "I ... um ... sir," he whispered.
"What is it?" Advance whispered.
The mouse's eyes went pale. "It IS a distress call," he whispered.
"I know, but ... but what? What does it say?"
Every-fur on the bridge was quiet as Herkimer let out a breath, repeating what was being played (over and over) in his ear: "Vessel approaching ... hostile." A breath. Finishing, "We are being attacked." He closed his eyes. Shook his head sadly. "We ... another ship. Two ships. We are being attacked." Pause. Ears going pale, pale pink. "We have engaged ... the humans. We ... we ... "
" ... what?" Advance whispered, unblinking. "'We' what?"
Herkimer put the ear-piece down. "That's where the signal ends. It ... it loops back to the beginning after that."
"We have engaged the humans," Tess whispered from the helm. "This is it ... isn't it? This is war."
"Stop it," Advance said, turning in a pointless circle ... scanning the floor. "Stop it. Don't' think like that."
"Sir, they are a day away ... at maximum warp. Riparian."
"Are they STILL on sensors?"
"Yes."
"And human ships?"
"If they are there, they are impervious to our scans."
"They've developed stealth technology," exclaimed Herkimer, starting to panic.
"No, no ... no, it's a TRAP," Tess said. "They're captured Riparian, gutted her ... and she's a lure. It's a ... "
"Stop it!" Advance squeaked.
All went quiet.
The beeps and whirs of the computer consoles ... the only sound. And the hum of the engines beneath the deck-plating. Advance swallowed, unblinking, and whispered, "Tess ... set a course. We've gotta go there." A pause. "Trap or no trap. Set a course."
"Aye ... aye, sir," she whispered.
"Aria," whispered the desert mouse, not even looking at the snow rabbit.
"Yes?"
"Go to tactical alert. Ready ourselves for ... " He hesitated before saying the word. " ... battle." A breath. "And see if you can hail Illustrious. Tell them to meet us there."
"I believe they were headed in the opposite direction ... "
"Do it," the mouse bit.
Aria, after a momentary pause, tilted her head at him (for Advance was now looking her way). And the snow rabbit activated tactical alert. Which dimmed the lights to a low shade of white-blue, and ... activated key defense systems. Put the ship on edge.
And Tess, course locked in, took them to higher warp.
Toward the source of the distress call.
Bell-Bell walked into sickbay.
Welly looked up. "Hey," he said weakly.
She nodded back at him. "Hey," was her reply. "You, uh ... "
" ... hear about the distress call? Yeah. Captain made an announcement."
"Yeah, but ... anyway, I ... wanted to come see you."
"Shouldn't you be with your engines?" The skunk fiddled needlessly with some medical equipment.
"I have a good staff. I can leave them alone for a few minutes ... "
A quiet nod.
"I, uh ... I'm kinda scared."
The skunk looked up.
"Welly ... "
The skunk let out a breath, and ... padded to her, arms opening, and she slid into them. And let out a breath. Closing her eyes. Trying to make light conversation. Trying not to cry.
"I, uh ... I hate shedding season," she said.
"Mm?"
"Shedding season. I ... it's starting. I ... had a power failure on E-Deck," the doe said, swallowing, "yesterday. I thought maybe a circuit shorted. But ... it was a build up of shed fur. Strands of ... fur. You know, it ... Handel's been running around the ship trying to clean it all up."
"Well ... " The skunk hugged her close. "Every-fur is supposed to brush their fur TWICE a day. Twenty minutes when they wake up, and twenty minutes before they go to bed. A healthy pelt, a healthy coat ... requires shampooing, conditioning, BRUSHING ... "
"Most furs ... are too busy yiffing it up before and after bed," Bell-Bell said, biting her lip, "to spend twenty minutes brushing." A pause. "Including us," she said. "Mm ... "
"Well ... good for them. And us." A smile. "But, as a result, fur's gonna shed all over the place. You gotta brush it a lot. Remove the loose strands."
"I'll tell that to my staff."
"I already asked Advance to make a ship-wide announcement ... about pelt-care. I did ask if he'd make it mandatory for all the crew to sit through one of those school-made hygiene videos. 'Your Pelt and You: A Fur's Guide to Having Happy Fur'."
Bell-Bell giggled. "Really?" Another giggle. "That would be HILARIOUS. Making every-fur sit through that! Heh ... "
"Mm-hmm."
"He said no, though, I take it?"
"He said ... not right now. Everyone's too busy, too tense. And that was BEFORE the distress call. Now? Well ... I guess we'll only shed harder. You know what anxiety does ... makes you shed more."
"This is ridiculous," she said gently. "We're on a temperature-controlled ship. It's not summer. Why are we shedding?"
"Thousands of years of ... biological instinct. Just ... part of being a fur. Fleas. Shedding. Mm ... if the humans are trying to turn themselves into HALF-furs? Yeah? I say they should get the fleas and the shedding, too ... part of the bargain."
"Would serve them right," Bell-Bell said nervously. Their casual chit-chat starting to melt away. The fear eating right through it. "All this for ... for what? Why ... why are they trying to destroy us?"
"For this ... " A sensual wink. "And this." A flicker of his luxurious tail. "And these." He showed his blunted claws (which were filed to their blunts ... like how humans would cut their fingernails, furs would file their claws). "And this." He pointed a finger at his powerful nose. With its great sense of smell. "And ... ears, and ... they want to harvest our better parts. Our yiff drives, mainly. They want pleasure. Our senses." A small shrug. "Jealousy. Greed. Want. Desire. Sin." A pause. "It's not exclusive to humans. Furs are guilty, too ... it's ... why does anyone do anything bad? They're just doing it ... and wishing won't make them stop. And maybe even DEFEATING them won't make them stop."
"What will?" Bell-Bell asked weakly, squeezing her eyes shut.
"I don't know. I'm ... just a doctor."
"I'm just an engineer," she replied, sighing.
Momentary quiet.
And ... both of them opening their eyes, and pulling back a bit. Still in an embrace, but a loosened one.
"A doctor," Bell-Bell whispered, "and an engineer."
"A furry doctor," Welly corrected, "and a furry engineer."
"We fight fire with fire. Mind with mind," she whispered, eyes darting. She was beginning to formulate some sort of plan. But it was too early to say ... if it could be used. Or ... if it would work. Or ... " ... you gotta few minutes?"
"For a brainstorm?"
A quick nod. "Just, uh ... bring an umbrella. I think I'm gonna shed like crazy." A lazy grin.
And a giggle from him.
In the Captain's ready room.
"You seem tense ... Aud, if ... you don't mind me saying."
"Tense?" she whispered.
A quiet nod from Advance, who was leaning against his desk. Standing, arms down. Paws on the edge of his desktop. And she, the squirrel, on the couch, sitting daintily.
A swallow. And a shrug. "I, uh ... well, I'm nervous. Obviously." A pause. "We all are."
"I know," the desert mouse whispered, scanning her ... with such weight. Such care. "I ... I liked Captain Colt." A pause. "LIKE," Advance corrected. Referring to the Captain of Riparian. "Those otters were nice. Very hospitable. Very charming ... and ... I ... "
A weak nod.
" ... we got to talking. During our dinner. Remember. I ... he has two pups. And a mate." A whisker-droop.
"On the ship?" Audrey mouthed.
Advance said nothing, zoning out. Until blinking, swallowing, nodding. "On the ship," he mouthed back.
Audrey's eyes watered, and ... her eyes darted. "I ... space is no place for babies. Or families, or ... you know? It's ... dangerous, and ... "
" ... he fell in love with her on the journey out here. They mated, and they ... bred, and ... they actually did it on purpose. Got her pregnant. It's an ALL-otter ship, you know. It's more casual there. No tension between species. I suppose they had a lot of help and a lot of ... understanding, and ... "
" ... he shouldn't have done that. Now, look at ... what's ... what if ... "
"Even if he'd been careful," Advance said carefully, "accidents happen."
"Accidents." Audrey sounded pale. "That's such an ... awful word."
"Aud ... "
"It's ... it's ... "
"Aud ... "
She looked up, eyes full of water. Shimmering. And, when she blinked, the tears started.
"I know. I ... know," Advance said again.
Her lip quivered.
"I was talking to Welly earlier. About ... he wants us to vigorously brush our pelts. We've got a shedding problem."
"I know ... I know," she stammered. Her squirrel tail flickering anxiously. "I know, it's ... hairs all over all the seats. The computer consoles. I had fur in my food ... " A sniffle. "In my square corn," she said.
A little giggle from him.
Which made her smile, and ... lightly, and ...
"But I, uh, was talking to Welly, and he ... kept winking at me. And I guess he thought I knew." Pause. "That you'd already told me."
"He told you," Audrey whispered, swallowing, staring at the carpet.
"Well, when he realized I didn't know ... he kind of had to."
"I was gonna tell you." She looked up, eyes a bit red. "I was going to."
"I know," he whispered, weakly leaving the side of his desk. Padding to the couch. And he, feeling a bit dizzy, sank onto the cushions next to her.
"I was going to," she said, starting to cry. "I didn't mean ... this is all my fault ... "
"Honey ... " His own eyes watering now.
The squirrel's words coming in ragged, sobbing breaths. "I ... my claw must've ... I must've torn a little hole with my claw," she coughed, sniffling, "in ... in the condom. One of your condoms. I ... was putting it on you so fast. I was ... so eager, and I ripped a little hole with a claw, and I didn't know ... and the seed got ... it ... it got into me ... " She coughed again. "It's all my fault. I should've slowed down. I just wanted you so bad, and I ... didn't take my time, and ... my claw tore a whole in the ... "
"Aud, Aud ... Aud ... "
She shook, burying her muzzle into his chest. Her tail drooped. "Advance ... "
His eyes watered. "You're ... it's alright. It's ... you're gonna have a baby. Our baby. It's ... it's ... happy. That's happy. That's ... that's good."
She sniffled. "You're just saying that."
"Darling, I am NOT ... I would never JUST say something like that." He stroked at her. Own emotions boiling. Oh, he was a mouse, but ... a desert mouse. And ... " ... did we need this right now? No," he admitted. "But do I want it ... oh, yes," he breathed. "I don't believe in accidents. I know you don't, either."
A sniffle. "You think ... it was fate ... that God wanted me to get ... "
"I don't know," he admitted. "I just ... calm down," he pleaded weakly. "Please." Begging. "Please." A swallow. Blinking. Tears staining (quietly) his cheeks. He took several slow breaths.
She closed her aching eyes and nodded against his chest.
"Just breathe." He rubbed her back. Closed his own eyes. "Breathe ... "
She did. Slowly. Slowly ... saying, "We're so young ... "
"Better young than old, right?" was his light reply. "At least we'll have the energy and time to ... deal with it."
"I know ... I ... but ... I know," she said, stammering. Going quiet for a moment. Eyes opening weakly. "After all that fuss about ... making you wear those condoms." A pause. A blank blink. "And my own yiffyness ... " A sniff. "I ... we should've abstained from intercourse the whole time. I ... should've just pawed, down oral, I ... I ... it was the second day," she whispered, sniffling, "of my heat. Welly said that's when it was conceived. I ... all your condoms stayed on that day. I ... I must've accidentally poked a hole in one with my claw. When I was putting it on you." Voice level. But blank. "I ... I wanted you so bad. And I didn't ... watch what I was doing ... "
"Aud ... you don't know that. I mean ... no contraceptive is one hundred percent."
"We should've taken injections."
"Injections have side effects ... they're mostly meant for certain emergencies. To be used AFTER the act. When it's apparent ... that ... seed will take root. They're not meant for pumping into your blood every time you're gonna yiff ... Welly advised we use condoms. He said it was safer. And simpler. It's ... just ... don't second-guess it. Please ... "
A weak shrug. A sniffle. A nod. "I know ... "
"Aud ... "
"Mm?" The squirrel looked up.
"I love you." A pause. "I love you. You know that? And ... I know we're about to, potentially, get involved in a war with the humans. I know our future is ... I know it's not known to us. But ... just hope, okay?"
She met his eyes.
"I am very," he whispered, holding her paws in his, "happy ... to put a child in your belly. It's a gift. It's ... a miracle. It's life. And I know that, when you're holding that newborn in your arms, you're not gonna be scared. You're not gonna regret it. You're just not gonna wanna put him down."
A sniffle. "Him?"
"Or her." A small smile.
A weak smile. A breath. "I love you, too," she whispered, closing her eyes, and putting her arms around his neck. A sigh. She cleared her throat. "I'm sorry I'm a nut-case." A sniffle.
"Hey, it's okay," Advance whispered gently. "You're a squirrel. You're good at being a 'nut'-case ... "
A sniffle. "That was ... a lame joke," she giggled. "But ... thank you," she whispered. "I was so afraid you were gonna be mad." A sniffle.
"I'd have to be a hypocrite to be mad. I'd ... have to be insane," he whispered kindly. "Darling, I ... I'M the one that got you pregnant. I'm the one who ... yiffed you. It's MY seeds that were sown ... from MY body. I did it. I knocked you up," he exclaimed, wide-eyed. Eyes shining now. "You didn't impregnate yourself." A guilty, little shrug. A happy, little smile. "If it's anyone's fault, it's mine. I ... couldn't stay away from you," he whispered.
"Or out of me," she added cheekily.
"Or out of you," he agreed. "I think our bodies and hearts conspired to ... bring us together."
"I think so." A soft sigh through the nose.
"We'll just have to be more careful in the future ... but ... a baby? It ... is a gift of life. It's ... born of our love. And I will keep the two of you safe," he assured. "From wasps, from humans, from anything."
She breathed of him.
"It'll be okay. We'll make this work. And ... that's why we're mates. We're partners. A pair. A duo. We got into this together ... and we'll deal with this together. And I've no doubt we'll be happier and richer for it. Despite any strains, it's ... at the end of our lives, when we look back, and our baby's fully grown with babies of its own ... we'll feel a sense of pride. Of continuation. Of family ... and peace." A breath. "We'll have left our mark. Something to leave behind, and ... stories, poems, pictures? Creating art? The most beautiful, valuable thing any fur can create ... is a child, Aud. Another fur, another LIFE." The mouse breathed. And ... sighed. No, this wasn't planned. Yes, they were young, and, yes, were worried, were scared, and ...
... wishing it hadn't happened yet. Not yet.
But ...
... they were gonna have to deal with it.
This WAS spiritual. And it WAS ... requiring joy. Not sorrow.
She looked him in the eyes. And smiled. "Oh ... I'm ... " Her eyes watered. But, this time, out of relief. Out of joy. Out of ... " ... I'm ... sorry." A giggle, and she blinked, and sniffled.
"I love you," he assured, and hugged tight.
She hugged back. Tail perked. And she sniffled. "Are we gonna tell the crew?"
A smile. "Mm ... it might lighten their mood," Advance agreed.
And Audrey took a breath. Held it. Released. "Thank you," she said, "for lightening mine, and ... for wanting this. I just didn't wanna be a burden. Especially when we're so close to being at war ... "
"You're never a burden," he assured. "Never," he mouthed, and ... leaned in for the kiss. The obligatory, necessary kiss to close out the conversation.
And ... her nose flared with the scent of desert mouse. Part tree squirrel, part dessert mouse. Oh, what a baby they'd made! Still forming, still ... just a small, small gleam of the life it would become. And ... though it would feel pain and heartbreak, and though it would be born into strife ...
... it would be given life. And potential to feel all sorts of glorious things. To accomplish so much.
And as Solstice hurtled toward potential doom ... it was enough to keep the gloom out of the room.
It was enough to stave off despair.
It was hope.