Star Dancer - by John R. Plunkett - ©1998

Star Dancer
by John R. Plunkett

As the shimmering, rainbow light of the transport field faded away it left behind a thirtyish Chakat dressed in a plaid, short-sleeve button-up shirt and carrying a portable workstation tucked under one arm. Hir pelt was sandy brown with dark spots, hir mane a deeper, nutty brown and tightly curled.
"Hello, Swiftsure, and welcome aboard," Dawnfire said. "Allow me to present our chief babysitter, Mr. Kit Carson."
"A pleasure to meet you, Mr. Carson," Swiftsure declared, stepping off the transporter platform to shake hands.
"Kit, please," Kit begged.
"Then you must call me Swiftsure," Swiftsure replied.
"Deal." Kit grinned.
"Nice digs." Swiftsure looked around the room, hir gaze ending up on Dawnfire. "When Darkstar told me I'd be going to a Security Force small craft repair station, I confess I expected something a little more... austere."
"You're on board the Asimov, actually," Dawnfire clarified. "Sigma one-seven doesn't have personnel transporters. Since most of the work is being done in the Asimov's labs but the, um, research subject has to be kept on board Sigma one seven, we docked them together for convenience."
"Oh." Swiftsure blinked. "But if this is a Starfleet project, why didn't you just call me in yourself instead of having Darkstar do it?"
Dawnfire sighed. "Because, technically, this isn't a Starfleet project. The Asimov's presence here is... something of an aberration." Shi fluttered hir hand. "We were called in by a Dr. Stannus of the Science Corps. He wanted us so kidnap Star and turn her over to him. When that didn't work he accused Professor Moseivitch of abusing his position as local director of the Janus Project. Professor Moseivitch responded by releasing video that, he said, showed Dr. Stannus abusing his position by making some sort of under-the-table deal. It turns out too that Professor Moseivitch's friends in the Security Force had been rather close-mouthed about what was exactly this project was all about. The kidnapping episode brought everything into the open; now Professor Moseivitch is now locked in a three way struggle between the government, Security Force, and Starfleet. Oddly enough that's actually worked in our favor; by the time everything hit the fan we were already here. Sending us away would require explicit orders; since the sides can't agree on what to do they won't allow any orders to be sent. So..." shi shrugged. "We do our own thing."
"Ouch." Swiftsure winced. "All you need now is a big exposé with its attendant media circus."
"Don't say things like that," Kit pleaded, shuddering. "We're running on spit and pious thoughts as it is."
"Then how'd you manage to get permission to bring me in?" Swiftsure wanted to know.
"We didn't," Kit replied. "You talked to Darkstar, right? Well, shi has friends everywhere. Shi presides over a network that would make Starfleet Intelligence green with envy. Shi arranged for the Asimov to be sent because shi and Captain Walker were old friends. Shi made the video that got Dr. Stannus in trouble." He shook his head in wonder. "Both hir and Professor Moseivitch have friends at the university. They pulled in some markers and here you are."
"Incredible," Swiftsure marvelled.
"You don't know the half of it," Kit sighed.
"Now who is Star and why do you need a sign language translator?" Swiftsure wanted to know. "Sign is basically the same as what we're speaking with a different symbol set. You don't need my translator to handle that. An ordinary language module would do fine."
"As to who is Star, it would be far easier to show than explain," Dawnfire said. "As to the translator... Darkstar thinks we may need of one before too long. Has to do with the kidnapping incident. I'll explain after you've met Star; it'll make more sense that way. If you'll follow me?" Shi turned toward the door.
In general shape and appearance the Asimov's corridors did not significantly differ from those of Sigma 17 but there were a great many more of them and they were considerably more crowded. After half a dozen turns and a turbolift ride Swiftsure was thoroughly lost.
"Is that the translator?" Kit asked, indicating the workstation.
"No, this is just a client," Swiftsure explained. "The actual translator itself requires some custom hardware. We're working on eliminating that; when we do, it'll run on any standard computer system."
The group arrived at a massive airlock door. Dawnfire opened it by applying hir thumb to a scan plate and it shut automatically behind them. "Oh, it's quite all right," shi assured, noting Swiftsure's concerned expression. "Asimov and the station are connected by a pressurized walkway."
"Then why do we have to cycle through a lock?" Swiftsure asked as the outer door opened.
"Containment," Kit explained, his face twisting into an enigmatic smile. "Just not of air."
Even before the door opened fully something barreled through the gap with Valjean hot on its heels. He snatched the intruder out of mid-air; Kit leapt aside to avoid getting knocked flat. "Hello," Valjean said, rising to his feet with a rangy young cougar Chakat- no more than eight or nine- held at arm's length to keep himself clear of hir flailing claws. Shi hissed and tried to bite his hand but a heavy glove protected it and his forearm.
"Ah, hello, Swiftsure," Darkstar called, jogging up behind Valjean.
"Gramma!" The child's face lit up with a beatific expression, hir disagreement with Valjean instantly forgotten. He dropped hir; shi twisted in the air, landed on hir feet, and bounded into Darkstar's arms.
"That's Aurora, Darkstar's granddaughter," Kit explained. "Shi's... um..."
"Precocious?" Dawnfire suggested.
"The Spawn of Satan," Valjean declared. Aurora stuck out hir tongue at him, retracting it smartly when he snatched at it.
"Shi's darling." Swiftsure stepped forward and stroked Aurora under the chin. Shi lifted hir head and purred contentedly.
"Oh, shi's just fine except when hir head spins around and shi vomits corruption," Valjean said. "Darkstar, your granddaughter is evil incarnate. We need to drive a stake through hir heart, cut off hir head, burn hir, soak the remains with holy water, and bury them in consecrated ground."
"You aren't giving Valjean a hard time, are you?" Darkstar asked, ruffling Aurora's mane.
"No, Gramma," Aurora replied, eyes widening as if the very notion shocked hir to the soul. Swiftsure chuckled; Valjean made faces.
"Then say hello to our latest guest," Darkstar directed, setting Aurora on the floor.
"It's a pleasure to meet you, Shir Swiftsure," Aurora said, every millimeter the dutiful, obedient child. Valjean stuck a finger in his mouth and made gagging sounds. Kit kicked him in the ribs of his lower body.
"This is Repair Station Sigma one-seven," Kit announced as the group moved through the pressurized tube. "Also known as Sky Crib."
"Because of Aurora?" Swiftsure ventured.
"Because of Star," Kit corrected.
"This place is starting to get crowded," Valjean commented as they entered the Operations Center. Nearly the entire team waited to meet the new arrival.
"This is our merry band," Darkstar announced. "Lt. Longstocking is the station commander, ably assisted by Warrant Officer Sherlock and Warrant Officer Liska Sharpears. Lt. Goldstrype is the Asimov's science officer and Commander Dawnfire you've already met. Our civilian specialists are Dr. Ito Janek, Dr. Nova Stallis, and now yourself. Valjean Hugo, Javert Hugo, Kit Carson, and Snowflake are student interns. That fellow over there is Ensign Skip Matheson, whom Captain Walker graciously loaned to us because he knows sign language and has experience with kids."
Skip smiled and waved. From head to toe he stood about as high as Kit's ear. His own ears- which like his head and fluffy tail were strongly rabbitlike- actually made him a bit taller than Kit. Sandy brown fur coated his head, neck, hands, and presumably the rest of his body, except for a white patch on his muzzle, chin, throat, and probably the front of his torso as well. He wore a Starfleet tunic and trousers with a blue Science Section color stripe. Like the Hugos he had no mane.
"Everyone, Professor Swiftsure is chair of the College of Linguistics at Dewclaw University," Darkstar continued. "Not to mention the driving force behind the famous Swiftsure Translator, which shi has graciously placed at our disposal." Darkstar pointed toward the view ports. "There, Swiftsure, you will see the star of our little show, Star herself."
Swiftsure stepped forward, frowning because shi didn't see. The workroom looked empty- until a large section of wall appeared to cock at an odd angle. Swiftsure gasped, jumping back and almost dropping hir workstation. Star floated right in front of the view ports, her skin matching the background so exactly that from a certain angle she vanished entirely so long as she kept still.
"She's irrepressibly curious but a little shy about meeting new people," Nova explained. "I think that, that chameleon thing she does is a defense mechanism. Like how some baby animals have stripes or spots to camouflage them."
"Say hi to Swiftsure, Star," Kit directed, raising his hands and gesturing, then pointing at Swiftsure. Star gestured back, then waved.
"Wave," Valjean prompted, lifting Swiftsure's forearm and waggling it so that hir hand flopped back and forth.
"I introduced you," Kit translated, glancing at Swiftsure. "She asked me to say 'hi.'"
"What... is she?" Swiftsure finally managed to say.
"That," Darkstar replied, "Is what we're here to find out. Either she's an extremely sophisticated nanotechnological machine or an entirely new form of life designed to live in outer space. Either way she's clearly sentient; we've taught her sign language, which she speaks at least as well as a three year old Terran. Her language skills are sufficiently well developed that I'd like to give her direct access to the library computer. Then she can teach herself and save us a lot of work."
Swiftsure's mouth worked. "How... how do you know she's a girl?"
"We don't, really," Goldstrype replied. "Superficially her internal arrangements are similar to ours. She has a skeleton, a muscular system, a nervous system, a cardiovascular system, a digestive system..." shi counted them on hir fingers. "We've studied her physiology for several weeks now and still haven't any more than a vague idea what most of her organs do. She does have structures that appear to be low power transporters built into the strakes at the base of each wing. When she first hatched she couldn't feed herself so we postulate that she's a mammal, and these specialized transporters her equivalent of mammaries."
"What if it's the male takes care of the kids, like in sea horses?" Swiftsure wondered.
Dawnfire shrugged. "Then she's gonna be one confused kid when she grows up."
"She's a girl," Kit declared. "And she wants to meet you, Swiftsure. Sit down here and put your hands into the gauntlets." He tugged hir toward one of the servo control stations. "Touch her," Kit directed as the virtual hands appeared. "She likes to be petted and cuddled." Hesitantly Swiftsure complied- and gasped.
"What is it?" Snowflake demanded.
"Well, she looks- hard," Swiftsure explained. "But she feels- soft."
"Actually, her skin is pretty hard," Kit replied. "What you're feeling is an interaction between the virtual hands and her body's force fields."
"Looks like you won another convert," Skip commented as Swiftsure stroked Star's belly.
"I just sits 'em down, Star does the rest," Kit replied, grinning like a fool.
Suddenly Star broke from Swiftsure's grip and rushed to the opposite end of the work room. She hovered by the wall, rapping on it with her knuckles. The shocks made no sound but they propagated through the station's structure and came up through the floor.
"What'd I do?" Swiftsure asked, worried.
"Nothing," Javert replied. "It's time for walkies."
The comm console lit up, showing the face of a Chakat wearing a space suit. "Echo two one eight and two one niner to Sigma one seven, requesting permission to dock."
Longstocking stepped up. "Sigma one seven to Echo two one eight and nine. Come on in; we're all glad to see you. Especially Star." Shi chuckled. "Use pylons two and three."
"Roger, Sigma one seven. We'll be right along. Out." The screen went blank.
"We let Star out to exercise three times a day," Darkstar explained. "Security Force graciously lent us some interceptors to serve as escort."
"Interceptors?" Swiftsure frowned. "Why not just shuttles?"
"Wait until you see Star out in space," Skip said. "You need interceptors just to keep up with her." He looked at Kit. "Shall we get suited?"
"Righto." Kit waved to Star- who waved back- then followed Skip out.
"Where are they going?" Swiftsure asked.
"Since the kidnapping incident Star's afraid to go outside by herself," Dawnfire explained. "Which in a way is a good thing, though primarily for us, not her." Shi grimaced. "Whenever she goes out, in addition to the interceptor escorts, she has a sitter riding with her. She doesn't have a crew compartment so they wear suits and ride on her back. Because of that the sitters always go in pairs. Currently we have three teams: Kit and Skip, Snowflake and Sherlock, and the Hugo brothers. We had to build two saddles, one for 'taurs and one for humanoids."
"Saddles?" Swiftsure cocked hir head.
"You'll see it when Kit and Skip are done suiting," Dawnfire replied. "In the meantime, I'll introduce you to the interceptor crews. They should be up any minute now."
"By the way, what is this 'kidnapping incident' everyone keeps talking about?" Swiftsure wanted to know.
"As you see, Star is basically a living star ship," Darkstar explained. "As such, she does have a super-luminal drive."
"Really? Where?" Swiftsure gave Star a quick look-over.
Darkstar shrugged. "No idea. We've scanned her forwards, backwards, and sideways. There's nothing in her even remotely like what we'd think of as a star drive. The closest match is a structure attached to the back of her brain." Darkstar patted hirself on the back of the neck. "It's almost as big as the brain itself and heavily interconnected with what Dr. Stallis thinks is Star's visual cortex. We theorize it's her equivalent of a mass detector. Anyway, we know Star has a super-luminal drive because, one day when she was bored and frustrated, she used it. One minute she's here in the work room- almost exactly where she is now- and the next she's gone, vanished in a pulse of tachyons." Darkstar snapped hir fingers. "Then, out of the blue, we get a call from Dr. Chakra, who's in charge of operations at the hyper-spatial observatory. He says Star went to the Array and is clinging to it."
"Why'd she go there?" Swiftsure asked.
"We think she may have been attracted by signal bleed from the mass detector. If so her sensors are about an order of magnitude better than ours. We went to pick her up... and the Asimov shows up. Captain Walker was ordered by Dr. Stannus to take Star by whatever means necessary. In short, more damage was done to the Array and Star ultimately came back on her own. I immediately set to work getting you and your translator here."
"But why?"
Darkstar grinned, a bleak expression that gave Swiftsure chills. "Imagine you're a kid, maybe three or four years old. You're skipping happily through life when suddenly you look around and realize that you're lost. What do you do?"
"Um." Swiftsure rubbed hir chin. "Start howling for Ma, probably."
"Exactly. Since Star has a drive I find it difficult to believe that she doesn't also have a communications system. Now imagine that you're yourself. You're strolling along and you hear a child crying. What do you do?"
"Go see what's wrong."
"At which point you find that shi is being held by a pack of hideous alien monstrosities."
"Um." Swiftsure grimaced. "Ah. I can see how it's a situation that might lead to... misunderstandings."
"Especially when you don't realize that the alien is trying to tell you that he found the kid wandering in the woods and merely wants to find hir parents. When Star's folks show up they're going to be distraught, not at all in the proper frame of mind for a First Contact. We won't see then coming because we can't track their drive. We need to be ready to explain, and quickly."
"Well, I'll get right on it, then," Swiftsure replied. "I know how I'd feel if one of my cubs got lost."
Just then four Chakats in bright orange space suits entered the Operations Center. "Howdy, Darkstar," the first called, waving hir helmet. "Who's up this time?"
"Kit and Skip," Darkstar replied. "Swiftsure, I'd like you to meet a few of the brave and noble warriors who keep Chakona's skies safe. Flight Officer Lila and Warrant Officer Rowan are, respectively, pilot and GIB of Echo two one eight. Flight Officer Ariel and Warrant Officer Larissa are pilot and GIB of Echo two one nine." Lila looked Siamese, with a cream colored coat and rich chocolate patches on hir face and ears. Rowan resembled a classic silver tabbey, Ariel a leopard, and Larissa a cheetah.
"Gib?" Swiftsure cocked hir head.
"Guy In Back," Larissa explained. "Though the Windstorm interceptor has tandem rather than in-line seating."
"A deeply meaningful and highly technical term with a most dignified and distinguished history," Rowan added.
"Basically it means 'Person who Does Anything the Pilot's Too Busy To Do at the Moment,'" Ariel explained. "That's a rather long and unhandy moniker so we shorten it to GIB."
"Are you the Swiftsure?" Lila asked. "As in the Swiftsure Translator?"
"Guilty." Swiftsure raised hir hand. "Pleasure to meet you all."
"It'd be nice to be able to talk to Star without needing someone to translate," Larissa said, waving at Star. Star waved back and gave a thumb's up, which Larissa returned.
"Anything special today?" Lila asked.
"Nope." Darkstar shook hir head. "Out to Cha'turna and back, keep her away from the arrival and departure lanes."
"Kit to Darkstar, we're suited up and heading out," Kit's voice called from the comm station.
"They're ready? Then let's go." Lila beckoned and the others followed hir out.
"Roger, Kit, we're all set," Darkstar replied. "Your escorts will be in position once you're mounted. Swiftsure, go up to the ports and look down to your left."
Swiftsure did as directed. Star settled to the workroom floor, crouching until her belly and wing tips touched the deck. A pair of orange suited humanoid figures appeared, carrying an odd looking contraption between them. It looked like a pair of bucket seats bolted to a long, narrow frame. Star remained perfectly still as the figures walked up her left wing and across her back to the base of her nose. After setting the frame down one of the figures pulled the end of a carbon fiber ribbon from the side of it and walked around Star's nose, just ahead of the main wing but behind the canards. Swiftsure found it disconcerting to see him standing sideways, then upside down, even though shi knew there was no gravity in the work area. With the ribbon secure the figures took their seats and strapped down.
"We're go for launch, Houston," Skip announced. Star gave a thumbs up.
"That's a roj." Darkstar touched a control. Two windows opened on the view ports; one showed a close-up of the far wall with what appeared to be a mirrored cone in the lower part. It was, Swiftsure suddenly realized, Star's nose as seen by the two people sitting on her back. A sidebar next to it, titled Carson, Theobald A, showed vital signs and suit stats. The other window showed mainly the back of Kit's seat and helmet, except when the person looked aside. The sidebar was titled Matheson, Skip T. "Echo flight, are you in position?"
"Chase formation is go," Lila reported. Six more windows appeared. Two showed empty star fields, the other four the helmeted face of each crew member. "Is Star ready?"
"Boy, is she ever," Kit replied with a rueful chuckle. "Darkstar, if you don't open the space doors soon she's gonna go right through the wall."
"Can't have that. Range safety?" Darkstar glanced at Sherlock.
"Range safety is go," Sherlock replied.
"Right, then, Let's get this show on the road. Opening space doors now."
Star moved away from the floor and hovered, aimed straight at the far wall. Mars lights turned and a thin black line appeared on what had been an unbroken surface. As it widened Star skittered back and forth; Kit clucked and slapped her with one hand, gesturing with the other. Suddenly a pair of new suns seemed to spring into existence; the ports polarized automatically to cut the glare but Swiftsure shielded hir eyes anyway.
"That's the interceptors getting a head start," Darkstar explained. "In a second you'll see why."
Star twitched all over. She flattened her rudders and slipped through the gap while the space doors were still no more than half open. Swiftsure gasped; the upper valve passed so close that Kit and Skip ducked their heads. Star's entire body glowed brightly with a cold, bluish light; as she emerged into space it flashed to dazzling brilliance. By the time Swiftsure blinked it out of her eyes Star was gone.
"Yee-haw!" Kit shouted. His point of view closed with the two sparks of light. The heads-up display in his helmet carated them, identifying the left one was E218 and the right as E219.
"Catch us if you can, slowpoke! Break!" Lila called. The two sparks crossed one another and turned away in opposite directions. Star swung to follow E218. Lila threw hir ship into a series of short, hard turns, then rolled and slammed the stick back, breaking sharply away from hir original course. Star stayed on hir tail as if stuck with glue, then suddenly broke away. E219 was coming around for a head-on pass.
Despite standing on a firm, stable deck the wild gyrations were rather too much for Swiftsure's stomach. Shi turned away, picking up hir workstation.
"Pretty soon I'm gonna do that," Aurora declared proudly.
"Are you going to be an astronaut when you grow up?" Swiftsure asked, opening the workstation and uncoiling a length of fiber-optic patch cable.
"Nah! I've almost got my suit rating! Sherlock says I'll be ready to fly in a week if I study hard!"
Swiftsure looked up in surprise. "You aren't really going to let hir do that, are you?" shi asked, glancing at the view ports, then at Darkstar.
"Why not?" Darkstar asked. "As soon as shi got here shi wanted to go out with Star. I told hir I'd let hir do it if shi passed the Security Force pressure suit training."
"Shi's doing better than a lot of cadets I've seen," Sherlock commented. "And in about half the time, too."
"Shows what strong motivation will do," Darkstar added.
"For sure." Sherlock nodded sagely.
"But..." Swiftsure glanced at the ports. "Isn't it... dangerous?"
"That depends on what you call dangerous," Darkstar replied. "Star's relative inertia fields are considerably better than ours. In spite of what you see, Kit and Skip aren't experiencing any more Gee loading than you are right now. Star has an incredibly sweet and gentle disposition- for which I offer thanks daily to the Odd Gods of the Galaxy- and in the weeks we've been exercising her outside she's taken very good care of her sitters. If she has any fault, it is an excess of exuberance." Darkstar grinned. "But what child doesn't?" Darkstar lowered hir hand and beckoned; Aurora zipped over and rubbed hir head against it. "Besides, I promised. Would I be doing Aurora a favor if I kept hir locked in a box against the possibility that shi might be endangered? Shi's my daughter, not my property. My responsibility as parent is to teach hir to fly, though I understand that one day shi will fly away."
Aurora enjoyed being cuddled but it could not compete with the spectacle on the view ports. Shi left hir grandmother and hurried back to the front of the room.
"Why did you bring hir here in the first place?" Swiftsure asked.
"You might say as an expert consultant on the matter of childhood," Darkstar replied "And because I can't leave hir with a sitter for any length of time. Shi has a genetic condition that makes hir... prone to violence. If not properly supervised shi or others could end up seriously injured."
"Oh, my." Swiftsure's eyes widened. "How do you deal with it?"
Darkstar's mouth smiled but the look in hir eyes made Swiftsure shiver. "I have it too," Darkstar explained. "That's how Aurora got it in the first place. Do you need help patching into the computer?"
"I, uh-" Swiftsure looked around, flustered by the exchanged. "Yes, actually."
"Javert, give Swiftsure a hand," Longstocking directed.
"Righty-ho, chief." He hurried over.
Every so often while they worked Swiftsure glanced at the windows. Kit and Skip whooped and shouted as if on the world's greatest thrill ride. The Security Force crews carried themselves with more dignity but they seemed to be enjoying themselves nonetheless. "How long does this go on?" shi asked.
"Anywhere from one to three hours, depending on how long it takes for Star to get tired," Javert replied.
Two hours later they were still at it- and so was Swiftsure. Interfacing with the station's computer system was fairly easy; establishing and maintaining a stable link to the university- with high encryption, Darkstar insisted- proved difficult.
"What's the matter?" Longstocking asked.
"Milnet is the problem," Javert replied. "The university isn't directly connected, so we have to route through a gateway at Security Force headquarters. It won't give us the bandwidth we need and it can't handle the translation from military to civilian encryption modes. The only way we're going to get this to work is if we establish a direct link to the university through a civilian channel."
"Civilian channels aren't secure," Longstocking pointed out.
"Even if someone intercepted the data and decrypted it, it wouldn't do any good," Swiftsure replied. "They'd need a translator program- our translator- the make any sense of it."
Darkstar sighed. "We might as well, Longstocking. You know we can't afford to wait for everything to be straightened out through normal channels."
Longstocking sighed heavily. "Darkstar, do you have any idea how many regulations we're already violating?"
"I'm not that familiar with Security Force regs but I'd guess somewhere between twenty and thirty."
Longstocking scrubbed hir face. "I'm going to be appearing before investigation boards until I die of old age. Okay, Swiftsure. Do what you have to."
"Sir, the feed barge is inbound," Sherlock reported.
"What, now?" Longstocking looked at the ports. "Kit, what's your status?"
"I think Star's about had it," Kit replied. He sounded rather winded himself.
"Tell the barge to hold," Longstocking replied. "We can't have them docking while Star's coming in."
Sherlock argued quietly with the comm for a moment, then looked up. "They say if they miss their window they'll abort and won't be back until tomorrow."
"Slag it!" Longstocking tugged at hir whiskers.
"Kit, can you stretch it a bit?" Darkstar asked.
"I'll try, but you know how Star is."
"You see, we feed her toxic waste," Javert explained quietly in response to Swiftsure's quizzical look. "It's delivered once a day. We don't have facilities here to store large quantities. If the delivery doesn't come Star goes without. On the other hand, she's a devilishly curious kid. She always wants to go look at ships, satellites, and stuff. And things that aren't her keepers she doesn't mind bashing to bits. Not to mention that she seems to really like the waste." He grimaced. "If she got ahold of the barge... well, it's a risk we'd rather not take."
"Like a bunch of mice trying to raise a mastiff," Swiftsure commented.
Javert shook his head. "Tell me about it."
"Tell them to dock but be quick," Longstocking said. Another window opened on the view ports showing an odd looking ship hovering in space. An open frame spine connected a conical crew module to a boxy engine unit. landing struts jutted from either side of each module. Four large, rectangular containers hanging from the spine occupied the volume where a regular ship would have a fuselage.
"Liska, deploy the cargo handling arms," Longstocking directed.
"Aye aye, sir." Liska moved to one of the servo control stations.
One of the containers drifted toward the station. Liska caught it with a large mechanical grabber and fed it carefully into a cargo port. The next two containers went the same way but the last one apparently wouldn't come loose. After an interminable delay- and much arguing between Sherlock and the barge's crew- a pair of suited figures left the barge's command module and went to have a look.
"Kit, how are you?" Darkstar asked.
"Star's ready to eat," Kit replied. "We're coming in."
"Delay as long as you can. We're having some problems with the cargo transfer."
"What are those idiots doing?" Longstocking growled. "If the clamps are jammed, pull the manual release and be done with it!"
One of the figures climbed onto the container itself and reached between it and the ship. Suddenly the container came free but with the figure still clinging to it. His safety line went tight, breaking his companion's grip. The other end of the line wasn't secured to the ship and whipped free.
"Liska!" Longstocking shrilled.
Cool as could be Liska bumped the container with the grabber's finger. It turned and fell neatly into her grasp with the clinging figure safely on the outside where it wouldn't be crushed. The free-flying figure struggled wildly but futilely.
"Grab the line, you idiot!" Longstocking shouted. "Don't those people know anything about EVA?"
The loose figure swept in a majestic arc on the end of his line as it wrapped around the grabber. He wasn't moving fast to start with but as the line shortened he sped up. After striking the side of the container at a good clip and rebounding he stopped struggling and floated limply.
"Sir, the arm's fouled," Lisa reported.
"Are you ready for us yet?" Kit asked hopefully.
"No, we're still having problems with the cargo transfer," Darkstar replied.
"We're out of time," Skip put in. "Star's coming home, one way or another."
The first crewman released his safety line and tried to catch his companion but missed. As he floated away Liska caught him with another grabber.
"Bring him in!" Longstocking ordered.
"He won't let go," Liska replied. From the comm station Swiftsure heard tinny voices. Shi couldn't make out any words but there seemed to be a lot of yelling and screaming going on.
"Darkstar, watch out!" Kit shouted.
A blazing arrowhead of icy, blue-white light shot with flickers of blue, green, red, and yellow appeared in the exterior view. Swiftsure gasped; only when it extended a hand and picked up the two suited figures did shi realize it was Star. She didn't try to untangle the safety line; she rotated a little and a pale beam flashed from her right wing tip, neatly severing it. She tried signing to them but they didn't respond. Kit and Skip shouted incoherently and gestured frantically; after a moment Star moved into the work room and set the set the figures down, placing them carefully on their feet. The first crewman shuffled quickly to the second- running wasn't possible in the absence of gravity- and shook him. He flopped limply; it looked as if only pressure inside his suit kept him upright. A bit later Kit and Skip arrived; the three of them carried the fourth to the personnel lock. Darkstar bolted from the room with Longstocking and Sherlock close behind; Swiftsure dropped hir work and followed with Javert close on hir heels. Moments later they all burst into a suiting room two decks down. Kit and Skip emerged from the airlock carrying the hapless crewman between them.
"Get back!" Darkstar bellowed. The power of hir voice caused even Kit and Skip to step away. Darkstar unlatched the man's helmet and pulled it off.
He appeared to be a dog. Short, golden yellow fur covered his face and his long, floppy ears hung down the sides of his head. He gasped for breath, eyes glazed, tongue hanging out the side of his mouth. "You all right?" Darkstar asked, slapping him gently on the cheek. He moaned.
The other barge crew member shoved forward, removing his- no, her- helmet. She too was a canid; chocolate brown fur with lighter spots covered her face and darker brown, more curly hair clung to her ears, which hung down to her shoulders.
"Would you two mind explaining just what the Hell you were doing?" Longstocking demanded.
"Of course." the woman straightened up, helping her companion to his feet. She pulled something from his equipment belt and thrust it into his hands; he fumbled for a moment then raised it. Swiftsure took a step back; it didn't look like one but the man held it as if it were a weapon. "I'm Renata Fayre of Chakona Network News. I was wondering if you could explain to our viewers just what's going on at this facility."
In the crushing silence that followed even the ventilation fans sounded unbearably loud. Tension lay so thick in the air Swiftsure found hirself gasping.
Darkstar blinked exactly twice. "Son of a bitch!" shi thundered.

Professor Moseivitch's bright blue sports car pulled off the street, into the driveway of his gingerbread Victorian cottage, and came to a stop in the car port. When after fifteen minutes he did not stir the car alarm sounded one short blat. Fyodor started, sat up, rubbed his eyes, and got out. After fetching his workstation and locking the car he shambled to the front door. When he lifted the big brass lion's head knocker its eyes lit, scanning his retinas. The door unlocked and swung open, the front hall lights coming on.
"Sir, you have a call," Jeeves said, speaking in a smooth, refined voice with just a touch of an English accent. His voice was the only human thing about him other than his arms, which were made of brightly polished metal and attached to a spherical body held aloft by a repulsor drive.
"Save it," Fyodor replied, dismissing Jeeves and the call with a flick of the wrist.
"I'm sorry, but I must insist," Jeeves continued. "It's from Aleksandr."
Fyodor froze with one foot on the stairs. The grandfather clock in the front parlor indicated ten minutes past midnight. As usual the hearings had dragged on all day and late into the night. There wouldn't be a session tomorrow- it was the weekend- but Fyodor would end up spending all of it in marathon sessions with his legal staff. With luck he'd get a few hours sleep and a quick breakfast. But that name. The only Aleksandr he could think of was one he'd known years ago on-
"Aleksandr Raskilov?" Fyodor asked, frowning.
"Yes, sir," Jeeves replied.
The professor's fatigue-blurred mind took several moments to assimilate that datum. He set his workstation on the stairs, walked back to the library, and switched on the phone occupying one corner of his brightly polished teak desk.
On the screen appeared a face with stern, aristocratic features and an Aquiline nose, like an ancient Roman senator. Jet black hair came to a widow's peak on his forehead and though heavily streaked with gray showed no sign of thinning or receding. A close-trimmed beard and sideburns enhanced his already powerful jaw. Steel blue eyes looked out from beneath heavy, faintly menacing brows. He wore a Starfleet dress uniform with a red color stripe and a captain's rank tabs on the collar.
"Sorry to disturb you at this late hour, Fyodor Ivanov, but I need to speak with you on a matter of some urgency," the image began. He spoke with a faintly Slavic accent.
"It's... incredible to see you again after all these years, Aleksandr Ilytch," Fyodor replied after a long pause. "But... I'm afraid I'm rather busy at the moment."
"Yes, some legal problems, I understand. I'm afraid they can no longer be our first concern."
"Our?" Fyodor frowned.
"Matters of much greater significance are pressing down upon us, Fyodor Ivanov. Since this is not a secure link I cannot go into detail. We will need to meet face to face."
"But-" Fyodor began.
"Not to worry," Captain Raskilov cut in. "I have the matter well in hand." He glanced to his right. "Energize."
"But-" Fyodor repeated as the library dissolved in a spray of rainbow light.

"Welcome aboard the F.S.S. Lijang, Professor."
Fyodor blinked, turned toward the voice, and froze. A most remarkable individual stood by the transporter control console. He wasn't very large, only ten or so centimeters taller than Fyodor, but the sculpted perfection of his body was breathtaking. Soft, snow white fur coated every visible part of him, which was almost everything since his only article of clothing consisted of a blue bikini bottom barely large enough to cover his prodigiously dimensioned male organ and a comm badge affixed to the waistband over his right hip. His short but pointed muzzle and round ears reminded Fyodor of a weasel or a ferret. A wavy black mane spilled down to the middle of his back and a black tag adorned the tip of his long, fluffy tail. His feet were in fact paws with short, dog-like claws. He regarded Fyodor with large, deeply expressive, and intensely blue eyes.
"My name is Chase, Professor," he purred in a voice as sensually beautiful yet unmistakably masculine as his appearance. "I'll take you to the Captain."
Fyodor started, realizing that Chase wasn't the person who'd first addressed him. He glanced around; not a meter and a half to Chase's right stood the transporter operator, a Terran warrant officer of southeast Asian descent. Chase's presence so overwhelmed everything around him that Fyodor hadn't even seen the man.
"This way, Professor." Chase bowed, gesturing toward the door.
"Ah, yes, of course." Fyodor stepped down from the transporter platform and followed. He couldn't tear his eyes away from Chase's trim but powerful shoulders, firm buttocks, and muscular thighs. He found himself wondering what it would be like to run his fingers through that soft, silky fur. As an avowed heterosexual he found these thoughts perplexing and not a little disturbing but he couldn't help it. Physically Chase was attractive- stunningly beautiful, in fact- but there was more to it. Everything about him, from the way he walked to how he glanced at people walking by, oozed raw sex appeal. The total was something that just couldn't be ignored; every person they met in the corridors gave Chase a frankly speculative once-over as they passed. Age, sex, and species mattered not a whit. Chase didn't merely enjoy the attention, he reveled in it. Each glance he returned multiplied a dozen fold, his liquid eyes and warm smile somehow promising sexual delights that defied imagining.
"Here we are, Professor." Chase stepped aside, gesturing for Fyodor to enter first. Captain Aleksandr Ilytch Raskilov sat at a table in his tastefully appointed day room. Two glasses and a tall bottle, already open, stood before him. As Fyodor entered he filled both glasses and rose to his feet.
With Chase out of his field of view Fyodor's mind got back on track. "What is the meaning of this, Aleksandr?" he demanded firmly.
"I apologize for your abduction, Fyodor, but it was necessary." Captain Raskilov offered Fyodor a glass. "Thank you, Chase, that will be all."
"My pleasure, Captain." Chase bowed, giving Aleksandr an absolutely smoking look as he straightened up. He withdrew, rolling his hips even more than usual. Fyodor blushed hotly because he'd looked but Captain Raskilov seemed immune to Chase's aura. Or, at least, he hid his reactions better than anyone else.
"You're wondering about Chase," Aleksandr observed as he filled the glasses.
Moseivitch snorted. "You'd have to be dead not to wonder about that one."
Aleksandr chuckled. "Well, yes. But he is sufficiently useful for us to overlook his... idiosyncrasies. He is an empath."
Fyodor paled. "Please tell me he's not the ship's councilor!"
Aleksandr laughed out loud. "Oh, no. If that were the case we'd never get anything done. We'd all be- well, I'm sure you can imagine."
"All too well, I'm afraid." Fyodor took a sip and gagged. "This isn't synthehol!"
"Of course not," Aleksandr replied as if the very notion were grievously offensive. "It is real vodka with real ethanol. Brewed from real potatoes and distilled in a real boiler, according to a secret recipe that has been in my family since the time of Peter the Great." Raskilov took a sip, rolled it on his tongue, and swallowed. "Heavenly. You will find no better, anywhere in the galaxy."
"Isn't it illegal?" Moseivitch wondered.
Aleksandr dismissed the notion with a flick of the fingers. "What sort of world would this be if two old friends couldn't sit together and share a drink?"
"Good point." Fyodor took another sip, more judiciously this time. "I'm afraid it's been a rather long time since I've tasted real vodka."
"Then please indulge yourself." Raskilov opened a workstation and slid it across the table. "But we aren't here for friendly chatter, much as I'd enjoy it."
"Great Ghu!" Fyodor exclaimed, grabbing the workstation so he could study the displayed image in detail. At first he thought it was Star but where she had smooth, gracefully curving lines this ship was sharper and more angular, suggesting a faceted appearance. Also, a design made of curves and curlicues- it reminded Fyodor of paisley- covered the top of the fuselage. "Where did this come from, Aleksandr?" he demanded.
Aleksandr poured himself another glass and freshened Fyodor's. "Some weeks ago a Federation warship engaged a group of raiders attacking a gas mining colony. One raider was destroyed, the others disappeared. This is the one that was destroyed, reconstructed from the very complete wreckage Cumberland recovered."
Fyodor licked his lips, cudgeling his mind into action. The vodka went down smooth as silk but tired as he was it hit like a sledgehammer. "What... do you want from me?"
"That ship is the same class as the one your people are studying, is it not?" Aleksandr inquired. Fyodor nodded. "What I want is the full cooperation of your team and access to all your research material. In return I will give you access to all of my research, and the wreckage itself."
"Whobl-" Fyodor swallowed. "Who will be in charge of the project?"
"I will," Aleksandr replied. "Because of this." He turned the workstation, touched a key, then tuned it back.
Fyodor had to blink twice to bring the words on the screen into focus. Then his jaw dropped and the half-full glass of vodka slipped from his fingers, splashing its contents on the carpet.

"What's your name?" Renata asked in an exaggeratedly cheerful voice.
"Aurora," Aurora replied in barely more than a whisper. Kevin edged sideways, eyes fixed on the view finder of his servo cam. Behind him the big view screen displayed a perfectly framed three quarters shot of Aurora seated on the couch with the wardroom view ports behind hir.
"Better not talk to hir like that," Javert said, but quietly so that only Kit and Valjean would hear.
"I'll give you two pepperoni pizzas," Valjean said.
Kit shook his head slowly, placing a single peanut in his mouth. "Sucker bet." After chewing carefully and swallowing he picked up another.
"Why are you here?" Renata continued in her slow, exaggerated tone. Aurora whispered something unintelligible.
"Because I'm the psycho bitch from Hell," Valjean said in a squeaky- but quiet- falsetto.
"I'm sorry?" Renata leaned forward. Kevin zoomed in until Aurora's face filled the screen. Kit shivered; scale amplified the devilish glint in Aurora's large, otherwise beautiful eyes into an unholy fire. Kevin, looking in the tiny viewfinder, probably didn't even see it. If Renata were one to notice such things she would not have begun this line of questioning.
"Because..." Aurora looked up into Renata's eyes, offset slightly from the camera lens. "I don't play well with others!" Shi came off the couch like a striking snake, sinking hir needle-sharp fangs up to the gums in Renata's hand.
"That's gotta hurt," Valjean commented, shaking his hand as Renata stumbled backward, shrieking like a punctured boiler and batting furiously at Aurora's head with her free hand. The battering did not persuade Aurora to release hir grip. Kevin, ever the professional cameraman, zoomed out as he backpedaled hastily, recording the action as it happened.
"Aurora, stop that!" Kit commanded sternly as he jumped to his feet and hurried forward. He grabbed Aurora around the neck with one hand and pinched hir nostrils with the other. Hir chest heaved; after a couple seconds shi let go, gasping for breath. Kit released hir and jumped back as shi spun toward him, hissing and spitting like a wildcat. Javert grabbed Renata under the arms and hauled hir out of immediate danger. She kept her hand clutched against her chest; blood oozed between her fingers and stained the front of her tunic.
"Let me help you with that." Valjean grabbed Renata's wrist and gently but firmly pried it away from her body, then wrapped a trauma bandage around her hand and secured it with sprayseal. Meanwhile Kit and Aurora circled; he brandished a chair like a weapon. When shi charged he slammed it down, pinning hir to the floor. Shi let out a shriek like nails on a blackboard.
Kevin lowered the servo camera without turning it off, looking at Valjean and Javert helping Renata, then at Kit holding Aurora. "You all seem... pretty well prepared for this," he commented.
Kit held up one hand. Jagged lines of white scar tissue ran down both sides. "Let's just say this isn't the first time it's happened," he said.
"Just wait 'till shi pounces on your tail," Javert put in, shaking his own for emphasis.
Renata shook off Javert's grip and struggled to her feet. She whirled, eyes blazing, mouth opening to launch a fusillade of invective-
A loud electronic tone signaled activation of the 1MC. "Now hear this," Longstocking's voice began. "All personnel will report at once to the wardroom. There will be no exceptions. If anyone is not present when I arrive I will drive them there with a pain stick. Anyone who doubts my willingness to follow through is invited to test it. I could use the exercise. That is all."
"What now?" Kevin demanded in a tone that he might have meant to be exasperated but came out as frightened and alarmed.
"I guess we'll find out," Kit replied, glad that he was already in the wardroom. He had no wish to test Longstocking's sincerity; the grimness of hir tone convinced him of it.
Ten minutes later when Longstocking arrived the entire staff was present, including Keith, Dawnfire, and Goldstrype, but excepting Ito. Longstocking looked around, nodded once, and left. Two minutes after that a hideous shriek echoed through the station's corridors; Ito crashed in a minute later, rubbing his backside. Longstocking entered right behind him, a short baton in one hand.
"In a few minutes Professor Moseivitch will arrive," Longstocking announced. "He will be making an announcement regarding the future of this project. Do not bother to ask me any questions, I can't answer them." Shi sat down next to Sherlock.
No one spoke. When Valjean coughed Kit flinched. Swiftsure looked around questioningly but no one responded. Liska fidgeted, glancing around furtively. Ito stewed, glaring hatefully at Longstocking.
Fyodor entered without a word and not smiling. Behind him came Captain Raskilov, his expression calm and composed.
"I'm terribly sorry to barge in on you at such short notice," Fyodor began. "First of all, allow me to introduce Captain Aleksandr Raskilov of the F.S.S. Lijang. He has brought some matters to my attention which..." Fyodor hesitated, apparently unsure what to say. He looked lost, defeated. "Starfleet has found... the body of one of Star's people." A concerted gasp rose from the group. "Captain Raskilov has brought it here for us to study," Fyodor continued, raising his voice to override the babble of conversation that sprang up. "But... the project is now under his absolute authority."
"This is a Security Force installation!" Sherlock exclaimed, leaping to hir fleet. "Starfleet has no jurisdiction!"
"But I do," Captain Raskilov replied. "Under the Emergency War Powers Act, Starfleet may commandeer the military resources of any member state."
"The Emergency War Powers Act only applies if war has been declared," Darkstar pointed out. "With whom is the Federation at war?"
"With what the Federation Security Council has designated as Species 23330714," Captain Raskilov explained.
"But- that's the day-" Kit began, but didn't finish.
"The day Star's mother crashed into the Deep Space Hyper-Spatial Anomaly Detector," Captain Raskilov finished for him. "It is her species with whom we are at war."
"But- But-" Snowflake's protests were a despairing wail. "Why?"
"Six weeks ago twenty or twenty five unidentified warships attacked and destroyed a gas mining station in the Langston-Banus system," Raskilov explained. "A Federation warship, the frigate Cumberland, engaged some of them and sustained moderate damage. One of the enemy vessels was destroyed; it's remains are in the Lijang's cargo holds. The raiders escaped with between ten and twenty thousand tons of semi-refined petrochemical slurry. A week later the Qantas Challenger, a bulk freighter en route from Amazonia to Colulite, was attacked. Sixteen thousand tons of petrochemical slurry was taken while the rest of the ship's cargo, eleven thousand tons of manufactured goods with a higher book value, was left behind. In fact, an empty cargo container from the Langston-Banus raid was found near by. Two weeks after that an asteroid mining colony in the Naga system was attacked. Another Federation frigate, the Valaparaiso, was at the colony undergoing emergency repairs to her warp drive when the raiders arrived. In spite of this raiders got away with eight thousand tons of refined heavy metals and transuranics. Both Valaparaiso and the colony were severely damaged."
"But Captain, this is a First Contact, not a war," Nova protested. "I, I'm sure the raiders didn't realize what they were doing!"
"Under other circumstances, Dr. Stallis, I would be inclined to agree," Captain Raskilov replied. "As... grievous as these events are, they could be... mitigated by the promise of negotiations or an eventual treaty. But whatever the reason, these aliens have shown no regard whatsoever for organic life. They have made no attempt to establish communication with us and they continue to raid. So far their activities have cost the Federation two thousand, four hundred and ninety seven lives. Worse still, in each and every case the raiders executed helpless people. After the gas mining station's defensive array was disabled the raider punctured its pressure hull, allowing it to flood with toxic atmosphere and killing almost everyone on board. The entire crew of the Qantas Challenger was executed in exactly the same fashion. At the asteroid mining colony they did no more damage than was necessary, but it appears that they were in a hurry to leave. Yes, Starfleet is dedicated to pushing back the frontiers of space and science, and to establishing peaceful contact with new species. But first and foremost our mission is to protect the lives and property of Federation citizens. Until such time as diplomatic relations with Species 23330714 can be established they are being regarded by the Security Council as hostile invaders. Therefore, by the authority vested in me under the Emergency War Powers Act, I am commandeering this station and all its personnel to aid in the war effort."

"We need to think of something better than Species 23330714," Snowflake announced. Shi sprawled against the centermost of the wardroom view ports, gazing out into space. The Asimov now blocked only half the view; Lijang covered the rest with a narrow strip of Chakona visible between. Cargo handling tractor beams moved thickly wrapped, oddly shaped objects between the vessels.
"Yeah," Kit agreed, but only because he felt that something needed to be said. Ever since Captain Raskilov's announcement he'd paced through Sigma 17's corridors. There wasn't anywhere new to go; in the ten weeks he'd been on board- six since Star's arrival- he'd gone over the whole station time and time again. Going through Asimov's corridors would be a welcome change of scenery, not to mention an opportunity to see new faces, but the docking tunnel was temporarily disconnected. All the walking did nothing to ease the knot of sickness forming in his gut. He felt that if he said too much, if didn't keep his feelings bottled up tight, it would come exploding out in a torrent of filth.
"It's so... impersonal," Snowflake continued. "It's so easy to- to-"
"Hate," Kit said. The word just popped out of his mouth.
Snowflake spun around. Tears matted the fur on hir face, hir expression stricken. "Oh, Kit!" shi wailed. "Where did we go wrong?" shi flung hirself into his arms, nearly bowling him over. Kit held hir, stroking hir head and back, because he didn't trust himself to speak.
"It wasn't us that went wrong," Skip said.
Kit twisted around. Despite his uniform Skip did not at the present look very military; he slouched and stared at his feet. He might have been in the wardroom all along or he might have just walked in; Kit hadn't noticed either way. "You're still with us?" he inquired.
Skip nodded. "I've been detached from duty with the Asimov. Captain Raskilov thinks what I'm doing here is more important and he's probably right. I was... just another junior ensign."
"But you're leaving your home and your friends behind and you wonder if you'll ever see them again," Kit said.
Skip nodded, his expression morose. "You know," he commented, "I had thought of a name. For Star's species."
"What?" Snowflake asked, lifting hir face from Kit's shoulder and wiping hir eyes with the back of hir hand.
Skip shrugged. "I don't know. It seems kinda... silly."
"It can't be worse than Species 23330714," Snowflake pointed out.
"I guess not." Skip looked up, but not at Kit and Snowflake. His gaze went past them, through the view ports to the dark bulk of the Asimov. "Stariionae."
"Skip, that's a beautiful name," Snowflake exclaimed.
"You think so?" Skip brightened somewhat.
"It's a damn sight better than anything I ever thought of," Kit said. "Stariionae." He spoke slowly, as if savoring it. "I like it. Like Snowflake said. It's..." He looked into hir eyes, gently caressing hir cheek. "Beautiful."
"We should go tell Captain Raskilov," Snowflake said, but made no attempt to pull away. "Do you know where he is?"
"In Ops, talking to Star," Skip replied.
"What?" Snowflake leapt almost straight up into the air. In a flash shi left, as fast as hir legs would carry hir.
"Wait!" Kit shouted. He started after hir, though it was a hopeless contest. His two legs, while plenty long, were no match against Snowflake's four.
"Kit!" Darkstar stepped directly into Kit's path; he skidded to a halt, very nearly crashing into hir. "I need to talk with you about what happened in the wardroom just before Captain Raskilov made his announcement," shi declared.
A sharp retort died on Kit's lips, killed by something in Darkstar's tone that filled him with a shiver of unease. He swallowed, shifting from foot to foot. Suddenly he felt like a child who'd been caught doing something naughty. Darkstar turned and started off without a word or even a gesture; Kit didn't even consider not following.
"Kit?" Skip hurried up to the intersection. Darkstar and Kit went one way, Snowflake another. Skip glanced back and forth between them, momentary torn. He'd been close enough to hear Darkstar's statement and he'd heard that tone of voice before, usually when some hapless underling was in for a serious hiding. Often as not the underling had been Skip himself. Over the past few weeks he and Kit had become fairly close but whatever was going on between him and Darkstar Skip wanted no part of it. He followed Snowflake toward Ops.

Four 'taurs and a large humanoid wouldn't fit in Darkstar's cabin all at once so Valjean and Javert waited outside. Kit stood scrunched up against the wall. Aurora lay in a miserable little heap in the middle of the floor, hir eyes puffy and hir face wet with tears. Shi made not a sound but hir expression was that of a person waiting for the firing squad.
"I just had a very illuminating conversation with Ms. Fayre," Darkstar said. "I have to say that despite her journalistic background her description of what happened in the wardroom was rather... slanted. Still, it was enough for me deduce the truth. Which is why the three of you are here now. You had all been interviewed and had personal experience of Ms. Fayre's sometimes abrasive style. You knew she was going to interview Aurora. Not only did you guess what might happen you were hoping for it. Enough that you, Valjean, stopped by the infirmary to pick up some trauma bandages and a can of sprayseal. In any case you did nothing to prevent it- which, in my book, makes you three as culpable as Aurora hirself."
Kit swallowed, clasping his hands tightly behind him to keep them from shaking. Darkstar's calm, almost emotionless delivery somehow cut far deeper than open anger or any other emotion could have. He was going to be punished; he couldn't imagine how but coming from Darkstar it would be swift and terrible.
"I've told you that Aurora has some behavior issues," Darkstar continued. "Shi's aggressive and likes to fight. I brought hir with me because I've found that other people, Chakats in particular, don't seem to have what it takes to deal with hir properly. I figured that a trio of young, testosterone-soaked Neanderthals like yourselves would be just the thing to use up hir excess energy and I was right. I've seen you stalking each other in the halls, heard you fighting behind closed doors. And you love it. Enough that, in spite of your constant bitching, you keep encouraging hir. For that reason I ignored most of the scratching and biting because you brought it on yourselves. I know of one specific incident where you, Kit, bit Aurora." Darkstar opened a drawer and took out a black plastic case. From it shi removed a short baton. Kit recognized it because he'd seen Longstocking wielding one not too long ago. It was a pain stick.
Pain sticks existed as an alternative to violence in difficult crowd control situations. Emitters in the stick induced an unharmonious resonance in the traget's nervous system which the victim experienced as sharp, stinging pain. That's not to say there weren't dangers; on rare occasions people went into convulsions or cardiac arrest. Police and security agencies used them and private citizens could carry them if properly licensed. In any case using them on children was illegal.
"Aurora and I have an agreement," Darkstar said. "If shi inflicts a wound that draws blood on a person who isn't a willing participant shi receives a one second application of the pain stick. If shi inflicted the wound intentionally shi receives five seconds." Darkstar grabbed Aurora by the scruff of the neck with hir free hand. Aurora began to whimper. "Don't you dare look away, Javert. I have no authority to punish the three of you but you will observe the consequences of your involvement." Using hir hand and forepaws to pin hir down Darkstar applied the tip of the pain stick to Aurora's back.
Aurora emitted a sound so sharp and intense it made Kit's teeth itch in their sockets. It lasted, unwavering in volume or intensity, for the entire five seconds. It was not a sound Kit could have imagined coming from any living creature, to say nothing of a sentient. When it ended Kit's ears ached from the silence. Aurora lay on the deck, gasping and sobbing; shi'd struggled so violently hir claws ripped furrows in the traction matting.
"That is all." Darkstar put away the pain stick, pushed Kit out of the room, and closed the door, leaving Aurora sobbing and alone. Valjean and Javert nearly fell over each other in their haste to escape but Kit didn't move. As Darkstar sat down in the hallway he remained, staring fixedly at hir.
"Aurora's fortunate," Darkstar said, looking up into Kit's eyes. "The condition shi inherited was diluted by two generations. As a child I was much worse. My father didn't bother with a pain stick; shi beat me until I couldn't stand. I understand now why shi did it. If shi hadn't I'd have probably ended up like Aurora's mother. I've even managed to forgive hir... but I've never been glad shi did it. I've spent my entire life wishing shi could have found another way to deal with me." Darkstar smiled a black, humorless smile. "Now I'm doing it to Aurora. Because it works, and in Marla- Aurora's mother- I saw graphically the consequences of failure. I hate what I do and I hate what I've become but I love Aurora too much to let hir suffer the same fate as hir mother." Shi crossed hir arms and started straight ahead.
After a few minutes Kit turned and waked slowly way. He didn't cross Darkstar's line of vision; he couldn't shake the feeling that hir gaze would burn him.

At the sound of footsteps that weren't Kit's Darkstar looked up. Fyodor came down the passage, shoulders slumped, head down, hands in his pockets. His hair looked wild and unkempt, his suit rumpled and loose. Red tinted the periphery of his eyes and tear tracks stained his cheeks. "Fyodor?" shi asked, blinking in surprise and concern.
"I failed." Fyodor stopped opposite Darkstar and slumping against the wall. "Everything I did was to keep Star out of Starfleet's hands. Now..." he shrugged. "It was all for nothing."
"It wasn't for nothing," Darkstar insisted. "You've... welded this group into a team. That really cares about Star. You're here now because Captain Raskilov needs you. To keep us happy."
Fyodor shook his head violently. "I didn't do shit, Darkstar." His eyes locked on hirs. "You did it. You're the one who made all this come together. You persuaded Longstocking to go along with me. You pumped Kit up so he'd do what was needed to bring Star back from the Array. Captain Walker helped us because you asked him to. All I did-" he gulped back a sob. "-was screw everything up so badly that if Aleksandr hadn't come along I'd have ended up in jail!" He covered his face with his hands, trying- unsuccessfully- not to break down. "You were right about me," he mumbled. "You were right."
Darkstar licked hir lips. Shi leapt forward, grabbing his arms and pulling them away from his face. "No," shi said. "I was wrong. I called you a liar but really it was me. I... I came here because when you came to me and made your spiel I believed." Shi gently lifted his face. "I wanted to be a part of what you were doing. So much I could taste it. When you said you needed me...." shi couldn't continue.
"It was a lie," Fyodor sobbed.
"No." Darkstar shook him. "It wasn't. You just said that I was the one who made all this come together. If you couldn't have done it yourself then you really did need me." Shi stroked the loose hair back from his brow. "Fyodor-" hir voice caught; a moment passed before shi could continue. "I came here because I believed in what you were doing. Because I believed in you. Nothing else could have brought me. Nothing."
Fyodor threw his arms around Darkstar, hugging hir tightly. "Why do you still love me?" he gulped, his voice distorted by sobs and muffled by Darkstar's fur.
"Damned if I know," Darkstar whispered, hir throat too tight for anything more. "But I do. I always have."
"I know." Fyodor wiped his face on he back of his sleeve. "And... I hated myself for it. I always thought... I was keeping you from finding what you really needed. That if I didn't... encourage you, you'd give up and go find someone else!"
"Fyodor, you stupid, stupid, stupid-" Darkstar clung to him, struggling to keep hir ragged breaths from becoming sobs. "Since when have you ever seen me give up? Especially on something that's- so import to me?"
"I know." Fyodor buried his face in Darkstar's shoulder. "I... hated myself for that most of all. Because... I knew it, but... I was too chicken shit to admit it."
The door to Darkstar's cabin opened and Aurora came out. Shi gave Darkstar and Fyodor an inscrutable look as shi turned up the corridor. Shi tried to walk away without looking back but didn't quite make it. At the next intersection shi looked back, hir expression troubled, as if shi really wanted to say something but couldn't bring hirself to do it. Shi darted out of sight.
"You punished hir for biting Ms. Fayre," Fyodor said. It wasn't a question. Darkstar nodded. "And now," Fyodor continued, "You blame yourself. Because there should have been something else you could have done." After a long pause, Darkstar nodded again.
"Now you listen to me," Fyodor insisted, grabbing Darkstar's face. "Aurora's the person shi is because of you, not in spite of you. Shi's an adorable child who's well on hir way to growing up into a beautiful and loving adult. Just like hir grandfather."
Darkstar gulped. "Even... even when shi bites your knee?"
Fyodor gritted his teeth, sighing heavily. "Okay. Maybe not in the exact moment hir teeth are sinking into my leg... but I can't help forgive hir for it afterward."
Darkstar sighed. "I can't imagine how a pushover like you ever got to be such a bigwig."
"I'm not," Fyodor replied. "Any more than you are. And now-" he closed his eyes for a moment. "I owe you something, Darkstar. I've put off paying you back because I'd always managed to convince myself that I had other things to do. But not any more." He slipped his arms out of his jacket, letting it fall to the deck. "Everything I've built... is in other hands now." He couldn't quite manage the buttons on his shirt so he ripped it off. "I've nothing left to do but be with you, Darkstar." He caught hir chin in one hand, the back of hir head with the other, and kissed hir.
Darkstar make an odd whiffling sound. Hir hind legs quivered, then collapsed. Shi would have fallen completely if hir arms weren't already around Fyodor.
"Yes, I know what I'm doing," Fyodor said as he turned hir around and guided hir into hir cabin. "It's what I should have done years ago, when you first came back to Chakona. I'm going to be your lover."

"What are you doing?" Snowflake shrieked as shi burst into Ops.
Captain Raskilov looked over his shoulder. He sat at one of the servo control stations, stroking Star's belly with the virtual hands. "Star and I are having a pleasant conversation," he replied.
Snowflake huffed. Raskilov's genteel reaction derailed hir train of thought.
"I'm sorry, Star, I have to go away for a moment," Raskilov said, drawing his hands out of the gauntlets. A second pair of virtual hands reproduced his words as sign language.
"Okay," the computer replied, reproducing Star's signs as words.
"I'm not the monster you think I am, Shir Snowflake," Raskilov continued in a slightly more serious tone. "I don't relish the prospect of making war upon Star's kin. Good people will die regardless of the outcome."
"Then why do it?" Snowflake demanded. "Why do we have to fight them? Why can't we talk to them? You carry on like it was the only choice!"
"Because it is the only choice," Raskilov stated. "We don't know how they communicate. Swiftsure's translator is an amazing piece of programming but without an input mechanism it's useless. How can we turn what Star's people use as speech into something the translator can process if we don't even know what it is? I suppose we could teach them sign language if they gave us the time but will they stop raiding while we do it?"
"Stariionae," Snowflake muttered.
"I'm sorry?" Raskilov frowned.
"Stariionae," Snowflake repeated. "That's... what we call them."
"Indeed." Raskilov stroked his beard. "Much more euphonious a term than Species 23330714. I'll enter it into the official record at once."
"What are you here for?" Snowflake demanded.
"Over the past two weeks I've conferred with dozens of experts and read hundreds of reports," Raskilov said. "They've given me a great deal of advice on how to proceed, much of it conflicting. In one area they tend to agree: that this station lacks the facilities for proper research and that you all, as Star's keepers, lack the training and experience to care for her."
"And who exactly has more training and experience than us?" Snowflake shouted.
"No one," Raskilov replied, as calm as ever. "Which is why I've decided to leave her here, in your care. She feels safe and she does not mind the moderate amount of poking and prodding to which she is subjected. Not to mention that I found her to be a charming and engaging young lady."
Snowflake shifted uneasily. Raskilov really didn't seem like a monster but shi just could not bring together the facts that he seemed to regard Star as a person on one hand but was ready to go kill her relatives on the other.
"You still don't believe me," Raskilov stated. "I freely admit that part of my reasoning is that until we better understand her star drive, any attempt to take her against her will is bound to be futile. The only force keeping her with us is that she wants to be here. It is in my best interest to capitalize on that. She is, after all, of incalculable value to the Federation. As a scientific resource and as a bridge between two very dissimilar cultures. If I fail disastrously in my primary mission it may be that she is the one thing that will prevent conflict between us and the Stariionae from growing into something that could destroy us. If we can't track them there's no way we can effectively safeguard our interstellar shipping. Without shipping the Federation economy ceases to be. Without an economy the Federation ceases to be. Not in centuries or even decades but months. A year or two at the absolute most."
"If so much is riding on it," Snowflake said, barely loud enough to hear, "Wouldn't it be... better to let others take over?"
Raskilov's brows furrowed for a moment. "Perhaps," he allowed. "One reason that I'm here now is because twice, in the past, I've faced situations like this. First time, the decision had already been made by the time I arrived. Second time, I chose... wrongly." For just an instant something flickered in his eyes. It was there and gone too quickly for Snowflake to do anything but note its passing. "This time, since the Security Council has given me power to handle matters as I see fit, I choose to err on the side of caution. Meaning that which will ease the burden on my conscience in my old age, if I am fortunate enough to have one."

"Are you crazy?" Nova exclaimed, leaping to her feet. "If you've read all the reports then you know what happened to Kei!"
With two exceptions Sigma 17's wardroom housed the entire team. Valjean and Javert were on duty with Star; Kevin and Renata had been taken on board Lijang. Captain Raskilov called them his guests but no one doubted that, in fact, they were prisoners. As a concession to the increased percentage of humanoids several chairs had been brought over from the Asimov.
"I know," Chase purred. "I've been briefed on the risks."
Nova took several deep breaths. At the word briefed her eyes slipped down to Chase's crotch. Only after a visible effort could she return them to his face and that after lingering for a while on his chest.
"Chase has skills and experience Kei lacked," Raskilov said. "And the risk is a necessary one. Without a means to track them the Stariionae are free to strike when and where they choose, a situation I cannot allow. Chase theorizes that they can be tracked telepathically. Since we have a Stariionae at our disposal here we can subject that theory to experimental verification without placing innocent lives at risk."
"What if Chase ends up a gibbering vegetable, like Kei?" Longstocking asked. Shi didn't even try not to stare.
"Then the experiment will be a failure," Raskilov replied.
"A failure?" Longstocking exploded, leaping to hir feet. "A member of your crew get his mind atomized and you call it a failed experiment?"
"You shouldn't speak that way about things you don't understand," Chase commented. He didn't seem the least bit perturbed by either the overall conversation or any of the outbursts.
"Chase is not a member of my crew," Raskilov continued. "He is..." they exchanged glances. "My son. He stays with me for much the same reason as you keep your granddaughter with you, Shir Darkstar." Raskilov allowed the corners of his mouth to quirk up in a little smile. "Because others have shown themselves unable to deal with him. Starfleet overlooks the... idiosyncrasies of our relationship because we are both useful. As to the matter of Star, Chase and I argued about it constantly ever since we first heard about her. We have analyzed the risks as best we can with the data at our disposal; I cannot say that another telepath would necessarily face any less risk. Chase's qualifications are impeccable and he is here, ready to hand. The only compelling reason I have to refuse is my parental concern." Raskilov's tone and expression didn't change but something flickered through his eyes, like a moth around a candle flame.
"I thought you said he was an empath," Fyodor commented.
"When it comes to powers of the mind, classifications mean very little," Chase put in. "A telepath, technically, is someone who hears thoughts. Like having a little radio that picks up brain waves." He smiled. "I can't do that. I can tell that you're all thinking... and I can sense what you feel about it... but I can't make out the words themselves. Like listening to conversations at a cocktail party. Because I sense emotions they call me an empath. People think that's somehow less that being a telepath, when in fact a mere telepath is far less than what I am." His sensual eyes gleamed with an almost frightening intensity. "A telepath can only hear what you happen to be thinking at any given moment. What are you thinking about most of the time? Meaningless things. Your feet hurt. It's too hot. Lunch was nice, I can't wait for dinner. I really wish the moron parked in the turn lane would pull his thumb out and get moving." Chase grinned. "Unless the telepath happens to be listening at just the moment when you think 'gee, I'd really like to murder my wife,' what good is it? But thoughts are only the smallest portion of our minds. Not even merely the tip of the iceberg, they're more like the surface of the tip. Underneath that surface are feelings, emotions, sensations... and those only the ones we consciously feel. Below the water are the bulk of the feelings, ones we never even know we have. Like the ice in the iceberg, they define the shape of who we are. They give us our thoughts. When I look at you- each and every one of you- I see that. From experience I can guess- pretty accurately- the thoughts they produce. I can't hear you think that you'd like to kill your wife but I can tell at a glance if you're ready to do it. I know about how your wife squanders your money and constantly puts you down. I know that you dream of being an astronaut instead of an insurance adjuster. I even know that your father sodomized you when you were a child. Because it, like everything else you've experienced, has sculpted your feelings." He waved his hands in intricate, sinuous patterns. "Just as wind and wave sculpt the ice."
Liska suddenly lurched shakily to her feet, knocking over her chair. With a choked noise somewhere between a sob and a scream she fled the room, hands clutched over her face and tears running from her eyes. Sherlock moved to intercept; Liska shoved brusquely past, sobbing piteously.
"What the Hell?" Sherlock exclaimed, blinking in shock.
Chase's grin became demonic. "Maybe her father really did sodomize her when she was a kid."
"Chase." Captain Raskilov did not raise his voice but it rang with authority. Chase spun, locking gazes with his father. His will was that of the willow: soft and supple, lacking raw power but possessed of a dogged persistence that could, in time, crack even the hardest stone. But Captain Raskilov's will was that of iron: hard and giving at the same time. The willow could neither find purchase nor resist its strength.
"I'm sorry," Chase muttered, looking down and scuffing his feet. He looked like a child who'd just been chastised. Kit gasped; he'd been holding his breath without realizing it.
"Please accept my apologies," Raskilov said, addressing the room at large. "Despite his appearance Chase is rather young and thus inclined to be naughty." He raised an eyebrow; Chase wilted under the scrutiny. "Chase, after we are done here, you will apologize to Warrant Officer Sharpears."
"Yes, sir," Chase mumbled.
"What did he do?" Longstocking demanded suspiciously.
"What Chase neglected to mention is that, in addition to sensing emotions, he can also affect them," Raskilov explained. "To continue the analogy of the iceberg, he can reshape the ice through a gentle but persistent application of pressure. Since this mostly occurs in the unconscious the subject is generally not aware that it's happening."
"Mind control?" Sherlock exclaimed, horrified.
"Not as such, no," Raskilov corrected. "Chase can't force a person to do anything. But most people believe that their feelings are who they are and do whatever their emotions tell them, regardless of how nonsensical it may be." He smiled, coldly. "A determined and disciplined mind, even without telepathic abilities, can resist. Nor can he make permanent changes to a person's thoughts, unless he works continuously for several months and the subject does not resist. The danger in Chase is that he acts as a mirror, reflecting back the hidden portions of your own mind. What you see are all the thoughts and feelings you've put away because you don't want to deal with them. Most people don't react well when confronted with that."
"That's why he's so useful to Starfleet," Kit said, his eyes narrowing. "He's the world's best lie detector."
"Not only can he tell instantly if a person is lying, he can in most cases compel them to the tell the truth even when they are not consciously aware of it," Raskilov replied, nodding. "You should remember, though, that Chase is himself a person, with thoughts and feeling of his own. What he sees- and therefore reflects back- is filtered through that and therefore altered by it." He jabbed Chase sharply in the shoulder. "Which is what I keep trying to drive into that thick skull of his. His powers, great as they are, are useful only to the extent that he understands and accepts that fundamental fact."
Chase nodded. "Yes, Father," he mumbled.
"Why doesn't he wear a headband?" Snowflake asked.
"I wasn't trained that way," Chase replied, rather sharply. "Quite frankly I find them barbaric. It is exactly the same as if any of you were taken to a nation of the blind and forced to wear blinders. They mark you as someone different. People fear you because they know you're different but can't understand how. Over time they start to hate you because people always end up hating what they fear. So you put on your blinders because it's so much easier when you can't see that everyone despises you. In time you come to despise your sight because you feel like it's the thing making you an outcast. You even dream about putting out your eyes and becoming normal. Naturally that makes it impossible to ever properly develop your sight because doing so means accepting the fact that you're a freak. And yet in your heart you know that you're supposed to be sighted. So you spend your life in misery, wishing that there was some place where you could be normal and sighted at the same time."
"And yet," Raskilov interjected, "If you do not respect the beliefs of those around you, even if you don't agree with them, all you do is justify their fear."
Chase's face twitched. His shoulders slumped and he looked down. "I'm sorry," he mumbled.
"If a sighted person treated his blind companions with love and respect they wouldn't fear him," Darkstar said. "In fact... I think in time they'd come to love and respect him. Eventually they wouldn't even think of him as sighted. He'd just be... a friend."
Chase looked up slowly, his eyes brimming with tears.
Aleksandr laid a hand on Chase's shoulder, squeezing gently. "It isn't wrong to have feelings," he began, speaking softly and gently. "We all have them. It isn't wrong if you can't control them. None of us can. If you show them, all you're doing is showing that you're human. Like everyone else."
Chase leapt out of his chair and fell into Aleksandr's arms, sobbing piteously. Aleksandr held him, stroking him tenderly. "Whatever you do, wherever you go, you will always be my son," he whispered. "Whatever the future holds, my love is always with you."
After a while Chase sniffed, wiped his nose, and stood up. "Are you ready to go on?" Aleksandr asked. Chase nodded, resuming his seat.
"How did you come to be his father, Aleksandr?" Darkstar asked.
"Accidentally," Aleksandr replied. "I was investigating a related matter and happened to encounter him. His situation concerned me and I delved into it. I found that he was being bounced from agency to agency, treated like an object by people who had no idea of and were not at all prepared to meet his emotional requirements. I took him under my wing because I saw that, if left alone, he'd become a danger to himself and others. In time..." He ran his fingers through Chase's mane, rubbing the fine, silky filaments between his fingers. "I came to love him in his own right. He provided me with a challenge, something that forces me to keep my mind sharp and alert at all times. He will try to take advantage of me, if he can get away with it." Aleksandr chuckled. "He also reminds me of everything that is good and joyful about being human. That in spite of everything I've done, I can still love. Lastly, no one else was doing the job and it's not in my nature to leave important work undone." He looked around the room, briefly and unflinchingly meeting each and every pair of eyes. "That is all I choose to say about the matter."
"What is he?" Kit asked. "I mean, what species?" he added quickly.
"A Recombinant," Raskilov replied, meaning an individual or species that had been created through genetic engineering. "He was built to be a love beast, a living sex toy. Which probably explains his aura, and... appetite." Chase grinned. "If you'd like to have sex with him don't hesitate to ask, he'll be glad to oblige. He can't make you pregnant- he's sterile- and he is designed to resist almost all sexually transmitted diseases. His skill in delivering pleasure is without equal. However, he will also show you things about yourself that you may or may not wish to see. In short you proceed at your own risk, just as in any other relationship. His appearance is based on that of the ermine, which is a type of weasel in its winter coat. Chase stays the color he is year around, however." Raskilov stood. "Now we will go to Ops and get on with the experiment."

"I still think this is a bad idea," Nova muttered. She stared at Chase's buttocks, clearly visible because the strap of his bikini bottom ran under the base of his tail. Nova leaned against a console, arms folded across her chest. When she started rubbing one of her nipples with her thumb Kit looked away.
"I still don't see what's to keep you from getting blasted like Kei was," Snowflake said. Shi couldn't seem to decide wether to look at Chase or at Star. The front of hir jacket was thick enough that one couldn't see the state of hir nipples. The head of hir penis kept coming un-sheathed, though every so often shi pulled it back. Kit offered a prayer of thanks that he wore pants.
"Because of their headbands, a Skunktaur's powers are off until hy removes it," Chase replied. "That sudden appearance might have startled Star or provoked some sort of reflexive psychic reaction. Also, there may have been a warning that Kei didn't notice. If I touch her very gently, I should be able to see what's happening without getting nuked."
"And if not?" Snowflake wondered.
Chase grinned crookedly. "I'm also a lot more powerful than the average Skunktaur, though it isn't obvious. I'll get to find out if I'm as strong as I think I am."
"But..." Snowflake stamped hir forepaws. "I don't understand. Why are you so eager to take this chance?"
"Because it's there."
Snowflake blinked. "Huh?"
"There's a story that a climber was about to climb a particularly tall and dangerous mountain and a reporter asked him why he was doing it," Chase replied. "The climber replied, 'because it's there.' He meant that as a mountain climber he existed to climb mountains. Refusing to climb this particular mountain would mean turning away from what he'd spent his entire life becoming. Then what's the point of being a mountain climber in the first place?" He shrugged. "Star is my mountain, Snowflake. I understand the risks and I accept them. If I turn aside now I'll spend the rest of my life knowing that I threw away the one thing that gave my life meaning. All because I chose to be safe." He turned toward the view ports. "Better to go out now in blaze of glory."
"Achilles' choice," Nova commented.
"Huh?" Kit glanced at her.
"The Fates asked Achilles if he wanted a long, dull life or a short, exciting one," Nova replied. "He chose short and exciting."
"Kit, why don't you take over the hands in case Star gets excited?" Longstocking said, waving him down to the front of the room.
"No," Chase cut in, before Kit had taken more than a step. "If you and Star really do have a psychic connection she's going to pick up your unease. Let Valjean and Javert do it."
"I can control myself," Kit said, eyes narrowing.
"No you can't," Chase replied in a matter-of-fact tone. "In fact, you're angry at me right now because you think I'm coming between you and Star. You're jealous because you've seen Snowflake staring at me. You don't have the training or discipline to keep from infecting Star with your agitation. Since my life is at stake I think that gives me the right to insist."
Kit swallowed. He glanced at Snowflake, who looked at him quizzically. He flushed. "Whatever!" he shouted, storming to the back of the room. Darkstar caught him before he could leave, pulling him to hir side and keeping a hand on his arm.
"Is everything ready?" Captain Raskilov asked, looking around. Sherlock stood by hir console, Valjean and Javert each had a pair of virtual hands active and were both holding Star, stroking and cuddling her. Chase stood comfortably with his hands clasped behind his back.
"As ready as we'll ever be," Valjean put in.
"That's for sure." Sherlock nodded in agreement.
"Then whenever you are ready, Mr. Chase." Raskilov turned to face the view ports.
Chase's hands fell to his sides. His whole body relaxed as if it's animating force had suddenly departed, but though it wavered it remained upright. Suddenly he gasped, a convulsive intake of breath, and went rigid. Star's skin blazed with jagged patterns of harsh, bright color; Valjean and Javert yelped as she tore herself from their grasp and flung herself against the bulkhead with a crash that knocked Kit off his feet. She slammed the extended fingers of her upper right strength limb against the view port in front of Chase is if trying to grab him. Searingly bright coronas of energy blazed around her fingertips as the shearing fields in them struggled against the structural integrity field in the bulkhead. The transparisteel panel bulged and cracked.
"Kit!" Longstocking shrilled. He was on his feet and dashing for the servo control stations even before the word left hir mouth. He bowled Valjean off the couch and sat down, reaching for Star. She whirled and slashed at his hand; he screamed because her claws felt like red hot razors slashing his skin. At once Star forgot her anger, taking Kit's hand in all six of hers, caressing and stroking it gently. When he looked up Kit suddenly noticed Chase standing beside him.
"You forgot to be angry at me when Star needed you," Chase said. "It's better for her if you stay that way.
"Kit, he's right," Darkstar called. After only a brief hesitation Kit turned back toward the view ports, stroking Star with his other hand.
"Shee-it," Valjean muttered. The damaged pane bowed inward alarmingly, more than half sprung from its frame, the uprights to either side noticeably distorted. Milky whiteness occluded the formerly clear panel; on the workroom side deep pits surrounded by concentric crazing patterns marked where Star's fingers gouged it.
"That's three centimeters of transparisteel and I had the structural integrity fields at full power," Sherlock put in, shaking hir head in wonder.
"Chase, what happened?" Raskilov wanted to know.
Chase left Kit's side and walked back to where he'd started. "Star has a sophisticated psionic defense system that appears to be hard-wired into her brain and it operates at a very high energy level. Kei was lucky not to have been killed outright." He smiled bleakly. "Or maybe not, if surviving meant loosing hys powers."
Fyodor sighed heavily, his shoulders drooping.
"No, Professor, you were right," Chase continued. "You couldn't have known the risks and Kei was the best person available to you."
"Why... did she try to attack you?" Snowflake couldn't tear hir eyes away from the damaged panel.
"Part of the defense system," Chase replied. "She recognized that I was the one touching her mind."
Moving only his eyes, Kit glanced sidelong at Chase, who gave no indication that he noticed the attention. WHAT'S WRONG, STAR? Kit asked, pulling his hands from the gauntlets and keeping them close to his chest. No one in Ops could see what he signed.
"I want to stay with you," the computer said, faithfully translating Star's reply.
Kit nodded thoughtfully, slipping his hands back into the gauntlets. You don't have to be an empath to know when someone's feeding you a ration of hooey, he thought to himself.
The comm panel beeped; Sherlock moved to it. "Captain Raskilov," shi called. "For you, from Commander Jackson of the Lijang."
"Thank you." Raskilov moved up to the console; the screen showed a heavily built Terran woman. Skin as black as obsidian covered her round, fleshy face except for her thick, dark red lips. She wore her hair close to her scalp in tightly braided corn rows.
"Sir, we've just received word that the Cumberland and Mactan are on final approach," Commander Jackson reported. "The Biscay and Hawke will be arriving late tonight and tomorrow morning, respectively."
"Very good. Thank you." Raskilov looked up. "I'm afraid I have to leave. I will be leading a flotilla to go in search of the Stariionae and there are innumerable preparatory details which require my attention. As for the research you have all been doing, I see no reason that it shouldn't continue and I leave you to it. Good day." He turned and strode out. Chase joined him.
"I don't trust him," Snowflake muttered darkly.
"You should," Darkstar replied. "Trust him to do whatever is best for the Federation, regardless of the cost to himself or anyone else."

Chase walked dutifully at Captain Raskilov's side until they reached the captain's ready room on board the Lijang. "Well?" Raskilov asked.
"Tracking them will be easy," Chase replied. "Star's mind is very... bright, if you will, and her thought patterns very distinctive. Doing it without setting off her defenses... well, that's the trick. We'll need T5's, at least."
Raskilov nodded thoughtfully. "I see. And the rest?"
"No go." Chase shook his head. "When I tried to plant a suggestion in her mind she knew it at once. She even knew I was the one doing it. I don't dare try to influence Kit, either. They have a strong psionic link and as perceptive as she is she might feel me through it."
"Then we'll have to convince them the old fashioned way," Raskilov declared. His comm badge beeped; he touched it. "Raskilov here."
"Sir, Captain Walker and Commander Dawnfire are here, as you requested," Commander Jackson's voice said.
"Excellent," Raskilov replied. "Send them in. Out." He touched his badge to deactivate it. "Thank you, Chase. That's all for now."
"Thanks." Chase gave Raskilov a kiss on the cheek and hurried out. A few moments later the door chimed.
"Enter," Raskilov called. Captain Walker and Commander Dawnfire came in. "Captain, Commander, welcome. May I offer you refreshment?"
"No sir, thank you, " Keith replied. "May I ask why we were summoned?"
"The Asimov is equipped with a Swiftsure Translator, not to mention a great deal of scientific apparatus," Raskilov said. "I am going to need all of that when I go in search of the Stariionae. Therefore, under the authority granted me by the Security Council, I am placing the Asimov under my command."
"I... see. Sir." Keith's remained expressionless, revealing nothing. "May I ask how this will affect the research?"
"The work you've done so far on Star's physiology is of inestimable value but at the moment not my prime concern," Raskilov replied. "We need to discover the mechanics of how the Stariionae communicate so that we can set the Translator to learning their language. You may wish to speak with a Dr. Elu Chakra; he's with Dewclaw University's College of Astrophysics and also Director of Operations at the Mileva Memorial Observatory. Given that the observatory is the best- not to mention most expensive- instrument of its type in the known galaxy, I'm sure that it must have recorded something of value before Star's mother smashed it." He smiled mirthlessly. "When find out we will fire up the translator and go looking for them."
"Sir, what if they attack us?" Dawnfire asked.
"Against that possibility, Asimov will be escorted by the Lijang and four other warships," Raskilov replied. "I'll leave you now to your work. If you have any questions or concerns please do not hesitate to call me. And by the way, one thing has not changed. This project is still under lock down. The Security Council has not announced that we are at war with the Stariionae, nor that the Stariionae even exist."
"Yes, sir." Keith nodded, saluted smartly, then withdrew with Dawnfire at his side.
"Five ships," Dawnfire commented as they moved briskly along the hallway. "One of them a Changi class heavy cruiser. Not bad."
"Cumberland, Mactan, Biscay, and Hawke," Keith replied. "Two Balmoral class frigates, designed primarily for security and patrol work, not warfare. Two ancient Biscay class cruisers, ships that are still in service only because Starfleet Command is too cheap to replace them. You've seen how Star flies and she's just a kid. What if she were full grown and there were twenty or thirty of her?"
"Oy," Dawnfire muttered.
"And a half," Keith added.

"I'm glad you asked," Dr. Chakra said. He looked even older than Professor Moseivitch, only slightly taller, and much slimmer; it seemed that in a strong breeze he'd blow away like a dried leaf. His ancestors had likely originated somewhere on the Indian subcontinent. "Professor Moseivitch asked me if I could offer an explanation for why both Star and her mother found the Array so fascinating. I learned also that Star likes to sit in a particular part of the room she occupies. I did some research and found that the station has a drive coil test rig located in that particular rig. Further research revealed that this instrument and the Array use very similar telemetry systems. I requested logs from Lt. Longstocking and compared them to data taken from the Array. I noticed similar patterns of interference; after some study I managed to isolate them from the telemetry stream." He grinned. "So yes, I do believe I have discovered how she communicates, and as a by-product made a recording of her voice."
Captain Walker clenched his jaw to keep it from dropping. Dr. Chakra was supposed to be one of the smartest people in the Federation. In little more than his spare time he'd solved a problem that stymied Asimov's science staff for weeks. "Ah... thank you very much, Professor. If it wouldn't be too much trouble, could you slug us your research data?"
"No trouble at all, Captain." Dr. Chakra touched a control; a status bar appeared at the bottom of the screen, zipping quickly from zero to one hundred. "I'm only glad that I may be of service."
"Thank you ever so much, Doctor," Dawnfire put in. "If there's anything we can do-"
"There is... one small thing," Dr. Chakra replied, smiling apologetically. "Is it possible... that I might be able to meet Star?"
"I'm sure that can be arranged," Captain Walker replied. "After all, it's the least we can do. Your research may have just saved us weeks or months of work. I'll call you just as soon as everything is set."
"My thanks to you, Captain. And of course the lovely Commander Dawnfire." Dr. Chakra's image nodded to each in turn. "I bid you good day and wish you the best in your endeavors." The view screen went blank.
Keith heaved a sigh and leaned back in his chair. "Incredible," he breathed.
"Well, they say that Dr. Chakra's head of the observatory because he's one of the smartest hyper-spatial physicists around," Dawnfire observed, popping a data chit from the workstation on Captain Walker's desk and holding it up to the light. "Should we be surprised if he's already cracked the problem?"
"If he has, I'll give him his tour and whatever else he wants," Keith replied. "But frankly, this disturbs me some. Security on this project is beginning to resemble a wheel of Swiss cheese. Deliveries of toxic waste, an entire squadron of interceptors, Swiftsure, and now Dr. Chakra. I'm beginning to understand how a pair of reporters could sneak in."
"I'm sure Captain Raskilov is taking care of it," Dawnfire said, somewhat grimly. "At any rate, that's not our problem. Let's take a look at this data and see what we've got."

"We have, at long last, cracked the problem of how the Stariionae communicate," Goldstrype announced.
Kit tried to remain focused but found himself fidgeting and glancing around. Lijang's wardroom provided more useable volume than the Asimov's or any place on board Sigma 17 other than the work room. It wasn't the new environment that discomfited him; after being cooped up for so long he welcomed it. Nor was it the new faces; he welcomed them too. It was, rather, the character of the faces. Asimov's people, despite their uniforms, seemed very like those Kit knew around the University: friendly, outgoing, and relaxed, concerned primarily with study and research. Lijang's people, on the other hand, seemed as hard and grim as their captain. Kit felt terribly out of place here in a way he'd never felt on the Asimov- and, in his heart of hearts, he feared what these stern, seemingly humorless people might be capable of doing.
"Dr. Elu Chakra, director of operations at the Mileva Memorial Hyper-Spatial Observatory, theorizes that they transmit information in modulated graviton pulses," Goldstrype continued. "He noticed characteristic patterns of corruption in the observatory's telemetry data at two specific times: just before Star's mother crashed into the Array, and while Star herself was clinging to it. At his suggestion we studied data from several instruments on board Sigma one seven and discovered similar patterns of interference. Again with Dr. Chakra's gracious assistance we have filtered all these recordings to remove the telemetry data and have isolated what we believe is Star's 'voice.'"
A hand was raised.
"Yes, Lt. Raytip?" Goldstrype said.
"How does she generate graviton pulses without drive coils?"
"We're still working on that part," Goldstrype replied with an apologetic smile. "Apparently she uses tachyons to affect the gravitons but that of course begs the question of how she generates the tachyons. On the up side, if we figure that out we should have her supraliminal drive figured out as well, since both systems appear to rely on the same principle."
"Maybe she just wishes and it happens," someone called.
Goldstrype waited briefly for a smattering of laughter to die down. "Believe it or not, we've actually considered a psionic explanation. Of course given that we can't clearly explain some psychic phenomena even as they apply to our electrochemical brains, that makes it exceedingly difficult to explain them as they apply to Star's photo-optronic one. On top of that, Star's psionic defenses make studying her in that area a difficult and dangerous task. It's fortunate, then, that our science and engineering teams have developed a way of inducing a regular warp drive to emit modulated graviton pulses. We'll test the system by regenerating the signals Dr. Chakra recorded and seeing how Star responds to them. If it works we'll use it to draw the Stariionae to us."
"This is nuts!" Kit exclaimed, jumping up before his mind fully appreciated the implications of his actions. When he saw everyone staring at him he almost fainted. "Um... the recordings you mentioned were taken while Star wasn't... in a very good emotional state. If she was a regular kid she'd have been bawling her head off. Has anyone given thought to what effect that might have on the Stariionae who hear it?"
"As a matter of fact, I have given that very question a great deal of thought," Captain Raskilov cut in, rising smoothly to his feet. "I believe that the sound of Star crying will be most effective in compelling the Stariionae to appear at the time and place of our choosing. As to whether or not they will be in an appropriate frame of mind for a First Contact when they arrive... the fact is that we can't start learning their language until after we meet them. We can't ask them to a meeting until we know their language. As with so much else about this project, I fear that we simply have no alternative."
"How do you intend to judge if Star's responding or not?" Kit asked. As if I didn't know.
"As the only person who can tell us in detail what's happening in Star's mind, we shall have to rely on Chase for that," Raskilov replied.
Kit's eyes narrowed. He felt something hot and angry welling up inside him. Captain high-and-mighty Raskilov has the balls to waltz in here like he was God incarnate, then cries that we have to do everything his way because there's 'no alternative.' "Well, you'd better start looking for one," Kit announced. "'Cause you ain't messing with Star's mind any more."

"No!" Kit shouted, his face flushed with emotion. "You think I don't know what he tried to do to her last time?"
"Chase is the only person available to us who can tell us whether or not our experiment is working," Captain Raskilov replied, apparently unfazed by Kit's outburst. Only he, Kit, Fyodor, Darkstar, Longstocking, and Chase attended this meeting, hastily convened in Sigma 17's wardroom.
"Don't give me that," Kit growled. "With your Emergency War Powers you could take whatever you wanted. Why not another Skunktaur? If one isn't enough, how about a gestalt? When they work in concert they can be very powerful."
"This isn't a matter of strength," Raskilov replied. "What's required here is skill. Delicacy. It is not at all certain that any number of Skunktaurs posses the degree of... fine manipulation Chase can bring to bear."
"And give him another chance to try and take Star away from us? No way."
"Kit-" Darkstar began.
"It's all right," Captain Raskilov interrupted gently, raising a hand. "Mr. Carson, in terms of power- as near as we can define the term with respect to psionic abilities- Kei and Chase were more or less equivalent. The difference between them is an ability to apply that power in the most effective way. For that reason Chase is rated as a P12 while Kei was only a P8. On a more immediate level it is the difference between Chase, who stands beside me hale and hearty, and Kei, who lays in a coma from which hy may or may not ever recover. Mr. Carson, if I bring in a team of Skunktaurs, and they end up like Kei, are you going to be the person who writes to their families and explains what happened to them?"
Kit's face turned ashen. His mouth opened but nothing came out. Darkstar grimaced, preparing to speak-
"Let me speak with him privately," Chase requested.
"What, so you can twiddle my mind?" Kit demanded.
"If I were going to do that you'd have agreed a long time ago," Chase replied. "I want to know why you hate me so much."
"You tried to fuck with Star's head!" Kit retorted.
"That isn't the real reason," Chase said.
"Why should we allow it?" Longstocking demanded.
"For my own part it doesn't matter," Chase replied. "I don't want Kit to hold back because he feels constrained by the presence of others."
"Fine by me," Kit growled, giving Chase a look as if speculating on how difficult it would be to break him in half.
"Frankly, Chase, I'm not so sure I should trust you, Starfleet notwithstanding," Longstocking said. "Kit may be an intern and not Security Force personnel per se but we've grown rather fond of him. I'd feel bad if anything happened to him." Hir expression suggested very clearly that in that eventuality bad things would come to others, swiftly and certainly.
"With all due respect, Lieutenant, you don't have the authority to choose," Captain Raskilov said. "Mr. Carson would refuse any order that he felt would put his relationship with Star in jeopardy, whether it came from me or you. He is not a soldier, who has had the habits of discipline impressed upon him. Even if he were I doubt it would matter. He loves Star with a parental zeal that I admire, though at times it is inconvenient to my purpose. At the most basic level, if he does not agree his feelings will prejudice Star against us." His gaze focused on Kit. "You may advise him, but ultimately the decision is his."
"I'll do it," Kit announced.
"Kit, are you sure about this?" Darkstar asked.
Kit nodded. "I've been hoping for an opportunity to have some words with Mr. Chase for a while now."
"All right." Darkstar got to hir feet. "I'll agree to this on one condition." Shi looked at Kit. "When it's over, Kit, I'd like to talk to you about it. Is that all right?" Kit nodded. "Good. I'll be waiting just outside so try and keep the screaming to a minimum, okay?"
Kit sat down and waited silently while everyone but Chase filed out of the wardroom. Longstocking paused and looked back for a moment but in the end left without speaking. As soon as the door closed Chase took off his bikini bottom.
"What are you doing?" Kit exclaimed as Chase stretched, keeping his back to Kit.
"Relaxing," Chase replied. "Clothing makes me feel confined."
"You call that clothing?" Kit muttered, staring at the discarded bottom.
"Yes." Chase spun on his heel, slowly raising his arms and clasping his hands over his head. "Look at me," he commanded.
"Why?" Kit riposted.
"Because you want to." Chase began a series of sinuous motions, somewhere between a sequence of stretches and a slow motion dance. "Because looking at my body gives you pleasure."
"I'm not like that!" Kit protested, his face flushing.
"Like what?" Chase pirouetted gracefully.
"Like-" Kit couldn't continue. He looked away.
"What about Snowflake?" Chase asked.
"This has nothing to do with Snowflake!" Kit blazed.
"This has everything to do with hir," Chase replied, unfazed. "You lay naked in a bed with hir. You touched hir penis. You stroked it, massaged it... you sucked on it." Chase massaged his own organ; it stiffened to erection. "You let hir come in your mouth. You even swallowed."
Kit licked his lips. He shook all over and his blush deepened to a boiled lobster shade. "This- isn't about me. Or Snowflake. It's about Star. You- tried to do something to her! Don't deny it!"
"I don't," Chase replied. With his left hand he stroked his penis; with his right he fingered himself in the anus. "Dad told me straight out that I should try to make Star to come away with us. Your whole operation is slipshod, quick fixes piled on top of happy coincidences. Professor Moseivitch thought he was dissecting a piece of alien technology; Star's birth caught him totally off guard and everything that's happened since has been a game of catch-up." He leaned forward until his head touched the floor then inched his feet outward until he rested on his shoulders, his body bent almost double. "You said yourself that Dad could get whatever he wanted, which is true. With all the resources of the Federation at his disposal, do you really think that this-" he waved at the room- "is the best he could find?" Chase fingered himself with both hands; with his exceptionally long and dexterous tongue he licked the head of his penis.
Kit grimaced. "I thought we were here to talk, not for you to fuck yourself."
"You don't want to talk," Chase replied. "You've already decided not to believe anything I say. But you like watching me."
"I do not!" Kit blazed, surging to his feet. "This is- this is-" he couldn't think of a word.
Chase unfolded and rose to his feet without taking his fingers out of his anus, a feat even Kit had to admit demonstrated amazing flexibility and balance. "You called me the world's best lie detector." He pulled his fingers out and licked them. "You like what I'm doing. It excites you."
"It's disgusting!"
"You only say that because you think it's what's proper." Chase sank to his knees in front of Kit, leaning back and massaging himself on the chest, belly, and thighs. "When you were young you had sleep-overs. You'd get naked in a sleeping bag with other boys and fuck each other in the ass."
"Everybody does that," Kit muttered, looking away.
"Actually, no," Chase replied. "Not everyone. But a great many who don't fantasize about it. Just like you fantasize about having sex with the Hugo brothers."
"I do not!"
"You shouldn't lie to me, Kit. Not because it's right or wrong but because it's impossible. Not to mention that it's bad for you. People who lie habitually start believing themselves and don't see important things because they think the lies are what is." Chase's expressive eyes blazed like a pair of blue giant stars. "You wonder why I stay with Captain Raskilov. The answer is that he gave me exactly what you give Star. When I was lost, alone, and scared, he comforted me." Chase moved around behind Kit, putting his hands on Kit's shoulders and gently massaging them. "When others treated me like a thing, something to be studied and dissected, Dad treated me like a person. Someone whose dreams and fears were as important as anyone else's. Someone who deserved to be loved and nurtured, not because of my utility to him or Starfleet but in my own right." Chase leaned against Kit's back, reaching down and rubbing his belly. "He stood up to a lot of people to make sure I got what he felt I deserved. Powerful people. He put his career on the line because he loved me." Chase's hands found the edge of Kit's shirt and slipped under it.
Kit expression was pained. "Then... why does he keep trying to take Star away from me?"
"Star isn't yours," Chase said. "She doesn't belong to you any more than she belongs to Professor Moseivitch or Dr. Stannus. Any more than I belong to Starfleet. When you love someone you think about what's best for them. If that means staying with them you stay. If not... you go. You let go because you love, because someone else's well being is more important to you than your own. Which, ultimately, is why Dad decided to leave Star here, in your care, contrary to the advice of many experts. Because he felt that it was better. For her."
Kit shifted uneasily, licking his lips. He seemed unaware of Chase's roving hands. "Then... explain to me how this experiment is going to help Star."
"I shouldn't have to do that," Chase replied. "You're plenty smart, Kit. Once we figure out how Star talks we can talk to her relatives. Or is that the problem? Is that what you're trying to avoid?"
"That's ridiculous!" Kit exclaimed.
"It it?" Chase eased around until he and Kit stood chest to chest. "You were born on a Voxxan planet. The kids you grew up with were nice enough. You were close friends with some of them. Even so you find yourself wishing that at least a couple of them were Terran. Just because you wanted to be around other people who were like you. Which brings us to the true heart of the matter. You're afraid that if we make contact with the Stariionae then Star will leave you and go away with them."
"No!" Kit shouted. He clenched his fists so hard his knuckles turned white. His entire body quivered with tension like a wire rope stretched to the point of breaking.
Chase shook his head sadly. "Kit, if you can't even convince yourself, how can you convince me?"
Kit grimaced. Then, as if something inside him snapped he collapsed onto the couch, clasping his face in his hands and choking back sobs.
"Kit, remember what Dad said the first time we all met?" Chase asked. "About feelings? How it isn't right or wrong to have them? Merely human?" He stroked Kit's face. "I can see how you feel. You love Star dearly but you're terrified of losing her. I feel that way about Dad. I don't know what I'd do without him." Chase looked away for a moment; when he looked back pain and tears filled his eyes. "Being the great and powerful empath hasn't helped me control how I feel, not even a little. If anything it's made it harder. Because I hate having to admit that when it comes to emotions I'm just as helpless as everyone else." He wiped his face with the back of his hand. "I didn't want to tell you that. I really didn't. But I had to, because it's important that you believe me when I tell you that Star loves you. As much as you love her. I saw it, as clearly as I see you now." He sniffed, grabbed a napkin from the table, and blew his nose. "The only way you could lose her is if... you try to stop her from becoming what she needs to be. Permission to be myself is the one thing Dad gave me that no one else would... and the only way I can repay him is to love him back." He reached up, gently wiping the tears from Kit's cheeks. "Have the courage to let Star be who she is. She'll reward you with love... and then you'll never be separated. Because she'll carry you with her in her heart."
Kit collapsed slowly, as if his body were deflating balloon. He fell limply across the couch, his head flopped over on his shoulder, his eyes unfocused. He twitched slightly when Chase unzipped his fly and reached inside. As Chase drew out his penis and coiled his tongue around it Kit squeezed his eyes shut but did not resist.

Kit lay on the floor, on his back, staring up at the ceiling. A beanbag chair propped up his head and shoulders. "Chase?" he asked.
"Hmm?" Chase lay draped across Kit's legs, making a sound very like a cat's purr.
"Did you sleep with me to make me agree to Captain Raskilov's plan?"
"I didn't sleep with you."
"You know what I meant."
"Yes," Chase replied. "No."
"Huh?" Kit frowned. "Which is it?"
"Neither," Chase replied. "Both. I wanted you to agree. I figured that having sex with you would put you in the proper frame of mind. But I'd have done it anyway even if you'd said no."
"Why?"
"Because I like you." Chase ran the tip of his index finger up the center of Kit's chest then across to his right nipple. "You're pretty."
"I'm not pretty," Kit muttered.
"How would you know?" Chase asked. "You've lied about your appearance for so long that you can't even see yourself any more. But sometimes- like when you talk to Star, for example- you forget to lie. Then you're beautiful. You don't even have to be an empath to see it. Star sees it. Snowflake sees it. Even Darkstar, though shi's not the sort to express it by having sex with you."
"Speaking of which, why are you always flirting with people? Why does everything around you have to be about sex?"
"When I was turned upon the Lathe of Heaven, that is how I was shaped," Chase replied. "I was made to give sexual pleasure. And I enjoy it, certainly. You see, because I'm an empath, when you feel pleasure, I feel it, too. Since it's all in the mind there doesn't even have to be any physical contact. Anyone who looks at me and thinks lascivious thoughts, it's as good as having sex with them."
Kit blinked. "But then everyone-" A look of almost comical horror spread across his face. "It'd be like- like you're constantly having sex!"
"Yep." Chase crossed his arms on Kit's belly and laid his chin on them.
"Og." Kit rubbed his eyes. "I... I don't know if I could handle it."
Chase sighed. "Believe it or not, I know what you mean. I have exactly the opposite problem. I can't imagine what it's like not to be constantly immersed in pleasure. Which makes things very difficult sometimes. People have all these hang-ups about sex that, try as I might, I just don't understand."
"Like mine?" Kit asked.
"Yes," Chase agreed. "But you don't cling to them so tightly as others I know. Once I persuaded you to let them go you allowed yourself to experience the pleasure without... a lot of noise."
"I guess I have Snowflake to thank for that," Kit sighed.
"And Darkstar," Chase added.
Kit chuckled. "I imagine you and Liska would get along famously."
"No." Chase shook his head.
"No?" Kit frowned. "But-" Suddenly he remembered Liska fleeing in tears and Captain Raskilov explaining that Chase reflected one's hidden thoughts. What could possibly be so terrible-
"Liska is a lie," Chase said. "Her appearance, her past, her name... everything about her is fakery designed to hide a horrible, ugly truth that is the heart and soul of who she is. The irony of it is that to anyone who's even mildly perceptive all her lies do is point straight back to the very thing she's trying to hide. As soon as our eyes met she realized that I knew. I didn't have to say a word; just the fact that I'd seen the truth was too much for her to handle. Don't ask me what it is." He fixed Kit with a meaningful look. "You have dark secrets of your own. Would you want me whispering them to my next lover?"
"I-" Kit swallowed. "No. But- I mean-"
"I could still enjoy fucking her because she's got a hot bod?" Chase suggested. Kit nodded but Chase shook his head. "No. Remember what I said about you letting yourself enjoy the sensation without a lot of noise? Liska is committed to her lies with every particle of her being. Unlike Dr. Janek and the Hugo brothers I can't ignore them. Sensing her emotions is like- like diving headfirst into a pool of lukewarm snot."
"Og." Kit's face turned ashen. "Now every time I look at her I'm going to see a bathtub full of phlegm."
Chase giggled. "That's funny." He sat up, straddling Kit's pelvis. "As a reward I'm gonna give you something really special." He grinned, his eyes gleaming with a maniacal intensity that made Kit uneasy. "In fact I can absolutely guarantee that it'll be nothing like what you've had so far." He took several deep breaths, then squeezed his eyes shut and braced himself. Abruptly his entire body stiffened; he gasped and moaned as one in intense pain and spittle flecked at the corners of his mouth. Kit yelped as Chase's nails dug painfully into his chest. A moment later Kit forgot his own discomfort as he stared in shock and horror at Chase. His skin twitched and shivered, stretching or slumping as the flesh underneath reformed itself. His shoulders narrowed, his arms becoming slimmer and more delicate. His chest bulged in front. His pelvis widened, his thighs thickening and smoothing. His genitalia shriveled and vanished back into his body.
"Omigod!" Kit squeaked. He tried to scramble away but couldn't, partially because Chase pinned him down and partially because he couldn't seem to coordinate his arms and legs. "You- you-"
"I'm a woman?" Chase suggested, arching his- her- back and stretching sinuously. She retained her male form's athletic build and fluid grace; even her voice was the same except for its timbre.
"Bu- bu- bu-" Kit stammered, staring wide-eyed at her prominent, startlingly pink nipples, set on very large, round breasts, as if they might impale him.
"Oh, come on," Chase protested, rolling her fulsome hips so her vulva massaged Kit's penis. "Skunktaurs do this all the time. And you're the one with a Chakat lover."
Kit gulped. His thoughts might be in turmoil but his body had no doubts. The female Chase was every bit as stunningly beautiful and irresistibly sexy as the male one had been. Kit penis stiffened; Chase massaged it with her fingers and gently guided it into her vagina.
"No!" Kit heaved himself up, tumbling Chase onto her back, and fled behind the couch.
"Bullshit," Chase growled, gaining her feet with an perfectly executed acrobatic flip. "When I'm a man you fuck me six ways from Tuesday but when I'm a woman you get all virtuous because you don't want to cheat on Snowflake? Do you have any idea how phony that is?" She marched behind the couch. Kit scampered around to keep it between them, clasping his hands over his crotch. Chase feinted one way, then the other; each time Kit managed to anticipate the move. Chase paused, studying Kit thoughtfully. She lifted her right breast, curling her tongue around the nipple. Kit's eyes flicked down for a moment. In flash Chase did a handspring over the couch, landing right in front of Kit, who stumbled backwards. She hooked his ankle with her foot and he crashed to the floor; while he struggled she stomped his belly. He flopped once like a gaffed fish as the air whooshed out of him, then lay still. "If you don't want to fuck, then don't," Chase said. "But don't lie about it. If having sex with me now would be cheating on Snowflake then it was before, too. If not, then it isn't now, either." Kit wheezed, struggling for breath. "You know what? Now being around you is like swimming in snot. You're so wrapped up in your lie you'd rather die that let it go. I'd say go back to Snowflake but it won't do any good. You'd have to confess what you did and you won't do it because you'd have to give up your precious lie." Chase scooped up her bikini bottom and pulled it on. The material wasn't quite elastic enough to go over her hips and it hung loose in her crotch. She marched to the door and opened it; Darkstar waited there, laying on the floor. Shi got to hir feet and started to speak but froze mid-syllable, staring in shock as Chase walked by and down the passage. Once Chase left hir field of vision shi shook it off and entered the wardroom.
"Kit?" Darkstar noticed him sprawled on the floor and hurried over. "Kit?" shi repeated, laying a hand on his shoulder.
He looked up at hir for a moment, then closed his eyes and started crying.
"'Smatter?" Darkstar settled beside Kit and stroked his shoulders.
"I- I had sex with him!" Kit wailed.
Darkstar grimaced, though hir hand did not falter in its ministrations. "Obviously," shi said. "I wouldn't figure you got all naked and sweaty playing Scrabble. So?"
"But- but-" Kit wiped his face with the back of his hand. "I cheated on Snowflake!"
Darkstar sighed heavily, closed hir eyes, and rubbed the bridge of hir nose with hir free hand. "Kit," shi began, "Did you ever promise Snowflake you'd never sleep with anyone else?"
"Well-"
"Yes or no?"
"No."
"Did shi ever ask you not to sleep with anyone else?"
"No," Kit admitted after a lengthy pause.
"Then what is the malfunction, soldier?" Darkstar jabbed Kit in the chest with hir index finger. "You didn't do anything wrong. If you still feel bad about it, go to Snowflake. Right now. Tell hir you had sex with Chase, you had an attack of conscience, and now you want to reaffirm your love for hir. Ten to one shi'll want to have sex with you on the spot. Good God, you Terrans are so hung up about procreation I can't imagine how your species managed to survive this long." Shi waited expectantly but Kit made no move. "All right," shi said tiredly. "What's wrong now?"
"I don't deserve Snowflake," Kit mumbled.
Darkstar's ears twitched. Gradually hir expression relaxed until shi appeared entirely calm and peaceful. If Kit could have seen the light blazing in hir eyes, though, he would have quailed in terror. "That, Mr. Carson, is complete and utter horse shit," shi said. "Worse still, you know it's horse shit. The truth is that you'd rather throw away your relationship with Snowflake than admit that you made a stupid mistake. Well, Kit, that ain't gonna happen. You told me once that you thought Snowflake was full of love and all you wanted to do was make it possible for hir to realize hir potential. You weren't lying when you said that and if you try to tell me you were then you're a damn liar. Furthermore, for the past weeks you've treated Snowf