Little Emotional Feelers
((AUTHOR'S NOTE -- This episode is the 'Season Two' premiere, as it were, of the series ... and takes place nearly a year after 'The Autumn Defense,' which, for all intents and purposes, was the 'Season One' finale ... so, there's a whole new batch of these things ... coming during the next few weeks ... hope everyone enjoys them ... ))
The stars were stationary outside the window. And an icy-blue planet loomed large. A planet both familiar and not. A planet where hearts were frozen over (only to be melted by instinct). Luminous was in orbit, tethered to a docking pylon ... at a snow rabbit station.
"So, you're, like, what ... a mouse-bat?" Ketchy asked. Whiskers twitching. She tilted her head.
Blink-blink.
"A ... a bouse, or a mat, or ... no, those don't sound right." A smile. "Mouse-bat! Or bat-mouse? Do you prefer bat-mouse?"
More blinks.
"You're not gonna clue me in, are you?" A helpless giggle. "Mm ... you're cute, though. You're really cute. You know that? You know that?" Ketchy cooed.
A door swish. Ketchy turned her head. Ears swiveling. "Oh, hey," she said quietly. It was Fredrick. Her mate. "Where you been?"
"Work."
"Your shift ended an hour ago."
"Overtime," was all Fredrick said. Avoiding eye contact.
Ketchy frowned a bit. "We're in exile. We're in orbit of the snow rabbit's world. Everyone's on shore leave. What's there to do ... other than survive day-to-day?"
"There's stuff."
Ketchy shook her head. Whispering, "You're so impossible ... " Her whiskers twitched.
"What's that?" the other squirrel demanded. Pointing. Frowning. Seeing the object of Ketchy's affections.
"Akira," said Ketchy in a sing-song voice.
"Mm?"
"I'm ... babysitting, I guess," said Ketchy, scooping baby Akira into her arms. Leaning back on the couch. "Mm ... "
Fredrick went to the table. Scattered his computer pads (full of diagnostic schedules, schematics, and the like).
"Isn't she cute?" Ketchy asked, of Field and Adelaide's baby girl. Two months old. "Look at the tiny, tiny wings on her arms, and ... I can't figure out if she's more a mouse or more a bat. But ... she has the wings, and her fur's a dusky pink, so ... I think she must be a bat-mouse."
"She's looking at me funny." Fredrick frowned.
"Probably cause she smells your fear." A giggle.
"I'm not afraid of babies."
"No?" She raised her eyes.
"No," was Fredrick's frown. He went to the other couch (on the other side of the coffee table in their quarters). And sat down.
"Well, she smells it. You are, so ... " Ketchy turned her eyes back to Akira. "You're cute. Yes ... yes, you are."
"You don't have to use that cooing voice ... when you talk to her."
"She likes it. Don't you like it? Yes ... mm-hmm ... " Ketchy lifted Akira up, putting her nose to the child's. So small, her nose! And it went sniff-twitch ... just like Field's. Just like a rodent's nose. Oh, she had Field's blue-grey eyes. And his tail. But had her mother's fur, wings, and ears ... what an amalgam she was. And so named Akira ... because all femme bats, by tradition, had 'A' names. And she was half-bat, so ...
"How long's she been here?"
"About half an hour. I'm gonna keep her for a few hours."
Fredrick's whiskers twitched.
"You think," Ketchy asked, taking a breath through the nose. Sighing. "You think ... "
Fredrick frowned. "What?"
"Will you stop frowning at me?" Ketchy pleaded. "Goodness ... "
"I'm not frowning."
"You're ALWAYS frowning."
Fredrick frowned at this. "Mm ... "
Ketchy sighed. Pausing. Wondering, "I ... you know, would you wanna have one? Is what I was gonna ask. I mean, not NOW, but ... someday."
"Have what?"
"A baby," Ketchy stressed. "A baby."
"Oh."
"Yeah. Oh," she mocked. And then went quiet. They never argued in loud, fierce ways. They argued like this. Stubbornly. Quietly. With frowns and sighs and ... avoidances. Why did she love him? "I want a baby. I want a family."
"A star-ship's no place for ... "
"That's an excuse," Ketchy whispered. "Not an answer."
Fredrick said nothing.
"We've been exiled," she continued. "Banished from Home-world. We're furry refugees. All we have are the snow rabbits. Scattered allies. All we have," she whispered, looking into the baby's eyes, "is each other." She took a breath. And looked to her mate. "I don't wanna lose that."
"We won't ... " The other squirrel's nose and whiskers twitched. He absently groomed his own tail.
"So, is that a yes?"
Fredrick bit his lip.
"Tell me, at least," she asked, "that you'll think about it. That we can talk about it. It's important to me."
"I didn't know it was," he whispered.
"Well, I'm telling you," she whispered back. "I'm telling you it is, and ... don't shut down on me. You shut down on me," she said, "all the time. Please, don't ... "
A quiet nod. "Alright. Well, it's ... we'll talk and stuff."
A returned nod (on her part). "I don't think any baby could be as cute as this one, though. Oh, my gosh, look at her tiny foot-paws! She's so delicate. Like ... like a glass doll." Ketchy slowly bobbed Akira. Very gently. "Up and down, up and down ... " And she stopped.
Akira made a squeaky sound. A wide-eyed gurgle.
"You gonna fly someday, hmm?" Ketchy cooed. "You gonna fly?"
Akira's tiny paw, with its tiny fingers, clutched at one of Ketchy's blunt claws.
"Paw, paw ... claw," Ketchy whispered. "Yeah ... you can't talk yet, can you? Got a while before that, hmm? Can you squeak? I heard you squeak. Squeak ... "
Fredrick, bothered by the other squirrel's maternal vibes, uncomfortably got up off the other couch and went back to the table in the kitchen (which had no wall, which simply ... opened up into the rest of their quarters). He went to the food processor and asked for some water. And some cornbread. Asking, "Why'd you have to babysit, anyway? Couldn't they get someone else?"
"They asked me. I said yes. I wanted to do it."
"Mm ... why, what are they doing, mm ... that requires a sitter?"
"They're busy."
"With what?"
"I don't know, honey. You were swamped at work, weren't you?" she accused.
Fredrick frowned.
"No, they're just ... busy." A slight, shy smile. A sigh. "Busy with each other." A sigh. "Why can't we be busy with each other, Fredrick?"
"We yiffed ... "
" ... six days ago."
"Well ... "
"Well, maybe, when Akira goes home, we can ... "
"Should we even be talking about this? In front of a baby?"
A giggle. "Hmm ... maybe you're right."
Akira blink-blinked ... and made a chitter sound. Sending out instinctual telepathic waves. Little emotional feelers. Simple things: joy, innocence, curiosity.
"She's so bright," Ketchy whispered. "Makes me feel happy."
Fredrick just nodded ... while she kept talking to the baby.
"Your mommy and daddy are busy. Mm-hmm ... one day, you'll understand." A giggle. "But they won't like it when you do."
Adelaide poked at her noodles with a fork. Poke-poke. Rotini noodles and tomato sauce. With little bugs and insects mixed in.
Field sipped from his water glass. There were NO bugs in his meal. She tried, once, to slip some in, giggling hysterically when he'd realized he'd just eaten a dragonfly. He'd wound up laughing too, unable to stay mad at her ... but he often double-checked his food. Just to make sure. Mice were vegetarians.
"I'm sorry," she said slowly. "Um ... " She stabbed at her pasta. "That I told you to shut up."
They were in their quarters. Opting over their own confines ... instead of the station's.
"It's okay," he whispered, taking another sip of water (though he didn't need it). He should've had lemonade instead, but ... at the time, hadn't been in the mood for something sweet. But now he wanted something sweet.
"She was crying, and I was tired, and you kept ... Field, I hear you the FIRST time, okay, when you ask a question. I have good ears, too." Her ears, angular and swept back, were designed to hear higher pitches.
"You didn't answer."
"I was busy! Some of us," she told him, "are busy."
The mouse blinked. As if having been slapped in the face. His eyes darted to his water glass. "I'm the first officer of this ship," he defended. Swallowing. "I know that NO one ... takes that seriously, but ... "
"I ... I didn't mean ... that's not what I meant," the bat stammered, sighing. Cursing inwardly. Rubbing her eyes. She leaned back in her chair. Sitting on the opposite side of the table. "That's not what I meant."
Field swallowed and cleared his throat, saying (in his airy, wispy voice), "Well, I ... it's okay."
"You keep saying 'it's okay'."
"Because it is, darling. It is okay," he insisted.
"You don't believe that. If you don't believe it, don't say it."
"What would you rather have me say?" he asked, meeting for eyes. For a split second, meeting her deep-pink eyes.
"What you FEEL," she whispered.
"You can read my mind. You can sense my thoughts. I don't need to tell you."
"It's not the same thing ... as telling me. We've been over that before. Many times," she stressed.
A single flame flapped in the middle of the table. Atop a candle. Blue wax dripping down the side, into the holder. There was a vase of ice flowers (a brittle, startling white ... a holy white) near the sink. The vase kept inside a clear, glass box ... which held in the cold. The flowers would dissolve above a certain temperature. The flowers had been a gift from the rabbit Oliver. He'd given them to Assumpta, who, in turn, had given them to Adelaide. The bat wondered if those flowers had seeds ... if they could be homegrown. Maybe they could plant some in a box in the hydroponics bay.
Adelaide reached for her own water glass. Took a sip.
"No more alcohol?" The mouse's voice almost diappointed.
"Snow rabbits don't drink," she said. "And there's none left in the galley." Pause. "Juneau and Assumpta are on the station, bartering. I think Juneau said she'd try and get some."
Field nodded, sipping his own water.
Both of them sipping from their water glasses at the same time. Field's glass was nearly empty. And, as he sipped, an eye lazily looked at her ... and saw her the same as before. Saw her ... as she was before. And himself. As he was before. Oh, to be equipped with lazy eyes! To not see change. To not have to register it. But even so ...
... she'd never looked more ... radiant. More mature. More ... herself. She was still young. Twenty-two. That was young, wasn't it? She was a few months older than the mouse ... and having a child hadn't deterred from her beauty.
"Are we gonna make cookies?" she asked hopefully. "Not with the food processor, but ... by paw. REAL cookies?"
"Don't have the ingredients," was all Field said. A twitch. "I'm sorry ... "
"Oh." There was a drop in her voice. She took a breath. "Um ... well, the pasta was good. IS good, I mean." She hadn't finished hers.
"Thank the food processor."
"I'm just ... giving a compliment, is all," she said.
The mouse just nodded. Sighing. Closing his eyes.
"I'm sorry, though. For telling you to shut up."
"And I said ... it was okay," the mouse whispered. "I'm not dwelling on it."
"Your whiskers are drooped."
"I'm tired, too," was his response.
All the energy they had previously spent on each other ... was now being spent on the baby. Comforting it. Feeding it. Putting it to sleep. Watching over it. Field and Adelaide had been forced to stagger their shifts. Field would work mornings ... while she stayed in their quarters with Akira. And Adelaide would work afternoons ... while Field took care of her. Akira never slept through a night. And because she had latent telepathic abilities, the mouse and bat not only could HEAR her distress ... but could FEEL it, too. And would wake up with a heavy anxiety.
The three of them (father, mother, daughter) were mentally linked. If the baby was unhappy, Field and Adelaide were unhappy.
But ... if the baby was bright and bouncy, so were her parents.
It was like having your emotions tied (by bow) onto a yo-yo. It was draining. Adelaide assured Field that, when Akira was old enough to control her telepathy, the directness of the tri-link would go away. But, still a baby, and still dependent on them in all things ...
Field drew in a breath. "Think she's okay?" He didn't like, necessarily, to have her out of his sight. She was so small. It was amazing that every-fur managed to live to be an adult. How fragile they all were as children! YEARS of care and protection ... only to grow up and ... oh, how hard it was to be a parent. Field feared that Akira would have a falling out with them. Field hadn't spoken to his own parents ... for a long time (before the exile). And, now, he would never have the chance ...
"Mm?" Adelaide looked up. "Yeah ... she's okay. I mean, I would know if she wasn't." Adelaide, being the mother, and being a bat ... had a stronger telepathic sense. Field's own abilities were ... anomalous. Not normal. And were heightened with Adelaide's help.
Field just nodded. Fiddled with a spoon.
"So, no cookies?"
"No. No ingredients. I already ... "
"Yeah, I just ... trying to make conversation," Adelaide said, remembering when they used to wax poetic. About romance. About life. About spirituality. About everything. And, now, it was almost like ... they didn't know what to talk about. Their youth had been prematurely taken from them. Into their arms had been thrust such responsibility. All the plans they'd had ... the romantic things, the sights to see, the things to do ... all waylaid.
All for her. All for Akira.
And they loved her. They did ... they loved her so much, and she was such a blessing. She was born of their love. She came from them. And from God. No, they loved her ...
It was just hard being young parents. In space. With no home to go back to.
It wasn't supposed to have happened this way. Not in their dreams, anyway. Not ... in their wishes.
Field took another breath. In, out. In ... out. Cleared his throat again. "Well, uh ... we have a few hours. Anything you wanna do?"
"Um ... well, I thought we could take a nap."
"Oh ... "
"I mean, we could ... we could do something else," she suggested.
"No, if you're tired ... "
Her eyes roved over him. "Field," she whispered.
"Yeah?" was his response.
"Look at me," she pleaded.
He slowly looked up. Eyes fighting the urge to dart.
"Are we okay?" she mouthed. The words not audible, but ... so clear on her lips.
"We're just tired," Field whispered back, not directly answering the question. "Let's ... we can take a nap." As if that would ease their burdens. As if that would give them ... an enhanced sense of freedom and responsibility. As if that would bring back all they had lost.
"So much for our little evening," Adelaide said, scooting back in her chair.
"Well, what do you want to do?" he asked again.
"Sleep, Field. I said I wanted to sleep," she replied, raising her voice.
Field's eyes watered. He got out of his chair. "Well, I'm ... I'm going to take a shower," he said, a lump in his throat.
Her back turned from him, her own eyes watering, she said, "Okay."
He paused. Swallowed. Before, before the baby ... their love had been unchained. A dreamy thing! Now, it was so utterly real and grounded. Still with wings, but ... " ... um ... will you come ... come with me?"
"I don't wanna get in your way."
"You wouldn't," he assured. "You haven't. You won't." Assurances. And a breath of, "I love you ... "
She transferred the plates from the table to the sink. Sniffling, a smile creeping onto her muzzle. Pausing. "Well ... a bath, maybe? Instead of a shower? Bubbles?"
A slow smile melted onto the mouse's own muzzle.
Seeing it, she giggled quietly. "Mm?" She raised a brow.
"Okay." Smiling, dimples showing, the mouse nodded.
"Well, go start the water then. Have it ready for me."
"Oh, I can do the dishes," he said, going to her. To the sink. "Let me do them."
"Field, I can handle it."
"You shouldn't have to do the dishes. I'm in charge of the kitchen."
"Are you?" she asked. Softly. Muzzle a few inches from his. "And what do you do to furs who drive you batty, hmm? What do you to do bats," she wondered, "who drive you batty?"
A giggle.
"Hmm?" Nose to his nose. "What if I start my own mutiny? What if I take control of the kitchen?"
"I'll have to wrest it back from you." His nose went to her cheek. He breathed in. Deeply. Of her. And sighed. "I'll have to ... "
His words were cut off by the gentlest kiss. The kind reserved for ... when the sun went down. For falling into bed. For soft, peaceful moments. But it happened in the kitchen. Near the sink. With their lips. It happened now.
And EVERY ounce of tension that had previously been in their bodies (and in the air they'd been breathing) ... it simply went away.
Adelaide pulled an inch away, to breathe. "Maybe we should," she said, trailing. Starting up again. "Maybe we should take that bath now. Take some comfort," she said, "now."
"I still haven't started the water. And the dishes ... "
"Leave the dishes. And we'll find ways to pass the time ... while the tub fills," she promised, taking one of his paws. Giving it a squeeze. And leading him delicately toward the bathroom.
"You need seven liters of warp plasma. Why?"
"Would you believe ... for our warp engines?" Juneau stated. Eyes boggling. Matching the dry tone she was being given. But unable to keep her sarcasm at bay. "Here." She handed over a computer pad. "A list of the things we have ... and can afford to part with. Just tell us what you want."
The snow rabbit considered. His white-white ears waggled. Long, slender, sticking straight up. Like antennae. Like he was getting reception from somewhere. Like it gave his mind an edge.
Juneau and Assumpta were on one of the orbital stations. Negotiating for much-needed supplies. They were in a cold office. With a window that looked out at the docking ring.
"You will," the snow rabbit (his name was Flint) said, "have to give us something in return. For the transaction. Warp plasma isn't something we give to anybody. Yes, it is used in warp drives, but it can also be altered ... for use in weaponry."
"We've been dealing with your kind," Juneau replied, "for, what, a year? You honestly think we'd use your plasma to make weapons?"
"Yes."
"Hey ... "
"Juneau," Assumpta interrupted.
The squirrel frowned, whiskers twitching. She crossed her arms, sitting back in her chair. Letting Assumpta (for the moment) take control of the talking.
The snow leopard nodded at Flint, saying, "You believe we have been infiltrated by the Arctic foxes?"
"I did not say that," said Flint.
"But you have suspicions?"
"There are foxes on your ship. Two of them, if I recall."
"They're hardly Arctic," Juneau injected.
"They are VERY adept," Flint countered, "at disguise. Foxes are our sworn enemies. You have some on your ship. It makes us ... uncomfortable. However," he admitted, "we trust rodents. We trust prey. Most furs avoid us. Your crew does not. You respect us ... therefore, we respect you."
"You said you trust 'prey.' Do you trust me?" Assumpta asked. Being a predator.
"You are not the usual predator."
Assumpta squinted. No, she was not. But that wasn't the answer that she'd wanted ...
"I will need assurances from your Captain ... as to the intent of any trade you make with us. I will need detailed record-keeping. I will need ... "
"Look, bunny, I'm not in the mood, okay?" Juneau said. "My engines have been breaking down. Breaking," she stressed, "down. It's lucky we got here, you know? But we're here, and we can't get plasma from ANYONE but you, so ... you hold the monopoly on our market. But as your friends, and as your allies ... I suggest you don't use us."
"We do not USE," Flint said. Voice lowering.
"Just give us the plasma."
"That is not how it works. If I were to say," Flint countered, "give us this, or give us that ... make demands of you ... you would bristle. In my position, you would behave no differently than us. We are in a cold war," he said, "with the Arctic foxes. They infiltrate us. They plant bombs. They kill. We guard our technology and our resources fiercely, and, yes, the Luminous and her crew ... they are allies. But you are still outsiders. You have a price on your heads. Doing business with you, in more ways than one, is a risk."
Juneau sighed, closing her eyes. Opening them. They'd been at this for, what, two hours. Trying to come to a trade agreement.
"If we must," Assumpta injected, "we will make a black market trade. We would prefer to trade with your government."
"The black market in this system is dangerous," Flint warned. "I would advise against doing business with shady furs."
"Then HELP us," Juneau pleaded. "Otherwise, we're grounded in orbit ... until you do. We can't leave until we have the plasma."
"When you have it, you will disembark? Where will you go?"
"We're nomads," Assumpta stated. "We go where we wish."
"Why not stay here?" Flint asked. "Your ship is the most advanced of its kind. You could help us in your fight. In turn, we could give you a new home."
Juneau frowned at him. "One minute," she whispered, "you don't trust us, and the next minute ... you want us to join your fight?"
"I am simply airing my thoughts."
The squirrel got out of her chair. Paced. "Have you looked over the pad yet?"
The rabbit's eyes scanned. "Yes."
"And?"
He nodded to himself. "There is currently a shortage of self-sealing stem bolts ... on our world. You have ten cases. Give us four."
"Four?"
"Do you have a need for self-sealing stem-bolts?" He raised his brow.
"No," Juneau replied, making a face. Tail moving about.
"Then there is no loss."
"Alright," she whispered. "The plasma ... for the stem-bolts."
"I will have to clear this with my superiors."
"Yeah, same here," Juneau muttered. Sighing. She had a headache. She didn't like it on this station. The air was so damn cold! You could see your breath ... and Assumpta was a snow leopard, and Flint was a snow rabbit. They were furs of the ice. They weren't negatively affected. But she was freezing her tail off!
Beep-beep-beep. Beep ...
"What is it?" Wren asked, turning. Standing a few feet away.
Rella, at tactical, tapped at her controls. "Don't know. Proximity alarm." A few taps of her fingers. "Shuttle-pod just drifted into range."
"Ours? From the station?"
"No, they're still there." A squint. "No, this is ... of unknown origin. One life-sign. Faint."
The Captain looked to the viewer. "Put it on ... "
The image blinked into view. A small, brown pod. Very angular. Very ugly, in many ways. Not sleek and smooth ...
"Shall we retrieve it?"
The squirrel frowned. "I don't know ... does anyone remember what happened last time we brought a pod onboard ... that was of unknown origin?"
No one answered.
"Is anyone even listening to me?"
"There's no quantum variance in the readings," Rella said, not answering Wren (but smiling inwardly at her mate's frustration; he was so cute when he was frustrated; oh, but she would ease that tonight, in their quarters). "If that eases your mind." Her own mind swam with distraction ...
"Why haven't the snow rabbits spotted it?"
"They keep their resources close to their fur ... they probably think it's from the foxes. But I don't know. They have excellent sensors. They should've seen it before we did ... "
Wren paused. "Bring it in." Another pause. "Bring the occupant to sickbay. Under guard," he added.
Rella nodded and turned to leave the bridge.
And Wren squinted at the drifting pod on the main viewer.
A giggle ... pushing against his chest. "Wet mouse, wet mouse ... "
Squeak-squeaks ... and grasps. And a hug!
Chitters!
Field, at a sit in the tub, met her lips. Kissed (with head at a tilt), and ran his paws up and down her sides. Slowly. Sensually. So wet.
She huffed as their tongues tangoed. As their lips ... lessened their suction. As they fell apart. She huffed and whispered, "You've bubbles on your tail."
"Do I?" A wide-eyed look. That innocent look that no one else could pull off ... but him. "Bubbles?"
"Uh-huh," she whispered. Into his ear. "They're jealous. They're trying to cling to you. But they can't have you," she promised. "Cause you're all ... "
Swipe, swipe at the bubbles, popping them, splashing the sudsy water. " ... all mine!"
Giggle-squeaks, and ... splash!
Splashing back ...
They were spilling water out of the tub, but neither cared.
The tub was big enough to fit two grown furs (whoever had designed the crew quarters on Luminous had the visionary foresight, then, to realize that furs might use the tub for other things ... aside from simple washing).
The overhead light was dim. Shadows were cast about the bathroom. Of her. Of him. And of their constant, little kisses. The groping of paws.
How his paw went under the water. Went between her legs.
How she would huff and arch at whatever he was doing under there ... oh, she was well aware of what he was doing, but ... with all the bubbles in the way, wasn't it more fun to play coy? She giggled at the notion, fumbling for him. Gripping him ... his mouse-hood.
"Gotcha," she whispered.
"You sneak," he accused. Smiling.
"Gotcha, gotcha," she prattled. "Watcha gonna do?" Ooh, the batty bat, in the bubble bath, was brokering for control of this foreplay!
His arm moved ... as he did something with his paw, with his fingers.
She chittered, huffing. "Oh ... oh, that's ... that's ... "
" ... what?" he wondered, nose on her soapy, bubbly neck. Breathing of her. Such a scent of cleanliness.
"That's ... oh, well, I ... " A swallow. "Well, don't stop."
"You still got me ... "
"You want ME to stop, then?"
"I didn't say that ... "
"Good." A grin. A toothy, fang-showing grin. A slow down-and-up stroke. "Cause I wasn't going to."
An exhale on his part. And a shy, eyes-darting smile. Well, they 'got' each other ... so, for now, they were even.
"He's a wolf," said Doctor Kodiak.
"I can see that. But WHO is he?" Wren asked. Ten minutes later. The pod retrieved, and it's occupant in sickbay.
"Couldn't say. He's unconscious. Can you see that, too?"
Wren squinted.
"And, no, there was no data on the pod's computer ... to indicate his identity. But I CAN tell you," Kody said, smiling, "that he had red eyes and a great olfactory system."
"Charming," Rella muttered.
"Details, squirrel. Details," Kody said. "It's all in the details."
"The details we most need ... are ones he can only give us verbally," Wren countered. "Can you wake him?"
"He's out cold. Might send him into shock ... " The rabbit looked at his monitors. "Radiation poisoning. Slight concussion. He'll be down and out for a few days. But he'll recover."
"I've quarantined the pod in the shuttle-bay," Rella said. "Posted a guard, even. I mean, after our past experiences ... I didn't want to take any chances."
Wren nodded, pacing toward the farthest wall. Coming back. "Get Adelaide."
"Why?"
"She has telepathic abilities. She can look into his mind."
Kody frowned, injecting, "That would be a violation of every ethical ... "
"Don't speak to me," Wren interrupted, with surprising force, "about ethics."
Kody glared.
Wren looked away. Nodded at Rella. "Get her."
Rella nodded, feeling a bit uncomfortable. This was not the first time Wren had snapped at a member of his senior staff this week.
They had moved beyond foreplay ...
... unfortunately, her comm badge hummed. Beep-beep. Beep ...
"Oh ... oh," she panted. Intending to ignore the badge. But it wouldn't stop. But, then, neither would he ... oh, would he! In, out ... pulling back ... pushing! Mm, mm ... " ... mm!"
Beep ... beep!
A winged arm of hers, a soaking-wet, dripping paw ... haphazardly reached over the side of the tub. Fumbled for the comm badge. "What?" she said, nearly barking it. (Not from hostility, but ... from Field going to a hilt of her. She on her back in the water. His rump and tail exposed to the air, but his body and fur still soaking ...
"Adelaide, we need you in sickbay. Now."
The bat had been forced to pull her fangs from Field's neck (severing their direct link), to say, "Oh, oh ... um, well, um ... yeah? Now?" Damn squirrel! To be forced to pull her fangs out ... this close, so close ... it threw her off. She felt dazed. Not just from the pleasure, but ... from the need to see the link through. Her and her endlessly intricate sexual systems ...
Whimper-squeaks on Field's part. He was in orgasm. Sowing, spurting ... shivering. And she put her free paw over his muzzle, trying to muffle the pleasure.
"Now?" she asked again. Oh, now ... now ... her climax. Now! "Mm ... " She shivered, huffing ...
"Yes, now," was Rella's voice.
"Mm ... mm ... five minutes. Five minutes."
"Okay," the squirrel's din-like voice (through the metal of the comm badge) said. Slowly. As if starting to figure out what was going on.
The comm link deactivated, Adelaide dropped the badge and brought her winged arm back into the tub, sighing ... oh, melting! Into the water. Muzzle kept into the air. "Ohh ... oh. Mm," she moaned.
"Hmm ... uhn," Field whimper-squeaked. Panting, panting ...
Both of them hugging each other. Clinging.
"You'll ... you'll come back?" he pleaded. He (of the mousey energy) could keep going ...
"Bet your whiskers on it," she panted. "Keep the water warm," she said, loathing her departure. Loathing getting up. Loathing getting dressed (not bothering to dry).
He, sitting in the tub, looking sweetly up at her, swiped gently at her foot-long, rudder-like tail.
She flashed her fangs.
He tilted his head, showing his neck. Giggling.
"Don't ... move," she panted, scurrying out the bathroom door. Out of their quarters. To sickbay.
Adelaide, five minutes after the call, came through the sickbay doors. Wearing a "don't-mess-with-me" expression. Pink fur matted with water. And smelling of bubbles and mouse. "This better be good," she announced. She was wearing one of Field's shirts (which she'd hastily thrown on) ... but it was only half-buttoned. Oh, her head suddenly hurt! When a 'biting' was interrupted, it gave the biter a headache. And, she of course, was the biter. It would go away when the bite was reinitiated and completed (seen through to climax). The bat was in her bare foot-paws. Field's clothes clung to her wet form. And ...
"We need your mind," Wren told her.
Kody, out of earshot, muttered with a chuckle, "Is that all?"
But Adelaide heard the thought of it ... and cast him a glare.
"What?" Kody whispered, grinning with mock-innocence.
Wren continuing, "We found a wolf on a drifting shuttle-pod. He's hurt. He won't wake for another day or two, but I want to know who he is. Then we can cross-check his records in the furry database. He could be a refugee. Could be dangerous. We don't know."
"Could be from the future?" Adelaide posed. Remembering their encounter with the shadow furs, who, it turned out ... had been led by Wren's future self.
"Something like that."
The bat took a few steps toward the wolf, who was on his back on a bio-bed. Half-covered by a blue sheet. Bare from the chest up. Chest rising and falling with every breath.
Adelaide, soon looming over him, closed her eyes, taking a deep breath.
The other furs waited. Watching her. And though she felt their gazes on her fur, she didn't faze. Just said, "His name is Pyro."
"Pyro?"
"Like ... having to do with fire?" Kody asked.
"I don't know. His name is Pyro," she repeated. "He was accompanied by two ... wasps," she whispered, "on the pod. There was an accident."
"Accident?" Wren questioned.
"Wasps?" asked Rella, concerned.
"I can't elaborate. His mind is heavily layered." She blinked and stepped back, shaking her head a bit (as if to clear it). "He's been taught in telepathic evasion."
"It takes years to learn that, doesn't it?" Rella asked.
Adelaide just nodded. The wolf didn't seem that old. Perhaps he had honed the skill while young. But why? Why would he have needed to?
"Adelaide?"
"Mm?" She looked to Wren, blinking.
"What else?"
"Nothing else," she whispered. "Pyro. Was traveling with wasps ... "
"But there were no wasps on the pod," Rella stated. "No remains of any, either. Unless they vaporized ... and we would've picked up trace molecules, if that were the case ... "
"Wasps are highly xenophobic," Wren remembered (from what he'd read). "They're a collective species. They assimilate technology and ... life-forms. They carry poison in their stingers."
Rella considered. "You think there are wasps in this system?"
"I don't know ... "
"The snow rabbits are fanatical about monitoring their borders. I don't even understand how this pod made it here," she repeated, sighing. Her nose and whiskers twitched. Her bushy tail jerked about.
Too many questions. But, then, that was always the case. In any circumstance. And the answers, as sought after as they were, were never as satisfying as they needed to be. Not when it came to mysteries like this.
"Am I done?" Adelaide asked.
"You sure that's all? Nothing else you could reach?" Wren asked.
Adelaide briefly hesitated. There had been ... something. An image. It had been an image ... of her. But it wasn't her, exactly. And she'd never met him, anyway. She didn't know this fur. But there was an image of a pink-furred bat in his subconscious. And she was dead. And what that meant ... she didn't know. Disturbed, she pushed the stray image away. "No, nothing else," she said, blinking. Rubbing her forehead weakly. She needed to bite! The urge to bite ... was pulsing. She HAD to finish her bite. "Can I go ... please?"
"Alright," Wren said, sighing. "Well ... we'll call you if he wakes."
"Yeah. Well ... I'm gonna be paws-deep in mouse, so ... if you need me again in the next few hours, leave a message." She went for the door.
And the three conscious furs (the two squirrels and the rabbit) stared at the wolf. Wondering who he was. And if he was a harbinger of something even MORE mysterious.
On the exterior of the ship, on the hull ... a stepping. A stepping. Spindly legs making no sound in the black, black void.
Two wasps (somehow surviving in this vacuum) stalked along the saucer section of the ship ... peering into windows as they passed (but remaining unseen). Reaching a junction of access tubes. And boring into the hull. With stingers, with mandibles ... somehow, breaching the metal. Somehow, slithering, sliding into the air of the ship.
Buzzing raspy buzzes.
Speaking to each other in the darkened corridor (with its air now being vented into space).
One of the wasps waggled his antennae. The wolf was in sickbay.
That was their destination.