"Phase adjuster."

Chirkof fished for the tool-kit, which resulted in a few clattering sounds. Finding the phase adjuster. And handing it to Aisling.

"Thank you." The chief engineer took the tool and ran the blunt, glowing end over the surface of some exposed wires. "These systems are crude. Effective, but ... crude," she said. "A lesser version of the Federation's iso-linear processing circuits." Snow rabbit ships, especially the newer ones (like Arctic and Yellowknife) used bio-neural circuitry, which was much quicker. Though some would claim that bio-neural circuitry was more ‘delicate,' less sturdy.

Chirkof said nothing.

Aisling sighed, softly. And handed the phase adjuster back to her. "De-coupler."

More fishing in the took-kit. And handing it over. Like clockwork.

"Thank you," Aisling said again, with a slight nod of the head. And her ears waggled a bit.

But, again, no response.

Which prompted the first snow rabbit to say, "Regardless of your personal feelings toward me, ensign, you are under my jurisdiction."

"Which is why I had to accompany you aboard this ship," Chirkof finally said. They were aboard the Arctic hares's vessel, repairing the engines. Or trying to. "You could have picked any-fur to accompany you. You picked me. I am only here because you ordered me to come." This engine room was smaller than Yellowknife's. Not as bright or aesthetically-pleasing, and not quite as clean. It was bit grimier. Oil and residue seemed more commonplace than not.

"You are under my jurisdiction," Aisling repeated, scrunching her muzzle as the de-coupler made a few clicking sounds. "And that means that your mental health ... is of my concern. You are more than an officer. You are my friend." A pause. "Or, at least, I still consider you a friend. And I feel it my duty to help you."

"Help me what? Did I ask for help?" was the blunt, blank response.

"You did not. And I do not know what, exactly, you need help with, but ... "

" ... nothing. I am fine."

"Is that so?" She handed the de-coupler back to her. "Scanner."

A squint, and she reached for a scanner. Gave it over. A few Arctic hares were padding about, eyeing the two femmes. In that hungry, virile way. But they were used to it, so they paid it little heed.

"I never congratulated you. On your marriage to Teller."

"It is a simple arrangement."

Aisling's eyes were on her scanner. "I hear that Teller feels it to be more than that."

Chirkof's whiskers gave a singular twitch.

Aisling stopped scanning. And turned her head, her icy-blue eyes meeting Chirkof's. "What are you going to do about that?"

"He can feel what he wishes. It is ... "

" ... no concern of yours?"

A small sigh, her eyes darting. "No concern," she affirmed, lamely, "of mine."

"The way you act, and the way you treat me and Seward ... you act as if love is a crime." A pause. "You blame me for the dissolution of our breeding party? But if a breeding party is to be nothing more than a collection of bodies ... a venue for casual breeding, if you will," Aisling posed, very quietly, "then why be upset when you are forced to leave it? Why not find another? There are plenty of snow rabbits. All of them needing sex." A breath. "The only reason I can see for you to be truly upset over this matter ... is that you had feelings for your breeding partners. And it hurt you to have to stop breeding with them. And would that not, itself, be a sign of affection? And is not affection a lighter form of love? So, isn't it hypocritical to be upset with me?"

"Why are you asking me this?" Chirkoff asked, at a whisper. Aisling made her feel uncomfortable. The chief engineer had grown to have faith and love. And was stronger than before. Had such confidence and assurance, such purpose. And that was very intimidating. (Not to mention that, having both been in the same breeding party, they'd both bred with each other's husbands. Innumerable times. An awkward point of fact that neither of them dared bring up. Though, as they were having this discussion, it was in the back of their minds.)

"Because you need to be asked. By someone. It might as well be me."

A moment of silence. Before Chirkof replied, "I wish I could refuse your assistance. But ... I cannot," was the admittance. And the snow rabbit sighed, shaking her head, her eyes looking all around. "I was very, very comfortable," she said, softly, "with our arrangement. Our party. Our ... what we had." She met Aisling's eyes. "It was familiar. It was nice. And, then, things happened, and ... the only one who was left," she whispered, "for me ... "

" ... was Teller."

"Yes. He was all I had left. By marrying him, I ensured that ... we would stay together. Keep breeding. But it was to be a simple arrangement. Just ... "

" ... breeding."

"Yes."

"But he's falling in love with you. It's just you, now. All his attentions and energies are being invested in you, and you're beginning to mean more and more to him."

"I did not intend for this to happen. I was trying so hard to AVOID love."

"It is not something that can be avoided. It is a force," Aisling explained, simply. "But if he loves you ... then you owe it to him to love him in return."

"Why?"

"You are his wife."

A singular whisker-twitch. And Chirkof bit her lip, sighing out. "I do not know how to love. I know how to breed. But I do not know," she confessed, "how to love."

"Neither did I, at first. Seward loved me for some time ... before I loved him back."

"What changed your mind, then? What made you finally love him?" Chirkof asked, wanting to know.

Aisling had to consider that for a moment. And wasn't sure how to word it. Could only say, "A switch flipped. Inside me. I just knew."

"That is not ... tangible enough," Chirkof replied, "to go on. That is not logical." A shake of the head, her ears waggling.

"Nor is love."

Another sigh. "This is maddening," Chirkof whispered. A slight frown, her waggle-ears waggling even more, indicating how agitated she was. She closed her eyes. "It was easier when sex was just sex ... when there no questions asked. No emotions attached."

"It was easier, yes," Aisling agreed. "But ... was it fulfilling? Was it satisfying? Did it make you happy?"

No response. Her eyes still closed.

Aisling was quiet for a moment.

And, when Chirkof opened her eyes, she said, "I am sorry if I have been terse with you." A pause. "I feel things deep inside, below my freeze. They are dull and out of reach. But they STILL affect me ... and it is difficult to understand."

"I know the feeling."

"I feel these things, and I cannot express them," was the lament. "And I have to find some way to ... release this steam. To ... " She faltered. "Do you understand?"

"Of course. Am I not a snow rabbit, as well? I know of such struggles."

"But you overcame them. I have not been able to."

"Not yet," Aisling said. "Not yet. But ... that does not mean you will not. Or that you cannot."

A sigh. "I suppose you are right." And Chirkof whispered, "We know each other too well ... all of us. Us snow rabbit engineers, I mean. On our ship. I suppose that the casual, interchanging intimacy that we had ... is, after the fact, taking its toll. I am left wanting more. I am thinking that I want more of what I lost, of what I had. But ... was what I had," she posed, "ever enough? Or was it JUST enough to tide me over?" A pause. "I do not regret being in our breeding party. I have been in such parties all my life. All snow rabbits have. It is what we DO," she stressed. "Why be ashamed of it?"

"No one said you had to be. But once you become aware of a better way, and once you become touched by the Light, as it were ... you can no longer stay in such an arrangement. Not if you wish to keep a good conscience."

"So, in other words, ignorance would be bliss?"

"No. Ignorance would remain ... as ignorance. As unfulfilled potential. Whereas, knowledge and knowing, through the Spirit, would be true growth. Would be an expanding of the heart." A pause. "It is a difference between being thirsty ... and being quenched."

Chirkof's whiskers gave a twitch.

"I can advise you on how to pray. Advise you on ... steps to take," Aisling said, "to come to faith."

"Why would I need faith?"

"Why would you not?" was the counter. "There is also the fact that, when you have a background of faith, love makes a lot more sense. And also has more meaning."

"I do not know if I would be suitable for such a background."

"That is an excuse. You will only ever know ... if you truly try. If you truly give it a chance. But too many don't. For the fear of what they will find ... either about the nature of life, or about themselves. Faith and love are interconnected. You cannot have one without the other."

"So, what do I do in the meantime?"

"You talk to Teller."

"Talk," was the whisper. And a sigh.

"Once you start, it is not so difficult."

A shake of the head. "Perhaps." A breath. "We should stop discussing this. It's ... we have repairs to do."

"Chirkof ... "

" ... what?" was the response. Followed by a sudden blink, and a sudden flush.

As Aisling gave her a hug. "You are a friend of mine," the snow rabbit whispered. And the hug continued for a few seconds longer, before she let go. And gave a reassuring eye-smile. "Now, I shall need that phase adjuster again ... "

Chirkof nodded, and gave an eye-smile back. And fished for the phase adjuster.



Emerson stopped.

Suddenly.

Stopped and stood on the tips of his bare foot-paws. Raising his nose slightly, sniff-sniffing. Pink nose sniffing, and whiskers all a-twitch, all a-twitch. And his big, dishy mouse-ears going swivel-swivel. While his tail snaked behind him. He was simply an un-contained package of mousey motions.

Cuteness on legs!

And Quinn didn't notice him. At first.

Until Emerson asked, innocently, point-blank, in his shy, wispy voice, "What are you doing?"

The Arctic hare jerked, blinking. "Wh-what ... "

"Why are you messing behind that panel?" He pointed a paw.

The Arctic hare didn't respond. Was quiet for a moment, mind racing. Before saying, as calmly as he could, "I am not ‘messing' ... I'm just, uh, looking. I thought it was something else." A nod. As if nodding made the preceding words more believable.

"Like what?" A blink. Whiskers twitching.

"Like ... an access tube."

"That's not an access tube." The field mouse shook his head, his soft, grain-colored fur looking well-groomed.

"I KNOW it's not. But I wanted to be sure."

"Why?"

A sigh. Putting his paws on the sides of his head, and gritting his teeth just a bit. The Arctic hare was on his knees, on his shins. On the floor in one of the corridors. He'd been relying on his ears to let him know if anybody had been coming. But the old adage must've been true: quiet as a mouse. That mouse had come out of nowhere. "Because," Quinn eventually said, paws moving away from his head, and teeth easing up. "Because I was curious. You know what curious is?"

"Yes." A frown. "I'm not stupid."

"No, course not," was the slightly-disdainful reply.

"Look, us mouses may have an ‘innocent' reputation, but ... I know when something's not right. And you looking behind that panel is not right." A whisker-twitch, ears arched. "You might be trying to sabotage the ship!" was the squeak.

"What? No. No ... anyway ... that's a bold claim. You have any evidence to back that up? Other than jumping to conclusions?"

A squeaky sound. But no verbal response.

"Listen, uh, how about let's forget the whole thing ever happened, huh? After all, I am a guest on this ship, and you're supposed to be nice to guests."

Emerson squinted a bit, his whiskers twitch-twitching. "I don't know ... "

"What's your name?"

"Emerson." A pause. A slight wavering of his silky-pink, naked tail. Waver-wave. "What's yours?"

"Quinn."

The mouse nodded lightly, his nose sniffing. "You smell different."

The Arctic hare made a face. "Meaning?"

"Not a bad different. No. Just ... different. The snow rabbits have a wintery smell ... and you smell different than they do. You smell more like, uh ... hmm. Like autumn," the mouse decided.

"That makes NO sense. How can a fur smell like a season?"

"You just do," was the mouse's simple response.

"Well ... well, you smell like ... " The Arctic hare sniffed the air. "You smell ... earthy."

"I'm a field mouse."

"Guess that explains it." A pause. "But, for the future, how ‘bout you keep your nose," Quinn whispered, "out of my business. Alright?"

"Alright."

A pause. Both of them staring at each other.

He twitched.

Quinn breathed somewhat erratically.

"You look almost like a snow rabbit, too. Almost. But not," Emerson pointed out.

"I know how I look."

"Well, the snow rabbits ... "

"I don't wanna hear it! Snow rabbits, this. Snow rabbits, that." A sudden frown. "I'm not a snow rabbit."

"I know. I didn't say you ... "

" ... I am an Arctic hare," was the defensive response. "There is a marked difference. How would you like it if I called you a rat?"

"I wouldn't like that at all," Emerson declared, frowning heavily. To call a mouse a ‘rat' was an insult.

"Well, then don't call me a snow rabbit."

"I didn't!" was the squeak. "I just said you didn't smell like them, and that you didn't look the same. I was ... noticing the differences."

"Then notice them in your head. And not out loud."

"I was just ... maybe I shouldn't have said anything," Emerson stammered, chitter-squeaking, feeling very flustered. He bit his lip submissively.

"Maybe not."

More silence.

Until Emerson, collecting himself, squinted again. "You really shouldn't be looking behind that panel. You should put the cover back on."

"I will." A pause. "In a minute."

"The captain should know that you're looking at that. You're supposed to be ... where's Antioch? He's supposed to be watching you, isn't he?"

"Your marmot's fine."

The mouse's eyes widened. "What'd you do to him?"

"I didn't do anything," was the response. Quinn was starting to get nervous, now. Damn mouse asked too many questions. And he wouldn't go away! He was being too friendly! "Just go away, alright?"

"This is my ship. Why don't ... " Emerson puffed himself up, retorting, "Why don't you go away?"

"Because I am busy," the Arctic hare enunciated, slowly. Menacingly. His bobtail gave a flicker or two.

Emerson squinted, and then looked around. Twitching all over. Tensing, tensing.

He's gonna run for it, Quinn realized. And, if he does that, you'll be caught, and if you're caught ...

... Emerson bolted.

Bare foot-paws pad-padding as they slap-slapped on the corridor's lightly-carpeted floor.

Quinn leapt upward, hopping forward. In quick pursuit.

But not quick enough.

Emerson scrabbled and scurried in speedy, frantic fashion, tearing around corners, squeaking in high, frenetic pitches. Making for the nearest lift.

Quinn, panting, hopped, loped after him. The Arctic hare had stronger legs, true. But the mouse was smaller. Trimmer. And full of scurry! Rabbits and hares were built for loping long distances. For endurance. Mouses were built for quick, extreme bursts of speed.

And, in a sprint, the mouse was beating the Arctic hare.

So it was that Emerson reached the lift doors several seconds before Quinn. The doors swishing open, the mouse ducking inside, and the doors sliding shut ...

... just as Quinn reached them. A frustrated hare-bark, and he kicked the doors with his strong, bare foot-paws. Wincing at bit at the contact. Which made him angry enough to kick the doors again.



"You were attempting to reroute engineering controls. Why?" Graham demanded. Stepping closer to the force-field. But not touching it. For doing so would give a slight shock. But the exterior of the cell glowed a pale blue, and the energy of the force-field audibly hummed.

Quinn, arms crossed, on the floor and leaning against the wall, mumbled, "Does it matter?"

"It does. You knocked out my tactical officer, locked him in a room, and evaded security ... and opened a panel on C-Deck, where you attempted to tamper with the power flow. Thankfully, Emerson caught you, and ... "

" ... it's not natural, you know."

"What?" A blink, whiskers giving a singular twitch.

"To be able to ... scurry," the Arctic hare spat, "like that. Mouses. They're such nosy things."

"You are changing the subject."

"I was trying to hijack your ship." A huff. "Happy?"

"Why?" Graham whispered.

A sigh. No response.

"We trusted you ... we repaired your engines, just as you asked. We even gave you some extra supplies. We helped you. And you repay us like this?"

"We wanted," Quinn whispered, "your attention."

A blink.

"For months, now, we've been trying to get through to the High Command. We ... we need help." A pause. "We need doctors. My species has trouble reproducing. Our population is stable, but it is SMALL. We are few. And our technology is not as advanced, therefore, and ... " A sigh. " ... the High Command has been too busy fighting war after war to have any time for us. But who else are we to turn to? Your species is the one most-related to ours, and ... you're also right next door." A breath. "Ultimately, we figured the only way to get your attention was to hijack one of your ships. But, uh ... this wasn't a long-term scheme. It was more spur-of-the-moment. When we saw your ship approaching us ... we WERE damaged. We did need repairs. But while getting them, we decided we might as well take advantage of the situation."

"I see," was the whisper. And the snow rabbit padded back and forth. Just a bit. Before stopping. "Had you succeeded in doing so, that would've gotten MORE than the High Command's attention," Graham said, unpleased. "You would've gotten their irritation and ... alienated them further," he finished.

"Maybe. But ... we had to do something."

"So, why are you really in our space?"

"We were attempting to make it to your Home-world. We broke down. Honest." A pause. A breath. "When you came along, we ... hatched the plan. We'd surprise you, and take your ship. Take it to your Home-world, and make some demands, and ... look, maybe it wasn't the BEST plan in the universe, but we're not as ‘logical' as you are, okay? We're not good at that kind of thing."

"No, you are ... overly-emotional, reactionary ... "

" ... non-rabbits. Yeah."

"I did not say that."

"No, but you do think that rabbits are better than hares, do you not?"

"I AM a rabbit. I am biased, yes. What would you have me say?"

"I don't know," was the whisper. And a sigh. Quinn looked around his holding cell. "Really clean in here. No strands of fur, or ... anything. I gotta commend whoever tidies up this ship."

"That would be our operations officers."

"During shedding season, my ship is ... an absolute mess." A pause. A consideration. "I made a mistake. But we NEED help. We are out there, a lone planet, sandwiched between the snow rabbit High Command and the Furry Federation, and our resources ... we are not as blessed as you are. I fear for the long-term survival of my species." A pause. "As you've no doubt noticed, just from our conversations ... I've a great interest in anthropology. In history. All that. I want to assure that, one thousand years from now, Arctic hares will still exist. And will thrive. I do not want my species to become the next ‘snowshoe hares' ... mere mysteries. Mere footnotes."

Graham nodded quietly, still standing. "I understand that ... but for you to hold a grudge against all snow rabbits simply because our species has thrived and yours has not? That is ... childish. And unfair."

Quinn flushed. And tilted his head a bit. His shorter ears giving a few waggles. And his off-white fur looking a bit matted. "Maybe," he admitted. And then he sighed. "Alright, it is. I'm jealous. We all are. We ... you're our ‘cousins,' in a way, and ... you don't pay any attention to us. No one does. We're on our own. All we want is your help. Your attention."

"Our love," Graham whispered.

Quinn said nothing to that. But, after a moment, he nodded. "Yes," was the whisper. "If you're able to give it."

"We are able. More and more." A pause. "The wars of recent years have been ... devastating to our species. The losses. The scars. In the ashes of these things, we are changing. Finding faith ... and through that, finding love. It is a slow process. It is a learning curve. And will take more time, but ... when all is said and done, we will be more than we were before." A sigh. "But, to address your earlier issue ... of being too busy to hear your requests for help? We WERE too busy. We were fighting for our very survival at the paws of enemies more powerful ... by all rights, we should've lost. To the Arctic foxes. The wasps. They all had the physical, instinctual edge ... when it came to aggression. In order to win, we had no choice but to do things that prey are not supposed to do." A painful pause. "Things that go against the very laws of nature." A sigh. "I spilled blood ... on more than one occasion. And any snow rabbit will tell you that the sight of red blood on white fur is something that SEARS into your mind."

Quinn kept quiet. Listening.

"So, before you come at me with a sob-story ... keep in mind that our success," Graham whispered, "came with a heavy price. To get where we are today? We made countless sacrifices. We had nothing handed to us. None of it came easy. And the future? Who knows what that will hold ... "

"I, uh ... I didn't mean to imply," Quinn said, sheepishly, "that such was the case. I mean, I didn't mean to say that you had it easy, or ... I was just frustrated, you know? We want to form political relations with you. Start trading. Assign ambassadors to each other. We just need help. A relationship between our two species makes perfect sense, given our shared history. And it would be beneficial."

"Then you will have our help," Graham whispered. A sigh. "I wish you had come to me, personally. I wish you had trusted me."

"I thought you were like the bureaucrats ... the High Command's higher-ups who sit behind desks all day. I ... I didn't give you the benefit of the doubt." A pause. A bit of a twitch. "I'm sorry."

Graham gave a tilt of the head. "It is alright," he whispered back.

A bit of a sad smile from Quinn. "There are times when I wish we had freezes. Like you do. Then ... I wouldn't make such stupid, emotional decisions. I wouldn't wind up in holding cells."

"It is possible to make stupid decisions ... even when one has a freeze. Believe me. And there are times when I wish I could feel in an unfettered way." A breath. "But God developed our species as He chose to. For a reason. I do not lament. I just ... wonder," Graham confessed, "what it would have been like, otherwise." A moment of silence. And, then, "Your engines are repaired. You can continue toward our Home-World when you wish ... "

"Thank you." A pause. "But how do we know they'll meet with us when we get there? What if they turn us away? After we've come this far?"

"I will personally talk to Admiral Flint ... to assure that your needs are taken care of. That some kind of formal relationship is put into affect."

A grateful smile. And the Arctic hare stood. A few inches taller than Graham. But with those shorter ears and off-white fur. And those brown eyes. And that lack of an emotional freeze. "So, uh ... can I get out of this cell, now?"

Graham eye-smiled. In that way that snow rabbits did. And paced a few steps away, stopping, turning around. Saying, "You DID assault one of my officers. That is an offense."

"Yeah, but ... we're all better, now, right? We've worked things out?" A hopeful smile.

"I will let you out of the cell ... "

A sigh of relief.

" ... later."

"Hey!"

Graham, still eye-smiling, went to the door. Which swished open for him. And, pausing in the doorway, he looked back at the Arctic hare. "And they say my species does not have a sense of humor." And, with that, he ducked out, the doors swishing shut.

Quinn saying to the empty (save for him) brig, "I'm not laughing!"



A few hours later.

Graham emerged from his ready room, having finished a lengthy discussion with Admiral Flint over the sub-space comm. A meeting had been worked out, and the Admiral had promised to get something rolling, as it were.

"The Arctic hare ship has resumed it's course for the snow rabbit Home-world," Antioch said, from the helm. Having recovered from being knocked out. Though he felt a bit sore, and had a tiny headache. "Sir ... if there's nothing else ... "

" ... you may go," Graham allowed, nodding. And his eyes darted to Talkeetna. "You, as well. Have fun," he ordered, eye-smiling.

"Thanks. We will," the red squirrel assured. "I'll make his headache go away."

"I am sure you will."

When the two rodents had left the bridge, Graham told Taylor to, "Resume our original course."

The chipmunk nodded.

Ada, from the comm station, remarked, "I felt that the Arctic hares were a bit too ... untidy. They were VERY warm-blooded, even for warm-blood furs."

Taylor chittered, finding this amusing.

Graham just eye-smiled. "But they were interesting, darling. And, after all, is that not why we are out here? In the depths of space? To find things of interest?"

"I suppose so," Ada allowed, eye-smiling back at him.

And Graham took a slow breath. And released it as a satisfied sigh. "Darling ... "

Ada raised her brow.

"Would you care to join me in my ready room?"

"Gladly," was the polite response.

"Taylor, I would free you to be with Aspera, but if I did that ... the bridge would be empty. And regulations do not allow for that."

"I can, uh ... paw," the chipmunk said, sheepishly, in a quiet voice. "It doesn't matter." Though his tone held a bit of disappointment. That everyone else was going off with their love. And he had to be alone.

"Well, since you have the bridge," said Graham, trying to cheer the chipmunk up. "Since you have the bridge, that means you can sit in my chair."

"The captain's chair?" The chipmunk's eyes widened.

"Indeed."

"Wow ... "

And, as the ready room doors swished open, before they closed on the two snow rabbits, Graham added, "You may sit it. You may NOT paw in it."



And Yellowknife sailed on, back on course.

With a much-happy crew.