Like Paper Lanterns
Her paw, her winged arm ... stroked the off-white fur of his chest (the rest of the mouse being a burned honey-tan ... save for the pale-pinks of his tail and nose and ears). "Darling ... " Her voice was at a whisper.
"Mm?" So, so quiet was the sound.
They were in the dark. In bed. And it was 4 AM. And the stars were streaking by outside the windows. And the air smelled of homey things: of vanilla, of flowers. Of bed-matted fur.
"Field ... "
"Just had a ... bad dream, is all," was his eventual reply. "Just ... anxious." His nose and whiskers twitch-sniffed the air. Silently, silently. Twitch-sniff. "Just being me." He breathed in ... exhaled. "Mousey me."
"I know ... "
"Then why ask me?" he whispered. Turning so that his nose was on her cheek. Lying side-by-side with her. She on the left. He on the right. Facing each other. Belly-to-belly beneath the cool, sea-blue sheets. The mouse's tail was trailing off the side of the bed. To the floor. Like a rope thrown over the side of a ship ... so furs could climb up it. He imagined the dust mites on the floor ... climbing up his tail and to his fur.
She giggled hysterically at the image. Reading it in his mind.
Which caused the mouse to giggle, in turn.
"You a mousey motel for dust mites? For ... little, microscopic critters?" she said. "Mm?" She mouthed his fur. Sucking his fur. And sighing a hot breath onto him. And pulling her muzzle off. "Hmm?"
"I heard," Field said. "That there are these invisible ... tiny, tiny bugs in your eyelashes, and they ... look like reptiles."
"Really?"
"Well, I don't like to think about it," Field said. "I just heard it once ... "
"Nothing wrong with being a neat-freak fur. Just ... when you shed, it does no good to freak out about all the strands of ... "
"Well, I just ... "
"Squeaky-clean, squeaky-clean," she chittered in his ear. "Field likes it squeaky-clean!"
"I don't need everything," he whispered, "squeaky clean ... all the time. I just ... like things organized. I like ... " He trailed. And breathed. "You got me to talk."
"I know." She smiled warmly.
"You're tricky."
Her smile widened.
"But you can ... read my mind," he said again. "Why do you need me to say how I feel? Why not just FEEL what I feel? It's less complicated that way."
"Because you know, Field, in your heart ... that feeling something isn't the same as expressing it. And you know that words have power. Spoken words. Because it takes courage to speak them. I'm here," was Adelaide's stated. "Just ... tell me what's wrong. In words." There was a momentary quiet. A momentary lull. The soft, distant hum of the engines ... their breathing ... their heartbeats. "You have a way with words, Field," she whispered. "You have a beautiful mind. A different ... perspective." Her paw brushed his cheek. And his eyes closed at this. "Your words ... you've a way with them. A talent. Use that ... and talk to me," she begged. "I know we can sense each other's thoughts. Be in each other's minds, but ... talk to me. Nose-to-nose, muzzle-to-muzzle. Let yours words out. I won't hurt you," she whispered.
"I know ... "
She breathed out. And breathed in. Taking in the scent of his fur. "I love hearing you talk. Your voice ... be my blabber-mouse."
He had to smile at that ... at that word. Blabber-mouse.
She sensed his reaction. Whispered, "Blabber-mouse. Blabber-mouse."
"I'm not a ... "
" ... blabber-mouse? Yes, you are. You're my blabber-mouse," she teased airily. And she put a paw over his muzzle. Keeping it shut. "All you do is blab."
He giggled wispily. Drowsily. This was so silly! They were, both of them, being silly. They were being young and sleepy-headed. They were in love, and it was early, early morning, and they were being young ... and it was heartening. It instilled in the mouse such hope for his future. For his present. For being alive. That he could be this way with someone.
She removed her paw from his muzzle and clung to him. Breathing of him again.
And he did the same. Taking in the gentle, soft scent of her. Of his love. She smelled like love. If love had a scent.
Her paw went back to his chest. Up and down, through the fur, gently going over the mouse's nipples ... and back down to his navel.
"I'm scared," said Field. Keeping his voice to a hush. Their whole nature, their minds ... it was all, at this hour, at a hush. Anything louder than a hush ... might've caused the universe to break. It felt so brittle.
"We all are. To some degree ... we're all scared. I'm scared, too."
"But you deal with it ... "
"As do you." One of her paws reached one of his. Fingers lacing together.
"No, but ... you deal with it better."
"Field, this is ... silly," she said.
The mouse sighed. "I know ... " He sniffled. "I ... I love you, you know? So much. I'm ... I'm so grateful. Don't get hurt. Don't leave me." His voice was breaking. Even as quiet as it was, she could tell it was breaking.
"I won't. I won't," she repeated, lips on his. Half of her warm, furry body draped over him. Her upper half on his. Breasts-to-chest. Lips touching. Soft, soft lips. Soft, soft ... kiss.
Field swallowed. Returned the kiss. "I ... my breath is ... morning breath," he objected, trying to turn his head away.
"Nonsense," she chided gently, smiling and kissing him again.
His nose flared as he breathed in. And out.
And she pulled her lips away, snuggling up against him. One winged arm draped around his middle, his belly, hugging him to her. The mouse now on his back. The bat on her side. One arm and one leg ... draped over him. Locking them together. And Field eventually squirming, turning ... so that his arms and legs were entangled with hers. Like they were a furry knot. Like a tangled cord of fur and limb. Together.
They breathed quietly for a minute. And a minute more. Both of them with eyes closed.
"Adelaide ... "
"Yeah ... "
"Why do we make them uncomfortable?"
"Who?"
"The others ... they treat me different now. Like Wren ... like the others, they just ... they're always freaked that I'm ... reading their every thought. That I can automatically ... sift through all their secrets."
"They just don't understand, is all ... or maybe they're jealous. It doesn't matter. Don't let other furs get you down. Don't let their perception of you and who you should be ... control you. Be you. But have faith. Follow the path you are led down. Feel it."
The mouse just breathed. Paws touching her webbed wings. They were so, so delicate. The flesh, the fur, the blood ... it was like they were of the consistency of paper lanterns. So fragile. She could fly with these things! She could caress and hug him with these! Wings. Flight, hope, and her. And he smiled as he realized that he could make the honest claim that, "My love has wings." He beamed in bed, thinking this.
She nuzzled him with her muzzle. Her fangs out, sliding through his fur.
Field swallowed.
"It's morning," she noted.
"Early morning," he countered. "We should go back to sleep ... "
"But it's morning," she whispered, "and I know what happens ... to my mouse in the morning ... "
"It's not my fault." He sounded defensive. He flushed quietly.
She giggled airily, dreamily. Into his ear. "It's not a bad thing, darling ... " Her paw was fishing down. Beneath the sheets. Until it wrapped around the stiff, shy organ. Field always woke stiff ... but they rarely yiffed in the morning. They always saved it for night.
"Darling," he objected.
She let go ... and nuzzled into him. "You sure?"
"I'm tired. I'm ... so worried. About ... the shadow fur, about ... the dangerous things we encounter. About ... I'm just ... I wanna lay with you. I need to rest. Let me just ... let's just rest."
"Alright ... " She breathed of him. Cuddling in the dark. Sleepily.
"But ... later ... "
A smile melted onto her muzzle. She gave a toothy grin in the dark. As if she were, indeed, a vampire bat. "Uh-huh ... "
He flushed. Nose-nuzzled.
Wrapped together, they fell quiet ... and back to sleep.
A few hours later ... later in the morning, Luminous, having received the unknown distress call, was on its way to investigate. Meanwhile, the senior staff met in the conference room, discussing the sabotage in engineering. And the revelation of a shadow fur being aboard ...
"Who is he?" Juneau pressed. Whiskers twitching. She was leaning forward in her seat. "Is he someone who ... I mean, is he mimicking one of us? Can he shape-shift at will? I mean, maybe he killed one of us at the snow rabbit outpost, and ... maybe he IS one of us, and we don't even know it ... " She looked around, bewildered. "Maybe he replaced one of us, you know? Who is he? I mean ... " She fell quiet, exhaling. Wren had just allowed Adelaide and Field to break the news that there was, apparently, a shadow fur loose on the station. They'd been forced to tell the senior staff when Juneau broke her own news ... of the sabotage in engineering. The two revelations HAD to go together. No way it was a coincidence.
"I don't think he's one of us."
"How do you know?" Juneau asked, turning her neck to Adelaide. She'd never talked to the bat before. Or, she had, but ... it had always been on duty. Never off duty. They'd never talked as friends, so she didn't know her, but ...
"Because I sense all eighty-three furs. Their minds. I sense the shadow fur, but ... to a point. If he'd replaced one of us, I would only sense eighty-two ... and one unknown. But I sense eighty-three. We're all here. But he's here, too."
"To a point?" Kody questioned. "Sense him to a point?" Frowning. The doctor was casually leaning back in his seat, ears waggling. Looking like he'd gotten no sleep. Looking like he didn't want to be here.
"He's blocking his mind. He knows how to evade telepathic ... "
"This is bogus," Kody interrupted, not waiting for her to finish. "Do you have any tangible evidence? Can you prove this? We're supposed to go into freak-out mode ... because you 'sense' we should?"
Field sighed. He'd been trying to befriend the rabbit, but ... " ... leave her alone. She's not lying to you. And I'm not, either. We've both sensed it." Field's voice was low-key and squeaky. When someone raised his voice at his mate, he wished to squeak them into a corner, but ... he was too tired to do so. And had learned that Adelaide, as grateful as she was when Field came to her defense, could handle herself in these situations. And she rather preferred to. Besides, Field was horrible at confrontation.
"Sorry, Field," the rabbit apologized, shrugging. "But I gotta call you out on this one. Furs do NOT have telepathic powers. I mean, you almost got me believing, but ... and all these scans I've run of you ... they could mean anything. I mean, just because you KNOW certain things, I mean ... " The rabbit was frustrated. Was a fur of science. Of what he could see. What he could touch. And ... he'd talked to Field about faith. About things. And he wished to have the mouse's innocence. The mouse's purity. But, try as he could, he couldn't ... there were too many holes ... for him to believe. He wished he could, though ...
"The human we found," Adelaide said cooly, fur pointed muzzle, her wings ... all of her pink and soft. So soft. She squinted. "Was he from the future?"
"Well, the scans could've been ... "
"Was he? What did you say at the time? What did you find ... and has time suddenly changed that evidence? Was he from," she repeated, "the future?"
Kody squinted. "Apparently."
"Were you in the simulation room until 3 AM?"
A squirm. "Yes."
"Would you like me to describe what you were doing in there?"
The rabbit flushed. Hesitated.
"If I don't have telepathic powers, I shouldn't be able to accurately tell you. And you have nothing to be embarrassed about. But if I do ... " She trailed.
Kody squinted back at her. She wouldn't dare.
"Try me," Adelaide challenged. She was a rough-and-tumble femme ... when she needed to be. Oh, she had bite.
"I think we're all sold on Adelaide and Field's abilities," Wren injected, rescuing Kody from the spotlight. And throwing water on the tension. "They've proven themselves before."
The rabbit, cheeks hot beneath his white fur, sent Wren a grateful look at the first statement. And then frowned at the second.
"So, he's not one of us. So, who," Juneau said, starting up again.
Ketchy entered the room through the whooshing doors, panting, "Sorry, sorry ... " She swallowed. "Um, I ... forgot to set my alarm."
Wren gestured at an empty seat. Saying nothing. He would scold her later, if need be. But Ketchy looked so tired and weary, he figured he'd hold off.
Ketchy sheepishly sat.
Juneau, taking a breath, began once more ... with, "Well, whoever he is ... "
"Who?" Ketchy whispered to Rella. "What's going on?"
"I'll tell you later," she whispered back.
"So, what's the damage?" Wren asked. "Ultimately ... "
"Well, nothing, thankfully. Thanks to Fredrick. I mean, we got it fixed, but if we hadn't found it ... I mean, had we gotten into a fire-fight, or ... little things, little disabled systems ... they add up. They hurt you bad when you least expect it. We should consider ourselves blessed."
"Did you find anything else?"
"More evidence of tampering? Well ... no. I got my whole staff looking right now. But ... that's the only thing. So far." She trailed at that.
Wren, quietly nibbling on his furry knuckles, nodded. "I want us on yellow alert. A QUIET yellow alert. No need to cause panic. I know we're all on edge."
"What about the distress call?" Field asked.
"We don't know who it's from," Rella said. "It sounded dire, and ... we're going to help. We should be there in an hour ... "
"Shouldn't we just run an internal scan of the ship?" Kody asked. "Find this fur?"
"If he can evade telepathy, he can evade scans," Adelaide assured. "And if we get too close, he can simply change form and ... hide in the shadows."
"We should at least try. We should ... "
"Try it, Rella," Wren instructed.
Rella nodded quietly.
Kody nodded, also, leaning back in his chair. Arms crossed.
Wren sighed. Not wanting to ask this. Fearing what would happen next, but ... reading the agenda and looking up, asking, "Anything else?"
Assumpta, head tilted, squinted. "Yes?"
Azure, turning the corner, squeaked! Jumped. And put his paw over his heart. "Oh, my ... what are you doing in here?"
The hydroponics bay. Where plants (flowers and medicinal plants) and some fresh food-stuffs were grown. Azure, being the ship's botanist, the plant-life expert, spent most of his time in here. He ran it. And was on his morning shift, and ... " ... last thing I expect to see, twenty minutes after waking, is a leopard in my forget-me-nots."
"I am a SNOW leopard," Assumpta corrected.
"Same thing."
"It is not," she assured. The look on her face was a look that could only be described as "disgruntled." She tilted her head. "Am I assume, then, that you are a flying squirrel?"
He laughed a short, airy laugh. "Well ... okay, it's ... adjectives DO matter," he compromised. Azure was the very intellectual type. Very smart, book-wise, but very incompetent when it came to furry relationships. He complained a lot. Whined a lot. Had lived a very protected, pampered youth. And he always came off as a bit spoiled. And it was a turn-off to most of the other furs on this ship. For most of them had struggled growing up (emotionally, financially, et cetera).
Azure settled down, not wanting to upset her. His prey instincts were jumping. Flaring. Telling him to back off. She might hurt him. Could he trust her? Could he ...
"I needed solitude," she explained, standing. Having been at a sit. She took a few steps toward him. Her fur was white with some grey streaks, and it was glorious. Born of ice. Winter-born. "Seeing as nobody ever comes here, I decided it would allow for meditation."
"Why not mediate in your quarters?" Azure questioned.
"I preferred here."
"Oh."
She stared at him. Unblinking. Not afraid to make eye contact. Not looking the least bit nervous. Did she even feel emotion?
He squirmed. "Um ... well, you can leave now."
"I am not on duty for another two hours."
"Two hours?"
"Mid-morning shift. Diagnostic repair."
"Oh."
"Do you own the hydroponics bay?"
"No, I just run it."
"What is your rank?" she pressed.
"Ensign."
"I am a lieutenant-commander. I outrank you. If anything, I should be asking you to leave."
"I'm not leaving," he answered, shaking his head. "I have to tend to the plants."
She squinted. "I am not leaving, either."
"Fine. Well ... " He sighed. "Fine, I don't care. Just ... don't eat me," he pleaded, skirting around her and going for a console. To run some scans. Adjust the environmental controls.
She turned and watched him. Squinting. Watching him like the huntress she was. As a predator watches her prey. He was scared. Oh, he was terrified of her. She could smell it.
Azure tried to go about his tasks, but ... her stare. Her eyes. And he stopped, sighing, and looked up.
She was still staring.
"What?"
"You are disturbed."
"What?" he frowned.
"You are disturbed," she repeated.
"Like ... you're saying I have a disturbed mind, or ... I'm upset, or ... what are you saying?"
"That you are disturbed," she said. For the third time.
He sighed. "Well ... I'm ... "
"Why did you join this mission?"
"I love ... " He sighed. And walked toward her. Shrugged. And sank to a sit on the floor. Against the wall. Surrounded by rows of plants. She, looking down at him, returned to a sit.
They sat side-by-side now.
"I love plants," he confessed. "I love ... flowers. Trees. The lushness of things like that. How they grow, and ... they're so beautiful, so quiet. They don't make fun of you. They ... to grow things in soil, it makes you feel ... earthy. Makes you feel natural. Makes you feel good. I don't know. I ... wanted to see all the new plants and flowers in the universe. I ... I guess I wanted to discover new flowers and give them new names. And bring them back home and ... give furs joy with them. You know?"
She'd never heard a confession like that. And said, "No, I do not know."
"Oh."
"But it sounds admirable."
"Mm ... well ... I mean, Rella brought me some good stuff from that one world, but I haven't even been on an away mission yet. I know our mission's young, and ... Captain promised me I'm gonna get to go on one soon."
Assumpta nodded.
"I've never seen you before. I mean, I have, but ... we've never talked," said Azure.
"Most furs on this ship avoid me. You are no different. If you had truly wished to talk to me, you would've sought me out."
"Mm ... I'm scared of predators."
"All prey are."
"So, why are you here, then? Why are you on this ship?" he asked, turning the tables on her. Asking her.
"I needed to get away."
"From what?" he wondered.
She didn't answer. Only said, "So, you are an outcast, too?"
"An outcast?"
"A misfit. Left alone by other furs ... because you do not fit in."
"I'm ... I don't know." Azure shrugged. "I don't think about things like that. I just ... wake up, take care of my plants, and ... you know ... get by day-to-day."
Assumpta breathed.
Azure sighed. Looked to her.
She looked back.
"You're not so scary," Azure admitted. His whiskers twitched.
"I never attempt to be 'scary'," she told him. "I'm a predator. Prey are afraid of me ... because that is their instinct. It is natural. There is a rift between our kinds."
"Sounds lonely," Azure whispered. He fiddled with his own tail. Grooming it absently. "You ever get lonely?"
She hesitated to answer. "Often."
"So do I," he confessed, still at a whisper. "I talk to my plants." He raised his head and gave a shy smile. Eyes watering. "I talk to them, and they can't talk back ... " He blinked and took a shaky breath. "I ... I didn't have to struggle, growing up, like a lot of other furs did. I had it easy, and they ... hate me for it." Azure looked to the wall. "It's not my fault. Like I could control my ... heritage? You know? I don't know ... I was sent to private schools. I didn't have to have a job, cause I had money already, and ... so, I never learned the hard lessons that other furs did. I never stumbled and ... was never forced to grow. So, I'm ... I come off as a jerk," he admitted, eyes watering again. He sniffled. Letting go of his tail. "I don't know why I'm telling you any of this. I mean ... I don't know why I'm ... telling you this stuff."
She didn't know why, either. And didn't know what to say in response. But she was a predator. She had soothed prey before. Not with words, but ...
"W-what are you doing?" he asked, voice suddenly frail and very afraid. He started to twitch and squirm away.
"I will not hurt you," she promised with a purr. She was nipping at his neck. Purring. And giving long, raspy tongue-licks ... to his neck-fur.
"What ... "
"I only wish to help," she said honestly. Still doing what she'd been doing.
The squirrel sighed. The touch, the nipping, the ... it felt nice. He'd not been touched like that before. But this was a predator. A leopard. Oh, okay, a SNOW leopard, and that was ... he'd been taught, growing up, to resent predators. That ... and ...
She pushed Azure to his back, paw undoing his shirt ... pushing it up ...
... and he was wrestling with hers. She didn't ask him to, but he was doing it anyway, and she didn't try and stop him, and ...
They were soon bare on the floor amid the plants and flowers. The sweet, perfume-hued scents.
Azure, bare and vulnerable, felt a sudden pang of fear. "I ... I ... we shouldn't ... "
"I know what I'm doing," was Assumpta's response. Sounding so assured. Sounding like this was the most natural thing in the world to be doing. Sounding like this just happened every day. To Azure, it most certainly did not, and if it DID happen every day to her, then ... well, he was worried all the more. He didn't want to be seduced by a loose leopard ... who KNEW what kind of trouble could come of that. "You'll have to trust me," was her response. As if she sensed his doubts. His fears. His ...
... squirrel-hood was peeking from its sheath. Was in her fur. And her strong paw was already on it. Pumping it. Thumb over the slit, taking each drop of pre ... trying to use it as lubrication.
Azure huffed and flushed beneath his fur. Feeling hot. He squirmed and ... tried to sit up. She kept him pinned.
She kept her licking and nipping and ...
... he finally gave in. He was lonely. So lonely. And ... no one had ever wanted to do this with him, and here she was, being so ... open, so willing, so ... honest and bare with him. Just ... oh, he wanted it. Needed it.
And she, larger than him, stronger than him, straddled him now ...
He squeaked. Trapped. He squirmed, as was his instinct ... to get away. He looked for something to climb. Some way to hide.
But she lowered down.
"Uhn ... " Azure grunted. She was heavier than him. More muscle. And ... " ... oh," he sighed. "Oh." His breaths just melted out of him. Spilled out of him and ... melted. Oh, he was melting. Her swollen sex, moist, hot ... was trapping him. Moving up and down on him. And it was ... the wildest thing he'd ever known ... being pinned by a predator! Being ridden by a feline! He was a squirrel. A hundred years ago, his kind was still legally HUNTED by the likes of her ... and ... here he was, allowing her to do this ... and trusting that she wouldn't hurt him. But, oh, it didn't hurt. It didn't ...
She sighed, eyes closed. As if this was a drug to her. As her hips moved. As her paws were on the squirrel's chest. As they mated on the floor in the hydroponics bay.
And a sudden alarm! A klaxon!
Azure squeaked and chittered, ears swiveling, whiskers twitching.
The snow leopard, calm, composed ... didn't even flinch. Kept going.
"Wh-what ... oh, oh ... what ... "
"It's just ... the red alert."
"We should ... uhmm ... uhn."
"I just need ... a few more ... minutes," Assumpta promised. She was starting to pant now. Starting to growl, ferally, from the throat. "I will ... get us there," was her purr. Paws in his fur. Fur-on-fur. Tails ... twitching, tangling, her tail snaking to his ...
And he sighed and let it happen. They were, indeed, misfits on this ship. No one would notice they weren't at their posts (and, anyways, Azure WAS at his post). No one would know ... no one would ...
" ... oh!"
Wren, standing, stared at the screen. The unknown ship was adrift and twenty minutes away. He'd gone to red alert just to be safe. To be prepared. They'd been attacked by pirates, by shadow furs. This could be a trap. This could be ...
No one saw the skunk slip onto the bridge.
Except Ketchy. She, at the comm, looked up ... and tilted her head. Tried to offer the skunk a smile. He ignored it, taking a step forward. Another. Staring at someone. With that intense stare of him. Staring at Wren.
Ketchy frowned, and shouted, "Captain!"
Wren spun, freezing.
The skunk's paw outstretched, he held a weapon. Having withdrawn it quickly. As soon as he'd heard Ketchy's voice. And the weapon, set to kill, was pointed at Wren's chest.
This was a stand-off.
Rella reached to draw her own weapon, but ...
" ... don't do it," the skunk demanded. "Don't even try."
Rella, in a panic, seeing her mate with a weapon pointed at him, had to comply. She had no choice. She wasn't in control here. She felt helpless. Why hadn't she figured this out? She was chief of security. She was ...
"You're the shadow fur," Wren accused. Frowning. Awfully defiant for someone at such a disadvantage. Seeing the crew-furs around the bridge. All of them holding their breaths. Playing blame games in their head. Wren stole a glance at Rella.
She bit her lip and swallowed.
Ketchy, over at comm, felt her stomach flutter. Feeling sick. She'd KNOWN something was wrong with that fur ... earlier, in the mess hall. She'd ... last night, in the mess hall. She'd known. Why hadn't she figured it out ... why had she been late to the staff meeting? If she'd heard them talking about a shadow fur onboard, she might've been able to figure it out. Might've been ...
"As you call me ... so I am," was the skunk's reply. Weapon still drawn.
"Who are you? What's your real identity?"
"Don't you know?" The skunk's eyes were boring into Wren's.
Wren stared back.
"Look deeper ... "
Rella, at tactical, saw it first. But didn't believe it. Said nothing. Because ... it couldn't be, and if it was, how ... was it? But she saw something in that shadow fur that ... one could only see in a living creature ... when one had been intimate with them. Very intimate.
"You're me," Wren whispered. Realizing it, too.
The skunk's form melted away. Into Wren. An older Wren. Thirty years older, with streaks of silver-grey in his fur. Especially on his tail, which ... was almost timber-colored. It was an older Wren, but no less Wren.
"I don't ... I don't ... "
"Understand?"
Wren nodded dumbly.
"Then we need to talk."
The Captain's office. A minute later. And Wren staring muzzle-to-muzzle with his older, future self.
"You might want to sit down," said future Wren. Shadow fur. Future Wren. What was he to be called as? Who was he, really? It ...
"If ... if you're me ... from the future, and you're here right now, then does my future self not exist in the future? How can there be two of me in one place, one point of time ... at the same ... "
"Don't try to figure it out," future Wren said. He was cynical. "You'll only twist your mind. And we don't need anymore of that, do we?"
"No," Wren whispered.
"I didn't want to interfere," future Wren said quietly. "I didn't want to directly interact with you, but you're leaving me with no choice."
"I don't ... "
"That ship out there. That you're approaching: is a lure. Is a trap. It's a human ship." He sighed. Future Wren sighed ... going to the wall. Leaning against it. Swallowing. "You ... I," he corrected. "I answered that distress call. They disabled Luminous with some kind of pulse. Boarded us ... took Adelaide, took Rella ... took others. We weren't able to pursue." A pause. "When we gave chase, we ... " He went quiet. "We found them. Dead. The captured crew-furs. Dumped into space. Organs and tissues harvested."
Wren went pale. Thinking of it ... of Rella, his mate, of ...
"It hurt. Very, very ... badly. And it hurt for Field, too. He was never the same again. His telepathic powers ... he lost control of them, and in his depression, he ... became self-destructive. He ... "
"He what?" Wren whispered.
"I shouldn't tell you everything," was all future Wren said. "Suffice it to say, in the end of it ... the humans had discovered furs. Found us genetically intriguing. Began hunting us, experimenting with us. Eventually, a virus found its way into our genome. It was their doing. And ... a slow extinction began. The snow rabbits were immune. They helped to genetically engineer me ... when I went to them for help. They saved my life. I'm only alive because ... I allowed them to alter me. I'm no longer a fur. Not really. I'm ... many things. I've been mutilated inside and out. Simply to survive."
"What ... what about," Wren asked, still trying to digest all of this, "the time travel?"
"I can't tell you about that."
"But ... "
"When I leave here ... back for my own time, I hope that time will be changed. I will no longer exist. But you still will. And for you to have vital information of future technology NOW ... would impact the future in a way that I don't even know. Had I known of the things I know now ... when I was you ... " Future Wren shook his head.
"Wh-what?" Wren stammered. He had a headache! What ... none of this made sense!
"I hate temporal mechanics," future Wren said dryly. "But it does make life interesting."
Wren could only sit and blankly stare at his cynical future self. Wondering ... if this was where he was headed (and if this was real). To have that attitude. Cynical, blase. Sorrowful. Was this just because this future version of himself had endured so many losses and atrocities? Or was it just ... fate? How was Wren fated to wind up? Could he change? Could he not only change the future he'd just heard, but ... his own emotional destiny? He didn't want to end up bitter.
"You are to avoid that ship at ALL costs. Destroy it."
"Destroy it?"
"They've seen you. They'll scan you, and when the next comm cycle comes through, they'll send the scans and information back to their home-world. If you destroy them before their channel becomes available ... the rest of the humans will never know."
"But ... "
"They can't know about furs. They'll destroy us."
"But why? Why would they want to do that?"
"Why does anyone want anything?" future Wren countered. "It just is. I've seen it. If you can't trust yourself," he said, "then who can you trust?"
Wren shook his head in disbelief. This was not happening. This was not happening. This was not ...
"Destroy them. Now. When you do, I should ... disappear. The version of you that stands before you ... that being me ... should cease to exist if you destroy that ship. If you leave this system immediately."
"But, surely ... the humans will find us eventually," Wren said. "Eventually, furs and humans will meet paths. The universe is big, but ... I'm sure it'll happen down the line. What's to stop some other furry ship from making first contact from humans? What's to stop me from, in the future, running into them again?"
"I don't know. I don't care. Avoid them at all costs. If they find you ... God help you. But I cannot let THIS meeting take place. I cannot let THIS happen. I won't lose her," he said, referring to Rella. "I won't lose all ... that I did. I won't ... at the very least, I should buy you time. Maybe, if we destroy the human ship here and now ... you won't hear from them for another fifty years. Maybe they'll busy themselves with other things."
"But you can't KNOW that!"
"I know the alternative."
"I can't ... "
" ... kill? You can't kill?"
"I won't murder other creatures ... just because you tell me to. You're so full of darkness, it makes me sick."
"I'm you. This is YOUR darkness."
"No. No," Wren objected. "I won't let it be. I'm not destroying them."
"Then I'll do it for you."
"What ... "
Future Wren shimmered. Vanished.
Wren sat upright, and then stood from his seat. Rushed to the bridge. Looked to Rella ... who was looking at him with such fear. But such love and relief. With such emotion.
"Sir," Adelaide warned.
Wren spun to look at the viewer. A shuttle-pod. One of Luminous' shuttle-pods.
"What's he doing?" Ketchy asked.
"He's going to ram the human ship."
"Wait, that's a human ship?" Rella asked, wide-eyed.
"We have to stop him," Adelaide said.
Wren turned to look at the bat. If what future Wren had said was true, and ... then Adelaide would be lost. And, when that happened, Field would be as good as lost, too. If the humans got word back to their home-world. About knowledge of furs. If ...
"Sir ... "
Wren hesitated. He looked to see Rella charging weapons. But not yet firing. Waiting for his order. Oh, he loved her. She was so strong. So strong, yet so feminine. So ...
"Wren?" Rella whispered, waiting for orders.
Wren said nothing. Let it happen. Let his future self ram the shuttle-pod right into the human vessel's drive section. The result was a small shudder. A little explosion. Followed by a series of explosions, and the vessel tearing itself apart, shards flying every which way in the vacuum of space. Wren swallowed. It was so surreal. And he tried to tell himself that it wasn't his fault. Not my fault. It was his ... future Wren's. But they were one and the same, were they not?
"How many creatures were on that ship?" someone asked. It may have been Adelaide. May have been Ketchy. Wren wasn't paying attention anymore.
"What just happened?" Rella whispered. Reeling. Looking to Wren. Asking him, "What just happened?"
Wren found his chair. Sat down. And sighed. "I don't ... " He faltered, closing his eyes. Opening them. "I'm not sure I know," he admitted, turning to meet his mate's gaze. Their eyes holding to each other.
Hours later, when night had come (once more), Wren closed his eyes.
Rella hugged him to her chest.
"Tell me I'm not going to be like that ... to be cynical like that. To be a murderer like that. To ... to be so without hope, to be ... "
"I won't let you be. I'll be here," Rella whispered, crawling over him. On all fours in the bed. Him on his back. She peered down at him. "You have my love."
He smiled with gratitude. With ... warmth.
"I don't know what kind of temporal web we got snagged in, but ... it's not written," she said. "We're writing it. Maybe God is helping us, nudging us, but ... it's still us. And ... we'll write a good end." She lowered down, laying on top of him. And kissed him. Broke it. Exhaling. "We'll write a happy ending."
"What if I don't want it to end?" he asked, smiling quietly.
"There's always heaven. Always eternity."
He chuckled airily. But, for some reason, feeling a sudden swell of fear.
And though the shadow fur issue had been resolved, and though the humans were no longer an immediate threat (one hoped ... though Wren doubted it), the mission was far from over. And Luminous sailed on ... this time, for a hot, arid world. Run by kangaroos. A bit of a desert. They would arrive in a week ...