"I'm ... I'm having trouble moving," was the soft, squeaky sound. Unmistakably a mouse's tone. Accompanied by static, interspersed with patches of silence. The sound of a voice being piped through a tiny comm-system. "These boots are heavy."

A raised, ghostly brow, her charcoal-black nose giving a single sniff.

" ... what? They are!" was the insistent defense. Eyes wide.

"Didn't you have zero-gravity training? Or does the Federation's incompetence extend to its academies, as well?" the snow rabbit asked with nonchalant calmness, turning her helmeted head. Stopping in the middle of the darkened corridor.

An airy mumble as he almost tripped, waving his arms to keep a semblance of balance.

"I will pretend I did not hear that," Annika said, of his mutterings.

"Don't know how any-fur can hear anything with their ears pinned against their head," the rodent continued. "I'm claustrophobic, you know. This suit is making me anxious."

"And here I thought," the snow rabbit said, squinting, flashing her palm-beacon forward, "that mouses needed no assistance in that department." She was speaking at a whisper, now, herself. And striding forward again. Each step creating a magnetic ‘thump' sound. The internal gravity net had been disabled on this vessel. Life support, too. Hence the need for the space suits.

A deep breath. "And I graduated with a 3.6 GPA, I'll have you know. Not everyone from the Federation is stupid." And for extra measure, he added, "We're allies, now. That's why I'm assigned to Majestic," he said, of their ship.

"I know. Allies. But do not mistake that for ‘joined at the hip' ... " A pause. " ... 3.6? Out of what? Ten?"

He made a cute scrunch-face. "Four." A few quick, scurry-ful paces. Magnetic thump, thump, thumps. And then nothing. Then ‘thump, thump, thump,' almost bumping into the back of her, his superior. A Sub-Commander. Tactical officer. She was very talented at multiple disciplines. " ... you hear what everyone on the ship says, you know, about us?"

"Enlighten me." They rounded a corner, the snow rabbit's paw unholstering her weapon. Quietly. Almost so that the mouse didn't notice. No need to panic him further. She eyed her scanner and then looked dead ahead.

" ... well, cause Captain Aria and that ... Ross mouse. On the flagship? They started out like this. Our same ranks. On a ship."

"And?"

"Well, it's happening all over ... mouses and snow rabbits."

"Is that so? And this is a documented phenomenon?"

A wide-eyed, innocent nod, still sicking close behind her. "Yes." A pause. "Well, uh, I don't know about ‘documented,' but ... our species?" he went, nodding, shuffling along. His tail inside his suit and writhing against his back. " ... we're, like, compatible." A pause. "Opposites attract."

"So, you are saying ... "

" ... just ... I'm just saying what everyone else is saying. You know? And you asked me to come on this mission. Alone. With you."

"Attempting to breed in a vacuum would be unwise. Especially with ‘just friends' ... "

His ears turned deep-pink, feeling a bit chastised. " ... I know that." A pause. "B-but you made it a point to invite me. And ... and, well, we're not ‘just friends.' You kissed me that one time. Lots of times that one time," he insisted.

"I had been drinking snow rabbit ale."

"The blue stuff?" His pink nose sniffed. Whiskers twitched.

" ... the blue stuff, yes." Her bobtail flickered within her suit, and her tall, charcoal-tipped antennae-ears felt a bit sweaty trapped against her head-fur. The temperature regulator on her suit was off by a few degrees. She tapped at a wrist-panel, resetting it.

"Well, I don't care what color it was. Your tongue was halfway down my throat."

"I believe that would be physically impossible."

" ... you know what I mean," he said, twitching.

"Are you saying you did not like it?"

" ... no." A pause. "Wait, I mean, ‘no, I did like it,' and I'm ... not saying I didn't. I did. Uh ... wait, what?" A discombobulated twitch.

"Then you have nothing to complain about," was her prim, pretty reply.

" ... I'm not complaining. But you act like it was just cause you were tipsy. I don't think it was. That wasn't for no reason." A pause. "But then you stopped when the Captain saw you." Another pause, and a swallow. "You, uh ... used to be in a breeding party with the Captain, didn't you? And then you left?"

"My species generally open-breeds, yes. Or, at least, they did." A breath. "The tide is slowly changing. No doubt that is due to the cross-cultural ‘contamination' of the Federation mingling with the High Command." Though the statement sounded harsh, it wasn't said as such. It was said very serenely, in fact. She was quiet for a second or two. "So, I decided, like many, to extract myself from old habits and ... try for something more. I am not getting any younger."

"How old are you?"

"Twenty-six."

"That's not old," the mouse assured.

"How old are you?" She tilted her head as they walked.

"Twenty-four," was his own response.

"I see." She nodded quietly before continuing, with a breath, " ... regardless, I have not had the best of experiences with ... breeding. Physically, yes, but ... snow rabbit males, the ‘bucks,' do not appreciate my dominance. I am a fighter. I fought in three wars: against the Arctic foxes, the wasps, and the Federation. I am also a member of the special tactical branch of the High Command. I have security clearances that surpass even my superiors."

"Wow ... really?"

"Yes."

"So, uh ... " The mouse's paw went up to scratch his neck, awkwardly, but he realized he was wearing space-gloves. And couldn't scratch anything. He twitched, lowering the paw. " ... so, what does ... "

" ... what does that have to do with anything?"

"W-well ... "

" ... I am conflicted. Snow rabbits, by and large, by design, are unemotional on the outside. On the inside? Well, the inside is hard to get into. But knowing what I do know about the tactical situation in this sector, I need the emotional trust of those I get ‘close' to. I need to know they have my tail. That I am worth something to them."

" ... what do you mean ‘knowing what I do know' ... what, uh, d-do you know?" A tiny squeak.

She hesitated for a moment. "I know that snow rabbit society is fracturing. One side is adamant on remaining as we were: isolated, logical ... the other is flirting heavily with ‘foreign' furry societies. With emotions. The Federation had a Civil War not two or three years ago, remember? That was between predator and prey. The High Command could very well have a civil conflict of an entirely different kind: brother against brother, sister against sister ... emotion versus intellect." A deep breath. "Such a thing isn't a guarantee. But when a source of underlying tension so egregiously exists, you cannot, as a protector of society, assume that it will not become enflamed. You have to assume the worst."

"That's not a good way to think," the mouse whispered, twitching. He almost reached out and touched her gloved paw. Almost. But stopped, twitching. " ... that's, uh ... so, what are you saying, though? I still don't get it."

"Those who remain in the breeding parties are generally in the first camp. Adherents of the ‘Old Way.' Those who leave and ... take ‘mates?' Are generally in the second camp. The ‘New Way.' I am part of the ‘New Way.' Therefore, I could not share the Captain's bed any longer. I could not give myself so fully to someone who ... is so opposed to my ideals. I felt it was holding me back."

"So, it's about politics?"

"I do not consider the situation political," Annika said, "but ... admittedly, it probably is. To a degree. Suffice it to say, my heart has ‘thawed' from its once-frozen state. It is still encased in ice, but ... the ice is not so thick anymore. You can hear it beating."

" ... your heart?" the mouse whispered.

"Metaphorically," she said.

"Oh." He swallowed, nodding.

"I suppose, in the Mess Hall that night ... you were quite innocent. As your species tends to be. I am not innocent." There was regret to that statement. "You are. I suppose I wanted to taste a tiny bit of that. And hoped that, maybe, it would rub off on me ... that kind of purity." A pause. "And I was tipsy, yes," she admitted.

He wasn't sure how to respond to that. Only, "I wasn't much less ... uh, tipsy. I forget who that party was even for." A pause. It had been a month ago. "Oh. Yeah, it was the, uh, Armistice Day thing ... commemorate the peace between snow rabbits and Arctic foxes." He tilted his head. "And I'm ... not that pure. I'm not that perfect."

"No one is perfect. But there are those who have ‘purer' hearts. It is what separates the faithful from the cynical. And though you may become excitably anxious, at times, like ... right now, for instance ... I still do not believe you have a truly cynical bone in your body."

" ... so, what am I supposed to think? That you were making out with me? And that you flirt with me, like, regularly after that? And then you invite me alone on this mission ... is it so we could talk?" He bit his lip, but got no response. "Annika?"

She hesitated, feeling her ‘conditioned' upbringing rising to the fore. The one that said she was starting to get ‘too close.' The one that warned her against entertaining even the tiniest teaspoons of emotion, lest they turn her into a raw, feral fur. That was why snow rabbits were so emotionally rigid, after all. It was evolution's way of protecting them from themselves. God's way, if you will. They'd come from a harsh, unforgiving planet. Ice and snow. Short summers. Long, hard winters. Feral at the core, just to survive. They'd only become civilized once they'd developed the ability to suppress their emotions.

But, surely, after all this time, letting a little emotion to the surface was alright, wasn't it? A little thawing? Surely, that was desirable? It had worked for others. Captain Aria, like the mouse had mentioned. She was in charge of the flagship of the entire fleet, and she'd done it. She was the most-respected captain in the High Command's ranks.

Such was the debate amongst all snow rabbits. Such was the rift that was becoming more public by the year. Especially with this Federation/High Command alliance, and half the ships in the snow rabbit fleet now having ‘mixed-species' crews. It had been easy to preserve their traditional behaviors and ways of life when they'd lived in isolation. But these wars? Had forced them out of the bottle. A bottle which was too narrow to reenter.

There was no going back ...

" ... Annika ... what am I supposed to think?" the mouse pleaded, earnestly.

And, for the moment, just for a split moment, her old self won the battle, as she simply replied, "You are supposed to think that I will need someone to crawl through the access tube on the bridge. That is why I invited you on this mission. To retrieve the neural gel pack that the bees' use to store information from the hive. You are trim enough and small enough to wriggle your way into any location, are you not? Even with a spacesuit on?"

"I can wriggle, yeah, but ... " His whiskers drooped.

" ... good."

"Annika ... " A small sound of pain.

" ... Sub-Commander," she corrected, immediately regretting it. After all, hadn't she just told him that she was part of the ‘New Way?' Why, then, was she suddenly afraid to prove it in her actions? She'd proven it before. Why not now, at this moment?

A sigh from him, trying to figure her out (snow rabbits, logical as they were, were hard to emotionally gage). "Sub-Commander. You didn't tell me I'd be crawling in dark tubes."

"No, I did not."

"And I just told you, like, a minute ago ... that I was claustrophobic!" His voice was rising in squeaky, effeminate agitation. "So, uh ... you know, this is kinda not a pleasant surprise for me."

"I was not aware of that fact until just now. And, even with the knowledge at paw, I half-anticipate that you are exaggerating to some degree."

"I don't exaggerate." He crossed his arms in mousey stubbornness, furrowing his brow.

"Your cuteness will not dissuade me," she insisted, seriously. Not even eye-smiling. "Mouses are known to be excitable, as I said. I have worked for the the tactical branch of the High Command for many years. It is my job to memorize species' behavioral profiles."

"I'm not being excitable, either." He felt like scurrying up a wall. She was deflecting him. She may not have understood why she was acting this way, but he did: it was one thing to suck on another fur's muzzle, but it was another to ... speak raw, emotional confessions. Plain and simple: Annika was clamming up. She just wasn't used to ‘tender moments.' Even if she thought she could handle them, she didn't quite know how, and so ... " ... you're just scared. Like me," he said.

" ... I beg your pardon?" There was a steely tone in her voice. "I do not get scared."

"Oh, so I get excitable, and I get stubborn ... but you don't get any of those things? You're just perfect?"

" ... I aim for it. I cannot say I achieve it, but I try."

"So, you don't get scared of anything ... ever?"

"No."

"My tail, you don't."

" ... your tail?" A raised eyebrow.

"Look, I'm freaking scared of this ... stupid ghost ship, and I'm scared of what ... of how to approach you, cause I ... I ... l-like you," he said, spitting the words out, "and I don't want you to reject me." His cheeks burned beneath his grey fur. But not as hot as his ears were burning, gorging with blood. "Maybe you feel the same things. And maybe that's why snow rabbits and mouses seem to find themselves together. You're the most unemotional of furs. I'm the most emotional." A breath. "We're two extremes that need each other to reach a stable middle ground."

She said nothing. Admitted impressed by the mouse's ‘logic.' But, still ... she cleared her throat and said, "We are on a mission. We must focus on that mission, lest we get distracted and befall a grisly fate. The ‘heart to heart' can wait."

" ... well, uh ... I guess. But ... "

" ... bees rarely enter ‘furry' territories. The fact that an unblemished ship is floating in snow rabbit space with inoperable life support facilities and no signs of a crew? Is highly suspicious. I suspect foul play."

" ... do you think it's the wasps? Do you think they're back?" he asked, letting the other stuff go. His pulse was racing, though. He couldn't stop it. Maybe the ‘Old Way' snow rabbits had it right. Maybe emotions were a distraction. Maybe they weren't worth it. Lord knows, the mouse thought, they give me just as much pain as they do joy.

"They view the bees as ‘adversaries,' true. But the wasps have not been heard from in several years. It will be several more, realistically, before they amass enough power for another assault on us. Or anyone else. And it is not their way to be ‘clean' about their attacks. They simply consume and assimilate. This is not their handiwork."

" ... oh."

"You needn't worry, though. I am well-trained in armed combat." She flashed her phase pistol. "If there is anything hostile on this ship, I will be ready."

" ... wasps can survive in a vacuum?"

"There are no wasps," Annika repeated, enunciating it slowly.

"Well, there are no bees, either ... from what we've seen," Denison whispered. For that was the mouse's name. His already wispy voice went to an even softer whisper. " ... this is creepy. Something bad's gonna happen. I feel it." Whiskers twitched inside his helmet, his quickening breaths fogging up the glass. "Mm ... eh ... " Much wriggling, and he was turning around, about to ...

" ... scurry off, and I will pin you to the bulkhead," was the snow rabbit's dominant assurance.

" ... eh ... w-what?" His eyes widened. Both in anxiety and slight arousal.

"Do as I say," was the hushed order. Her blood moving, for sure. Her temperature rising. Her heart beating faster, as well. "We are at the bridge entrance. We will have to manually pry apart the doors. I will get the left. You get the right. Step back as soon as we get them apart. I will enter first."

" ... w-will you be okay?" was the first thing he said.

She was about to rebuke him for that. But didn't. She couldn't. She just softened her tone and promised, "I will be alright." And she let go of him, giving a nod, pointing a gloved paw. And ... " ... on the count of three ... " One, two, three. They pulled. Squeaks and mews and grunts. The door was heavier than it looked, but they got it half-open. Enough for Annika, panting sharply, to kick the rest of the way open. Her rabbit-legs were very strong. Built for kicking and hopping. And, with a final sigh, she looked up, flashing her palm-beacon forward.

Denison screamed squeakily. And immediately.

The snow rabbit swung a paw to cover his maw, and then ... realized she couldn't. She ended up smacking his helmet instead.

" ... w-what ... what happened? I can't look!" The mouse's voice was shaking. And he literally wriggled himself behind the snow rabbit. " ... A-annika ... "

" ... do not hyper-ventilate on me. I need you to fetch the gel pack."

"I'm not going in there!" he said, in a half-sob.

Annika closed her eyes. And swallowed. And breathed deeply, slowly, and repeatedly. And when she opened her eyes, the scene was still the same: the missing bees were all on the bridge. Floating. Dead.

" ... I'm n-not going in there," the mouse repeated, sniffling. Literally trembling. "I ... w-wanna go back to our ship."

"Denison, listen to me ... "

He shook his head, slumping over. As if he was aiming to curl up into a mousey ball.

"Listen," Annika said, turning around, straightening him up. Touching her helmet to his. Speaking with a learned confidence. She had seen much worse. By God, she had. And done much worse, too. Yes, it was disturbing. But she was able to push past that. "I cannot fit in the access tube. We have schematics of bee ships. I know the dimensions."

" ... I can't fit in there, either."

"Yes, you can. It will be a tight fit, but you can. Just wriggle forward. There's a junction just off the bridge. A hub. Once inside, open the green, triangular panel. Extract the gel pack. Be sure to unhook it first. Do not just rip it out."

" ... I'm ... n-not ... d-doing it." A small sob.

"Denison, please ... "

Continuous head-shaking.

" ... alright, alright. How about this: you close your eyes. I will speak to you. I will tell you how to reach the hatch ... that way you won't have to see anything on the bridge. Alright?"

" ... what if they hit me?" he whispered, with prey-like horror. " ... l-like, what if they float into me ... "

"Just keep your eyes closed," she repeated. Feeling a sudden urge to hold him. He looked so vulnerable. Like he needed to be scooped up. But ... " ... there's no time for dawdling. We need to learn what happened here. Their computer is down. We need the gel pack. The sooner we get it, the sooner we can leave, and then we can make sure this doesn't happen again."

The head-shaking turned into weak head-nodding. Whiskers twitching with violent anxiety. " ... o-okay, but ... but ... "

" ... yes?"

" ... don't stop talking to me. Even when I get into the tube. The whole time. I don't w-wanna be alone."

A small pause, making direct eye contact. Her ice-blues to his browns. "You won't be alone." A slight nod. "Alright?"

"You p-promise?" His airy voice sounded so desperate and needy, as if the idea of being alone scared him even more than the sight of death.

" ... I promise," she said, slightly uncomfortable. A funny feeling in her throat. One she'd not felt before.

Another nod on his part, swallowing. "Alright. O-okay ... " He cleared his throat, closing his eyes, hesitating massively. Before dropping to all fours, and crawling forward. Beneath the floating bees. Think good thoughts, he told himself. Think good thoughts. Dear God, please ...

... he silently, quietly prayed.

Directed, out loud, by Annika's voice.



Twenty minutes later, they were back in Shuttle-Pod One, doors shut, engines firing in a show of blue light. Taking their helmets off, letting them clatter to the carpeted floor. The gel pack was secure in Denison's paws. He held it like it was poisonous, though, as if he wanted to throw it away.

Annika, as she swung the pod around, left the empty ‘nest' of a ship behind and simultaneously tapped the comm button. "Shuttle-Pod One to Majestic."

A chirrup. "Majestic," was the simple acknowledgment. "You succeeded, I take it?" came the Captain's calm tone.

"We did." A pause. "We also found the bees. They were ... beyond saving," she said, diplomatically. "Though I cannot confirm it, I strongly suspect foul play. I believe the gel pack will give us concrete answers. At least in terms of communiques, sensor readings, et cetera, but ... I can already deduct a hypothesis on sight alone."

"Wasps, then?"

" ... no." A pause. Looking to Denison (who was looking down, whiskers twitching in anxiety), she sighed. And looked out the main window. " ... no," she repeated. "On the way back to the pod, we took an alternative route. To see if we could find any other clues ... "

" ... yes?"

"We found another body. It wasn't a bee."

"What was it?"

" ... yellow jacket," Denison said, sullenly. He had hyper-ventilated that time. It took Annika five minutes to get him under control.

"We found it with a single bee. Apparently, it sacrificed itself so the others could seal themselves on the bridge ... it was a small ship. But, somehow, the yellow jackets must've disabled their environmental controls, anyhow." A pause. "Bee ships do not have escape pods. They live for the hive. They all go together." She rubbed her forehead, ears waggling. A sigh. "There is no proof of that other than deduction, but ... we do have the gel pack. It should clarify things."

"Or make them even more complicated," the Captain replied. A pause, sighing. " ... make sure you go through de-con when you dock. In case any sort of infection is involved. Even if it only affects insects, I want you two cleaned spotless."

"Agreed," Annika responded, primly. She was tough. But she was also had a clear femininity about her. "Anything else?"

"You two take the rest of the day off. I can have the others pour over any data we've retrieved."

"You will notify me, however, of the findings? I am the first officer. And head of security. If this is a security threat, like I assume it to be, I want to be informed."

"I thought you were ‘on the inside' with the High Command's tactical branch? I'm sure nothing we find will surprise you."

"Inform me," was the repeated request. More like a demand.

" ... of course," the Captain said. It was hard to toe the line with Annika when he'd slept with her. When they had a history. He felt, on some level, like she could walk all over him. He still had a weakness for her. And she was so headstrong.

"Thank you," she said, tapping the controls. A chirrup, and the line was cut. And she leaned back in her seat, piloting with ease. She was an expert at flying small craft. Again, something she'd learned during the wars. ‘Dogfights' in planetary atmospheres. In shuttles not much bigger than this pod here. She remembered all those moments viscerally.

Denison, who'd been mostly quiet since they'd gotten back, finally spoke up (with a shy delicacy in his voice), " ... uh ... I'm gonna need something to eat. After we get cleared by the Doctor."

Annika was about to say she wasn't hungry (because, truthfully, she wasn't), but ... then blinked. Realizing it was an invitation. She opened her muzzle, and then closed it. And opened it again to say, "The Mess Hall?"

" ... yeah." A twitchy pause. "That'd be fine."

"And perhaps we could continue our ‘talk'," she said, helpfully.

A small, lip-biting smile, and a little nod from the mouse. Compared to what they'd just witnessed on that awful grave-ship, intimate conversation didn't seem so scary. And who knew? Maybe it would lead to, uh ... well ... something ... maybe, the mouse thought, with optimistic, male hopefulness (of the most innocent, mousey kind, of course).