... five years earlier ..

The pain was unbelievable. Was sharp. Was hot. Was permeating through ...

"Give up, mouzzze ... "

... every nerve in his body. His paws, arms. Oh, pin-pricks. Needles. Fiery needles!

" ... mouzze. Mm ... mmmouzze ... "

Advance closed his eyes. The voice that sliced through the dry, arid air. The hot, shimmering air. His large, dishy ears swivelled. Shuddered. HE shuddered ... as he curled up behind a large rock. Trying to stay in the small shadow (which wasn't really much of a shadow at all). Knowing his ears were sticking up ... knowing his tail wouldn't STOP snaking.

Snaking ...

... for the snake to see. For the snake to find.

Snakes. So territorial. And yet they never CLEARLY marked their territory. Their territory changed by the day. By whim.

They were volatile. And they lived in tunnels ... lots of tunnels underground. And they only left them for one reason: to hunt.

Advance had come out here. Exploring. Sniffing for food. His family didn't have a food processor. He came from a line of desert mice. Simple furs. Rather poor. Advance was the oldest of his litter. He was searching for fruits, seeds, bits of cacti.

Which was how he'd hurt his paws.

He'd been trying to cut a cactus up ... to get to the water and juice inside. Had been licking his lips, the hot, summer sun beating down on his upper back and shoulders. The mouse shirtless. In his bare foot-paws. In tattered shorts. Trying to stay as cool as he could. His body, after all, was built for the dessert. The light-browns and grain colors of his fur ... did more reflecting than absorbing. And his tail was covered in short, velvety furs (to prevent sunburn). The only really exposed parts of him ... were his ears. Which he lathered with sun lotion daily. Before heading out.

"Mouzze ... mouze, mouze ... " The snake was slithering the word in an almost sing-song manner. Where was it coming from? His voice? From the left ... from behind? There were so many boulders around him ... that the mouse couldn't tell. The voice echoed. Bounced.

Advance's eyes watered. He'd ... he'd been trying to cut into the cactus. With a little knife. And trying to pry off the cut pieces with his claws and paws. When the snake had started its rhythmic chanting. When the snake had said, "I seeeezzze you ... "

The mouse, instinctually, had twitched and jerked and ... his paw-pads had flailed RIGHT onto the cactus needles. He'd squealed. Squeaked. Retracted his paws. Some of the needles came out. A few of them stayed, and ... tears streaming down his cheeks, the mouse was using his teeth to try and pull them out of his paw-pads.

"Don't try an' ssscurriezzz, mouzze! Let me hellp ... "

Advance swallowed. His breaths shallow and scared, and his teeth ... yanking! A needle came out. He winced. The pain so, so sharp, and blood trickling out of his paws. Dripping to the sand and the dirt. A hard swallow, tears still streaming, and ... teeth clenching on another needle. And ...

... yank!

"I sniffzzzz ... bloodzzz. Mouzze bloodz ... "

"Get away from me!" Advance squeaked, shivering. With hatred. With ... revulsion. Snakes. Snakes were evil. They had to be ... there was no such thing as a good snake, was there?

A good snake. A good snake was a dead snake. That's what his father always said.

"I'm not touchingzzz you," the snake defended.

"You're ... stalking me." A breath. Ear-swivels. "I ... know what you're going to do," the desert mouse whispered.

"And whatzzz am I gonna doozz ... "

Advance's heart skipped a beat. "You're gonna eat me," he whispered. Very, very quietly. As if voicing some deep, dark prophesy.

"Mm ... mmm ... mouzes." A slither-slick. A snaky sound. Coming from ... dammit, where?! Where?!

Advance spun. His teeth hurriedly taking the last cactus needle out of his paws ... and both paws unbelievably sore. And bleeding without respite. He needed to bandage them. And ... and if he tried to scurry, tried to flee, the snake would only follow his blood-trail. If Advance went home, the snake would follow him home. Get his family.

No ... no, he ... what was he gonna do?!

Panic was setting in. Had ALREADY set in. His prey mind, his mousey mind ... was whirling. Was scurrying in place. Pulse was pounding. Heart was hammering. Senses were ...

... sensing the snake. Which, from all indications, was slithering closer, closer. And was probably faster. How fast could a snake move?

Faster than a scurrying mouse?

It wasn't like Advance had NO experience with snakes. He'd sniffed them before. Seen them before.

But he'd never been THIS close to actually being caught.

Maybe he'd been lucky.

Advance picked up the blood-tipped cactus needles, and ... gathered them. Stuck them in the pockets of his shorts. And, huffing, swallowing, he looked around. He'd worked so hard to get inside that cactus, to get the juice and meat of it, and now he'd have to leave it all ... all that energy spent to get food. And not able to eat a bite of it.

Damn snake.

Damn predators. If it wasn't the snakes, it was the wolves, foxes. Coyotes. At night, the coyotes would howl. Like death, they would howl, and they would prance and parade around the dessert, harassing prey.

And, sometimes, it was too much for him. Advance was a desert mouse. It was his heritage. In his blood. Who he was. And he would always be, but ... he had to get away from this. This constant struggle to simply SURVIVE.

Nights, though, excluding the yips of the coyotes ...

... provided what he most longed for. What he spent his entire day waiting for.

The stars.

Desert nights were crystal clear. Devoid of all light. The stars would shimmer, would shine, would be unlike anything one could imagine. The stars were never more beautiful ... than they were then. At night. In the desert.

As if the stars were at their PUREST out here.

And he would watch them. Would lie on his back in the sand, in the brush. And would watch them. For hours, sometimes. Just thinking. Just watching.

He wanted to be up there.

They had ships. Furs had ships ... and rumor had it that, soon, they would start construction on a prey ship. Just for prey. Mostly for prey, anyway, and ...

... whatever. It didn't matter.

But it had to be better up there, right?

It had to be beautiful and peaceful, right?

It ...

... was an escape. Was a dream. Was everything to his young, anxious mind.

A slither, slither ... snake.

Snake!

Advance leapt, ducked, and rolled through the sand. So lost in his thoughts! So paralyzed by his mousey nature that ... he'd allowed the snake to creep that close. Allowed the snake to get close enough to lunge. Allowed ...

... shut up! Shut up, Advance yelled at himself. In his head. Just focus.

Focus!

Paws clawing at the sand and dirt. Body scurrying. He was built for this. Built for this. Oh, you're made for this.

But the snake was also made for this.

They were both in their elements.

And only one of them could win.

Advance rolled more, sand dusting his fur. Helping him blend in better. And he crawled, crawled, feverishly making it behind another rock. Fur matted with sweat. Sweat and sand. Huffing, huffing. He could go a while without water. Longer than most furs. But, still, he'd NEEDED that juice and meat of the cactus.

He was in a weakened state. And the bleeding wounds on his paws ... only weakened him further.

The snake was probably at full strength. Or so the mouse had to assume. It was never wise to underestimate a predator. They might've been egotistical, but they were strong. They did have cunning. You had to give them that.

Dear God, please, please ... please ...

Slither-slither. The sound of a tongue hissing and forking.

Dear God ... please! Advance feverishly mouthed a prayer, crawling between big rocks. Wincing. He had to crawl with his bloody paws. Had no choice but to grit his teeth. Had no choice but to suffer through it. Had no choice but to ... please ... please, God, don't let it get me! Don't let him get me ... keep me strong. Keep me fast. Guide me ... protect ...

Lunge!

Eek! Squeak ... and Advance thrashed his legs. Kicking the scaly body of the snake. The mouse curling into a ball, trying to roll away, but the snake slithering, lunging, and the sound ...

... of a rattle-rattle-rat. Rattle-rattle-rat.

Advance froze. That sound was so piercing. So hollow. So empty.

"Yezzz ... yezzz, mouzze."

The desert mouse held his breath. Quivered.

Rattle-rattle-rat. Rattle-rattle-rat. The sound of a snake's tail. A rattler. This wasn't just a desert snake. A POISONOUS snake. One who's venom would slowly boil his blood. Eat him from the inside out. The WORST way to die ... oh, this was a poisonous snake!

But, then, that wasn't so surprising, was it?

Should've expected that ...

... should've known.

Rattle-rattle-rat. Rattle-rattle-rat.

Advance tried to move, but ... his eyes glazed over. His body went a bit rigid. He couldn't move. Couldn't move!

"That'zzz ... right, mouze. Mouze."

Rattle-rattle-rat.

The hollow, empty rattle of the snake's tail was acting like an hypnotic lure ... keeping the mouse in place. Keeping Advance in a semi-trance.

The mouse tried to move. Tried to get up and scurry.

But couldn't!

And the snake came closer. Closer. It's scaly, tubular body swirling, slithering. So disgusting.

Dear God, please! Please! Help me! Please ... protect me. Let me ... get away ... don't let it get me! He started to sob, trying so hard to move, but he felt so sluggish. Move, move, move! Sobbing hysterically ...

And the snake coiled, and poked and flickered its forked tongue. Onto the mouse's bare back. Using it to sense the taste and heat and weight of its prey. It was almost doing it in a sensual, sexual manner. As if tasting the mouse's body. Just tasting his fur. His back. The sweat and FEAR of the mouse. And, oh, he would BITE the mouse. But he would do that ... last. After he'd done everything else ...

The mouse twitched and nearly gagged. At the feel, at the knowledge of that tongue flicking on his back-fur. And, still, the feeling of piercing, burning needles in his paws, and ...

... needles.

The mouse froze.

Needles!

The snake started to coil its lower half around the mouse's foot-paws and legs. To keep him from scurrying. His tail still doing its rattle-rattle-rat. While the mouse's own tail, thin and long, with its short, short fur ... writhed like a live wire.

The snake coiled tighter around Advance. Around more of his body. Almost reaching his stomach and chest. Where he would squeeze the mouse ‘til he couldn't breathe. ‘Til the rodent's lungs burst. ‘Til he squeaked in agony and went wonderfully limp. ‘Til ... with the mouse still alive enough to FEEL, the snake would sink those fangs in his pitiful body. And let him die to the bubbling of pure VENOM. ‘Til ...

... stab! STAB!

The snake screeched! Slither-screeched, quivering!

STAB!

The mouse, in a quick, scurrying flurry plunged a cactus needle into the meat of the snake. Piercing the scales. And going deep. Plunging. One needle. Another.

STAB!

A third ... before the snake finally recovered from the shock.

But, by then, Advance had kicked and thrashed his way free of the snake's dry, harsh grasp, and had gotten upright. Scurrying through the sand, leaving the snake to writhe and curse. Leaving it to bleed in the noontime sun.

Leaving it.

Thank you ... thank you, the mouse breathed upward, to the sky. God had pulled him out of the snake's tail-trance. He was sure of it. He ... he was alive.

I'm alive.

Alive, yes, he sighed, slowing to a weary walk once he was a safe distance away from the disabled snake. Alive, but ... more tired, more battered, and hungrier and thirstier than before.

The mouse drooped.

And sighed.

Such was the life of a desert mouse.



... present time ...

"What are you doing?" Advance asked.

"Clearing the table," Audrey said. "I mean ... you're done with breakfast, right?" They were in their quarters on Solstice. They had finished with shore leave and were continuing their patrol.

"Yeah," the mouse whispered. "Yeah, but ... that water glass is still half-full. And ... "

"Well, I don't want any more."

The mouse was quiet.

"Advance?"

"Mm?" A blink.

"What's wrong?" the squirrel asked, her bushy, furry tail flittering about. And her angular ears tilting toward him. Her whiskers twitched. "Mm?"

"Nothing. I ... " A whisker-twitch. His thin tail snaked. "I, uh ... where I come from," he said, "when I grew up ... food and water were hard to come by. I'm just ... I feel guilty about wasting it."

"Darling, the food processor recycles all the molecules and ... you know, it's not wasted."

"I know," the mouse whispered. And swallowed. "Just a habit, I guess."

The squirrel paused. Wondering if she could continue clearing the table, or ...

"I'll, uh, help." The mouse picked up the plates. Carried them to the food processor.

The squirrel smiled a bit and ... continued clearing the table.

"I had a nice time on shore leave," the mouse said.

"So did I," she whispered, smiling. And leaning toward him. Nosing his cheek. And then nosing his neck. The two rodents had gotten a lot of ‘intimate' time. Mm ... she smiled. "Mm ... heh, I, uh ... if we didn't have to be on duty in half an hour ... "

"I know ... " The mouse flushed a bit. Whiskers twitching.

The table was soon cleared. "You sure," the squirrel asked, meandering to the couch, "you're okay?"

"I am."

"You just seem ... lost."

"Lost?" He padded to the couch. Standing. While she sat.

She looked up at him. "Like, lost in ... thought. Memory. Something. I don't know ... like you're not all here this morning." A pause. "I would wonder if half of you was still on shore leave, but ... your eyes don't give that impression. You look tired."

"I just ... had a dream."

"Dream? A nightmare, you mean?"

"It's nothing, Aud ... " The mouse padded away. And stopped. Back to her. His eyes darted. "Just about ... snakes. And it wasn't so much a nightmare." A pause. "It was a memory. It happened, and ... " He turned around. "I don't like to think about all that."

"You're a desert mouse," she reminded.

"I WAS," he whispered, "a desert mouse."

"So ... so, your family, your home ... you don't care?"

"I care about it. About all of it. I just ... you didn't grow up in the sand, Aud. You grew up in a forest. Lots of lush trees and leaves and ... lots of places to be safe."

"So, it was all fun and games for me?" she asked, raising her brow. "Mm?"

He twitched. "I didn't say that."

"Will you sit down?" she asked.

"I didn't say that, Aud."

"I don't care. Just ... sit down. Please," she whispered.

He let out a breath. And then padded over to her. And flopped down on the couch. He swallowed. Massaging one of his paw-pads with his fingers. Absently.

"Did you hurt your paw?" the squirrel asked, suddenly concerned.

"Mm?" A blink. And he looked down. "Oh ... no," he said, putting his paws to the cushions.

"Advance ... "

"What?" he asked, looking a bit ... tired.

"You sure you're okay?"

"Aud, I said I was."

"Mouses can be stubborn," was her response. A pause from her. "I ... I think it's safe to assume that every fur on this ship has had ... problems," she said, "and struggles, and ... we all have secrets. None of us TRULY knows each other's pasts. I mean, you know? What I'm saying ... "

"I know what you're saying," he whispered.

"Just don't assume," she asked of him, "that I can't relate or that I can't help ... don't push me away. However subtle that pushing might be."

"Aud, I'm not," he insisted.

The squirrel sniff-twitched. "Alright," she whispered. And she leaned against him. Her head on his shoulder. "I know that, as the Captain, you feel you have to put on a show, you know ... "

"I don't. I don't have to put on a show. I just ... I have to be stable."

"And you don't think you are?"

"I'm a mouse."

"So?"

"So, look at Herkimer. Look at Ross ... "

"They're your friends. AND your officers."

"But they can BE mice," he stressed. "I can't. I mean, I AM, but I can't show it. Not entirely."

"That's ridiculous! This is all in your head. You're just ... you're making things a lot more complicated," she stressed, "than they need to be."

"Darling ... "

"Baby, listen. Listen to me."

He bit his lip. Whiskers twitching.

"Are you listening?"

A sigh through the nose. And a nod. "Yeah," he whispered.

"You can be yourself," she whispered. "Around me. Around everyone. This crew is getting closer ... it's taken time, but we're getting closer. And you've played a big part in that. There's no fur on this ship that doesn't trust you. That doesn't like you."

"Except Advent."

"Advent's a walking asterisk," the squirrel supplied. "But everyone else ... you know, don't worry about what other furs think. Or worry about how they perceive you. I love you, okay?"

A shy smile.

"I really do. And I'm gonna keep your confidence so buoyant ... that your spirit literally floats."

A giggle-squeak. "Mm ... " A flush. Ears swiveling. "Thanks, Aud ... I ... thanks," he whispered. "Mm."

"You're welcome." A breath through the nose. And a hug. "Mm." A squeeze!

And the mouse took a deep breath. Eyes scanning, looking for the time.

"We got twenty minutes, at least." A pause. "Wanna snuggle?"

A warm sigh. "Sounds lovely."

And her nose on his neck.

And his paw on her thigh.

And squeaky, contented ... good morning sighs!



Tess padded on the upper catwalk ... in the shuttle-bay. A scanner in her paw. Running a structural integrity check of the pods (which were on the floor beneath her). There were four pods. They weren't very luxurious, necessarily, but they did their job. Which was to shuttle furs from here to there. Transporter technology was very, very rare. Only certain species (like the wasps) had it.

Furs relied on shuttles.

So, their maintenance was important.

And Tess took great pride in up-keeping them. She was also, aside from being in charge of the bay ... was also the secondary helm officer. Lately, she'd been called on several times to take the helm (due to disciplinary problems with Advent).

The squirrel tucked her pad into a pocket in her uniform, and leaned forward. Paws on the rails. And looking down. Unblinking.

And she closed her eyes. Listening to the hum of the warp core. It could be heard from anywhere on the ship. A steady, soft thrum.

Sometimes, it even permeated her dreams. Or maybe she just imagined it.

Her bushy tail, mahogany brown, very silky and brushy ... swished in the air behind her. Keeping her eyes closed, swishing her tail. Her angular ears swiveling just a tiny bit. And her whiskers twitching. Mm.

"Don't jump," a voice teased. "It's not worth it."

The squirrel blinked. Turned.

"Just teasing. I ... half-imagined you vaulting over those rails," said Handel. A porcupine. "Mm ... "

Tess giggled. "I COULD do it, you know. Jump."

"And stick a perfect landing?" Handel teased.

"I'm a born acrobat."

"I'm jealous ... "

"I know." A whisker-twitching grin. "Mm ... so," she asked, stepping away from the railings, standing up straighter. "What brings you here ... Lieutenant."

"Well, Ensign," he replied. "I'm running some errands for Herkimer."

"He's making you collect the departmental reports?"

"I kind of, uh ... lost a bet. So ... I have to make the rounds for a week."

"What did you bet him?" The squirrel's eyes gleamed. She crossed her arms.

"Nothing ... "

"Come on ... " She prodded his chest. The porcupine had some spines on his back. And spines on his tail. Most of which lied flat ... they only were drawn upright (into pricking position) when he felt angry or threatened.

"Look, I just ... I'm doing his rounds."

"Yes, but WHY," she prodded. "Mm?" She wondered about him ... how he always seemed to go out of his way to talk to her. How he'd always make jokes. Like he was trying to hide something. Feelings ... she was a smart squirrel. She was already figuring this out before he admitted ...

" ... I bet him I'd ask you out to supper on shore leave. And I didn't. So ... he won. So, I'm doing his rounds." He sounded a bit sheepish.

"I see," Tess whispered.

"Um ... you have your report?"

"You're a bit early. I haven't exactly written it yet."

"Oh. Well ... I guess I'll have to stay here until you do," he said, a slow smile spreading across his muzzle.

"Mm." She smiled back at him. And then giggled. "You're a cheek, you know that?" Noting that the porcupine had obviously shown up this early ... knowing he'd have to wait. An excuse to spend more time with her. While on duty, no less.

He lingered. Fidgeting.

"How do you hug a porcupine?"

"What?" Handel blinked.

"It's a song ... we sung it in school. How do you hug a porcupine?"

Handel shrugged. "Never heard that song." A pause. "How?"

"With gloves and care ... and an loony mind. That's how you hug a porcupine."

"Hmm."

"It's a bit mean ... actually," the squirrel confessed, twitching. "That song. I don't know why they sing it."

"Well ... we're different," Handel said, of his species. "Our, uh ... our spines aren't that bad, you know. I mean, God tailored our bodies ... to make sure we wouldn't hurt others unless we need to. It's ... they're not on our fronts. And the ones on back aren't that long. It's ... I wouldn't hurt you," was his whisper. What he was trying to get at. "I wouldn't hurt you if you hugged me."

Her eyes met his. "I know," she whispered.

Handel fidgeted.

"Hey ... I mean ... come here." The squirrel opened her arms.

"You're just teasing me."

"Will you come here?" Tess asked, eyes shining warmly. "You came down here just to see me, right? If you want a hug, I'll give it to you."

"Because I asked for it ... or because you want to give it?"

"Because I'm wanting to give it," she assured with a whisper. "I mean it. Now, come on. You NEED a hug."

The porcupine giggled. "Mm. I guess." And he stepped forward, taking a deep breath (of her) through the nose. And wrapped his arms around her.

She wrapped her arms (with instinctual caution) around his back.

And they both closed their eyes.

Both leaned against each other. Up here, on the catwalk. Overlooking the stationary shuttle-pods.

"Think they're peeking ... "

"Mm?" the squirrel went, eyes still closed.

"The pods. I think they're watching us."

"They like to do that," was the squirrel's simple response. And she opened her eyes. "Mm ... it's nice to hug." She hugged a bit more firmly. Not afraid of any spines or anything. If Handel promised she wouldn't get pricked ... then she would believe him. After all, they were HIS spines. He knew them better than she did.

"It is," Handel whispered. "Nice, I mean ... to hug." And he sighed. Nose breathing of her scent. Of her silky fur. She'd shampooed it all this morning. He could smell the fruity scent. And he sniffed. Femmes smelled so soft. Mm ... squirrels smelled of ... sky. Of fresh air. He breathed in! And held it. And let it out ...

She held to him. And ... felt her heart flutter. She hadn't realized, maybe, how much she'd needed something like a hug. Something like touch.

Something. Some-fur.

And she flushed. "Um ... "

"I'm sorry," Handel apologized.

"Hey, no ... no, it's okay. I just ... " Tess took a breath. "You know, I just, uh ... me and my pods didn't expect any company this morning."

"Oh. Well ... " The porcupine looked down at the four shuttle-pods. "I don't mean to intrude. I know how possessive you are of your squirrel. I promise we won't fool around on the first date! I just wanna have supper with her." A pause. "Maybe hug. Maybe ... snuggle. And maybe ... "

" ... maybe it's none of the pods' business," Tess replied smartly, smiling, "what we DO on our first date."

"So ... so, there IS gonna be one?"

"Tonight. My quarters."

"Yours?"

"Well ... the mess hall's so crowded," she said, meeting his eyes.

"Oh." A swallow. "Yeah."

"Mind, I ... we should talk first, and ... you know, if, uh ... mm ... I normally don't take mates on a first date, but ... "

" ... well, it's okay. I'm not wanting to rush anything. I just wanted supper!" Handel said, a bit bewildered. His brushy, brown form ... quivering a bit.

"Cute," Tess whispered, looking him up and down. Her squirrel tail flickering. "Mm." And she hugged him more. "Mm." A satisfied breath. "But, yes," she whispered, "I'll have supper with you. So, tell Herkimer."

"I still have to do his rounds this week ... "

"Well, I guess that means me and my pods," she giggled, "will be seeing a lot of you." And she turned her nose to his cheek. His fur was a bit prickly. Nothing that hurt. Just not as silky as hers was. More like hairs ... and she breathed in. Mm. And closed her eyes. Sighing. "Thanks ... for the hug. And, uh, the supper."

"We haven't had it yet. The supper, I mean ... "

"I'm thanking you before-paw." A smile. "Cause I know I'm gonna enjoy it."

The porcupine flushed. Continuing to hug. "Mm ... you know how they have that song about porcupines that you mentioned. Well, there's a saying about squirrels ... maybe you've heard it."

"Mm?" Tess blinked.

"Why hug a tree ... when you can hug a tree-hugger?"

Tess giggle-squeaked. "Huh ... mm ... true," she whispered.

True, indeed!