FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

"They're hailing us," said Vesta, the lop-eared rabbit at the comm station, adjusting her earpiece. "Again. I haven't replied yet ... "

Peregrine just nodded and looked the other direction, toward his first officer.

"Can't ignore them." The red squirrel took a deep breath. Her mind was spinning, trying to formulate escape plans. And her big, bushy tail fluttered buoyantly. "They're faster than us. And better armed."

"Well, I'll be damned if I'm giving them our cargo," the multi-hued mouse replied. The brown and grey mix gave his pelt a vague cinnamon-sugar appearance. He sat up straighter in his captain's chair. The bridge of Reverie was nowhere near as big, bright, and streamlined as the bridge of, say, a starship like Arctic. It was a bit cramped in here. A bit hot, too. The environmental control system wasn't the most efficient, especially when the engines were being taxed. Which they currently were.

"Obviously. We'll just have to come up with a plan." She glanced at Jale, the security chief.

"Piece o' cake," the slightly dim wolverine insisted, raising a fist in righteous fury. "We've shaken worse than them!"

"Pep rally aside, do you have an actual plan?" the squirrel pressed, crossing her arms.

"Uh ... well." He glanced over at the engineering alcove. "Yo, Commer!" Knowing his friend would bale him out.

"Already workin' on it," the big, brown Kodiak bear said, cracking some bones as he stretched his head from side to side. "Oldest trick in the book."

"Gah! Do you have to do that?" Vesta pleaded. "Makes my back hurt just hearing it."

"T'wasn't my back. Just my neck." Commer chuckled. The rabbit was unusually uptight for her kind. But, then, all the rabbits he'd dealt with in the past had been 'tall ears,' not 'lops.' Maybe that made a difference?

"Oldest trick? And what would that be?" Peregrine asked, leaving his chair. He scurried to the back of the bridge, ropy tail whipping about. He crowded with Talkeetna and Jale around the computer monitors.

Commer had drawn up a diagram as way of explanation. "We let them start a firefight, see. Or, hell, start one ourselves. Doesn't matter. As long as we fake some damage. Vent drive plasma from the engines. They get closer to board us. Only, when they do, we fire them babies up. The heat from the engines will ignite the plasma b'hind us and send 'em tumblin' on a shockwave. They won't mess with us after that shit."

"Won't destroy them, will it?" the mouse asked, quietly.

The bear exchanged glances with the mouse. "Not 'less you wan' it to."

"I don't. I'm not a predator," he vowed. Then realizing who he was talking to, added, "No offense."

"Naw, I hear ya, Perry."

"And don't call me Perry." The mouse frowned, whiskers a-twitch. That was reserved for Petra. And Talkeetna on occasions.

"Yessir."

"He's just trying to get a reaction," Talkeetna said, putting a paw on Peregrine's arm and pushing him away. "I'll handle him."

"Ha, yeah. Ya couldn't, either," the bear mumbled, chuckling lewdly.

"Just implement the plan," Peregrine said, moving to the helm. It was currently unoccupied. The day-shift pilot was on the tail end of her 'heat leave,' barricaded in her quarters with one of the ship's cargo caretakers. Both were otters. I wonder if they even know we're about to be attacked by pirates? Or are they both too busy ...

"I'll take the helm," Talkeetna said.

... each other's brains out. "What?"

"You're relieved," the first officer said, having moved from the back to the front of the bridge.

"I thought you were helping Commer," the mouse said, not looking up. His blunt-clawed, padded paws nimbly traced over the controls, doing everything to keep ahead of their pursuers. But it was no use. They were gonna have to drop out of warp real soon.

"I was. Until I saw you trying to fly the ship."

"I'm a damn good pilot." I used to be, anyway. Being a captain was great and had its share of perks. But when you had a crew carrying out all necessary tasks, you got a bit out of touch. Practice makes perfect. I just need to get back into practice ...

"Yeah? And I'm better. Now, move," Talkeetna chittered.

"This is insubordination," the mouse complained. Nonetheless, he relented and handed the station over to his trusted second-in-command.

"You're such a troublemaker, Red," Commer said.

"Do not," she emphasized, "call me Red. What is it with you and nicknames?"

"They're signs o' healthy affection. You should be flattered."

"Sir," Vesta said, shaking her head in frustration, ears flopping about. "They're continuing to hail us. And they're about to overtake us. I think ... I mean, you should talk to them, sir."

"Calm down, Vesta. We're gonna be fine, okay?"

The lop-eared rabbit gave a weak nod, bobtail flickering ceaselessly. She just couldn't hide how rattled she was.

"Look at me," Peregrine said, as authoritative as a mouse could be.

The comm officer did so.

"We are going," he stressed, "to be fine."

She nodded, again. She trusted him. Even though she was Reverie's newest crew-fur. Maybe that's why she was so nervous all the time. She'll get used to it. Give her a few months, Peregrine thought.

"Answer the hail. Put 'em onscreen," the mouse said, sitting up straight in his chair. Ears swiveling to attention. Whiskers stiff and tail casting itself aside.

A lanky-looking ferret soon appeared on the main viewer. His fur was almost orange. Except beneath his chin, down his neck, and presumably all the way down to his vulnerable bits. There, it was eggshell white. From the furrows on his pelt, he had a few scars. Had been in more than a few fights. He blinked and laughed, looking Peregrine over. "A mouse?" He looked to his off-screen compatriots, and they laughed with him. "This is a joke, right?" the weasel demanded, looking back at Peregrine.

"If it is, I'm not laughing," he replied.

"You are trespassing in privately-owned space, mouse."

"This is the Uncharted Territories. No one owns anything here." There were independent planets and colonies, sure. But next to nothing in the ways of large governments or stable coalitions. Unless you counted the Syndicate.

"Obviously, that's untrue, because we own this system." The weasel spread his paws with false diplomacy. "However, since you were clearly ignorant to this reality, I am willing to show you mercy." He flashed his sharp teeth as he said this.

"Awfully well-spoken for a pirate," Talkeetna breathed.

"What was that, tree-hugger?" the weasel spat.

She looked over her shoulder at Peregrine, who nodded his permission for her to speak, before telling the weasel, "You'd think, if you valued your 'space' so much, you'd put up warning beacons to prevent accidental incursions."

"I'm afraid they stopped working just today," he said, shaking his head. "We were on our way to repair them when we discovered your vessel. And, unfortunately for you, are laws are absolute."

"Except when you're willing to show mercy, huh?" Talkeetna posed.

The weasel looked both ways and replied, barely concealing a chuckle, "I won't tell if you don't."

"What's the price, pirate," Peregrine demanded, not even bothering to make it a question.

"Pirate? No, no. No. That's such a common word. We prefer to consider ourselves as 'freelance raiders'."

"The price," the mouse squeaked, his agitation becoming clear. Over his shoulder, he could see Commer mouthing 'we have to leave warp or we're gonna fry the drive coils' ...

"Three-fourths of your cargo."

"How generous to leave us with a full fourth."

The weasel shrugged. "What can I say? I'm altruistic." His ship was also full from other pillages, and he could only handle so much.

Talkeetna scoffed.

"And if we don't comply?" Peregrine wondered, playing dumb.

"Well, it would be unfortunate, dear rodent, if you ended up as dispersed molecules in the vast interstellar void."

Vesta, sounding panicked, said, "They've activated a sup-space dampener! We can't get any messages out unless they allow it." No distress calls.

"You have one minute." The channel went dark, the view-screen now showing streaking stars.

"Let's not keep them waiting," Peregrine said, gripping the armrests of his chair. "Drop us to impulse. But, Jale, target their bow. Fire at them. Get them mad enough to fire back so they can think we're damaged." Enough to vent that drive plasma ...

The sound of the ship changed as the engine's output decreased.

From the tactical station, the wolverine powered up aft phase canons, tongue peeking out from the total head-rush he was getting. "Firing! Hah, direct hit. Fuckers."

"Language, please," Peregrine said, calmly.

"Sorry, cap'n," the mustelid replied, sheepishly. "Shall I fire again?"

"By all means." A pause. "You remembered to raise our shields, right?"

"Uh ... sure." A few hurried tap-taps at his backlit panels. "Yep! Firing again!" Another shot. Another direct hit. The wolverine cackled.

And this time, the pirate ship fired back. Hard.

The ship lurched, creaking and groaning. Sparks flying from the helm panel. Talkeetna squeaked and rolled out of her chair.

Peregrine's heart skipped a beat. The red squirrel meant more to him than anyone on the ship. If she ever got seriously hurt ...

... but she hopped up, brushing her uniform and pelt. "I'm fine." She saw the look in his eyes, though, and nodded, as if to say, 'I love you, too. In a purely platonic way, of course.'

"Incoming!" shouted Jale.

The next hit knocked out the lights. They strained, stopped. Then flickered back on.

"Alright, that's enough," Peregrine said. "Commer, vent the plasma. Fake our injuries. Jale, drop shields. Vesta, tell them we surrender."

There was a moment of silence before Talkeetna, back at helm, nodded and said, "They're buying it. They're coming closer."

"How much closer do they need to be?" Peregrine whispered, glancing to Commer.

"Close enough to feel 'em breathin' down our backs."

"And you don't think we're gonna get roughed up, ourselves, when the plasma ignites?"

"Part o' the game, idn't it?"

Peregrine tapped his ship-wide comm frequency, filling in the rest of the crew. "I assume you've all been monitoring what's been going on. We have an escape plan, but it's gonna be a bumpy getaway. The inertial dampeners will only protect us to a point. So, hold on."

"They're almost in range," Commer breathed. "Let me know when to power us back up."

"Talkeetna?" Peregrine said.

"We need to jump to impulse then warp as soon as possible. Bam, bam. No delay. If we go to impulse and there's a delay in getting away faster, we may get caught in our own explosion."

Peregrine felt sweat dripping off his whisker-tips. He reached up with a paw and rubbed at his forehead-fur. It was matted. Dammit. "Come on, come on ... why are they going so slow?"

"Maybe they suspect," Vesta said, voice quivering.

Commer shook his head. "Naw, I did too good a job fakin' it ... they're almost there. Almost." He almost bellowed as he announced, "They're in the plasma stream!"

"Power us up!" the mouse squeaked.

"Core online," said Commer.

"Impulse power. Initiating warp speed protocols." Talkeetna's brick-red paws flew, almost blurring. "Engaging!"

The good freighter shook and rattled at the metallic seams, the plasma trail behind it activated by the heat of its engines, exploding in a brief, bright flash, sending the pirate ship tumbling nose over tail in the opposite direction as Reverie finally, mercifully, reached full impulse and then streaked into warp.

"We did it! Ha, we shittin' escaped. Those fucker bastards." Jale, again.

Vesta blinked in confusion, looking to Talkeetna for clarification.

The squirrel shook her head as if to say 'don't bother.'

Commer laughed uproariously.

"We showed 'em, didn't we, cap'n?" the wolverine declared, for all the bridge to hear. Prey outnumbered predators on Reverie, but of the predators onboard, Jale was definitely the most 'predatory.' The sharp-clawed beast had a certain bloodlust in him.

"We sure did," Peregrine said, allowing himself his own smile. His heartbeat began to return to normal. He was one of those odd rodents that got a certain rush from the 'fight or flight' response. "Talkeetna, check with the rest of the ship. For injuries, damage."

"Aye." The red squirrel hopped up, bushy tail bouncing beautifully, and scampered to the lift.

To the rest of the bridge staff, the mouse added, "We'll have to remember to take an entirely different route when we come this way again. I doubt they'll forget about this."

"Yeah, screw 'em," Jale continued, feeling his oats. Becoming a bit incoherent because of it. "They're just pirates. We owned their furry asses. Professional tail owners! Who's more professional than us?"

"More professional than us," Peregrine echoed. I hope that was a rhetorical question ...

Aria, with a neutral expression, stared at the main viewer. She left her comfortable chair and padded up behind the helm, hips swaying side to side as she did, bobtail raised. Ears standing to attention. Since receiving her own command, she'd relaxed a bit. Become more serene. Being in love helped, too. But the past few days, she'd started feeling as she used to. The same things she'd felt while growing up with the constant Arctic fox threat. And then during the more recent wasp war. Steely and serious. "Do they know we're trailing them?" she finally asked.

"If they are, they aren't letting us know," said Kaplan, from the comm station. The youngest member of the crew, in his late-teens, tried again but shook his white-furred head. "No responses to our hails."

"Just like the others," a rabbit at the science station said, quietly.

"They could be conscious," Elim said, "and just not sure how to respond. Or not be in the right mind to."

"This is the fifth 'zombie ship' in the last two weeks. I get the feeling this isn't a coincidence." Aria sighed and returned to her cushioned chair. "Helm, match course and speed. Elim, ready forward phase canons. Let's knock them out of warp." She tapped at the panel on her arm-rest. "Shuttle-bay."

"Aye, captain?"

"Prepare a pod for launch. We'll need to extract a crew of five. Away team is to consist of a pilot, three security officers, and a medic."

"Understood. Shuttle-bay out."

The former constable squinted at the main viewer, slender ears twiddling slightly. She was glad for the efficiency of her crew. They were so professional. Ready for anything. And so was she. She wasn't the type to get easily flummoxed. Not in battle. Not in the bedroom. Not anywhere, really. But this new situation had her searching for answers ...

Sickbay, half an hour later.

Aria entered, Elim at her side. "Status, Sani?"

The doctor smoothed at her uniform, taking a short breath. "Five victims. Much the same as the others." Victims. As in 'someone did this to them.' It was no accident. "Two are comatose. Yet, at the same time, their minds are incredibly active. I can only guess they are ... living some kind of dreamscape. Or nightmare. From which they are unable to wake from."

Aria looked pained. "Can we do nothing to free them?"

"I've tried injections of several different compounds. I could go riskier routes, but ... without their permission, or their families' permissions, I would be violating their medical rights. I could even end up killing them."

"It could be that they desire death," Elim said darkly.

"We don't know that," Sani defended. As a doctor, death was the enemy. She'd do anything in her power to delay it. "Patients have rights, even if they aren't able to exercise them."

"What about the other three?" Aria continued.

The doctor sighed, nose twitching. "Two have been mind-wiped. One remembers next to nothing. Not his name, what species he is ... knows how to walk, talk. He is, in essence, a child in a thirty year-old body. He will have to be completely reeducated. But even then, no amount of education can replace real-life experiences ... " Making mistakes. Learning from them. Pain. Pleasure. Love and sex. "The second is better off. He just doesn't know how he got on the zombie ship. The last thing he recalls is a rendezvous and elicit love affair with another male of his kind."

Elim raised a snowy brow.

"He insists, however, this cannot have happened, as he only enjoys the company of females. Yet he confesses the memory is quite vivid. And extremely pleasurable. He is quite embarrassed and confused. He also has a panic attack every time he sees something pink."

"And the fifth victim?"

"A male rat."

"I sense a hesitation ... "

"He is, by all definitions, insane. Thinks he is a female owl. Keeps ranting about his eggs. Tried to fly a few times and fell flat on his face. Saw his reflection and started screaming. We restrained him, questioned him further, but he doesn't seem to hear anything we say. It's like we are speaking a foreign language."

"Perhaps he's one of those rare furs who hasn't had a translator chip embedded in their ear?" Elim suggested.

"No, it's there. And fully functional."

"What do neural scans show?"

"No evidence of physical trauma. No chemical or drug use."

Aria exchanged a look with Elim.

"This is clearly the result of telepathic tampering. And bats are the only known species who are telepathic," the doctor reasoned. Aside from the wasps, but their telepathy was communal, not individualistic. "Perhaps these poor furs can be helped, but not with any traditional medicine. Only those that did the damage can undo it fully."

"Let us not forget that, without the bats, we would be under wasp dominion right now," Aria said, feeling a need to be fair. She remembered capturing Barrow during her stint on Orbital 9, back at the snow rabbit Home-world. And how that had led, with Adelaide's assist, to conscripting the displaced rogue bats, rooted from their roost near the Arctic fox's planet, into using their telepathic powers for the war effort. Can we really persecute an entire species because of the actions of a few? "This is not the fault of bats. It is the fault of the Syndicate." A sigh as she said, "They simply happen to be made up of bats."

The doctor, a little less understanding than the captain, said, "Well, they must be stopped. By whatever means necessary." She lowered her voice. "Can you imagine what they might do to us? Our species? They could remove our emotional restraints entirely. We would become like feral beasts, violent, crazed. Unable to control our desire to mate."

Had the mood not been so serious, Elim would've made a joke there. But he refrained.

"We would become as in the ancient times, before the ice and snow forged us into more logical beings."

Aria shuddered at the thought. "Is there anything you can concoct to resist the effects of telepathy? I know some furs can develop a sort of 'mental block'."

"That requires intense mental training. Takes years. And a strong enough telepath could probably break through it given enough time, themselves. It is not the best option."

"Any option would suffice at this point in time," Aria said.

Sani nodded. "I'll try to develop something. It might be possible to inject the bats with a neuro-inhibitor. Alter their chemistry. In essence, make our defense the taking away of their offense. However, I have no idea how we would administer it ... "

"Would neuro-inhibitors be permanent? Would they cause brain damage?"

A hesitation. "Most likely."

"So, we would be doing to them what they are doing to our patients here. We would be no better than them." Sani, for all her skills, could never keep her stances straight. One moment, she wanted to protect her patients no matter the cost. The next, she was willing to ponder genocide. "There has to be a shade of grey we haven't tried on yet."

"I cannot think of any easy solutions, Captain."

"Then keep thinking. That's an order."

The doctor bowed her head. "Perhaps if we stay out of the UT, they will leave us alone."

"And if we stay out of the UT, it will remain in anarchy and when the wasps return for revenge someday, as they assuredly will, we will have no buffer and no warning. Furthermore, the bats will have won the intimidation battle and won't be afraid to make their own advances into our territory if it suits them."

"Yes, Captain."

"We're setting course for the nearest colony. We'll leave the victims at a medical facility. We have no room for them here."

"Of course."

With that, Aria turned and left, Elim following. When they were in the corridor, he told her, "Sani seemed quite annoyed." Snow rabbit emotions were sometimes hard to read. But once you were attuned to them, or if you were, in fact, a snow rabbit yourself, they became much easier to spot.

"When isn't she?" They approached a lift. The doors swished open, and they entered. "Bridge," Aria said, and it began whisking them to their destination.

"I find it hard to believe these ships could accidentally enter our space like this," Elim said. He'd been at Aria's side for quite a while, now. First as her deputy back on the station. Now as her chief tactical officer on Arctic. And, although Aria was mated to a mouse, Ross, Elim would occasionally join them as a third partner. He was that close to her. His affection was real. And he saw the look in her ice-blue eyes. She was stressed. "Do you need a rest? I can take over on the bridge ... "

"No, Elim." She brushed her fingers against him, affectionately. "Thank you." She took a deep breath. "I simply wish the bulk of the fleet hadn't been decimated in the war. That the High Command had reinforcements to send us."

"I'm sure we will receive backup eventually. The shipyards are working around the clock." Arctic's chief engineer, Oliver, was a former ship-builder himself, and had many contacts in that area.

"I hope so." They needed it. For themselves, the border. Redwing. "We are on the frontier. I don't think they fully appreciate that back home." A pause. "But I don't think I fully appreciated what it was like, either, until we came out here, so how can I blame them?"

"Have you spoken to Fleet Admiral Flint?"

"It wouldn't get me anywhere. He answers to the Council. And, as I said, the High Command's resources are spread fairly thin. We have to concentrate on rebuilding the interior. We have to safeguard against future assaults on our sovereignty."

"The rogue bats could be such an assault."

"Perhaps. But I was there when we used the rogues to fight the wasps. They were on our side. As I told Sani, not all bats are part of the Syndicate. It's just ... " Aria closed her eyes. " ... I'm used to knowing the face of my enemy. And, now, I no longer do. How can I keep the peace if everyone is a threat?" The Syndicate bats themselves, and anyone they'd turned into sleeper agents on their behalf. Tilting her head, she looked at Elim. "In response to your suspicion, I agree, and highly suspect the Syndicate captured the vessels, had their 'fun' with the crews, and sent them our way as a warning: If you mess with us, this could be you." Aria clenched her pristine, snowy jaw.

"I don't need to be a telepath to know what you're thinking," the male snow rabbit said, admiring her beautiful profile.

"You'd be correct." Aria narrowed her eyes. The lift stopped at the bridge, and she stepped out, whispering, "I do not respond kindly to threats."

"They stood us up!" The mouse slammed his paw against a bulkhead. Then winced, bending over with pain. "Fuck!" He sucked on his throbbing, cinnamon-furred fingers, squeaking in frustration. His tail flailed.

"Calm down," Talkeetna urged calmly. She began to frown. "You're gonna hurt yourself."

"Too late."

"Let me see ... " The red squirrel, coming up next to him, inspected his paw. Bending the fingers one by one. "Does any of this hurt?"

"Yes!"

"Then nothing's broken." She released the paw.

"How do you reckon that?" He blinked, confusedly.

"Have you ever broken a bone before?" She had. "You'd be beside yourself from the pain. You're just mad, is all. You'll be fine. Just don't take out your anger on Reverie."

He sighed, dishy ears slightly red from the outburst. "There is nothing that upsets me more than getting stood up by a buyer. We fought through fucking pirates to make this drop off. We could've died!"

"It's not the first time, and it won't be the last. We don't know why they're not here." They'd arrived at the trade depot an hour ago. It was on the edge of an asteroid field. Close enough to use its unusual sensor-deflecting minerals for protection from snoops. "Hell, for all we know, pirates hassled them, too. And maybe they weren't lucky enough to escape. Wouldn't you feel pretty bad if that was the case?"

"Yeah," the mouse mumbled, guiltily. "I would." He shook his head. "Stop being reasonable ... "

Talkeetna gave him a bucktoothed smile.

Shaking his still-throbbing paw, the mouse padded to the biggest window in his quarters. He had no ready room. Whenever he wanted to talk with Talkeetna privately, which was often, this is where they met. His quarters were a bit bigger than everyone else's. And he had two windows instead of one. Perks and treats!

"Stargazing?" she asked. "Looking for something in particular?"

He nodded, slowly. "Just trying to find the star in the Redwing system." His whiskers twitched. "Can't see it." The hubs and juts of the trade depot were getting in the way. Not to mention the larger asteroids in the near distance.

"Probably can from the other side of the ship."

"Maybe."

"We can find someone else to take it," she insisted, of the abandoned cargo. Textiles. Fine and fancy silks, cottons, and other fabrics from exotic worlds. Two large containers. "I'll look through our database of past contacts and cross-reference with who else is at the depot. They may drive a hard bargain. May have to offer a discount, but I'll take care of it. I promise. It's done," she insisted. "So, don't worry."

"Thank you, Talkeetna." A sigh, rolling his shoulders tensely. "I don't know what I'd do without you ... "

She hugged him from behind for a second. And then let go.

"It's just so aggravating ... "

"I know." She came up beside him, now. He was still looking for that star, even though it clearly wasn't there. "How are you holding up without her?" the squirrel asked, of the mouse's mate. Petra. First officer on Redwing Station. That rat had, for a few weeks over a year ago, been a Reverie crew-fur. That was how she and Peregrine had met and fallen in love. She'd left to protect him. Only to end up back in his life again, as if by fate.

The mouse closed his eyes to hide his emotion. "I'm fine."

"Liar." The squirrel put her brown-red paws on his arms, facing him, touching her nose to his. "I know you too well."

"I'm not codependent or anything. I never have been ... "

"No, you're just a horny squeaker," Talkeetna razzed.

A weak smile. "I'm passionate," he corrected, before confessing, "I'm not used to going so long without any-fur in my bed. I'm starting to get really lonely when I'm not on duty. Starting to have dreams about her ... "

"Erotic dreams?"

"Some of them. Sometimes, they're scary ... " Dreams of losing her. Dreams of bats swooping in and taking her while he watched.

"I miss Herkimer, too," she said, of her own mate. "Some nights, I even ... " She would never admit this to anyone else on the ship. Only to him. " ... I cried the other night. Cause I wanted him so bad. And then, stupidly, I started thinking how he'd react if something happened to me out here. He'd cave in on himself, probably. I just ... " She began choking up. "I'm glad he doesn't know what our missions are like." The grey-furred mouse was so kind and sweet, so sincere. Soft and gentle. He was everything that life in the UT wasn't. It was so refreshing. When she was with him and when they made love, she felt like they went into another world together. Blissful and safe. "The heart wants what it wants."

Peregrine looked into the squirrel's eyes. He hugged her, tightly. "This is our last stop." Assuming they could get the cargo mix-up worked out. "We'll head back to Redwing, soon. Be there for several days, at least, before the next trip."

"You need to invest in a holo-suite," she told him, trying to lighten the mood. She didn't want this to get too maudlin. She squeezed him back before pulling out of the hug.

"Yeah, I wish." Even if he could afford it, the ship's infrastructure would never support it. "That would be awesome." In the absence of that, however, pics and vids in the computer would have to do. And 'toys.' He turned back to the window, looking out of it. "This place is a hodgepodge, isn't it?"

"Always one of our more interesting stops," Talkeetna said.

"I think I'll remain on the ship." He used to be an open-breeder. He didn't want to tempt himself.

"Perry," she scolded, gently. "You don't have to do that. I can go with you. Be your wing-fur. They'll think we're a couple and leave us alone."

He looked to her, giving a bucktoothed smile. "What do they have in the ways of non-sexual entertainment over there?"

"We'll eat, get a drink or something. Catch a music act." Places like this always had a multitude of restaurants and bars. And low-end theaters. You got a seedier sort than not.

"Alright, then ... I am getting a bit cooped up," he admitted, ropy tail beginning to waver. He stretched and twisted around, then chittered and swiped at his whiskers once or twice. He may have been an atypical mouse, but he still had that inherent cuteness. It was adorable.

Talkeetna giggled. "Good."

"In the meantime, take care of the cargo imbalance. We really need the space." They were scheduled to load up full tomorrow, with supplies for Redwing. As well as new trade options. If they couldn't sell it, they'd have to jettison it at a complete loss.

"Within the hour," she promised.

"As for who gets leave, we'll rotate. Draw up a schedule. Half the crew on Reverie, half on the depot. Four, five hour stints. Whatever you think is fair."

"Anything else?"

"Yeah, uh ... tell Yates to come to my quarters. With a medkit. A bruise isn't a break, but it still hurts."

"Now that you and Reverie are finished fighting, are you going to have make-up sex?" Talkeetna asked, not waiting around for an answer. She left the captain's quarters, suppressing further giggles.

Peregrine shook his head. Then looked up. And around. "Don't listen to her, girl," he told his ship. "She's just jealous."

It was later in the evening on Arctic, and Aria shed her uniform with a sigh. The burden of duty had been rather heavy, today. She was relieved to be back in her quarters. Their quarters.

Ross, always emotionally sensitive, seemed to guess that. The human-turned-mouse did his best to soothe her. "Want to talk about it?" No response. "Aria?"

"No," she said, having been lost in thought. "I do not wish to scare you." She rubbed at her neck. "Suffice it to say, we are having our borders indirectly violated by the Syndicate. They seem to resent our attempt to gain a foothold in the UT." Via Redwing Station, of course. "This in addition to the increased trade and traffic along the border. It's good for the border colonies. They love it. But not all the freighters have registered with the High Command for a trade license, and we are having to police them. Send most through. Turn some back. It is rather tedious. Especially when, as a security officer, I am attuned to a very real, burgeoning threat."

"Oh. Well, I do understand if you don't want to talk about it," Ross said, teasingly. At least I'm not the only one that rambles ...

"I am sorry."

"Don't be. I just wish I could help ... "

"You help by being my mate. I find such strength in your love." Down to her panties and a bra, she turned around. "How was your day?"

"Mess hall was the same level of busy as usual. I get self-conscious when crew-furs choose to get food from the processors rather than eat the stuff I cook, but ... I'm, uh, trying out some new recipes. I'm getting better." He obviously hadn't been to the Academy. And, in accompanying his mate when she'd received this promotion, had needed something to do. So, he was in charge of the mess hall.

"I think your meals are delicious." She advanced toward him, her soft-furred arms loosely around his neck. "But I had to eat in my ready room, today. I'm sorry."

"Stop apologizing." He began nibbling on her neck with his buckteeth. "I think you're more delicious than anything I could come up with ... "

"Indeed? Also, you have too many clothes on, Ross," she whispered into one of his big, dishy ears.

"I was beginning to think the same thing," the mouse squeaked breathlessly, unbuttoning his uniform-shirt. Undoing his belt, letting his pants begin to sag. "Wanna take a shower? Hot and steamy?"

"We haven't eaten supper yet, and you already want dessert?" she replied, paws spreading on his now-bare chest, his fur short and soft. A grey-blue hue that was so hard to place. "Won't that spoil your appetite?"

His lips hovered against hers, and he breathed, before kissing her deeply, "There's only one way to find out ... "

"So, we just gotta schmooze, ya hear? Nothin' we ain't done b'fore," Commer insisted, squinting as they entered the bar. The lights were dimmed. In some sections, they were completely off. Looked like there was the main room and at least five sub-rooms. There were strobes on what looked to be a dance floor. Pulsating, pounding music loudly played from overhead. Basically, it was one big distraction. Which is generally what freighter-based furs were looking for after long, trying missions.

"Huh? Schmoze?" Jale asked, sniffing the air. "Where?"

"It's not a proper noun. It's an action." Those were verbs, right? "Means to hobnob."

The wolverine ribbed the bear in the side. "I'd like my knob hobbed, if y'know what I mean!"

Commer only smiled and said, "Just don't get yourself in trouble like the last time. Else the cap'n will be in a piss-poor mood an' Red will read us the riot act." The bear made sure Peregrine and Talkeetna were headed the opposite way before choosing a place for him and Jale to haunt. Don't wanna end up in the same establishment. We're gonna get up to stuff they're not gonna wanna know about. If all goes well, anyway ...

"Wrath o' Red. Ugh." Jale's short, rounded ears flattened against his head. He'd been on the end of that a few times. She was scary-ass for a squirrel when she wanted to be. All that chittering. "Okay, yeah, no probs." He bobbed on his bare, dark brown foot-paws. "We'll just find some willin' recippents for our 'services.' Heh, heh ... "

"It's 'recipients'," the bigger predator corrected.

"That's what I said!" the wolverine defended. "Think I'm dumb or somethin'?"

"Really want me to answer that, pal?"

"You shut up!" the stocky wolverine growled, giving him a shove. It hardly moved the larger fur.

The bear put a big paw on his friend's shoulder. "Just watch yourself, Jale. Place like this, never know who's been 'tapped' by the Syndicate. If you see a bat, leave. Immediately." Maybe that wasn't fair, to accuse all bats of being part of a shadowy, mob-like organization. But, hey, life wasn't fair. "Ya got it?"

"Bats equals no tap," the wolverine repeated. "Yup."

The bear snorted. But this was a serious matter. If the Syndicate discovered that Reverie not only knew the location of Petra, who'd escaped from their inner clutches, but that they were affiliated with Redwing and, by extension, the High Command? Well, that would cause a whole chain reaction of trouble.

"Though I'm sure you'll end up tappin' somethin' or 'nother b'fore we leave. Y'always do." The wolverine frowned. "Y'always been more popular than me."

"It's not a contest. Besides, what've you got to be jealous about? I know you got a regular partner on the ship ... " As did he. But he wasn't the one having a pity party right now.

"Since when?" the wolverine demanded, suspiciously.

"Since she told me ... "

Jale squinted, tilting his head.

" ... when we were in bed together," the bear finished, eyes darting as he cleared his throat.

"Ass head!" The shorter, thicker-furred predator shoved the cider-colored bear, who, again, hardly moved. "I can't bitchin' believe you!"

"Oh, get off it, Jale." The bear swatted at him with annoyance. "You know you're only here to get in some random fur's pants. You're not monogamous, an' neither am I."

"Course I ain't sick."

"Monogamous isn't a disease, dunderhead. It means you take a mate."

"Oh ... "

"Point is, you've no room to cast stones."

"I'm not castin' no nothin'. You're changin' the subject. We're bros! You can't ... you just can't ... " He growled, possessively. "She's my territory! I've marked her."

"She's the one that came to me," Commer replied, nonchalantly. "Besides, I didn't know she was gettin' with you 'til after we done the deed."

"You better swear by that," Jale told him.

The bear held up a paw. "Honest. On my Aunt Pawnee's beehive."

"Your aunt never had no beehive."

"Us bears like honey. Didn't you know?"

"I mean it! You stay away!" the wolverine was angry, the jealousy in his voice abundantly clear.

Commer raised a brow in surprise. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were getting' quite attached to our mutual friend. You fallin' in love, Jale?"

Flustered, the wolverine just huffed. "No!" He glanced down, awkwardly. "Be quiet ... she's just my pet, is all."

"Never understood the master/pet dynamic."

"I didn't ask ya to," Jale said, embarrassedly.

"Long as you're bein' real with yourself, I guess." Commer changed the subject before Jale could argue this further. "Look, we been dawdlin' in the entrance long enough. I'm gonna go in enjoy myself."

"Me, too," the wolverine insisted.

"Stay smooth, pal."

"When am I not?" the wolverine challenged.

The bear just rolled his eyes and ambled into the dark, scent-filled back room.

"This seat taken?"

The red panda didn't look up. She had a glass in one paw, containing a swirling, multi-colored liquid, and a computer pad on the tabletop in front of her. She tapped at it. "Who's asking?"

"An admirer."

"I've had plenty of would-be 'admirers,' tonight. I'm afraid you're gonna have to do better than that."

"Would it help if I put on the ritz? And say how ya got such pretty eyes."

She smiled, lightly. "One of less-racy comments I've received thus far." The smile became even wider as she said, "You haven't even seen my eyes ... " Finally, she looked up, blinking. A bear! She hadn't expected that. Though now that she sniffed at him, the scent was very ... well, bearish. Strong and sensible.

"I see them, now," Commer breathed, lowly. "An' they're beautiful. Like starry orbs."

"Flatterer."

"Just tellin' the truth." He stretched and growled, lightly. "Mm-h. So, mind if I join ya?"

"Um, no ... go ahead." The female cleared her throat, gesturing at the other side of the booth.

Commer sat down, putting his elbows on the tabletop. "And what would the racier ones be?"

"The comments? Oh, things like ... are your tits pink or black? And then them trying to guess the color. Stuff like that."

"I don't need to guess."

"Oh?"

He just grinned.

She gave him a slightly-flustered look-over. "You're a muscular fellow. I guess bears are big all over, aren't they?" Even places she couldn't currently see. "You're certainly confident ... "

"Go big or go home. That's my personal motto."

"Is it, now?" She sipped at her drink.

"Yup." He eyed the beverage. "What are ya havin' ... "

"Samarian sunset. When it's still, it's clear, but even the slightest motion makes the various alcohols turn different colors."

"Sounds fancy."

"I bet you're a plain ol' 'beer' bear, yourself, huh?"

"I'm laid back. Life's better that way."

She giggled and took a swig of 'sunset.'

"Want another?" Commer wondered, seeing a waiter approaching.

"Sure. Put it on my tab." He was handsome enough. Not a stunner, but so what? He was genial. Wasn't pressuring her. She scooted her computer pad aside. "And get something for yourself."

Raising his paw to stop the waiter, he looked her over, rumbling from the throat. "Don't mind if I do ... "

It was forty-five minutes later. Or was it an hour? Longer? Time didn't seem to matter. The bear, halfway between tipsy and drunk, was now on the same side of the booth as the red panda. They were kissing, making out. Pretty heavily. Enough to be panting between lip-locks. Muzzles pressing and nuzzling. Whiskers and cheek-fur wet with each other's saliva. Loud smacks. Hungry huffs and whimper-whines from him and her, respectively.

He stopped, chest heaving. How many beers had he had? "Gah, I wanna fuck ya, now. Yer so pretty. Bet ya feel like heaven ... "

She loved how he spoke to her, and smiled, head swimming, whispering against his cheek, "You're, uh ... clean, right?"

"As a whistle," he whispered back. "Ask our ship's medic if ya don't believe me." He'd passed his last monthly physical with no problems. He lowered a paw to her hip. "What 'bout you?"

"I'm good. An' you oblious ... obviously," she slurred, "can't get me pregnant, so ... look, let's do it ... "

"Do what," he murred, teasingly.

"Screw, silly," she drawled, obviously tipsy.

"Screwin' is awful fun," he agreed, licking her fur. Lapping all over.

"Ah." She sighed as his tongue went all over her face and neck. "Do it ... do me," she pleaded. "Here, in the booth." They were in the back room, right? The crowd had filtered out a bit, and they were all the way in the corner. They could get away with it. Besides, she had no hotel room. She'd have to take him back to her ship, or he'd have to take her back to his, and that always meant bumping into fellow crew-furs and having them know what and who you did and then having to answer questions the next day. And that could be awkward.

"Red pandy wants some fun, huh?" he cooed, dominantly. If Commer was thrown off by her suggestion of semi-public sex, he didn't show it. He was undoubtedly the biggest, strongest fur in this place. The only way they were getting his body off hers was if they stunned him with a phase pistol.

"Pandy ... w-wants, yes." She cleared her throat. Though it was somewhat hard to tell, her dark eyes appeared to be fully dilated. "Pandy wants."

"Wants some bear cock?" he continued. "Can't even wait 'til we're someplace private. She wants it so bad ... "

"Y-yes ... " She practically moaned it.

In the other rooms, dance lights flashed. Strobes. And the rhythm of the beats. The bear looked around. The booths on either side of them were empty. A few other couples were back here, though. Some of them also making out. A few drinking and watching. The waiters and waitresses who did pass through seemed to be 'looking the other way.'

He began pulling his pants and underwear down, leaning his big, warm body into her petite figure. Paws pulling, grabbing. Her fur was so boldly-colored and patterned. Orange, black, red, white. And so soft. "You smell so good," he told her, caressing her as she slid her own pants down. Her panties, too. Around her ankles. Then dropping to the floor beneath the booth. They bumped and fumbled, him still in his uniform-shirt. Her, too. He wished he could take hers off. Get under that bra, too, and ...

One of her legs came up and jutted out o'er the table. The other remaining on the seat. She was flexible. The booth wasn't exactly roomy for someone his size, let alone for the both of them together, but they finally got their bodies perfectly positioned, and he began grinding, cider-brown fur meshing with her bold, patterned pelt, and he was ... yes, yes, right there! There! Spreading her petals, burying in her flower.

"Ah-h." She grabbed his shoulders. "Slow, slow ... let me ... " Let me get used to it, she thought, unable to finish the sentence. He wasn't necessarily longer than other males she'd bred with. But definitely thicker.

"Gah damn," he groaned, happily. Pushing in slow. Nice and slow. Inch by inch. Her walls absolutely snugged his shaft. His cock was leaking spurts of pre, the glans tingling with every little movement he made. Oh, she felt good with a capital G.

"More." She panted, loins burning with desire. No part of her slick walls had gone untouched. She felt so full. She reached down to rub her clitoris. "Don't stop unless they come and pry you off me." As much of an air as she was putting on, she had no desire to get caught. The red panda was normally more modest than this. The risk factor was turning her on plenty.

"Yes, ma'am ... "

"And keep quiet."

"That'll be a chore with how amazin' ya feel." Red pandas had a reputation for sultriness, and thus far, it was well deserved.

"You don't feel too bad, either," she whined, huskily. Her eyes rolled back. He was picking up his pace. Each firm hump, each deep, needy thrust, he rumbled, and she felt the vibrations. "Oh, that's nice ... keep ... like that ... "

"How can I keep quiet if you're not keepin' the same?" he panted, hotly, lapping at her lips.

She pressed into a hurried, sloppy kiss. Then moaned as he gave a hard, hurried hump. "Mm-f!"

Commer growled loudly from the throat.

The bear got pretty 'grunt an' growly' during sex. That was according to Yates. She was a opossum, Reverie's only doctor. Only, not really. She was only trained to be a medic. But you took what you could get on an independent freighter. The job was dangerous, and you tended not to get high-percentile applicants. Her quarters were on one side of his. Jale's were on the other ...

"Sometimes, you even roar," she'd told him the other day, arms crossed. Standing in the open threshold to his cramped quarters. She was always complaining about something or another. Almost like she was afraid to be happy. Her ghostly-patterned fur, long snout, and other scraggly features only seemed to confirm this.

"Only means I'm doin' somethin' right." He paused, scratching an itch on his side. Then tilted his head. "Or maybe it's my partner who's doin' it right to me?"

The possum sighed. "Which partner would that be?" It was a small crew. Between fifteen and twenty at any given time.

"Well, if you must know, there was a faulty EPS conduit behind the wall o' my bed. Kept makin' this awful click sound in the middle of the night. Was keepin' me up. And a bear needs his sleep." He was grinning, now. With sharp teeth. "So, I had to have my engineering deputy stay over an' fix it."

"Sesqui? And I bet she ended up fixing you, too, hmm?"

"She's a very skilled engineer," Commer replied, slyly, of the chipmunk. Sesqui was his most regular partner on Reverie. They were good friends and had an easy rapport together. And she gave the most awesome blowjobs.

"She's also a foot shorter than you. You have this 'thing' for petite, submissive females. Makes you feel all big and dominant. King of the forest."

"Haven't stepped foot in a forest in years. An' my roar is worse than my bite." It wasn't exactly a denial. The opossum was more right than not about his sexual preferences. He preferred submissive partners. Which is probably why, months ago, a bisexual experimentation with Jale had completely fizzled. He didn't regret trying. Jale wouldn't acknowledge it had happened, though. "Where do you get off psycho-analyzin' me, anyway? You're a body-doc, not a mind-doc."

"I'm still a scientist," the marsupial defended, a bit shrilly. "A practiced observer."

"Ah. Well, hey," he said, spreading his large paws, "if loud noises bother ya, play dead 'til they're over. Problem solved."

"Ha, ha ... very original," she deadpanned, naked pink curl-tail giving a single whip.

"How does that play dead thing work, anyway? You can slow your internal functions on a whim?" he pressed, trying to push her buttons. She was too rigid. Someone needed to relax her.

"We don't like to talk about it," she replied, evasively.

"As ya wish. You know what I think?" he growled, purposefully. "I think my noises turn ya on."

"What? You ... " A sigh. "You don't know what you're talking about," she scoffed, swallowing. Backing away and bumping into a bulkhead. She looked over her shoulder. When did I leave the doorway? When did I fully enter his quarters? I never heard the door shut.

He stood before her, sniffing the air. She was aroused. He chuckled, flicking one of her whiskers with a claw. "So, I'm ignorant, am I? Then mayhaps you'll have to educate me ... "

An hour later, clumsily pulling a sheet over her heaving, fur-matted breasts, the sweaty, fur-matted marsupial muttered, "I ... I still think you're too noisy ... "

"Hah." Commer flopped down beside her, his still-sensitive dick, half-erect, dripping with a mix of his semen and her juices. His movements made the whole bed lurch and shake. And creak on its springs. Reverie's crew quarters weren't equipped with the fanciest furniture. "You're no mime, yourself, Yatesy."

Her cheeks burned beneath her soft fur. "I'm sorry ... "

"Naw, it's hot." He groaned as he stretched his limbs. "I don't like my partners all quiet. Makes me think they're not enjoyin' it." He rolled fully onto his side, a big paw removing the sheet from her naked body. "Hey. Don't go hidin' yourself like that. I wanna see."

"I'm not that pretty ... "

"Nonsense," he murred, touching her breasts. Kneading them. Then tossing the sheet behind him. It billowed to the floor. She couldn't hide herself now even if she wanted to. "Heh. Never been with anyone with a pouch on their belly ... " He reached down and rubbed it with his paw, starting to wriggle a finger inside.

She tensed, though, and used both of her paws to remove his single one. Pushing it away. "I, uh ... I get self-conscious when furs point that out."

"Why?" he blinked. "It's part o' you. Think it's cute."

"I'm just a opossum. We're scraggly scavengers." And the pouch was a constant reminder of her childlessness. More than that, though, it was a reminder that even if she wanted children, which ... okay, maybe she actually didn't. But even if she did, it didn't matter, cause she didn't have a genetically compatible mate. Or any mate at all.

"You're plenty fine. Inside an' out. You just don't strike me as bein' too comfortable with 'open-breeding'." He rubbed a large paw against a breast again, drawing an involuntary churr from her. "Unfortunately, ya chose to serve aboard a freighter, and this isn't exactly where furs come to settle. Or practice monogamy." You joined a freighter to travel, have little adventures. Including random hook-ups at space sports. And also cause you had few options besides. It wasn't a bad life. But it wasn't always ideal if your idea or happiness was safety, success, and romance.

"The captain and Talkeetna have mates."

"Yeah, but they're long-distance. And that didn't happen overnight. And," he added, "they're rodents. They may act tough, but they're saps at heart." He wondered if that sappiness would lead to Reverie being a permanent presence at Redwing Station. With the station having legitimate traffic, now, perhaps they would take on the Reverie crew as their own? The bear wasn't sure what the future held. Which was both exciting and worrying.

"They're also more attractive than me."

"Stop that." His voice became unusually stern for a moment. He put a paw on her rump. Squeezed. And pulled her body flush to his.

Yates hugged him, tightly.

"There ya go." He rumbled. "Look, I wouldn't have bred ya if I didn't like somethin' about ya, huh?"

"I know ... " She nodded, shyly.

"You enjoy yourself?" he whispered. "Feel good?"

"Yeah," was her simple, sheepish response. In addition to the various positions they'd screwed in, the bear had used his tongue to groom her, lick her, taste her. No part of her body had gone untouched by that tongue. It'd been so disarmingly intimate.

"Ya squirted, too, didn't ya?" he continued, almost cooing. "Caught me by surprise, but ... mm, think that's hot, actually." He kissed at her. "Hope I didn't scare ya when I came ... "

"Noisy bear," she teased, allowing herself a smile.

"I'm glad ya enjoyed yourself. You deserve it." He sighed and rolled onto his back, pulling her atop his belly. He stroked up and down her sides. "You done this with anyone else on the crew?" he wondered. "You been with us for enough months, now."

She hesitated ...

"How much longer, doc?" the wolverine complained, laying naked on the bio-bed. Reverie's med-bay wasn't big. It only had one bed. And the sharp-clawed, thick-furred mustelid couldn't keep still. He kept bending his knees and rolling his head from side to side.

"Ten minutes, maybe. The more you complain, the longer it'll take ... " It was two weeks earlier. The opossum tapped at a computer panel, grabbed a new scanner, and passed it over the wolverine's loins. She never corrected others when they called her 'doctor.' It made her feel like she really was one.

"Hey, what you doin' down there!" The wolverine raised his head and shoulders.

"Same thing I did during your last physical. And the one before. I'm just making sure you're clean." If he wasn't, she could assure he was. Medical technology had advanced to the point of being able to cure most sexual 'souvenirs.' But, with all the open and mixed-species breeding that went on, new things still got developed and spread.

"I shower plenny," the wolverine replied, not getting it.

The possum shook her head. "You're fine," she said, scan completed. "Just a few more things."

"Why I gotta be in the fur fer this?"

"A lot harder to examine your body with your clothes on," she said.

"Oh." Made sense. "You seen everyone on the ship?" Jale wondered.

"I see them every day," Yates replied, distractedly. Analyzing some data.

"Y'know what I mean! Nekkid."

"I have," she answered slowly, shining a light into his eyes, now. "Stay still."

"Heh, but no one seen you?" The wolverine fought the urge to blink as she checked his eyes. "S'not fair, is it?"

"Don't know what to tell you." She returned to her computer, tapping a few more things.

"Everyone fucks each other roun' here. Y'know I done Vesta? Heh. When she first signed on, I humped her like a bitch. She's pretty. But I think I scared her how rough I got ... cause, uh, she acts all nervous roun' me, now. She won't breed with me no more."

"Maybe you're just not her type. She strikes me as needing a gentle touch. A romantic."

"Bah, yeah, prolly. Like all dem rodents."

"Romance isn't constricted to one type of fur. It can happen to anyone ... " She grabbed for some medical tools. "You just have to control your predatory instincts. This is a mixed crew. You have to be sensitive to that."

"It's hard, though." He squirmed. "Why you a doc, then, doc?"

She paused. No one usually cared enough to ask her that. "Well ... " She looked Jale in the eyes. "Actually, my species has an incredibly strong immune system. We're very adaptable. I don't really ever get sick, so when I see others getting sick, I want to help. I don't know. I just ... and I'm not a doctor. I'm a medic."

"Same diff," the security officer insisted.

Yates said nothing. Just resumed the physical.

"So, I seem to recall that ya never told me who ya fucked, now ... "

"What?"

"On the ship!"

Yates sighed, tolerantly. "Jale, this isn't really an appropriate conversation, you know? Think about it." The wolverine truly had no sense of decorum. It was almost comical, sometimes. Was he really that dense? Or did he play it up a little?

"If it's not, then why'm I gettin' hard ... " He grabbed the opossum's wrist, pulling her paw to his loins. "See?"

She squeaked, suddenly flustered. She hadn't noticed until now. But he was halfway out of his sheath! How'd he get horny so fast? "Uh, Jale, really ... this is not ... "

"Wrap your paw roun' it. That's an order." His voice went all low and rumbly. Rich enough to make her spine tingle.

She swallowed. And obeyed. Vesta thought he was too rough? The submissive opossum blushed. She liked it a bit rough, herself. Not that she'd ever admit it. She found herself squeezing her patient's penis. Solid, thick. A little above average in length. She traced a fingertip along a vein. Wagged her thumb along the back ridge of the head. It was an incredible specimen.

"Yeah, you like it." The wolverine grinned, voice dropping to a whisper. "Don't ya?"

She let go of it. Deep breath. Calm down. Clear your throat. You're not that pent up, are you? I know it's been a while, but, "Um, I'm ... look, I'm done with the physical." She wasn't really. But close enough. He was healthy. "You can get dressed, now."

He made no move to do so. Just kept giving her that silly grin. "Now, ya said I 'can' get dressed, not that I hafta."

"Well, you outrank me, so ... " She exhaled, deeply. "Guess you can do what you want."

"Or who I want, hmm?" he replied. "You're the one givin' the physical. Think maybe you wanna be 'gettin' physical,' instead." His cock was fully erect, now, his sheath left behind. He sat up, giving her a hungry, admiring look. It wasn't a look she was used to. It startled her how good it felt. "You're attractin' me like a magnet does metal stuff."

"Uh, thanks?" I think ...

He sat up, fully, but didn't reach for his clothes. Instead, he reached for hers. She happened to still be inside them. He was aiming to remedy that ...

"What's the matter?" Commer pressed, still in bed with the opossum.

"Nothing."

"Hun, don't lie to a bear. It's not wise."

"I, uh ... I know he's your best friend, and ... " Her throat felt dry. " ... fact is, I've been breeding with Jale." She squeezed her eyes shut, waiting for the bellow of anger. It never came.

"Ha, ha! Jale? You fuckin' pullin' my leg?"

She opened her eyes and shook head. This wasn't the reaction she'd expected.

"How long?"

"Past two weeks. Since his last physical ... "

The bear rumbled with mirth. "Ha! Oh, my god. That's priceless ... "

"What's so funny?" she demanded, self-consciously. Her muzzle scrunched up in annoyance.

"Sorry, babe. It's nothin'. Just ... heh, the thought o' him nailin' you, an' you two have nothin' in common." A snort. "He seduce you or somethin'?"

"He came onto me. I wouldn't call it seduction ... "

"Naw, he's no good at that. He's pretty blunt."

"And you're not?" the opossum asked the bear.

"Guilty." A rumble. "Still, though. Heh ... he'll get so freaked out when he finds my cock's been where his goes. Like, he honestly thinks that it means he's indirectly havin' sex with me. He's so dumb." The bear shook with laughter.

"He's not that bad," she defended.

"Aw, Yatesy, I'm only joshin'. I don't mean the half of it. It's just ... y'know, we rip on each other. That's how our friendship is. We give each other a hard time, but it's good-natured."

"I see." She squirmed, awkwardly. "Look, can you not tell him we did this?"

"Want me to lie?" The bear scrunched his muzzle.

"It's not lying if he never asks, and unless you tip him off, he'll have no reason to."

"Why were you an' him keepin' it quiet?" Commer wanted to know. "Was that yer idea, too?"

She didn't respond.

"Ya can't keep secrets like that on a ship like this," Commer insisted. "Woulda come out eventually."

"I think I was embarrassed," she finally replied. "He's nice. He's ... I don't know. I just ... "

"That's not cool, possy," he told the opossum. "Ya better not be leadin' him on ... "

"I'm not!"

The bear frowned, now.

"He's just such a stereotypical predator. He's brusque. He's ... "

" ... good for a quick lay now an' then, an' that's it?"

"We just have nothing in common! That doesn't mean we can't ... do what we're doing," she managed to say. "Jale and me, I mean. I like him well enough. But truth is, I've had a crush on you for some time." Her heart was hammering. "And you were right, earlier. The noises you were making with Sesqui? I was aroused. But I was also jealous, and I was sorta hoping something like this would happen ... " And it just had. And it had been incredible. She sighed, heavily.

"I'm not a one-babe bear, baby," he alliterated. "I like ya fine. I had fun. Honest! But ... "

"Yeah ... "

He kissed her lips, softly. "You okay?"

"I guess." She buried her pink nose in his thick pelt. "What should I do?" she asked him. He obviously had more experience than she did.

"So, he's gettin' a crush on you, an' you have a crush on me, an' I just wanna be friends with the both o' ya."

The opossum nodded.

"Hmm. Well, obviously, you an' me can't do this again. Not while you an' him are doin' it."

"I'm not in a relationship with him. I mean, we haven't talked about it ... "

"He's territorial. Wolverines are. He's gonna think you're his."

"What does that mean?"

"Sorta like a pet or somethin'. Like, you're both open to others, but he has first dibs on ya if he so desires. Makes him yer master. I dunno." He sighed, becoming uncomfortable, which was rare to see. "Ask him."

"He's in his own little world, though. I can't ... "

"Look, Yatesy, don't make it so complicated. Just go with it. Have fun. Now, me? I'm a fun-lovin' bear. I don't do drama.

"I'm sorry ... "

"Drama free," he told her, "zone." He put a finger on her lips. "Zip 'em."

She did so.

"Good. Now, like I said, we can't be doin' this again, but ... we haven't gotten out o' bed yet, so who says we can't keep goin' fer now?" He winked, playfully, and didn't let her answer that. Just said, "Now, I have a thing for lickin', see. An' so I'm gonna clean your pussy, now. Cause, let's face it, I made a right mess of it."

"Commer, that's not really ... "

"Hold on. I'm liftin' ya up ... "

" ... necessary. Wait, I ... oh ... " A chirp as she found herself straddling his shoulders, eyes rolling back. His strong paws forcing her thighs wide open. His tongue. His big nose. Pushing, probing. Sniffing and licking. It was too sensitive. It was too much! "W-wha ... ah, ah-h ... " Her toes curled. Tail, too, into a loop. "Ah!"

All of that was far away, though. Or seemed to be.

All his flings on Reverie.

All the furs he'd been with before.

Right now, his whole universe was red panda. Exotic, erotic. Auburn, rusty-red. Hot, wet, arching against him. Panda. Red. Like his blood, which was surging, keeping his erection achingly stiff, making his pulse race. He humped the smaller female hurriedly, thinking how this was a top five piece o' pussy. And he hadn't even finished yet! How can any-fur be monogamous, he wondered? They miss out on such diverse ... pleasures ...

"Huh, h ... h-hah," she panted, rolling her perfect hips against his.

The bear's big ol' maw opened, and he licked and lapped at her neck-fur. She tasted good. If they'd had more time and privacy, he would've licked every nook and crevice on her body.

Her fingers clutched at him. "Big bear," she cried.

Commer realized, just then, that he didn't know her name. And he hadn't told her his. Which only made it more erotic, somehow, when she writhed around his thick, throbbing penis. "Makin' ya feel good, huh ... y-yeah, I hear ya ... " Nice and steady. "Moan in my neck-fur, babe. My shoulder. Yeah, that's it ... " Muffle the noises. Don't draw more attention than you probably already are. "Uh-h, fuck, you're like silk ... " Gently increasing the frequency and power of his thrusts.

The red panda just took it, submissively, her nethers hot, steamy. Clenching around the brown-furred predator. He was dominant but sweet. So full-bodied, the muscles rippling beneath. Her paws rubbing up and down his back. Beneath his shirt, through the fur. One black-padded foot-paw on the tabletop. The other on the seat, hooking around him. Her clitoris was buzzing. It made her thighs twitch. Chin tilting up, her eyes rolled back. Closer. Oh, she was getting so close!

The bear humped the female to the wall. Once, twice. "Mm-f, mm ... mm-f ... "

"Oh, god ... oh. Oh-h ... "

"Come on, baby," he cooed, his thrusts erratic, now. And deep. So deep. "Come ... on ... "

"Oh! OH!" she cried, barely moving her muzzle against his neck in time. His pelt muffled the noises just enough to prevent an all-out scene. Her vagina went into fluttery spasms. Her universe went through a big bang.

"Mm, mm-h. MM!" Grunting, he ejaculated. Lightning bolts of pleasure shooting through him. And out of him. "F-fuck ..."

They held each other wordlessly for nearly a minute.

Heaving for air, she finally loosened her grip.

"Mm-h," he went, licking at her face. "Well, now," he managed, taking a deep breath. "Goodness ... "

"There's ... there's g-gonna be quite a mess in this booth when you pull out," she eventually teased.

"Maybe I just won't pull out, then."

She giggled, nosing at him. "You're my very first bear ... "

"You're not my first red panda," he replied, honestly, "but you were by far the best. Not even a contest."

She looked into his eyes, caressing his face with a paw. "I believe you." A sigh. "You're really nice. This was lovely. But, uh, I have to get back to my ship ... " There was a twinge of regret in her tone.

"I understand." He shifted his large hips, pulling back. And, sure enough, his excess seed dribbled and dripped all over. He reached for a cloth napkin and dabbled up what he could.

Both of them pulled their underwear and pants back up, trying to be discreet about it. But, well, they were past that. The entire room must've enjoyed their show. If they hadn't, they would've put a stop to it.

As they left the back room and went up front, to the bar, smelling strongly of each other's natural scents, Commer looked around for Jale. Didn't seem him. He must be hips-deep in a 'find' of his own somewhere. Either that or he gave up and went back to Reverie to settle for Yates. Regardless, I'm not going to wait around for him. He's a big boy.

An attendant handed the bill to the red panda. It was on a computer pad. Her eyes widened.

"What is it?" Commer asked, peering at the screen. The drinks, of course. A bit of food. And a double charge for 'playing in the booth.' What? "Can they do that?"

A sheepish shrug. "It's their place." And better than being tossed in a brig overnight. "I'll handle it," she said, pressing a few buttons. Scanning her paw-pad. Indicating her ship's account should be charged.

"You realize you just paid for me havin' sex with you? I'm like a male prostitute, now," Commer said, blinking. Right? Mama bear would maul me if she knew some o' the things I did.

As they exited the establishment, the red panda winked and kissed his cheek. "Bye, big bear. And don't worry about it ... " Her bushy ringtail swished about as she spun and padded away, calling back, "Everyone has to start somewhere!"

A day later, Reverie was warping toward Redwing Station.

A few light years back, however, the weasel captain and his pirate crew were still stinging from their days-earlier defeat. And were hoping to take out the frustration on some new prey. "Weapons? Defenses?"

"Ours? Fully operational. Theirs?" A toothy snicker from the weapons station. "Minimal, sir."

"We're not falling for any tricks this time." In a volatile mood, the captain clenched his paws into fists and said, "Open a comm channel. And if a mouse answers, start firing immediately. I've had it with those cute-ass twerps ... "

The star field on the viewer was replaced by a face.

A pink-furred bat. She smiled a pretty smile. A dangerous smile. And spread her wing-arms in a false gesture of openness. Behind her was a male bat. Blue and expressionless.

The pirate captain froze with fear.

"Hello, there, darling," the female said, with a falsely familiar tone. A toxic sweetness. Her eyes narrowed. "Now, someone has a problem here, don't they?" Her smile faded. "And I assure you it's not me ... "