While We Decompress
"There you are. You sleepy yet?" Adelaide whispered. "Mm?" Standing in the corridor (right outside Ketchy's quarters).
The squirrel handed Akira over. "She's been wide-eyed all evening."
"No problems?" The bat shifted her daughter in her arms.
"Nope ... " Ketchy met the baby's eyes. "She's beautiful. She's ... very well-behaved."
"Mm. Well, you're not the one she's waking up at night, or ... " Adelaide trailed. Smiled a bit. "But you're right. Unfortunately, she's going to grow up."
Ketchy just giggled a tiny bit (not knowing what else to do).
There was a pause. Adelaide's nose to baby Akira's. The baby's nose twitch-sniffing cutely, softly, quietly. The baby was radiating good telepathic waves ... right now.
"What's it like?" Ketchy whispered.
"Mm?" Adelaide's eyes went from the baby's ... to Ketchy's.
"Well ... " The squirrel faltered. "Having a baby. What's it like."
"You mean having it, or ... having, as in ... "
"Well, just ... do you like it?"
"Being a mother?"
A nod.
The bat took a breath. "I hadn't planned on it. I would've waited ... five, ten years. You know? But ... sometimes, we're dealt cards, as it were, that ... you know, we have to play. It happened, and ... I look at her, and I melt. She came from me. She was growing in my belly ... inside me. It ... born of passion. Born of Field's love for me. And she carries things," Adelaide said, "from each of us. His nose. My eyes. Will she have his poetry? Will she have my strength? What will she have? Who will she become? Will she go on to do great things, or ... will she live a simple, humble life ... regardless, it's ... she came from us." A breath. "I guess, I ... look at her, you know, and I see love. I see life. Continuation. Renewal. Possibility. And that's ... hope."
Ketchy nodded very slightly, very quietly, still in the frame of her doorway.
"But, I mean, it's hard," Adelaide admitted, shifting the bulk of the baby's weight to her other arm. Akira gurgled. Squeaked airy, barely audible squeaks. Tiny paws clutching at her mother's pink fur. "It's hard," Adelaide whispered, eyes darting down to the baby ... and back to the squirrel. "I mean, carrying a child for nine months? Giving birth? I mean, that's just the start. I mean, she requires so much care. Now that she's here. Takes so much of your energy. Constantly, you ... worry about her safety. Constantly, you're ... thinking about ... things you could've done ... without a child. Things you can't do now. A child is responsibility. Is commitment. A lot of furs," Adelaide whispered, "are afraid of true commitment. But when you're mated and have a child, you get over it. Quickly. You have to. Your life changes. But your life is, in no way ... over," she whispered, smiling knowingly. "God willing, there's a lot of story left." She smiled, showing her white, sharp teeth (as she did when she smiled). "And she's a new character." She nosed the baby's nose. "Mm-hmm ... "
Ketchy smiled. They were so cute, those two. She was almost ... no, she WAS ... jealous. Of that kind of love. That she had with Field. Adelaide and Field. They had a family now. They were starting a family. Family was important, wasn't it?
The bat sensed the squirrel's sadness. Her envy. Sensed the loneliness behind her smile. But, then, the bat didn't need her telepathic abilities to sense that Ketchy and Fredrick were having problems. Fredrick, from what Adelaide knew of him (from the times they'd talked) was very ... aloof.
"Did you and Field have a good time?" Ketchy asked.
Adelaide nodded. Smiled. "Once we got going, yeah ... mm ... " A grin. "Yeah ... we had a lot of, um, frustrations. A lot of things to work out."
"And you got them worked out, then?" A little giggle.
"For the moment." A nod ... shifting Akira back to the other arm. "Mm ... " The bat raised her nose. Sniffed the air. "Where's your mate?"
"Sleeping."
"Oh ... "
"Yeah ... " Ketchy cleared her throat. And shrugged. "I don't know," she whispered. Her eyes darted, and she felt herself about to open up. About to spill all her problems to the bat. Really, Adelaide was a good fur. A really good fur. Ketchy liked her. Wanted to be friends. Maybe Adelaide could be her best friend. "I was, um, really ... I mean, I don't know why you asked me to babysit, but I was glad to."
A giggle. "Well ... "
"If you and Field need some time, you know, to yourselves, I'll take care of her for awhile. I'd be happy to babysit again."
"That's very kind of you." Adelaide smiled warmly.
Ketchy just flushed. "Mm ... "
There was a pause.
"Adelaide ... "
"Yes?"
"Do you ... pray? To God, I mean?"
"Yes."
"How often?"
"Well ... every day. You know, before meals. Before bed. When I have a stretch of time ... in which I need to air my thoughts."
"You just ... like, you just give Him your thoughts? Just, like, talk to Him?"
"Why not?"
"I don't know. I just never felt like I could ... do that. Or that He would listen. How do you know ... He's listening?"
"Cause I feel lighter," Adelaide said, "afterwards. Cause I just feel it. Cause I keep doing it." A breath. "I don't know, Ketchy. I just ... if you're asking for proof that prayer works, I just ... I can't give it to you. Your heart either accepts it, or it doesn't." Pause. "Prayer isn't a cure-all. It's never answered in ... obvious, immediate ways. But it's done by choice. By faith. It's an admittance of ... humility. Need. Our own weaknesses. It's ... " A sigh. "I don't know ... why are you asking?"
"No reason."
Adelaide looked to her.
"I want what you and Field have," she admitted quietly.
Adelaide's eyes met hers.
"I mean, I ... you know what I mean."
Adelaide just nodded. Not confirming whether she knew or ... didn't know. Not really knowing what to say. Other than, "You're a good fur, Ketchy. Don't let anyone tell you you're not. Just ... have some confidence, okay? You're you. Not me. Not anyone else. Be you. And if some-furs don't appreciate that ... don't spend all your time trying to win appreciation they'll never give."
The squirrel sighed. Not really ... understanding.
"You want faith?"
"I want something. Faith. Stronger love ... than what I have. I feel an emptiness in me. I ... I want it to go away."
"Then you have to open yourself up," Adelaide said, "to healing."
"How? I don't understand."
Adelaide took a breath. "I don't know, Ketchy. Can we ... talk about this later? It's late, and she needs to get to bed," she said. Of Akira. "I mean ... maybe we can talk later ... "
"Yeah," Ketchy whispered. "Sure ... " She started to back away, into her quarters.
"Ketchy ... "
"Yes?" the squirrel looked back to her.
"Thank you. For taking care of her tonight. For being a friend."
The squirrel smiled. An honest, weary smile. "Wasn't a problem." A pause. "Night."
"Night," Adelaide replied.
"Night-night, Akira," Ketchy whispered, giving a little paw-wave ... as mother and child began moving away. Out of sight.
And the squirrel turned to go back into her quarters ... only to hear a rumble. A spark ...
... and the whole room turned pitch dark.
Field sat up. Had been lying in bed, half-asleep ... waiting for Adelaide. He sat up, looking around. That rumble. A blast? What ... his ears swivelled. And he slipped out of bed. Fumbled for his briefs. His shorts. Slipped them on, and padded (using his nose and ears to guide him) out of the bedroom. Into the living room of their quarters. Outside the window, the stars. The planet. The stations. He paused, squinting. Looking.
BLARE!
"Eek!" The mouse spun ... heart hammering. What, what ...
Blare-blare-blare ...
The alarm klaxon. Alarm.
Thoughts swam to Adelaide. Akira. Where were they? Where they okay?
What happened?
What was going on?
The computer soon clued him in ... as it announced, on the ship-wide comm, "Warning. Hull breach. E-deck decompression in one minute. Warning ... hull breach ... e-deck decompression in fifty-four seconds. Warning ... "
Field froze. Hull breach. Decompression. Oxygen leak. Air was venting into space ... on this deck.
Prey instinct screaming, "get out, get out, get out" ...
My mate ... my mate ... where is she ...
Blinding fear.
... and he was already at the door.
And it wouldn't open.
"What was that?" Wren asked, getting out of his chair (which he never sat in for very long).
"Um ... " Rella's eyes darted. Scanning the monitors behind her.
"Warning," announced the computer. "Hull breach. E-deck decompression in ... "
"Um ... well, I guess that's ... what it was," Rella offered feebly.
Wren was already at the back of the bridge, at tactical. Peering over his mate's shoulder. "Force-fields. Anything. Close the breach."
"I'm trying. It should've been closed automatically. I mean, force-fields are designed to go into effect ... if air's being vented."
"Well ... "
"Well, I don't know. It's not working."
"So, what are you ... "
"ALL of E-deck's gonna be airless in less than a minute," Rella said. "I mean, I ... " She pounded at the controls. "I can't ... Wren ... " Her eyes, a bit panicked, darted to his.
"How many furs," Wren whispered, "are on E-deck?"
"Right now. Um ... um, only 11 ... " Luminous had eight decks. A through H. But many furs were on the snow rabbit stations, or ...
"Only," Wren whispered. "Get them out of there."
The computer was counting at ... less than thirty seconds.
"Sir, they hear the warning. I can't ... what are we gonna do?"
"They'll suffocate."
"Sir ... Wren," she said, switching between titles. She was his mate. She loved him. She often called him Wren ... called him by his name. On the bridge. On duty. And he let it pass. But when it got tense, she would slip into 'sir' ... out of habit.
"Captain," said another voice. Chester. The black-and-white mouse ... at helm. "Captain, we're moving AWAY from ... we're moving OUT of orbit." His paws flew over his consoles. "I don't understand ... "
"All halt! Cut engines," Wren ordered. "And SEAL that damn breach!" He left tactical and went around the railings ... down to the helm. To Chester.
"Someone's tapped into helm control," the mouse said. Voice displaying his fear. His whiskers twitched. His paws shook. "We're losing ... "
The lights flickered.
" ... main power," Chester finished, craning his head upward. Whiskers twitching. Ears swiveling. Full of tics. Nervous motions.
"We're being contacted by the snow rabbits. They're demanding," Rella announced, "to know what's going on. They want our status."
Wren's head spun.
And the computer stopped its countdown. E-deck had been decompressed.
Power was out. The air was gone, and the heat was going with it ...
... and a masked nose poked into the corridor. And a head followed. Field. Having found (an put on) an oxygen mask. Paws shaking. Body shivering. Needing to get off this deck. Needing to know where his family was. Family. Did he have a family now? He wasn't used to having a family ...
The mouse scurried. Scurry-scurried. Thin tail, pink, silky ... trailing behind him. Feeling the creeping void. Oh, the chill of it. This deck was being exposed to space, and he would freeze to death ... if he didn't get out of here. His blood vessels, they would ...
Don't think, don't think ...
Scurry-scurry!
He made it to a lift. It wasn't working. Squeaking in frustration, he turned ... went for an access tube. Pulled off the hatch. Crawled inside ... crawl-crawl-crawl. Until he reached a junction. And a ladder. And climbed.
"Field!"
Field tugged his mask off ... with a paw. Slumping against the wall. Sinking slowly to the floor. Whimpering.
"Field," Adelaide said, more softly now. Kneeling beside him. "Darling ... " She put a paw on his cheek. He felt cold. His fur was cold.
The mouse, shivering, clutched at her arms, fingers tracing her wings. "Um ... I'm ... you ... you're okay?" he panted. "Please ... please ... "
"I'm okay," she whispered. "I'm okay. I'd just left Ketchy's quarters ... " Ketchy's quarters were on D-deck.
"I'm sorry ... I'm sorry ... "
"Field ... " She smiled, pulling him into a hug. On her knees on the corridor floor, pulling him into a hug. He was a bit limp, like a rag doll. She closed her eyes. A lump in her throat.
The mouse's breathing became erratic. As he started to cry. "I can't ... feel my tail," he whispered.
"It's okay ... shh ... come on, let's get up. We're gonna see the doctor ... " She put her winged arms around him, beneath his arms. Pulled him to his knees. And to his feet. Holding him steady.
"Where's Akira ... where's ... "
"She's back with Ketchy. I was gonna come get you ... "
"What happened. I don't know what happened," Field sniffled.
"Field, just ... just breathe, okay? Slowly. Breathe. Calm down," she instructed, hugging him close. Trying to give him her warmth.
"I was afraid you were down there," the mouse managed, knees buckling. Crying again.
She sank with him. To her knees. Cradling his shivering, furry form.
"I don't wanna lose you ... "
"You're not going to. Field," she whispered, own eyes watering. "Come on. You've got hypothermia. You're delirious."
"I'm not delirious ... I love you ... "
A slight smile. "Well, love is ... a kind of delirium. But ... come on," she urged, standing again. Pulling him back to his foot-paws. "Come on. Akira's safe. I'm here. You're gonna be okay."
"I don't know who else was down there ... "
"Field ... come on ... "
The mouse, sniffling, nose numb, whiskers drooped, was wobbly on his knees. But nodded. Shivering. Grateful for her warmth.
"Status?" Wren asked. His eyes hurt. His head hurt. Why did they hurt?
"Um ... I ... I don't know what happened," Rella said.
"Dispatch repair teams in EV suits. Have them mend the breach and re-compress the deck."
"I've already notified engineering."
Wren nodded. Not wanting to ask it, but ... " ... did we lose anybody?"
"One fur," Rella whispered. "Lonely. The wolf."
Wren's whiskers twitched.
"And, uh, a few more ... reports of hypothermia, exposure to ... lack of air. Sickbay's being flooded."
"Field and Adelaide. Their quarters are on E-deck," Wren remembered.
"They're accounted for," Rella confirmed. Eying her controls. "They're in sickbay now."
"Sir, I still can't regain control of the helm," Chester called. From the front of the bridge.
Wren turned, said, "Go to backup controls."
"I have, but ... I've been locked out."
"By who?" A frown.
"I don't know."
Wren paused. Thinking. Letting out a breath. Eying the other furs on the bridge. Who were busy at their stations, coping. Two other furs on the bridge (aside from him, Rella, and Chester) ...
"Wren," Rella whispered.
He looked to her.
"The snow rabbits are contacting us again. They're demanding to know our status."
"Tell them to stand by."
"I already did." A pause. "What should I tell them now?"
"Tell them to ... " A sigh. "To stand by," Wren repeated. "If they don't like it, then ... " He trailed. Sighed. "Ask them for help," he whispered. "Tell them we need help."
She nodded quietly.
Wren, squinting, eyed the viewer. They were still moving away from the snow rabbit world. On basic thrusters, but ... still moving away, nonetheless. What was going on? What had just happened here?
"I mean, I like mice. I mean ... okay, I love mice. And don't ask me why."
Assumpta turned her head. Slightly.
Juneau waited.
Assumpta sighed. "Why?" she asked.
A smile. "Well, they're just ... I don't know. So cute!" A giggle. "Mm ... like Field. You think Field's cute?"
"I do not think in terms of 'cute' ... "
"Oh ... "
"Why?" she asked. Peering. "Do YOU think he's cute?"
They were in guest quarters on the station. One of the snow rabbit stations. Their haggling done for the day. In the morning, they would wake and ... meet with Flint (again). Work some things out. Final things. And be back on Luminous in time for breakfast.
Juneau, wrapped in a blanket, was sitting in her bed (there were twin beds in the room ... snow rabbit living spaces were, as would one guess, sparsely fitted). The air was cold, and the squirrel shivered a bit.
Assumpta wasn't cold. Rather, was comfortable. And waited for an answer.
"Well, I ... I do. But, I mean, I have a mate," she said, referring to Chester. "And he's a mouse, too, and ... but I mean, yeah. I mean, when I first met him, I had a crush on him. Field. I don't anymore, but ... cause I have a mate," she repeated. "But he's a mouse, too. I just have this THING ... for mice."
"Obviously."
"It's just mice, you know. Mice." Pause. "You won't tell Adelaide, will you?"
"No."
"Okay ... okay, well ... well, she probably reads my mind, anyway. I always wonder if she's reading my mind, but I don't wanna ask, cause ... it might hurt her feelings. I mean, cause I don't think she is, but I always ... am on edge, you know, around her. Just a bit. But she's real nice, so ... "
Assumpta blinked. Juneau was a rambler. She liked to talk. Like, endless streams of ... whatever was in her mind. And the snow leopard had gotten used to such behavior (for prey often engaged in it). But it wasn't many prey furs that would genuinely be comfortable enough around her ... to do that. Even after a year on Luminous. She had friends now. She had a mate now (in Azure). But ... she was still a predator. And they knew it.
"No, but Field's cute in that ... how do you say ... " The squirrel trailed, bushy tail twitching a bit. She went quiet, looking to the sheets. Squinting. And eyes widening. "Oh, I got it. Field's cute in that kind of ... tender, waif-like way. That wispy ... shy, 'my ears are blushing' ... blink-blink kind of way. You know? That aw-shucks farm-fur ... kind of air he gives. That wide-eyed kind of cute that just makes you wanna scoop him up and ... nuzzle his nose and ... you CARE for him. You know? Even if you just talk to him once, you start to CARE for him ... he's just so genuine. So gentle." Pause. "He's cute." Another pause. "All mice are like that. Every mouse I've met ... Field, Chester ... I don't understand how they do it. Mice, I mean. How they ... are so innocent. Their anxiety. You see the terror in their eyes, sometimes. You feel sorry for them. That they have to live with that. You wish you could take it away." Pause. "They're the most prey-like of all us prey. If that makes sense ... "
Assumpta stared.
"What?"
"Nothing ... "
"Chester's cute, too. But his cute ... is a different kind of cute," she continued. "He's a 'hot' cute. His fur, you know, it's ... all patches of black and white, and ... I can trace the patterns ... with my fingers, my nose. My ... "
"I was not aware there were variations of cute," Assumpta interrupted (on purpose, fearing where that last sentence was going). She was lying on her back in her own bed. Staring at the ceiling. It was rather nice, this. Chatting. But she didn't know what to say in response to the squirrel's words. She felt a bit awkward.
"Oh, there are. Chester's cute is this ... oblivious kind of ... energetic, twitching cute. You know, like ... the slightest sound, and he spins around, like ... 'whassat?!' ... he's totally scrumptious."
"Scrumptious?" A frown.
"I could eat him up. The kind of cute you could eat up. Like ... silky, sizzling. Chester makes my heart leap. Makes my breath catch. He's playful. I mean, he's shy. All mice are shy. But he's really playful once you get him going ... "
Assumpta nodded.
"What about your mate? What about Azure?"
"What about him?"
"What do you like about him?"
"He has a sharp mind."
"That's all?"
Assumpta sighed. "I do not know."
"You don't know? He's your mate," she exclaimed.
"I am aware of that."
"So, it's just ... I mean, surely, there's emotion there."
"Predators, as a rule, feel very little emotion. We operate on baser instincts."
"Well, I don't buy that. Maybe I would've, a year ago, but ... not now. I know you have feelings."
"It is not the same thing ... not the same feelings," she said, "that you would feel."
"So, you're saying ... you're more like the snow rabbits," Juneau stated. "You've more in common with the snow rabbits than ... us squirrels. Or mice. Or ... the rest of the Luminous crew."
"That is correct. I am of the ice."
"Keep forgetting that," Juneau muttered.
Assumpta turned her head. Wondering if there was a tone to that comment. Wondering what she meant by that.
"Do you love him? Azure, I mean?"
Assumpta hesitated briefly. Before answering, "Yes."
"How do you know?"
"Because he loves me."
"No, that's not ... what you need to be saying. How do you know? How do you know it's love?"
"If you THINK it must be love, then it MUST be," was all Assumpta said. "Otherwise, it would not tease your mind."
"I didn't mean to question you ... I mean, your ... but, okay, you don't think in terms of 'cute,' and you don't 'feel' like the rest of us. Surely, you're fond of him? Affection?"
"I would kill for him. If anyone threatened him ... I would cause them harm. When a predator takes prey as a mate, we become our prey's protector. If someone threatens Azure, they threaten me."
"Wow," the squirrel whispered.
"What?" A squint.
"Nothing. That's just ... a pretty strong statement. That you would readily kill for him."
"I am a predator."
"So I'm constantly reminded." She trailed.
"There is more than one kind of love," Assumpta stated quietly. "There is more than one way ... to express it. To feel it. More than one way in which it manifests itself. Sometimes, it is hard to tell what love is ... and what love isn't. But I must believe that love feels good. That it feels safe." A breath. "I feel good ... when I am with him. I feel safe," she said, "when I am with him. Though, in my instance, it's more a sense of ... I make HIM feel safe. I offer protection. I make HIM feel good, and ... that provides me with satisfaction. It is a mutual dependence. It is devotion."
Juneau nodded. "Yeah ... " Her voice was quiet. The squirrel nodded again, moving to a lie-down. "You're right," she whispered. Going quiet. "I get the impression," Juneau whispered, "that exile doesn't bother you."
"It doesn't."
"It hasn't? Not once? Not ever?"
"I was already," Assumpta explained, "exiled, as it were ... before Luminous was. Before our crew was."
"How do you mean?" Juneau turned onto her side. Took a breath. Blanket wrapped around her.
"I am not your typical predator."
"No?"
"No."
Juneau eyed her. "You look like one. To a large degree, you act like one. You are one," she decided.
"But I have a fondness for prey. I've always been curious," she admitted, staring at the ceiling, "about emotions. About prey. I've always drawn to them. Not in a domineering way, though that is a part of it. But they make me curious. I do not know how to describe it."
"Well, what does that have to do with ... "
"I came from the north," she said, interrupting.
"The north?"
"On Home-world. The north." Pause. "They didn't like what I was doing. What I was trying to make myself feel. My ... leanings."
"Leanings?"
"I wanted prey. I did not wish to mate with a predator. I was so curious about prey. I ... " She frowned. "It was more than that. It was more complicated than that. It was not about ... it was ... " She closed her muzzle. Sighed through the nose. "I was exiled from my home. From predatory society. It is why I asked to be assigned to Luminous. I was an exile. I was an outcast. Why not make it official? Why not jet into the depths of space on a ship full of prey?"
"You ASKED for this assignment?"
"Yes."
"And they gave it to you?" Juneau asked.
Assumpta nodded quietly. "Yes. Luminous was the most-advanced ship on the fleet, and the first ship," she said, "to be run by prey. Built by prey. For prey. But predators control the fleet. Control our society. They wanted a paw-ful of predators onboard. As plants."
"You aren't a plant," Juneau whispered.
"No."
"So, why did they let you aboard?"
"Wren had final confirmation of ... the predator applicants."
"I don't understand ... "
"Neither do I. But here I am."
Juneau frowned and shook her head. They'd gotten way off the subject. "So, you don't miss home at all?"
"No."
"Not at all?"
"No," the snow leopard repeated. "Is that hard to believe?"
"Yes," was the squirrel's whisper.
"I take it, then, that you miss home?"
"Yes." Still at a whisper. A pained whisper.
"Why?" The snow leopard was confused.
"Assumpta," said Juneau, taking a breath. Sounding tired. "Just ... there are things," she said, "that ... you can't word. Home is one of them. It doesn't have to make sense. But it's such a part of you. It's so real, and it's such ... it's HOME," she stressed. "That's all. It's home, and it's ... yes, I miss it." A sigh. "None of us were born to be inside ... a star-ship. We were born for the air. Nature. We're furs. I mean, I love exploring. I love space, but ... this wasn't meant to be for a lifetime. I was gonna do this," she said, "while I was young. Be an engineer on a star-ship. While I was young. And then, at middle-age, I would go home and use this experience ... to live a life in a small town somewhere. You know. I don't know. I didn't plan on being out here forever. And, now, I'm going to be."
"There are many worlds. The snow rabbits ... "
"Snow rabbits," Juneau muttered, rolling her eyes. "Look, they're fine. They're nice. I mean ... maybe not nice, but ... they're crystalline things. They're very regal. But, Assumpta, they're ... paranoid. You know? Don't you see how they look at us? How they question us? They think everyone who's NOT one of them ... is an Arctic fox."
"They are involved in a cold war."
"Yeah, I know," Juneau huffed. "They only explain that every time we talk to them."
"Are you saying their conflict isn't real? It's all in their head? The result of paranoia?"
"I'm not saying that. I'm just saying ... they've been tensed up, ready to run, ready to fight ... ready for whatever ... for so long," the squirrel said, "that they're in perpetual waiting. Perpetually," she said, "waiting for something bad to happen. I look at them," she said, of the snow rabbits, "and I don't see furs with hope. I see furs who, with cold resolve, have resigned themselves to fighting the good fight. Only, it's not a good fight. It's not even a fight. It's a standoff. And it's not going to end, because neither side is willing to talk. Neither side is willing to communicate. Neither side is willing to be civil."
The snow leopard sighed, shaking her head. "It's not so clear-cut as that. No conflict is."
"I'm not SAYING it is. I'm saying ... as an outsider here, I have a perspective they don't. And maybe ... maybe that's worth something. Because I just can't see their tensions being eased from the inside. Their rest, their peace, their solution ... is going to have to come from elsewhere."
Assumpta was curious. "Where, exactly?"
"I don't know," was the squirrel's little whisper. A breath. "I don't know. I mean, I'm glad they're our allies. They're powerful. They have great sensors. Very advanced defenses. They're good allies to have, but ... do I entirely trust them? I mean, they intrigue me. They fascinate me. But do I trust them?"
Assumpta waited for the squirrel to answer her own question.
But the squirrel stayed quiet, shivering. Pulling her blanket closer.
"Lucky mousey," Kody said, running a medical device over Field's muzzle. The device beeped and hummed (in soothing tones). "You'll be okay."
Field let out a deep breath.
"But I would advise taking it easy for the next day. Allow yourself time to recover." A pause. "But you're a mouse, so I don't expect you to ... be able to sit still. But don't say I didn't warn you. When you pass out due to exhaustion ... "
"I'll rest later," Field said. "After everything settles down. I need ... I need," he stuttered, "to get to the bridge."
"You're not going anywhere," the rabbit said, "until I release you." The rabbit's eyes darted to Adelaide. For assistance.
"Field, he's right. Just stay here for now. I'll go to the bridge. Okay?"
Field whimper-squeaked. He just nodded. Feeling weak. Not really, honestly, able to move about, but so stubborn. Needing to do something. To distract his mind. The fear, the anxiety, all of it eating at him. And he asked, in his weakness, that she, "Stay ... stay. Please ... "
"Field, I gotta go," she whispered.
"Well, then ... "
"You're hurt. I'm not. I need to get to my post."
He nodded quietly. Not for the first time ... feeling the strain of being an officer on this ship. He was her superior. But she, in their mate-ship, was the dominant partner. Their professional and personal lives were juxtaposed. Add that to the fact that ... her safety was his number one priority. And how could he be objective about his job, his daily tasks ... when she was his priority?
The bat squeezed her mate's paw. And leaned down and put a soft, little kiss on his cool lips. Warming him some. "I love you," she whispered. And she squeezed his paw again, leaning up again. "Baby's still with Ketchy. Just recuperate, okay? I'll be back ... "
"So, no one knows what happened?" Kody asked, moving to treat another patient. (The doctor was currently being assisted by two other furs ... who had slight medical backgrounds.) None of the injuries were obviously life-threatening, necessarily, but ... several cases of near-shock. Low body temperature. They all needed immediate care.
"Wasps."
"What?" Kody squinted, looking to Field.
"I didn't ... say anything," Field responded. Under the rabbit's gaze.
Adelaide's eyes indicated the source.
The doctor turned. The wolf. Pyro. On his back (still), breathing laboriously, huffing, "Wasps ... "
"How's he awake? That's not possible," said the rabbit, moving toward the wolf. Reaching for a scanner.
But Pyro's paw closed around the rabbit's wrist.
The doctor made a surprised sound.
"Wasps," Pyro rasped (for the third time). Not in the best of conditions. Deadly tired. Maybe he was delusional. "They're here."
The lights flickered.
Adelaide craned her neck.
Field's whiskers twitched.
All the furs in the room ... were looking to Pyro.
"They're coming for me."
"Who are you?" Kody demanded. "Why do they want you?"
"The answers will make your head hurt," Pyro responded.
"Too late for that," whispered Field.
And the lights flickered again.
And Pyro told his tale ...