FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Blaze of Glory

Chapter 5: Decisions and a Brother Dear

"So, what do you say? You want to be a member of my crew?"

The question, even though Eric was more or less prepared for it, caught him off-guard. His mind reeled as it sought to find its bearings and the very air seemed stifling. Would she kill him if he said no?

Stacy stood there, almost completely indifferent with her arms crossed and her grey eyes as cold as black ice. Rhajir was turning his head to look at each of them in turn, his black and orange tail twitching behind him. They both expected an answer, and it fell on Eric to give them the correct one.

Eric's mind raced as he ran through every possibility that could become of the single question. On one hand, he could accept her offer. He could become a pirate, one of the hunted individuals that preyed on others and took what they wanted, whenever they wanted it. He could end up rich with the spoils of a hundred ships, a rogue, and a murderer. Eric could (if lady luck was on his side) go on to be just as notorious as Stacy herself, possibly even getting his own ship one day to stalk the void in search of the next bounty. He could end up getting caught. He knew that those few pirates that got caught found their lives... miserable.

On the other hand, he could decline her offer. He could hold true to his values and honour, stick to the good side of things. And probably die because of it. He already knew that his hosts would more than likely perform any action necessary to maintain the integrity of their disguise. And he seriously doubted that they would hesitate to tie up the particular loose end that he would represent.

Whatever the case, he needed to answer her. He just wished that there was a good option, this one falling into the lose-lose bin. Eric summoned up all the courage that he could, gathering it all into a dense core of willpower. Then, he answered.

"No." The word tasted of ash in his mouth and surprised him as much as it did the others. His breath caught in his throat as he looked over the two pirates. "I won't."

Rhajir blinked slowly, his head turning to look over at Stacy. One of his hands was clenching and opening to a small rhythm that only he could discern. Overall, he looked as if he expected to be burying a corpse later on that night, probably under a busy overpass or on a hill somewhere in the middle of nowhere.

Stacy. Now she looked... different. Her tail, which had been swaying regularly as she had asked the question, was still moving but far more slowly, the black tip dancing about both ponderously and threateningly. Her face was unreadable, her mouth managing to be completely neutral. Her eyes hadn't gained any more intensity (Eric imagined that it would have been hard for them to do so, even if she had willed it), but hadn't lost any either. Her ears were perked forward and her breathing was immaculate and paced. It was quite the poker face.

Oh crap...

Then, she smiled. It was, as far as he could tell, genuine and helped to cool the chill he felt coming from her speculative gaze. "Good." she said.

Eric opened his mouth and it flapped a few times as it tried to create words. Finally, he managed to stutter his astonishment. "Er- wait- I ... Good?... What?"

"I said 'good'. I imagine it still means that something is satisfactory?" she said coyly.

"What do you mean? You're not mad?" asked Eric, wondering for all the world why he was jabbing a stick into what could potentially be a hornet nest.

"Mad? Now why would I be mad?" she asked, raising an eyebrow. She stood up and strode purposefully over to one of the couches. She sat down lightly and spread her arms out so that they were laying on top of the low-backed piece of ornate furniture.

"Well- I... I don't know." said Eric as he swallowed loudly.

"Oh, please. If you were thinking that I would shoot you and bury you under an overpass, you've been watching far too many movies." she smirked. "Besides, I don't have time to dig you a shallow grave. And Rhaj just wouldn't want to."

"Well, what are you going to do with me then?" he asked.

"Drop you at your house." she shrugged. "Not much else to do, I'd think."

"You're just going to... drive me home?" Eric blinked slowly, his head tilting to one side. Rhajir gave a chuff of indifference and left to do something else.

Lucky bastard... Eric thought.

"That was kind of the plan. Well, actually, I lied. The ideal plan was for you to come with me on my ship, preferably on my crew list." She gave a heave of disappointment (Eric wondered if it was real, but to no avail; he imagined that he would have no way of knowing for sure). "But it seems that that isn't going to happen now, does it?"

Eric didn't know what to say. Whenever he thought 'pirates', he thought of the kind of people that slaughtered and/or enslaved others for no good reason, were out only for themselves, and whose ranks were composed of the worst that the universe, in all of its wild abnormality, could spawn. He figured that they started to meet up over time, eventually building to critical mass and before going on a rampage across the stars. He thought of terrorists, mercenaries, thugs, brutes, murderers, and maniacs. He had never thought of... whatever Stacy was.

In the time since she had met her only a few hours before, she had both mystified and terrified him in equal measure, saved a group of horrified children, made him lie through the teeth to the authorities, dragged him to a five-star hotel, offered him a highly-illegal job, and threatened to kill him. Stacy was something alright, but he couldn't quite call her a pirate. Eric couldn't, in all honesty, really figure out what to call her.

"I guess not." he managed.

"That's a pity..." Stacy frowned. Then her ears perked up and she smiled. "But, I do need one thing before you go..."

**

Eric tugged at his tie, trying to get the Windsor knot on straight. He looked himself over in the mirror, taking in the dark suit he was wearing with a speculative eye. It actually fit him quite well and he could probably say with confidence that it was one of the nicest things he'd ever worn.

It was a single-breasted black suit complete with notched lapels and a beige undershirt that almost matched the colour of his chest fur. The honey buttons caught the light from the chandelier above and they shone spotlessly. It was hard to believe that it had been packed in Rhajir's kitbag, through a firefight, mind you, and still looked as if it had just been cleanly pressed (a trait he was later to figure out was due to the suit being composed of perma-pressed tight-weave material. In addition to it being utterly crease-proof, it was also stain and dirt proof. And it cost more than he made in a year).

"Having troubles?" came a purr of amusement from behind him. Eric turned away from the mirror to see Stacy giving him an appraising once-over. His tail flicked subconsciously and he blinked.

She, if anything, looked even better than she had before. She still wore the dress that she had donned earlier, but now she didn't so much wear it as she flaunted it. Stacy, having had time to straighten her hair up a bit more and get every detail right, was absolutely stunning. He was instantly reminded of his earlier dream inadvertently, and had to work hard to banish it from his mind.

"It's this damned tie." he admitted. "I was never any good at tying them."

"They're not so hard." She stopped, looking at him and chewing a knuckle before an idea struck her. "Actually, try this." She closed on him, bringing to mind the 'hug' he had received at the starport.

He flinched involuntarily, and she laughed. "Relax. No knife this time." She undid his tie, and chucked it back onto the bed. "There, try that."

Eric looked into the mirror again, and found that he looked more... relaxed. Which was far from true, of course. Inside, he was just shy of loosing control of his bladder. He took a deep breath. "So why do you need me again?"

"Because Trax is busy, and Rhajir is our backup." she said in a nonchalant manner. "Besides, you look pretty sharp in that suit."

"Thank you." he frowned, not sure what she meant by that. "You don't look too bad yourself."

"Merci." she smiled sweetly, the look completely at odds with the one set with determination that he had caught a glimpse during the earlier gunfight. Her dress and tail swayed as she left the room, leaving Eric alone to think of what was going on.

As far as he could tell, he was going with her to eat in a restaurant, the Fallsview, if he recalled correctly, which clung to the side of the falls on the circumference of the cliff face. He had heard of the place before, but had never actually eaten there, his salary being a tad too low for him to be seen in a place like it. He had no idea what they were going to be doing besides getting a bite to eat, but he had a feeling that she was expecting somebody to meet her there by the way that she insisted that she needed 'backup'. With her being a wanted criminal and all, he could see why that made sense. What he couldn't wrap his head around was the reason why she needed him.

He had only had basic weapon handling courses, a result of his posting at the starport, but he had no experience in fighting whatsoever. The firefight earlier had showed that he was terribly outmatched by anybody with the slightest bit of combat experience, rendering him almost useless on any kind of combat team. But Stacy wasn't dumb; she had managed to stay ahead of Star Fleet for several years now, and he doubted that it was all due to luck (but a fair amount of it was, indeed, just that). No, whatever she needed him for, it wasn't as a combat asset.

Eric had several ideas, one even involving the whole 'dinner' being a ruse to kill him quietly, and another as a way to prepare him for a more practical kidnapping, but one stood out the most in his mind. He had come to notice one thing about Stacy, if anything at all. And that was that she liked to trick others, to play them as fools and become something that she really wasn't. Even in the few hours that she had known her, slight of hand was something that he had come to recognize that she did exceptionally well. Eric believed that he was being used. No, he knew that he was being used. He knew that Stacy had a plan for him tonight, but exactly what he wasn't quite sure of.

Eric let out a sigh, knowing that he could no more do anything about it, save for linger on all of the negatives, so he shook his head and decided to just go along with it. What was the worst that could happen? Well, he could die. But besides that, how bad could it be?

**

Stacy hit the call button for the elevator as they were ready to go. She straightened her dress a bit, finding that maybe the tailor had purposefully made the garment a bit tight around the bust. Her ear flicked in annoyance, the tell being instantly picked up by Rhajir. "You get any contact from him?" asked her guard.

"No," she shrugged, "but I don't need one. He's always on time." She checked to make sure that her knife was still secure on the inside of her left thigh. The dress had been cunningly designed, as had most of her wardrobe, to conceal a weapon of one sort or another. This particular article of clothing relied on a series of sensor-blocking fibres and an intelligent cut to hide the deadly blade. She hadn't needed to actually test it before today though, so she was a bit nervous. The only thing that made her slightly less anxious was the presence of her pistol hidden away inside of her purse which dangled by a spaghetti strand from her shoulder.

"As you say, Captain." nodded Rhajir respectfully. He had dressed-down for the dinner, Stacy having told him to remain separate from the group and hang around the bar while keeping tabs on the situation from a distance. Stacy sincerely doubted there to be any problem tonight, despite the way that things had been going lately, and it was only through her innate paranoia's insistence that she had decided having some backup couldn't hurt.

The metal doors slid open and the elevator chime sounded. Stacy was the first into the elevator, moving to the back and letting the others shuffle inside behind her. Rhajir hit the button for the lobby and they descended the tall building in a whir of descending vertical motion.

The view outside was wonderful, the dark of night now all-consuming and the lights of the city fighting a desperate battle to keep the streets illuminated. PTVs and people were no less common despite the night's cooling air and darkness, and the downtown area thronged with life. Out over the falls, the bi-nightly fireworks were being set off near the park, the bright flashes of crackling light and colour followed a few moments later by a chest-vibrating bang.

Stacy remembered watching those displays when she was little. She must have attended them hundreds of times in her youth, but she had always looked forwards to the next show. She smiled as she noticed that they still entertained her, even now.

But their view was not to last as the elevator came to a slow stop at the base of the hotel and the steel doors parted to let them out. They gently made their way through the small crowd that had gathered in front of the elevator as they had waited for it to reach the ground floor, and made for the exit at the far end of the room.

Stacy tossed Eric the set of keys for the PTV which their valet had handed her as they left the building, and the jackal caught them with a small fumble. "You're driving." she said as she crossed in front of the stout vehicle to enter the passenger side door.

"Me?" he asked. Stacy gave him an indulgent smile.

"Yes, you. Now come on, we have an appointment to keep." she called as she entered the vehicle. She watched through the tinted windows as he hesitated for a second before committing and opening his door. He clambered inside, adjusted his seat slightly, and turned the key in the ignition. The PTV buzzed mildly as the electric engine sprang to life and Eric started to guide the vehicle to the road down the short driveway.

Rhajir was going to hail a cab to get to the restaurant, Stacy having decided to get him to appear as if he had no connection to her and Eric for the sake of security. Besides, Stacy knew that Rhajir was not looking forward to taking to her soon-to-be company anyways, both of them having had friction between them in the past, and had decided that she would rather not have the meeting break down into trash talk and anarchy.

Stacy found a music station with something that she deemed acceptable on and settled into her seat. It would only be a few minutes until they arrived at their destination, the PTV even now switching from manual driving to the automated on-board systems. If she was reading him correctly, Eric also enjoyed the music, his fingers not being able to resist tapping a small beat on the door.

Several minutes passed by like this before Eric finally broke the conversation embargo. "I never took you for a person to like Maelstrom." he said.

"They're okay." Stacy shrugged, not particularly enjoying the way that the movement forced her breasts upwards from their cloth prison and squirming slightly to reset them, "they are no Talonz, but they have some decent songs."

Eric blinked slowly, and Stacy couldn't help but think that the opportunistic fur was gauging his chances of taking a pass on her. He replied after a bit of a pause. "I guess not."

Stacy smiled. Good, he learns fast. Probably still thinking of his earlier attempt.

<You have arrived. 2276 Falls Boulevard; Fallsview Bar and Grill.> intoned the PTV's navigation system.

Stacy looked out the windshield to the restaurant. It jutted out over the edge of the cliff that composed the steep walls of the veritable canyon through which the water passed after it fell down the mighty falls. It was a squat, but elegant, building composed of sleek white metal and blue-tinted glass. Large, sweeping 'wings' flared out from the side closest to the water, folding up and over the rest of the restaurant to enfold the structure in an architectural embrace. The entire thing was made up out of smooth lines and walls of glass, a modern take on an ancient concept. The name of the establishment, the Fallsview, was emblazoned above the entrance in blue-backlit block letters.

"Looks promising." said Eric as the PTV gave the controls over to him for the final approach. He managed to find a parking spot near the edge of the lot, near to a row of shrubbery, as she nodded.

"It should be. This place is so costly, it makes antimatter seem cheap by comparison."

"As long as I don't have to pick up the tab." Eric huffed as he opened his door and stepped out.

"Don't worry, this one is on me. Just don't screw this up." Stacy warned. She doubted that he could, anyways (her earlier comment about the antimatter being cheap was, of course, an over exaggeration. But it got the point across).

"It would help if I knew more about this meeting." said Eric dryly.

"All you need to know," she smiled, "is that you shouldn't do anything stupid." Eric swallowed audibly at that, his ears drooping. She laughed. "Just don't try and get a kiss; you might get more than you asked for, even by your current standards."

Eric said nothing and Stacy, confident now that he would be a lot more careful now than he would have been earlier, grinned and walked up to the receptionist.

"Vaille, table for three? I believe that one of my number is already inside?" she said in the highly-accentuated nasal monotone that she had noticed that the upper crust of society had the ill-taste to consider 'appropriate'. She caught a faint flicker of surprise from Eric, but to his credit he recovered quickly and resumed a bored look.

"Ah, yes; Madame Vaille. Right this way." nodded the host, a brown ermine fur dressed in a smart red vest over a white long-sleeved shirt. He gathered up some menus from behind his small lectern and gestured for the duo to follow him.

"Oh," whispered Stacy as she let Eric slip by, "there's just one more thing."

"Huh?" grunted Eric curiously as they threaded their way in between tables, chairs, and snooty-looking patrons. "What's that?"

"You're my mate for the evening." she said quietly as Eric stopped, looking almost as if he had run into a brick wall. She smiled. That had his attention.

"Wait, what?" sputtered Eric as he caught up, the host raising an eyebrow as he looked to see why one of his customers had halted momentarily.

Stacy waited for the nosey ermine to continue before supporting her earlier statement. "You are going to play the role of my mate during dinner. I imagine that is what you wanted earlier anyways, no?" She pulled one of her innocent looks, one that could make a stone feel emotion, and Eric once more regained his composure.

"Okay..." he breathed. Stacy knew that he was far from okay with it, but she didn't care. All that mattered was that he didn't botch this up.

"Good." she quipped as she wrapped her left arm around his right, effectively making it appear as if they were indeed fairly close, and not in the sense of proximity. Eric seemed to play along, and she was glad that he hadn't decided to duck out now.

Stacy smiled inwardly. Then again, I kind of told him that this was the only way he would get back to his normal life. Oh well, at least he's sufficiently scared now.

They made it through the restaurant to the area farthest from the door they had come in, being ushered by the uptight ermine into the VIP section that was reserved for those of great influence, great wealth, or both. It was a lowered area that sat a half floor below the rest of the tables, consisting of a wide, single-pane, window that offered a 180 degree view of the falls and wide river outside. The floor was composed completely of glass as well, making Stacy glad that she was a veteran spacer; heights didn't bother her at all. The cliff face and the river below were spread out below, giving the restaurant a one-of-a-kind attraction. Stacy already saw the cost of the dinner as justified, and she hadn't even tasted the food yet!

Eric tensed up noticeably. Great... He's scared of heights...

The host let out a small cough. "If you would like, I could arrange a different table?" he suggested helpfully.

"Oh, don't worry; he'll be fine." She said to the waiter. Then she hugged a bit more closely to Eric, noticing with an internal sigh that the fur on the scruff of his neck was standing on end.

"Come on dear," she encouraged in a helpful, if mildly mocking, tone, "There are worse things to be scared of." That got him moving, just as Stacy knew it would. The host gave a small bow as they resumed, Eric's footfalls becoming more regular and less strained as they went.

The host led them over to the far window and towards their table, which one it would be now obvious to Stacy. She had spotted her guest seated at the table located directly in the centre of the immense window, and threw a small wave.

Her guest returned it and the host, who now saw his presence as unnecessary as Stacy had from the start, gave another courteous bow and dismissed himself with the promise of getting a waiter to drop by with some warm bread in a few minutes.

"Hello, Alaric!" smiled Stacy as the fur at the table stood up to give her a warm hug. They embraced briefly.

"Hey, Stacy." said her guest.

**

Eric watched the small greeting with a look of mild curiosity, not quite sure what he was supposed to be doing. He stood there awkwardly, trying to both pay attention to Stacy and Alaric and stop himself from looking down at the glass floor. The butterflies that he had felt stir in his stomach earlier had more or less ceased, and he was able to take the hand that Stacy's guest, Alaric, offered to him.

They shook hands solidly as Eric sized up this newcomer. He was, like Stacy, an arctic fox morph with digitigrade legs and stark white fur. He stood a bit taller than Eric's 5'8, but only by about three inches or so. Alaric lacked any head-hair, a feature that Eric himself also shared, and had a ruffle of darker patterned-fur atop his cranium. His large, expressive ears were tipped in black pitch, as was the tail that flicked calmly behind his legs. Alaric's eyes were an attentive blue, and they blinked slowly as the fur smiled at the jackal.

"Pleased to meet you, Mr..."

"Domonic SanDiego." offered Eric, falling back on the surname that he had been told to adopt back at the hotel room. "And the pleasure is all mine."

"Ha! At least you caught yourself a polite one, sis." laughed Alaric as he released Eric's hand from his sturdy grip (which had been crushing Eric's hand for a good few seconds now).

Well, thought Eric as the coin dropped, that explains the similarities between them, at least.

Alaric brushed down his suit jacket and gestured to the table beside him. "Well, should we eat, or are we going to just stand here with awkward introductions?" Eric noticed that the straightforward attitude seemed to run in the family.

Eric joined the other two as they took their seats at the table, pulling up the high-backed chair that he found himself in so that the white-cloth covered table was a comfortable distance from him. Stacy took the seat nearest him, probably to better go with her ruse of being in a relationship with him, and took up the glass of water that had been on the table prior to their arrival after throwing her bag over the chair's back.

"So, Stacy, where did you meet this poor sod? On one of your 'expeditions'?" asked Alaric, clearly intent on getting a clear picture of the man who was supposed to be dating (and, as far as he knew, screwing) his sister. The question was accompanied by a grin which Eric could have swore he had stolen from Stacy.

"I met him at Perimunda." she began, giving her brother an indulgent smile.

This will be interesting... thought Eric.

"I was in the process of trading for some information at a local bar when Dom here stumbled into the place. He started asking around about... what was it again, dear?" Stacy had effectively handed Eric the proverbial sceptre, expecting him to run with it.

"I was asking," said Eric, his mind racing to come up with a good reason to talk to a pirate in a bar. A bar on an asteroid mostly hostile towards people not of the 'illegal' calibre. "about getting passage to Terra."

"Oh," said Alaric, accepting a small basket of bread from a passing waitress. Eric caught the look he gave to the blonde raccoon fem, well, more specifically, her ass, as she went by. He had to stop himself from doing the same thing. Alaric continued. "Why did you need to come here?"

Eric busied himself with buttering a slice of warm bread from the wicker basket that the fem had dropped off, stalling for time. "I was looking to come here and get a hold of a cousin of mine. He had sent me a message saying that he was looking for investors for a colony op he was planning of launching."

"Is that so?" nodded Alaric. "which planet was he thinking of? I know a few friends that might think of kicking in some cash if it's viable."

Oh, come on! Why do you have to be such a curious bastard?

"Dresna Three." Eric replied. Alright, you want to play? Game on!

"Dresna Three..." muttered Alaric, squinting slightly in thought. "Is that on the Eastern Rim?"

How would I know?

"No, Southwest, actually. But my cousin says that the location could become a booming trading locale if it is developed enough." Eric was getting into the lie now, starting to formulate answers to questions not yet asked.

Stacy munched quietly on a piece of bread and mulled over her menu absently as Alaric stroked his white-furred chin. "That's the frontier, right? Well, I could see that happening. But only if Star Fleet decides it wants to spend the resources necessary to launch some more first-contact teams. I've heard that there is a lot of unknown signals being picked up in that area lately."

"Those? Huh, I hadn't thought of that. But if another race is discovered to be friendly, Dresna Three would be in a prime location for trade." Eric gave Stacy's brother a small grin. "Which would make the founders very rich."

"That it would..." Alaric twitched an ear. "Now tell me, what is your cousin's name? I know a good many folks who would love to have a shot at that proposed colony."

"His name is..."

Oh, shit!

"...Eric Chandler." he finished, saying the only name that came to mind.

"Hmmm..." grunted Alaric. He blinked slowly. Then, he smiled, his teeth showing. "Next time you are going to lie, don't make it so elaborate. Smaller ones do just as well, and you don't have people asking about every detail."

Wait, what?

Alaric looked over to his sister, who was trying to stifle a laugh. "Nice try, sis, but you'll have to do better than that to fool me. This one's an eight at best."

"Oh come on," sniggered Stacy, her grey eyes sparkling with playful light and her earrings jangling softly, "he had a solid plan. I'd say he's a nine."

"Solid plan or not, you never use your own name; that's rule number four." Alaric stated sagely.

"Wait, what?" asked Eric, his mouth slightly open. It was a good thing that there were no flies about, otherwise he may have choked. "You know who I am?"

"Of course." said Alaric, his voice plastered with good humour. "I knew the whole time; Stacy messaged me ahead."

"Uh-huh..." frowned Eric in a noncommittal fashion. He grabbed another hunk of bread from the basket, the other one having ended up on the floor when Alaric had called his fib.

"Well, she only said that she was bringing a guest. She made no mention of what your name was or who you were. I figured that out easily enough with that last pause." Alaric elaborated, clearly enjoying the way that Eric's ears were turning a wonderful shade of crimson.

"It's kind of a game we have, Eric. Don't feel bad about it." said Stacy, giving him a playful pat on the shoulder. Just then the waiter decided to stop by again, her striped tail flicking around her thighs as she asked them what theywanted.

"I'll have a twelve ounce steak, sirloin, medium rare. And a glass of your 2257 vintage, please." said Alaric with a small wink, the little 'game' not having been enough to stop him from picking something off of the menu. Or to keep his attention from the waitress. She blushed slightly, and gave him a nervous smile.

Stacy ordered next. "And I'll have the Prime Rib, same size. Uh... I think you may as well bring a bottle of that wine; it sounds good to me too."

Eric hurriedly flipped through the pages of the three-page menu, trying to find something that sounded appealing. He managed to settle on something a millisecond before the waitress turned to address him.

"And you, sir?" she asked.

"I'll have the lobster, I think." he said, "And I'm going to dip into that bottle as well."

The waitress gave a small nod of her masked face. "Very good, sir. Is that everything?"

"I guess it is." nodded Alaric, a devilish grin tugging at the corner of his mouth, "But if we need anything else, I trust you won't be far off...?" His voice lilted upwards marginally, a clear ask of her name.

"Isabella. But you can call me Izzy." she offered with a tap on the small golden name tag that was pinned above her right breast. "And, no, I won't be." Eric's ears easily caught the sultry tinge in her voice and he knew instantly that Alaric was in for a little company later on.

Lucky bastard... thought Eric, I tried picking up a girl today. She threatened to kill me and then took me hostage...Life sucks sometimes...

"So it was all a game, then?" asked Eric, a heave of air coming out of his nose.

"Well, sort of." supplied Stacy. Alaric had grabbed the final piece of bread from the basket and crunched into it with gusto. "Alaric and I always tried lying to each other as kids. Nothing major, mind you, but small things to see what we could get away with. Eventually, we go so good at finding each others tells that we couldn't lie to each other any more."

"So Stacy," Alaric said after a languid swallow, "came up with the idea of dragging others into it. The we made some rules and a rating system to see how good other people can lie."

"Kind of a weird game." frowned Eric. He took a sip of the water that sat before him, the cool liquid coming as a refreshing reprieve from his earlier embarrassment.

"I guess so." shrugged Stacy. "But just so you know, getting an eight or nine is pretty good. I can't actually think of anyone else who has qualified for such an honour." Alaric nodded.

So I can lie, whoopty doo...

"So I take it you two are kind of like fur lie detectors then." opined Eric. His foot touched the dropped piece of bread where it lay on the carpet, and he nudged it more into the centre subconsciously.

"Who needs a Talent when you can just look at someone and tell?" Alaric winked. He waved a hand in a dismissive gesture, clearly bored of the subject.

"So Stacy, what kind of trouble are you getting into now? Still raiding freighters?" he asked.

"Only if they have something I want." she said with a grin. "But right now I am doing something else that I need your help with."

Stacy pulled her bag off of her chair's backing and plopped it on her lap. She unzipped it and thrust a nimble hand into the aperture, Eric watching her move with careful grace. Her smile widened as her hands closed around something, and she brought the entire bag up onto the table before pulling it out.

"You have studied xenos artifacts, yes?" she asked, taking her sweet time to draw out the moment. At Alaric's curious nod, she withdrew her hand and a metal sphere the size of a softball emerged clutched in her careful grip. "Then what can you tell me about this?"

The object was a black metal of some sort and Eric's eyes were pulled unwittingly towards its centre of mass. Strange circles and lines, obviously some sort of alien writing glowed with a faint yellow light. Though how they did that was anyone's guess; there was no apparent light break in the smooth surface, and the characters were not transparent. As far as the jackal could tell, the writing wasn't really glowing, but the yellow light throbbed between dim and strong settings. Eric noted with great discomfort that it matched his heartbeat.

"Oh..." breathed Alaric as he took the sphere from Stacy's hands. He rolled it over in his white-furred hands, scanning it with his eyes."Now this... this is.. wow... Where did you find this?"

"I got it in a tomb on Gravralax. Stole it from a research team that was investigating the site." Stacy explained.

Eric watched the two as they went through the details of its acquisition, but he found he couldn't follow along very well. Not only did he have little knowledge of the planet in question, he also had no idea what the little trinket was supposed to do besides creep the living crap out of him. Another question soon came to his attention, surging to the forefront of his mind and bullying the other random thoughts out of the way.

Since when did pirates care about alien artifacts?

"This is... strange." says Alaric after a stretch of speculative silence. His fingers traced the alien symbols, his eyes displaying his piqued interest. "I have never... I don't know what to make of this."

"Hmm... My brother at a loss for words? Now there is something that I'd never thought would happen." snickered Stacy.

"Me neither." agreed Alaric. He looked down at the cool metal object that sat idly in his hands, weighing it up. "Stacy, this is... I need to bring this to the museum. I know some people there who could probably shed some light on what it is."

Eric looked over to Stacy, who was chewing her lower lip thoughtfully. An ear flicked. He could tell that she didn't like the idea. After a moment of consideration, she finally answered.

"Fine. Take it with you when you leave. I need it back before I leave, though." she said, her grey eyes watching the object as Alaric pulled it over to his side of the table.

"Mind if I take the bag, too?" he asked, waving an arm in an 'I don't have anything to carry it in' gesture. Stacy nodded and pushed her bag towards him across the table. Alaric quickly placed the artefact into the bag before putting the bag at his feet under the table.

The waitress returned with the bottle of wine at almost exactly the same time as the arctic fox placed the bag down. "Your wine?" The raccoon purred gently and offered a cork to Alaric for a scent-test. The fox smiled warmly after a small sniff and nodded. The raccoon flashed a grin of her own and opened it with the pop of a cork, offering the liquid around the table.

The trio flipped the preset wine glasses on the table upright and she poured the amber liquid into the glasses, filling them all up halfway and working her way clockwise around the table from Eric. "Is there anything else that I could get for you while you wait?"

The raccoon looked at Alaric as he said it, and Eric couldn't help but be a little jealous.

"No, thank you." says Alaric with a practised smile. "We're fine for now."

"Okay, well, if you do, just let me know!" the raccoon smiled as she took off with a happy sway of her bushy tail.

"So when do you need this back?" Alaric asked Stacy, his eyes flicking down to the bag at his feet.

"How long will it take you to find out what it is?" she replied as she took a sip of her wine. Eric noticed that she had smelled it and swirled the glass before drinking. A connoisseur?

"I don't know. Could be a few days, could be a few months. Alien technology isn't something you can just poke with a stick and hope to get working after a few jabs. It takes time and effort to find out what it is. It takes even more to do it safely."

"Well, I'll be leaving Terran space in a few days. If you still need some time, I can come back for it in a month or so after I take care of some business on Ferinichar." From where he was seated, Eric noted that Stacy's tail's tip gave a small flick. Apparently, that was not what she had wanted to hear.

"I'll see what I can do about it." Her brother said as he nodded slowly. "Maybe some of my old friends can pull some strings."

"Let's hope those strings are well-connected." frowned Stacy as she took a dainty sip of her wine.

**

Stacy staggered into the elevator drunkenly, laughing as her extremities tingled from drinking too much of the fabulous red wine. Eric followed her, and she noted with no small bit of amusement that he too was having a hard time standing upright. He almost fell over passing through the burnished steel doors of the lift, barely catching himself on the nearby panelled wall.

They had drawn strange looks from almost everybody in the lobby, but Stacy didn't care.

Let them think whatever they want... I don't get time off often enough to give a shit.

"Woah!" burbled Eric as he slumped to one side of the elevator beside her, tail flicking behind him numbly. "Thisch schit ish shtrong!" He still held the bottle in one paw, the red liquid inside sloshing about inside the green glass promisingly. The jackal took another swig, spilling a bit of it around his muzzle and chest, the wine staining he already-wrecked shirt.

Stacy giggled, closing her eyes and smiling. The dinner had went well. They had finished their meal at the restaurant, the food itself quite splendid, while Stacy had caught up with her brother. He worked as a xenoarcheologist and historic savant at the Museum of Remembrance, giving tours in between expeditions to planetary dig sites. He always had a story or two to tell, and they were usually long and interposed with many extraordinary things that others found truly incredible. Stacy, having grown up with Alaric, had long since gotten used to it and had managed to curtail him whenever she noticed him begin to ramble about their ancestors and the Gene Wars. She had heard it all before countless times.

Alaric, much as Stacy had known he would, had absolutely loved the watch. She had given it to him hen she had been eating her steak, having had almost forgotten about it entirely and only recalling it when she reached for . Alaric had preened over the watch, holding it up to the light, trying it on, and setting it all in a matter of minutes. He had given her a gift in return, too; a beautiful golden dove pendant necklace that he had claimed was a family heirloom that he had found in the attic of their old house when their parents had died.

"Careful!" Stacy slurred, "Ya don't wanna end up on the floor!"

"Noo..." he agreed as he pawed belatedly at the elevator controls. The doors shut and a chime broadcast that they were heading to their floor.

<Bioinformatics confirmed. Welcome back, Mrs. Vaille.> came the monotone voice from the speakers mounted above their heads as they neared their destination. The lights of the city blurred by underneath them, going completely unnoticed to the lift's passengers.

"Thank you, dischembodied voische." she purred, the wine really having gone to her head. She laughed again, and Eric joined in.

Eric turned to face her, his eyes settling hers. "I know I've schaid thisch before, but you really do not scheem like much of a pirate." He had a lazy grin tugging at his muzzle, and his eyelids were droopy from both fatigue and drink.

"Aw, fuck you!" snorted Stacy. "I get hammered like one!"

"Yeah." snickered Eric as the elevator started to climb. He couldn't help but eye the spacer up as the lift rose, taking in her lithe figure and silken fur. It took him a while to notice that he was staring at her supple breasts, and he started after a few seconds, as the elevator chimed and the robotic voice announced that they had arrived at their destination, the luxury penthouse

He blinked his eyes and looked up, moderately startled. His eyes caught hers for a second, her grey ones fixing on his own brown ones. Stacy winked and took a step towards him.

**

Trax grumbled to himself on the couch, flipping through the channels on the vidscreen idly with several motions of his hands. There was nothing on at this time of the night, and the wolf soon found himself bored. He sighed and lay back into the couch, staring up at the ceiling and simply reminiscing about the day.

It had been a hard one. Well, by the standards of anybody unaccustomed to serving under Stacy, anyways. It had been just another day for him.

He hated flying. He had flown. He had flown and almost crashed, thanks to that asshole of a pilot. Trax had a very low opinion of the man, knowing for a fact that he had a thing for his Captain that he just couldn't get over. A thing that could end up with her getting hurt. He loved Stacy, but not in the way of lust or as a partner, but as a loyal servant.

Trax's ancestors had been warbeasts back in the days of the gene wars, and his specific species was not known for developing close relationships for their mates, instead procreating and parting ways. But they were known for their unquestioning loyalty in all matters to their masters. Trax may be seen as dim-witted, in fact, he knew he was, but he wasn't stupid so much as specially-learned. He didn't care for political allegiances, what the weather was like on the far side of the globe, how a starship worked, or what kind of plant life was considered extinct. No, such things were not important to him.

What was important to him were things far more practical. Like how to outfit a phaser to slowly cut through steel, or how much plastic explosive it took to breech a 2-foot wide blast door. The odd thing was that his 'learning' was not through conscious effort. He found it hard to grasp concepts such as math or physics, but learning how to field-strip a weapon or cut through a hull in a vacuum with a plasma torch generally took only one pass to perfect. He figured that it was a part of his genetic heritage, but he really didn't care; all he knew was that he could see a technique, adopt it in an instant, and then go on to improve upon it with both relentless practice and keen experimentation.

But there was no such useful information here, and the wolf quickly grew bored of being pent up in the room while the others were out. Trax sighed again. At least it was better here than it had been at the miserable enforcer station.

After getting the children to safety, he had been quickly lauded as a hero by the people who saw him step out of the monorail and shepherd the children to a safe zone. The past few hours had been spent at the station, answering questions and diverting attention away from the Breath and his captain after being brought there by an idiot of a constable. Trax hadn't budged an inch on any of their interrogations, providing only vague descriptions of the attackers and possible motives that they might have had for opening fire.

The question of the wolf being in possession of a weapon inside the starport was raised, and Trax had almost froze up during mid-explanation. He had been saved, however, by the arrival of the press, who, in their customary loud and obnoxious fashion, had made it past the layers of security to ask him some questions of their own. The interruption would usually have been met with open hostility, Trax not caring too much for questions, but were given a warm reception by him as his talent sprang into action. He had needed to tell a lie, and hanging around Stacy had easily provided enough of a metaphorical 'well' of previous memories on which to draw from and expand upon. He liked to imagine that his matriarch would be proud of the web of deceit that he had carefully woven and would congratulate him when she found out later. That thought made the bodyguard momentarily puff up with pride and anticipation.

His rounded ears perked up and swung about as the elevator door opened. He almost jumped up out of his seat, looking up over the back of the low couch to see his captain and tell her of his actions. A smile spread across his muzzle and he was about to give a 'hello', but he was stopped short by the incredibly unexpected sight that greeted him as the lift's passengers entered the room.

Stacy and Eric partially stumbled into the room, panting and murring as they locked lips and played a game of drunken tug-of-war with their flat canine tongues. Stacy was all over the jackal, her hands wrapping around him and rubbing his back as he had his arms around her back and his paws just above her rear. Her hair was a bit worse for wear and her grey eyes were partially closed as she french kissed the eager jackal, muzzle to muzzle and tongues tied. Trax watched as she put a white-furred leg up on the tan morph and pushed him to a wall, the male canine beginning to rub her thigh firmly. Eric reached up to her shoulder and started tugging her dress down over her shoulders, her luscious bre-

-and that's all he saw before he beat a hasty retreat from the room quietly before being he could be noticed by the duo, heading swiftly upstairs to his room and trying to drown out the sounds of the two mostly-drunken furs stumbling their way to the master bedroom intent on a night full of adult-rated fun by slipping a set of earphones on and listening to some music that he had brought with him from the Breath.

One thought occured to him, however, as he lay back on his bed looking at the ceiling.

I wonder if she had planned that...