FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

The emergency warp field collapsed with a violent shudder, the ship groaning under the strain of the jump. The silence that followed was absolute, broken only by the rhythmic hiss of cooling plasma and the frantic clicking of repair drones.

Purple sat slumped in the captain’s chair, the leather of his jacket singed and peeling away from his shoulder. Smoke still curled faintly from the control panels, a testament to the fire that had erupted on the station’s docking bay. His midnight purple fur was matted with soot and grime, the black rosettes hidden beneath the layer of ash. His yellow eyes, usually bright and calculating, were dim with exhaustion and the sting of smoke inhalation. He was a mess—cuts on his arms, burns on his neck, and a throbbing headache that made his vision swim.

The ship was a mess, damaged from the ambush before the warp was able to activate.

He looked around the bridge. The empty stations mocked him. Zor’ak’s navigation console, Krell’s tactical display, Elowen’s comms panel, Vessa’s weapons station, and Zara’s engineering interface—all dark, all silent. He had made the choice, the only choice, to save himself and the ship. He hoped his crew had made it out of the trap on the base, sacrificing themselves so Purple could escape to the docks, after Purple was forced to undock from the station, and found himself facing a fleet waiting for him. There was a chance his crew had made it out alive, they were trained, they were tough.

“Captain,” Lyra’s voice purred through his ear-comm, smooth and sultry, cutting through the ringing in his ears. “I am currently mapping the local sector. The long-range sensors are struggling to lock onto the star charts. It appears we have jumped well beyond any known system, so far outside the Galactic Empire controlled space or even charted space that I’m unable to determine where we are. There are no signals of any kind that I can detect. There is nothing for light-cycles.”Purple’s ears twitched, his wings folding tighter against his back as he processed her words. He reached out with a bare paw, his claws retracting slightly, and hit the override on the console to silence the blaring alarms. The flashing red lights remained, casting a strobing glow over the bridge.

He unbuckled his restraint harness, the metal clasp clicking softly. As he stood, his digitigrade stance shifted, his toes gripping the deck plating for balance. The wings, broad and leathery, unfolded slightly, the damaged membranes catching the light. He was one point eight meters tall, a silhouette of midnight and shadow, his horns casting long shadows across the empty bridge. He walked slowly to the viewport, looking out into the void of uncharted space.

Purple is not concerned about being followed, that was the purpose of an emergency warp.

“Lyra, report,” he said, his voice rough from the smoke.

“Systems are stabilizing,” the ADE replied. “The emergency warp has depleted the fuel reserves by ninety percent. We are drifting, Captain. But the hull is barely holding.”

“Lyra, continue repairs,” Purple commanded, his voice raspy. “I’m going to the medbay to tend to my wounds.

”He turned and padded down the ramp from the bridge to the main deck, his bare paws making soft thuds against the metal grating. The corridor stretched out before him, lined with the scorch marks from the ambush. He stumbled, his wings dragging slightly against the bulkheads, his head swimming. The smoke inhalation was taking its toll, a constant, heavy weight behind his eyes. He was badly shaken, the adrenaline fading to leave only a dull ache.

He pushed open the door to the medbay and stepped inside. The room was dim, lit by the soft glow of standby lights. Purple stripped off his charred and torn leather jacket, letting it fall to the floor. He then removed his tunic, revealing the burns and cuts on his fur. He approached the medical pod, a cylindrical chamber designed for rapid healing. He climbed inside, lay back on the gel-filled bed, and initiated the recovery cycle.

The pod sealed with a hiss, and the nanite gel began to warm. Purple’s consciousness faded into darkness, the ship’s hum the only sound as he slipped into a healing coma.

Hours later, the pod hissed as the cycle ended. Purple’s eyes snapped open. He sat up, the gel draining away into the pod, it did not stick to him at all. He took a deep breath, testing his lungs.“Status,” he said, his voice stronger now.

“Repairs are underway, Captain,” Lyra’s voice purred through the comms. “The repair drones have patched the hull breaches. We are almost capable of light speed again.

”Purple nodded, pushing himself out of the pod, his wings good as new. He grabbed his tunic and pulled it on, the fabric rough against his fur. He then retrieved his damaged jacket from the floor, inspecting the burn holes. He left the medbay, walking down the corridors back toward the bridge. He ascended the ramp to the bridge, then continued up the ramp to the secondary deck, and finally down the corridor to the maintenance room.

He arrived at the manufacturing room, where the industrial printers hummed with a low, steady rhythm. Purple approached the main printer, placing his ruined jacket into the input slot. The machine whirred to life, scanning the material. Within moments, the old leather was broken down into raw polymers. The printer began to extrude new layers, shaping and stitching the fabric with mechanical precision.

A few minutes later, a fresh, black leather jacket emerged from the output tray. Purple picked it up, running his paws over the smooth, unblemished surface. He pulled it on, the smell of new leather filling his nostrils. It was perfect.

Purple in the captain’s chair, “I need to know where the nearest class M planet is,” he said, his voice steady despite the lingering fatigue.

There was a moment of silence, the hum of the ship filling the void. Then Lyra’s voice, smooth and sultry, purred through his ear-comm. “I have found a Class M planet, Captain. The system is uncharted, I’ve designated it Alpha. The planet is designated Alpha 3. We have sufficient fuel for the superluminal drive to reach it, but we will not have enough to travel to another system.

”Purple moved to the chair, his digitigrade feet settling on the deck. He sat down, the leather of the seat cool against his fur. He reached out with a bare paw and fastened the restraint harness across his chest.

“Lyra, plot a course to that class M planet,” he ordered. “When it is safe, engage. We will do the rest of the repairs there.

”The ADE complied without a word, the tactical display shifting as the coordinates locked in.

Purple sat in the chair, his yellow eyes fixed on the viewport. He waited, the silence of the bridge heavy around him. After several minutes, the stars ahead began to stretch, elongating into blurs of light as the ship engaged the superluminal drive.

When they arrived in System Alpha, the stars outside the viewport shifted from streaks to pinpoints. Purple stood from his seat, his wings extending slightly to balance his weight as he leaned over the console.

“Lyra, do a detailed scan of the system,” he ordered, his yellow eyes scanning the dark expanse. “I need to know if there are any civilizations here. I need to know if there are resources available.”“No civilizations found, Captain,” Lyra replied, her voice smooth and sultry. “The asteroid belts are high in ore, and superluminal fuel is detected. Setting course for asteroid field.

”Purple nodded, his tail twitching behind him. “Engage.

”Lyra engaged the subliminal engines, guiding the Starborn Prowl toward the inner asteroid belt. The ship slowed, and the mining drones detached from their bays. They were a meter long, with retro rockets firing to maneuver them into the drifting rocks. “Mining drones deployed,” Lyra reported. “We will need to return every ten rotations to recover ore for maximum efficiency.”Purple nodded again. “Set course for Alpha 3 and engage.”Lyra acknowledged. The ship banked, the subliminal drive engaging at point one light speed, carrying them swiftly toward the planet.

As they neared, Purple studied the planet. Through the viewport, it was a tapestry of green and blue, swirling clouds hiding vast oceans. A verdant continent dominated the view, looking lush and untouched. Purple’s ears flattened slightly against his horns, his gaze intense.

“Enter orbit, I want detailed scans.”

After they completed an orbit, Lyra informed Purple, “There are signs of sentient life on the planet, but no radio signals, no satellites.

”The ADE zoomed in on the display, the image sharpening until the primitive settlement was clear. It looked like a city from the dark ages, stone walls and timber structures, smoke rising from countless hearths.

“Only one was found on one continent so far, but to find them all we would need to orbit for several rotations,” Lyra added.

Purple frowned, his ears flicking back. He didn’t want to be the catalyst for a war or a plague by introducing technology to a people who didn’t have it.

“Lyra, find another class M planet, we should not disturb civilizations that are pre-space travel.”After a few minutes, the ADE reported, “There are no class-M planets in scanner range, and we don’t have enough fuel to go searching for one.

”Purple made the only choice he could. He looked at the lush world below, then back at the console. He needed a place to hide and repair the Starborn Prowl.

“Scan for a secluded location far from any of those cities with a flat area large enough for our ship, and enter the atmosphere to land.”Lyra acknowledged. She scanned the planetary surface, identifying a dense forest clearing far from the primitive city. “Scanning... identified a suitable location. Engaging atmospheric entry.

”The ship shuddered as it broke orbit. The planet grew larger, the clouds rushing past as the shields fought to keep the hull intact against the friction. Purple gripped the armrests with his bare paws, his wings braced against the back of the chair.

As Lyra performed the atmospheric entry, the ship groaned under the heat and pressure. Purple gripped the armrests with his bare paws, his claws digging in slightly as the G-forces pressed him into the seat. He closed his eyes for a moment, his mind racing through the necessities.

Food. Carbon-based material for the food printers. He needed to stock up.He thought about the mining drones. They were the best investment he had ever made. His crew had teased him about it for months—how he spent credits on drones instead of gambling or seeking female companionship. It was a joke to them, but to Purple, it was survival. He missed the drones more than he missed the crew sometimes.

He missed his pilot, Zor’ak. What was a captain without a crew supposed to do? He was not trained for this. Lyra could pilot the ship, but the ADE was limited to basic maneuvers. She couldn’t feel the ship, couldn’t anticipate the wind like a living being.

He missed his life as a smuggler. He was not an explorer. He never hauled people, unless they were passengers, and even then, it was rare. He only hauled goods that were illegal. Never military weapons. That was a line he wouldn’t cross.

His last haul had been supposed to be easy. A simple run. But it hadn’t been. He had been used as a scapegoat by a powerful criminal organization. He had grown complacent, and now he was paying the price.

Lyra lowered the Starborn Prowl into the clearing surrounded by dense woods. The subliminal engines hummed down to silence, replaced only by the pings of the atmospheric drive cooling.After the landing, Purple said, “Lyra, send out a probe, I need to make sure that the atmosphere is safe, and there are no viruses or anything that will harm me.

”Purple sat in his chair, and waited. After an hour Lyra reported back, “It is safe, nothing detected that would harm you, or the crew.

”Purple exited the ship. He climbed the ladder to the hull, his bare paws gripping the rungs. He had been up there for at least an hour, lending a hand to the multi-limbed drones. He worked alongside them, tightening bolts and patching hull plates, anything to speed up repairs. He felt better working on his ship, keeping his mind busy.

That was when he heard the scream. His ears turned, twitching at the sound. He also heard metal on metal now that he listened. He didn’t want any trouble coming his way. He told Lyra, “I’m going to go check that out, keep the ship sealed, and shields on until I get back.”Purple dropped his tools; the multi-limbed drones would take care of them. He leaped into the air, his wings spreading out, and took flight, going towards the noise.

Going over the trees, he spotted a carriage with a broken wheel on a rough path, and what Purple surmised were brigands attacking other beings. He spotted a reddish brown furred creature, but he was too far to be sure what.

Purple descended from the canopy, his wings folding tight against his midnight-purple back. He landed silently, his digitigrade paws touching the forest floor with a soft thud. In front of him, the four brigands were scrambling, their movements jerky and clumsy. They were ape-like creatures, devoid of fur, wearing thrown together leather armor, their eyes wide with panic.

Purple didn’t hesitate. He moved with a predatory grace, his claws extending from his fingertips. He swiped, and the sound was wet and sharp. The brigands didn’t stand a chance. He tore them apart, limb from limb, their weapons clattering uselessly to the mossy ground. It was a slaughter, efficient and brutal.

Once the silence returned to the clearing, Purple stood over the carnage. Then, he spotted movement in the underbrush. Three beings, huddled together, looked feline. They were hurt, their movements labored.

He approached them cautiously. As he got closer, he saw they were reddish-brown felines, their fur matted with blood. Purple sighed, a low rumble in his chest. Two of them were dead; he had been too late to save them. He checked the third. The was small, looked to be barely a meter in length, their breathing shallow.

A smile touched Purple’s muzzle and ears. They were alive. He reached out, his large paw gently shaking the small feline covered in blood. The creature’s eyes opened wide, like saucers, staring up at him.

The poor being started making growling noises, a guttural sound that meant nothing to Purple. “Lyra, translate,” he said, tapping his ear-comm.

The ADE’s voice, smooth and sultry, filled his ear. “I am analyzing the audio patterns, Captain. It is... difficult. I am unable to translate; I need more samples. It is nothing like anything in my database.

”Purple sighed and sat back on his haunches, his tail twitching. The small feline bent over the two dead felines, their mewing noises growing desperate. They turned and saw the brigands—torn apart, dead. They looked at Purple, their eyes wide with terror, and then fainted.

Purple watched the small feline slump to the ground. He didn’t move immediately. The forest was quiet, save for the distant calls of native wildlife. He felt the weight of the situation, the burden of a life spent in the shadows.“Lyra,” he said, his voice low. “Will we be able to save the injured one?”

“Medical protocols indicate a high probability of survival if treated immediately,” Lyra replied. “I recommend you transport them to the Starborn Prowl”

Purple nodded. He scooped up the unconscious small feline, cradling them against his chest. With a flap of his powerful wings, he launched himself into the air, ascending toward the clouds.The ship, the Starborn Prowl, loomed ahead, its dark hull blending with the storm clouds. As he approached the ramp lowered and the hatch opened.

Purple moved with a quiet grace, his midnight-purple fur blending into the shadows of the medbay. He knelt beside the small feline, his large paws gently working to remove the tattered, blood-soaked rags that covered her. The fabric was primitive, torn and stained, clinging to her wounds. As he cleaned the area around her waist, he paused. She was female. It was a biological fact, nothing more. His duty was to heal, not to judge.

Once she was clean and dry, Purple stood and carried her to the medical bed. The bed was sleek, a stark contrast to the primitive world she came from. He laid her down, activating the diagnostic protocols. Lyra’s voice chimed in his ear, smooth and reassuring. “Medical scan complete. She has sustained internal trauma, malnutrition and dehydration as well as lacerations on her limbs. I am initiating the regeneration sequence, after that the rejuvenation.”

“Make her some clothing,” Purple said, his voice low. “Use my crew uniform as a template.”

“Understood, Captain,” Lyra replied. “Fabricating a new set of garments now.”

Purple padded out of the medbay, his paws padding softly on the metal deck. He entered the galley, the scent of roasted coffee beans and synthetic nutrients filling the air. He sat at the counter, his tail swishing behind him, and prepared his favorite drink: an enriched protein chocolate shake. He drank it slowly, savoring the energy it provided.

Lyra’s voice returned, this time with a hint of amusement. “I am still struggling with the dialect of the small one. It is a complex linguistic puzzle, Captain. It will be... interesting to extract information from her.

”Purple finished his drink and set the empty container aside. He then prepared a bowl of soup for his guest—small bits of processed protein and broth, heated to a safe temperature. He placed it in a sealed container on the medbay table, ready to be served once she woke.

He turned and walked toward the material printer station. The machine hummed to life, spitting out a small pile of fabric. Purple picked up the material, which was a soft, breathable gray and black, identical to the tunics worn by his crew but scaled down to fit the small feline.

Purple returned to the medbay, his large paws carrying the folded uniform. He placed it neatly on the table beside the sealed soup container. The regeneration cycle would take hours; he couldn’t just stand there and watch. He needed to handle the aftermath of the fight.

He walked down the corridor, his paw pads whispered softly on the metal deck. He stopped at a storage locker, his tail twitching. He needed a tool for the job. He pulled out a sturdy, military-grade shovel, its metal gleaming in the dim light.

Purple descended the ramp, his wings unfolding with a soft whoosh. He banked left, heading back toward the forest clearing. The wind rushed past his ears, carrying the scent of pine and blood.

He landed in the clearing. The bodies of the two dead felines were still there, silent witnesses to the violence. Purple knelt, his knees bending on the soft earth. He began to dig. The soil was dark and rich. He dug a shallow grave, careful not to disturb the surrounding area too much.

Once the grave was ready, he laid the bodies inside. He grabbed a fallen branch from the forest floor. He placed it upright at the head of the grave. He looked at the marker.

“May nature take you, and bring life back to the world,” he whispered. It was a simple sentiment, fitting for a smuggler who often felt disconnected from the natural world.

A breeze stirred the canopy above. The trees seemed to sigh, the leaves rustling in a mournful melody. It felt like the forest itself was mourning the loss.

Purple stood up, his wings folding back against his back. He took one last look at the grave, then launched himself into the air. He flew back to the Starborn Prowl, the ship’s silhouette waiting for him. He landed, entered his ship, the ramp hissing shut behind him. He padded back to the medbay and waited.

Purple sat in the medbay, his yellow eyes fixed on the covered form on the regeneration bed. The machine hummed, a low vibration that seemed to resonate through the metal deck. The process wasn’t just healing; it was a total rejuvenation. Parasites were being flushed, old injuries repaired, cellular damage reversed. When the cycle was complete, she would be stronger, healthier than she had ever been.

Finally, the light faded. Purple stood, his leather jacket creaking slightly as he moved. He approached the bed. The feline was groggy, her eyes heavy and unfocused as she looked around the sterile room, her small muzzle twitching.

“Hungry?” Purple asked softly. He opened the container of soup, the steam rising in the cool air. He picked up a spoon, offering it to her. She didn’t hesitate, eating hungrily, her small paws gripping the metal handle.

Once she finished, he scooped her up, cradling her against his chest. She didn’t struggle. He carried her out of the medbay and down the corridor to his quarters. He knew the crew quarters were crowded and chaotic; his room, though spartan, offered a quiet, private space that might be less frightening for a creature so traumatized.

As they entered his quarters, the grogginess began to wear off. She tried to speak, her voice a raspy whisper. Lyra’s voice chimed in on his ear-comm. “I am able to piece some of it together, but it will take time. Those were her parents. I do not understand more yet.”The feline made a sound of distress. Lyra translated, “Help me.”

Purple looked down at her. “Lyra, reassure her,” he said. “I will help her.”Lyra’s voice shifted, becoming softer through the ship’s speakers. “You are safe. We are here to help you.”

The feline looked at Purple, her eyes wide with a mix of fear and relief. She slumped back against the bed, exhausted, and soon her breathing evened out as she fell asleep.

While the small feline slept, her breathing slow and rhythmic, Purple turned his attention to the mission at hand. He tapped his ear-comm, activating the private channel to Lyra.

“Status on the fuel reserves?” he asked, his voice low.“

The mining drones have reported back, Captain,” Lyra’s voice replied, smooth and sultry as always. “The asteroid fields we are currently skimming are rich in raw metals, perfect for hull repairs and patching the subliminal engines. However, the tritium deposits are sparse. We will need to find a richer vein to refill the superluminal drive.

”Purple nodded to himself, “And the fusion generator?”

“Di-hydrogen is abundant,” Lyra assured him. “The atmospheric drives and shields are fully charged. It is the jump drive that is the limiting factor.”

“We need to find more tritium,” Lyra suggested. “I recommend we deploy one of the mining drones to actively hunt for a higher concentration of the isotope.”

Purple agreed. “Get it done. I don’t want to be stuck out here forever.”

He moved to his desk, where a holographic display flickered to life. Charts and graphs of the ship’s schematics and the surrounding asteroid belt floated in the air, casting a cool blue light over his midnight-purple fur. It was dry, technical work—calculating ore requirements and repair priorities. It was tedious, the kind of boring grunt work he usually left to his engineer.Suddenly, the hologram blurred, and a memory of Zara flashed into his mind. He remembered her orange fur with the distinct black stripes, her feline face set in a determined expression. She always seemed so tall, standing at one point two five meters, her strong stance making her seem even larger. There was always a smudge of grease on her muzzle, and she wore it like a badge of honor.

Purple sighed, the sound heavy in the quiet room. He missed the banter, the shared stress, the company. The life of a smuggler was indeed a lonely one.

Purple heard the small feline stir, the soft rustle of the bed sheets breaking the silence. The holographic charts were still casting their cool, blue glow over the room. He turned his attention from the data to the kit. She was sitting up, her eyes wide as she looked down at her uniform. She reached out a small paw, her claws retracted, and pulled at the fabric of the tunic. She made pleased, trilling sounds, testing the softness of the material against her paw pads.

Her gaze drifted from the clothes to the bulkheads, then to the floating holograms of the ship’s systems and charts. She had never seen anything like this before—technology that defied the laws of her world. She chirped, a high-pitched sound, and made gestures with her paws, trying to mimic the floating charts.

Lyra’s voice chimed in Purple’s ear-comm, smooth and sultry. “I’ll keep her talking, Captain. The more she speaks, the more I can analyze her language patterns.”

Lyra switched to the wall speaker, her voice echoing slightly in the small room, in Sylvani Lyra said, “Tell me more about yourself, little one. What is your name?”

The feline chattered, her words a rapid-fire stream of sounds that Purple couldn’t understand. Lyra paused, processing the audio.“

Her name translates to ‘Fast Claw’,” Lyra reported. “She says she has no place to return to, and she wants to stay.”

Purple watched her, his yellow eyes softening. He had an idea. He spoke softly, his voice low. “Lyra, I’ll give her a new name for her new life. Ask her if ‘Pip’ is a good name for her.”

Lyra relayed the question to the feline. The small creature paused, tilting her head. She tasted the strange word in her mouth, her tongue flicking out. “Pip.”

She nodded vigorously, her ears going to the sides, relaxed and pleased. She seemed to accept the name.

Lyra’s voice, smooth and sultry, filled Purple’s ear-comm. “I have completed the analysis of Pip’s brain scans, Captain. The results are fascinating. Her intelligence is exceptionally high, with a distinct aptitude for spatial awareness and extremely high reflexes. Her age is equivalent to twenty of your cycles; you are roughly the same age.”

Purple nodded slowly, processing the information. “She would be a good fit in the pilot program,” Lyra continued. “I am preparing a language course to teach her Galactic Common. The more I learn of her language, the better I can teach her.”

As Lyra and Pip conversed, the AI’s voice chimed again. “I have identified her species. They are known as Sylvani. Pip had been traveling with her parents, who lived in the village you found her at. If you were to take her back, she would likely end up sold as a slave to the hairless ape creatures she calls Arians. She explained that her parents were poor, but they made do, and they were often assaulted by these Arians.”

Purple’s heart tightened. He moved from his desk to sit on the edge of the bed beside the small feline. He looked down at her, his yellow eyes soft.

“Lyra,” he said softly, his voice low. “Tell Pip I will protect her now. She is safe. Ask her how she would like to be a pilot of the stars.”

Lyra relayed the message. Pip’s ears perked up. She scooted closer, pressing her small body against Purple’s side, and then she hugged him, burying her face between his arm and side. She let out a low, rumbling purr, a sound of gratitude and relief.

“She is thanking you,” Lyra explained. “She says she has no one else.”

Purple smiled, scratched behind her ears. “I know, little one.”

He looked at the ear-comm device in his hand. He needed to explain the technology to her. “Lyra, explain to Pip what this is.”

After Lyra explained what the device was for, he held out his paw. It looked like a black rectangular shell. He knelt beside her, his large paws gentle. He guided the small feline’s head, tilting it slightly, and carefully placed the earbud on the inside of her ear. She flinched slightly but didn’t pull away.

“There,” Purple said. “Now you can hear Lyra and me whenever we want to talk, and Lyra will translate what I say with it, until you learn my language.”

Purple smiled, his yellow eyes crinkling at the corners as he reached out with a large, midnight-purple paw. He stroked Pip gently between her ears, his rough pads feeling soft against her fur. Pip leaned into the touch, a low, vibrating purr rumbling in her chest.“How about we get some more food?” Purple said softly. “Follow me.”Lyra translated the request into the ear-comm nestled in Pip’s ear.

Pip nodded, her small ears twitching.

Purple stood up, his leather jacket creaking slightly as he stretched his wings. He padded slowly out of his quarters, his digitigrade paws making soft thuds on the metal deck. Pip followed close behind, her tail held high with curiosity.

They descended the short corridor to the galley. Purple approached the food synthesizer, a sleek, humming machine. He input the command for a nutrient-rich soup tailored to her species, and for himself, a standard protein ration. The machine whirred and hissed, and moments later, the tray was ready.

Purple carried the tray to the table, his tail swishing behind him. He motioned for Pip to sit on the bench beside him. Pip looked at the tray, then at the utensils, sniffing the air. Lyra’s voice chimed in, explaining that the soup was made just for her, packed with vitamins and healthy nutrients.

Pip tentatively took a spoon, examining it as if it were a strange artifact. She took a small taste, her eyes widening, and then began to eat hungrily.

Once she finished, Purple stood up. “Come,” he said, gesturing for her to follow. He began to show her around the ship, guiding her past the crew quarters and up the ramp to the second deck.

He stopped near the bridge, where the holographic displays still flickered. “Lyra,” Purple said, “Explain to Pip that you will get her food prepared whenever she is hungry. And explain that she needs to tell you everything she knows about her people, the Sylvani, and about the Arians.”

Lyra’s voice, smooth and sultry, filled the room. “I am an artificial consciousness, woven into the Starborn Prowl. I do not eat, but I am here to serve you, to guide you, and to help you navigate this galaxy.”

Pip looked at the wall where she thought Lyra must be, her brow furrowed in concentration. She tried to understand that Lyra was not a physical being, but a presence inside the ship. She looked back at Purple, then at the bulkhead, and nodded slowly.

“I understand,” Pip said to Lyra, “I will tell you everything.”

She seemed eager to learn, her eyes bright with determination as Lyra began to chat with her, bridging the gap between her world and the stars.

Purple laid his large, midnight-purple paw gently on Pip’s small shoulder, his touch firm but reassuring. “How about turning in for the night? I’ve had a really long day. I’ll show you to your bunk.”

He led Pip back to the door of the crew quarters. Before pushing it open, he tapped his ear-comm. “Lyra, let me know what bunk is free.”

Purple pushed the door open. It slid aside with a soft pneumatic hiss. Pip followed him inside, her eyes wide as she took in the rows of identical bunks and lockers lining the walls.Inside, the ambient lights were dimmed to a soothing blue. Lyra’s voice chimed, and a soft blue LED light flickered to life on the side of one of the empty bunks. Purple approached it, his tail swishing behind him. “This is where you sleep now.”

He told Lyra, “Tell Pip she needs to place her hand paw pads against the security lock on the locker for this bunk. Tell her the locker is where all her personal things go, when she gets them.”

Lyra’s voice, smooth and instructive, filled Pip’s ear.

Pip stepped up to the locker. She hesitated for a moment, then pressed her small, pinkish paw pads against the sensor. Beep. The sound was sharp and sudden. Pip jumped slightly, her ears flattening against her head.

Purple let out a low, rumbling chuckle.

Pip looked back at Purple, her eyes wide with surprise. Purple nodded with a warm smile. “Good night, Pip, sleep well. We have much to do on the next rotation.”

Purple slowly woke, the dream of being with his crew faded, reality set back in. He was alone on a primitive planet, and he needed to get back to civilization to rescue his crew.

Purple sat up in his bed, the cool sheets sliding off his midnight-purple form. He stretched, his wings unfolding slightly before folding back against his back, the uniform already resting on the chair nearby. He padded into the shower, the translucent door sealing shut. The water cascaded over his fur, washing away the remnants of the nightmare. When he stepped out, he toweled off, his bare paws gripping the smooth metal floor. He pulled on his uniform and leather jacket, the familiar scent grounding him, and left his quarters.

He padded down the corridor, the ship’s ambient hum filling the silence. He reached the galley, where the food printer interface glowed softly. He tapped the screen, his yellow eyes scanning the options. He decided to do something different for breakfast, something his family used to make. He checked the nutritional profile for Pip, ensuring it was safe for her alien physiology, then programmed the machine to create a fruit wrapped in soft sweet bread, with more fruity syrup around it. He set a large portion for himself and a smaller one for Pip.

About twenty minutes later, the printer whirred to a halt. Purple sat at one of the many empty tables, setting the tray of food down. That was when Pip entered the galley. She looked clean and alert, her new uniform fitting her well. She padded towards Purple and chirped, a sound of recognition and affection. Purple turned to look at her as he motioned for Pip to sit next to him where her plate full of food sat waiting.Pip sat down next to Purple, pulling the plate closer. She sniffed it, her emerald eyes going wide with delight. She took a lick of the syrup, her tail curling behind her, and purred, enjoying the sweetness. Purple pointed at the fork next to the plate, and Pip nodded, taking the fork. She watched him for a moment, then copied how Purple ate his, her movements precise and mimetic.After they were done eating, Purple placed the plates into the cleaning machine next to the food printer. The machine hummed to life, dissolving the remains of the sweet bread and fruit. As the machine worked, Pip spoke, her voice a melodic chittering. Lyra’s voice, smooth and sultry, translated in Purple’s ear: “She says she loves your food. It is so flavorful.”

Purple nodded slowly, his tail flicking behind him. “Tell her it is likely the spices, and that the ingredients are alien to her homeworld,” he said. He paused, glancing at the AI. “You did tell her it was safe, right?”“Yes, of course,” Lyra replied. “I have assured her she is safe here, and I assure her that she will stay safe, that I watch over her.”

Purple nodded again, turning his attention fully to the young feline. “Lyra, we should start her language education. Prepare the modules, and tell her to follow me to the recreation room. Explain the VR system to her so she knows what to do. Have Pip give me a thumbs-up when she is ready to start.”Purple waited, watching Pip’s reactions. She seemed to understand the gravity of the situation. She nodded, then held up her paw, giving a thumbs-up.

Purple turned and walked to the recreation room, which lay on the other side of the ship from the galley. The room was filled with holographic projectors casting dancing lights in the air, and along the back wall, rows of reclining chairs for VR use. He walked to one of the chairs and waited, reclining it slightly.Pip followed him, her movements quiet and precise. She sat in the chair. Purple retrieved one of the VR helmets from the shelf. It was a cap with a flat-black metal tube going around the rim. He carefully placed it on Pip’s head, adjusting it so it fit snugly.

Purple then pressed the recline button on the chair. The mechanism groaned softly as the chair tilted back, Pip lying almost flat, her eyes half closed, looking peaceful. Purple said to Lyra. “Start the program.”Lyra acknowledged. Purple watched as Pip’s eyes closed, the VR system taking over her senses, immersing her in the simulated reality.

For a few minutes, Purple watched the hologram above Pip’s seat. It projected a vibrant collage of a modern classroom, the walls transparent to reveal a lush campus with green trees and white boards. Lyra appeared as a shimmering, translucent figure, her voice soft and melodic. She spoke in Sylvani, a language Purple didn’t understand, but the tone was soothing, filled with chirps and purrs. Pip sat in the virtual seat, her ears twitching as she listened. Her eyes were wide, focused entirely on Lyra. She purred, a low rumble that vibrated in her chest, completely captivated by the lesson.

Purple nodded, a satisfied expression on his face. He turned and padded back into the corridor. The silence of the ship was heavy, but the thought of the mission kept him grounded. He checked the timeline. Nine rotations until the mining drones needed to be deployed. Pip would be occupied for four hours with the language lessons. That left plenty of time for other things. His stomach rumbled, reminding him of his need for real sustenance.

“Lyra, you’ve been surveying the area with your drones, have you found any animals that would be good for eating?” Purple asked, his voice low.Lyra’s voice purred in his ear, sultry and smooth. “I have,” she replied. “I’ve detected grazing mammals, roughly one meter at the shoulder, hooved. I’ll mark the coordinates on your display—a clearing not far from a river.”

Purple nodded. He stopped by the galley, grabbing a couple of protein bars for the trip. Then he headed down the ramp to the lower level. The armory was a stark, utilitarian room. He picked up his personal shield, a small circular device with a blue LED. He attached it to his chest; it hummed softly as it established a molecular bond with his uniform. Next, he holstered his sidearm and slung the heavy railgun hunting rifle over his shoulder. He checked the charge, then carried everything out to the hatch, laying the weapons by the ramp.

He went back inside and opened one of the personal transport storage units. It looked like a large suitcase. He carried it outside and placed it on the ground. He pushed a button, and the unit unfolded with a mechanical whir, transforming into a sleek hoverbike. He loaded the storage compartment behind the seat with spare ammunition and supplies. He mounted the bike, his bare paws gripping the handlebars. He started the engine; it roared to life, and he lifted off, hovering just above the deck.He looked at the display between the handlebars. The map showed a path leading away from the ship. He engaged the thrusters and followed the coordinates to the river and the clearing where the grazing mammals were.

Purple flew over the forest on the bike, the wind rushing past his ears as he pushed the speed to two hundred kilometers per hour. It took almost two hours to cover the distance, the dense canopy blurring into a green tunnel before giving way to the open terrain.He got to about two clicks away and slowed, banking the bike in a slow turn. He scanned the treeline, looking for a clear area large enough for him to land without getting stuck in the mud or brush. Then, he spotted a small clearing not far, in the direction he had come.

He landed the bike, the hover mechanism settling with a soft hiss. He retrieved the rifle from the storage unit and checked the charge. He tapped his ear comm. “Keep a watch for anyone in the area, I don’t want to run into any of the natives.”

Lyra’s voice, smooth and sultry, filled his ear. “The scanner in the personal transport will run scans for you. I’ll alert you if anyone is spotted.”

Purple nodded, satisfied. He started his two-kilometer hike through the woods. He moved with the silent grace of a predator, his digitigrade paws making no sound on the forest floor. The undergrowth was thick, but he knew how to navigate it.

When he got close to the clearing, he slowed his pace. He crouched low, blending into the shadows of the trees, being as stealthy as he could. He spotted a small rise, a hill just ahead. He quietly padded toward it, his muscles coiled. He got down on a knee, the rifle raised to his shoulder. He took aim, his yellow eyes focusing on the herd grazing in the open.

With two shots, the railgun cracked, the energy bolt striking true. Two of the beasts dropped instantly, their hooves kicking up dirt before they lay still. The rest of the herd bolted, scattering into the trees.Purple lowered the rifle, a satisfied purr rumbling in his chest. That should keep Pip and him fed for months.

Purple knelt by each carcass, the forest floor soft beneath his bare paws. He set to work with the efficiency of a surgeon, using the ceramic knife from his field dressing kit to drain the blood. He skinned the beast, sliced the meat, and removed the organs, his movements precise and practiced. He cut through the bones, snapping them cleanly, and packed every scrap of meat into the sealed bags. Nothing was wasted.When the work was done, he wiped his paws on a patch of dry leaves and uncapped his canteen. He took a long drink, then unwrapped the protein bar, eating it quickly to restore his energy.

He slung the heavy bags over his shoulders, the straps digging slightly into his fur. He navigated his way back through the woods, his wings folded tight against his back to avoid snagging on the undergrowth.As he was most of the way back to the bike, Lyra’s voice chimed in his ear. “Captain, I’m getting a strange reading, left of your current heading thirty degrees and two hundred meters.”

Purple stopped, his ears twitching. Curious, he did as Lyra instructed, looking in the direction she indicated. “What do you mean by strange readings?”

Lyra replied, “A hollow area, with parts of it buried underground. It could be an ancient ruin.”

Purple grumbled, the sound low in his throat. “I’m not an explorer, but I’ll check it out. I don’t like surprises.”

He approached the area. The vegetation was thick, with moss and vines covering the stone structures, making it look like the ruins were mostly underground. He pulled the scanner from his belt and held it up. “Mark this area, I’m not equipped to investigate it. I’ll return later.”

After he was satisfied with the scan of what he could see, he turned back to the hike to his bike.He placed all the bags and the rifle in the storage unit, then got on the bike. He started the engine, the hum vibrating through the frame. He lifted off, the wind rushing past him, and began the return trip back to the ship.

Purple landed the hoverbike behind the ship, the engine cooling with a final hiss as he engaged the stand. He left the bike unfolded, planning to use it again later rather than folding it away.

He took the heavy bags of meat and carried them to the lower deck storage unit beneath the galley. He sorted the contents: the fresh meat went into a specialized, chilled compartment, while the rest was designated for the food printer, which would process it into printable nutrients. He ensured everything was sealed and secure.

He returned to the bike, retrieved the rifle, and went back into the ship. He placed the weapon in the armory, the heavy thud of the door locking echoing in the quiet corridor.

Padding into the galley, he found Pip at the food printer interface. Lyra, her voice audible only to Pip as she whispered instructions in Sylvani. Purple stopped in the doorway, watching. Pip’s ears swiveled, her emerald eyes wide as she stared at the machine, seemingly fascinated by the way the ingredients were being arranged.

When Pip’s meal was finished, she grabbed her tray. As she turned, she noticed Purple standing in the entryway. Her ears flicked to the side, a genuine smile spreading across her muzzle. She padded to a table, setting her food down.

Purple prepared his own lunch, keeping it simple—just some protein cubes. He sat beside her. Pip looked up at him, her gaze intense and curious.

“Hi... happy see,” she said, her voice soft and accented.

Purple smiled, a rare warmth in his yellow eyes. He nodded. “Happy to see you too, Pip.”

They began to eat in companionable silence, the hum of the ship the only sound between them.

After they were done eating, and after Purple put the dishes in the cleaner, he turned to Pip. “How would you like to explore a ruins I found on your world? I found it while I was out hunting.”

Purple knew Lyra would translate any word Pip didn’t know yet. A moment later, Pip smiled, her ears shifting from the side to the front. “Yes.”

Purple smiled and waved a hand. “Follow.”

He led Pip to the armory. He retrieved a sidearm, checked the charge, and clipped the holster to his belt. Then he retrieved another personal shield. “Lyra, explain to her what she needs to know.”

Purple nodded and handed the shield to Pip. He waited for her to attach it to her chest. The blue LED flickered on, confirming the molecular bond was established and the shield was on. With that done, Purple grabbed a couple of handheld light emitters, handing one to Pip. She examined the device; it was a little large for her small paws, then she clipped it to her belt.

With the gear secured, Purple closed the armory door and headed down the corridor to the hatch. He stepped out, with Pip right behind him.

Purple mounted the hoverbike and waited for Pip to get on. Instead of taking the spot behind him, Pip climbed up and settled into the space between his legs, her arms wrapping around his legs. She looked up at him behind her, her emerald eyes bright.

“I see good,” she said, her second phrase in Common.

Purple smiled, and nodded.

He started the bike. The engine roared to life, and he lifted off, the hoverbike rising above the canopy of trees. He guided the bike toward the marked spot of the ruins, the wind rushing past them as they soared over the alien forest.

Purple landed the hoverbike in the same clearing he had used before, the engine dying down to a silence that felt heavy in the humid air. He helped Pip dismount, her small paws gripping his jacket for balance before she dropped to the forest floor. He got off the bike himself and tapped his ear. “Lyra, keep the scanners hot.”

He turned to Pip, his expression serious. “This way.”

Pip padded beside him, her tail twitching with excitement as they headed toward the ruins, which lay about a quarter kilometer from the bike. The path was overgrown, but they moved with purpose.

When they arrived, Purple pulled the scanner from his belt. He swept it over the area, the green light illuminating the dense undergrowth. The readings were clear; it looked like he only needed to remove some rocks to access the entrance.

He pointed at a spot far enough away that Pip would be safe from any falling debris. “Pip, stay.”

He waited until she padded over to the marked spot, her ears perked, before turning his attention back to the obstruction. He crawled under the overhang, his wings tucked tight against his back to avoid snagging on the vines. He began pulling boulders away, one after another, laying them aside in a neat pile.

Finally, a walkway going underground was revealed. It looked different from a natural cave. The walls were smooth, a deep, obsidian black that seemed to absorb the light. Intricate markings—triangles and hexagrams—were etched into the surface in a complex, repeating pattern. Was that writing?

Purple held the scanner up to the markings, the beam catching the strange glyphs. “Lyra, what do you make of that?”

After a minute, Lyra’s voice purred in his ear. “Some kind of ancient writing, but not of this world. This wall is made of an advanced material far beyond what the natives could have made, and it is ancient. Scans show it to be thousands of cycles old.”

Purple blinked, his yellow eyes widening. How could that be... He asked, “Lyra, are you saying these were made by ancient beings alien to this world?”

“Yes,” Lyra replied.

Purple got out his handheld light emitter and clicked it on. The beam cut through the darkness ahead, illuminating the tunnel mouth. He was more curious now than ever. Maybe he was an explorer after all. He decided to continue inside. The hallway carved out of the ground went on for meters and meters, a dark throat waiting to be explored.

Beside him, Pip pulled out her own light emitter and clicked it on too. The small beam of light danced against the black walls, matching his own.

As they went deeper and deeper, the walkway began to slope, the incline growing steeper before curving slightly, forcing them to walk in a huge circle that spiraled down, and down, for what must have been hundreds of meters. The air grew cooler, carrying the scent of ozone and ancient dust.

Finally, they came up to a bend that opened up into a large, circular room. Purple pointed his light emitter up, but the ceiling was out of range, lost in the shadows, as was the far wall. In the center of the room, amidst the ruins, Purple saw structures that were not made of stone, but of a dark, polished metal.

Purple pointed the scanner around the room, the beam cutting through the gloom. “Lyra, what am I looking at?”

Lyra’s voice purred in their ear-comms. “Bring the scanner inside, find the middle and slowly rotate.”

Purple did as instructed, his eyes scanning the dark while he rotated the device. Pip followed close behind, her small light emitter darting around, casting curious chirps at the strange, rusted machinery she passed.After a minute, Lyra spoke to both of them. “What I’m reading here is some kind of ancient lab, biological in nature. I can detect what could have been growth chambers. Go examine the one to your right, it looks more intact than the others.”

Purple blinked again, the weight of the discovery settling in. Fascinating. He was no longer just a smuggler; he was an explorer. He padded over to the chamber Lyra indicated, his tail twitching with interest. To his left, Pip wandered the room, her nose twitching as she examined a console that looked like it had melted slightly from age.

In the chamber to the right, the preservation was remarkable. It was a glass containment unit, filled with a clear, viscous fluid. Inside, suspended in the liquid, was a figure. It was an Arian, an ape-like primate with furless skin, preserved in a tank that was still sealed.

Purple examined the Arian in the tank, his yellow eyes narrowing as he studied the sealed containment unit. It was a biological chamber, and somehow, despite the age, the seal remained intact. He pointed the scanner at the Arian and the surrounding equipment, the green light illuminating the strange, alien machinery.

After a few minutes, Lyra’s voice purred in their ear-comms. “What I’m reading here is some kind of ancient lab, biological in nature. They were doing some kind of genetic testing... But, not... That is strange, that does not make sense. That Arian was grown here, I detect DNA to speed up its maturity.”

Purple blinked, his tail twitching. Why would they do that? This was way outside his field of expertise.

Pip chirped excitedly behind him, her tail flicking with energy. She was too excited to speak in Common. Purple turned around and saw that in Pip’s paw was a small, glowing data crystal. Purple took it gently. “Put that in your pocket, that was your find. We will study it back at the ship, it has way better scanners.”

Purple got more scans as he padded around the room, his mind racing. They should learn something from that data crystal; those lasted practically forever.

On the flight back, Pip sure seemed to be enjoying herself. She sat in the space between Purple’s legs, her arms out to the sides like she was a bird, relishing the wind rushing through her fur.

Purple landed the bike again behind his ship, shutting it down and parking it on its stand, leaving it unfolded for later use. They padded up the ramp into the ship, and Pip seemed to be dancing on her toes as she pranced around beside Purple, her energy infectious.

Purple went up to the main deck, then through the bridge and up to the secondary deck, and down the corridor to the maintenance room. It had the best scanners. He waited for Lyra to explain to Pip where to place the crystal, and how to activate the scanner.

Purple stood back and watched. Pip carefully placed the crystal in the scanner tray, then gently pushed a button. The machine hummed, and it lit up with blue, red, and green laser lines dancing over the surface.Pip looked back at Purple with a proud look to her ears, her emerald eyes shining.

After several minutes, Lyra said in their ear-comms, “This is indeed a data crystal, and there is data on it, however it is encrypted, and damaged from age. It will take me hours to decode and decrypt it.”

Pip looked disappointed, her ears drooping slightly. She was starting to get used to the technology, and how it got things done now.

Purple shrugged, a small smile playing on his muzzle. “Why don’t we do some exercises?”

Pip looked at Purple, then nodded. Purple turned and padded back out the corridor to the gym.

Purple stepped into the gym, the cool air conditioning brushing against his skin. He unbuttoned his leather jacket and set it aside, then pulled his shirt off, folding it neatly on the bench. Pip, right behind him, mimicked the action with clumsy enthusiasm. Her small paws fumbled with the fasteners of her tunic before she shrugged it off, revealing her reddish-brown coat and the lean, athletic build of a young predator.

“We should start with some stretches,” Purple said, his voice low. “Helps lower the chance of injury.”

He padded over to the large exercise mat on the deck. He crouched, his digitigrade stance spreading his weight, and began to reach forward, stretching his hamstrings. His wings folded neatly against his back, the membrane taut but relaxed.

Pip tried to copy, but her limbs were stiff. She hopped awkwardly, her claws retracted, and looked frustrated. Purple noticed. He moved to her side, his bare paws landing softly on the mat. He placed a hand on her shoulder, guiding her arm up, and then adjusted her leg, bending it slightly to stretch her calf. His touch was firm but gentle.

Pip caught on. She reached out and placed a small paw on Purple’s shoulder, pushing down to stretch his arm. She purred, a vibration that Purple felt through his fur. She even tried to reach for her own toes, her ears flicking as she concentrated.

“Good,” Purple murmured, leaning into her touch. The silence of the gym was filled only by the sound of their breathing and the soft rustle of fur against the mat. It was a rare moment of connection, stripped of the stress of the galaxy, shared between a captain and his crew of one.

Purple and Pip continued their routine, the silence of the gym broken only by the soft sounds of movement and the hum of the ship. Pip sat on the mat, her knees drawn up to her chest. Purple sat opposite her, his legs extended. She reached out, her small paws gripping his ankles. She pulled his legs outward, stretching his hamstrings. Purple leaned back slightly, his wings spreading slightly for balance. He felt the tension release in his calves. She did the same for his other leg.

Then Pip sat back, crossing her legs. Purple moved behind her, his hands on her ankles. He gently pulled her legs out straight. Pip’s body leaned forward, her hand paws gripping the mat to stabilize herself. Her claws retracted, then extended slightly for grip. She held the position, her emerald eyes fixed on the far wall, her breathing steady.

“You got to stay in shape when you live on a starship,” Purple said, his voice low. He held the stretch for a moment longer before releasing her legs, letting them fall back to the mat with a soft thud.

Pip let out a breath, her tail curling around her foot. She looked up at him, her eyes bright, and gave a small nod of agreement.

With their stretches done, Purple guided Pip to a pneumatic exercise machine. Lyra’s voice purred in Pip’s ear, guiding her through a routine designed to build stamina and strengthen her core. Pip’s small paws worked the levers, her breathing audible as she pushed through the repetitions. Purple watched her for a moment, then moved to the machine beside hers to begin his own workout.

When they finished with the machinery, Purple led Pip to the large exercise mat. He had her sit down, her back straight against the floor. He instructed her to do setups, and he sat down by her feet, kneeling on the mat. He placed his hands on her ankles, pressing them firmly to the floor to help her lift her torso.

As he held her steady, he couldn’t help but notice the delicate anatomy of her paws. They were small, almost half the size of his own, but softer. The fur was a rich copper, fading to a lighter amber on the toes. The paw pads were a soft, mottled pink, speckled with darker spots that matched the spots on her legs. They looked warm and inviting, the scent of her natural musk faint in the air.

After that, Pip wanted to help Purple. She got up and sat on Purple’s calves, facing away from him. She wrapped her arms around his feet, hugging them tightly to her chest to keep her balance. Her claws retracted, but her grip was firm. As Purple did his setups, he felt her weight against his calves, a silent testament to her trust and strength.

Purple completed the final repetition, his muscles burning with a satisfying heat. He collapsed back onto the mat, his chest heaving as he caught his breath. The cool air of the gym washed over his sweat-slicked skin.

Pip released his feet, standing up. She padded over to his chest, nudging him with a paw. “Alive still?” she asked, her voice clear in Common.

Purple chuckled, the sound rumbling in his throat. “Exercising makes you feel more alive, don’t it?”Pip nodded, her ears flicking. She patted his chest with a small paw. “Chest big,” she observed, her eyes tracing the definition of his pectoral muscles.

Purple grinned, flexing his arms slightly. “Yeah, my wing muscles. I exercise them by flying.”Pip’s eyes lit up with a sudden idea. “Fly me.”

Purple chuckled again. “Sure, but we should put our shirts back on. We need our personal shields.”Pip nodded and padded over to the bench to retrieve her tunic. Purple got up, grabbing his shirt from the chair. He pulled it on, the fabric settling over his torso, and left his leather jacket in the gym. He led the way out of the ship, Pip right behind him.

Outside, the air was crisp. Purple turned and opened his arms wide. Pip hopped up, her small paws grasping his shoulders. Purple caught her, holding her securely against his chest. He looked down at her, then turned toward the dense forest ahead.

“Hold on,” he said.

Pip wrapped her legs around his abdomen, her arms circling his upper chest. Purple took a few steps, his bare paws gripping the ground, then leaped into the air. His massive wings snapped open, the dark purple membranes catching the wind. With a powerful downstroke, they lifted off, soaring effortlessly over the canopy of trees below.

Purple flew in a wide, lazy circle around the ship, the wind rushing past them. Pip held onto him, her arms wrapped tight around his neck, her legs clamped around his waist. Purple kept his arms securely around her, holding her close to his chest, his wings beating in a steady rhythm to maintain their altitude.

They headed back toward the rear of the ship where they had started. Purple flapped his wings, slowing their descent, the air resistance pushing against his back. He lowered his feet, his paws touching the ground with a soft thud.

He let go of Pip, and she let go of him, hopping to the ground. She bounced on her toe pads, her tail twitching with pure joy. “Thank you! Fun! Fun!” she exclaimed in Common.

Purple smiled and chuckled. To him, flying using just his wings was just something he did, but for Pip, it was an experience of a lifetime.

He let Pip run loose for a few minutes, watching her explore the field, before he headed back up the ramp and inside the ship. “Time for your lessons,” he said.

Pip looked disappointed, her ears drooping, but then her eyes lit up with happiness to learn more. She rushed past Purple to head inside, making her way to the recreation room.

Purple chuckled. It was time Pip started to learn how to use a sidearm. He went into the cargo hold, the space vast and filled with crates and supplies. He looked around for some old metal crates, and containers he could use to make a makeshift firing range.

Purple admired his makeshift firing range. A line of rusted metal crates and shipping containers lined up in the field, about fifty meters from the ship. He had stacked them to create a realistic silhouette of a hostile structure. “This should work,” he murmured, his tail flicking.

He padded back up the ramp and inside. He went to his quarters, undressing and stepping into the shower. The water cascaded over him, the steam fogging the translucent door. Once clean, he took his dirty uniform and dropped it into the wash chute. He opened a drawer and pulled out a fresh set of his uniform, the fabric crisp and clean.

He went back to the gym, to retrieve his leather jacket, he went down the corridor then headed up the short ramp to the bridge, but didn’t stop there. He continued up another short ramp to the secondary deck, grabbed it and put it on. The jacket felt like a second skin, protective and familiar. He stood there for a moment, the jacket on, wondering what to do next.

He decided to head to the maintenance room. It was located behind the gym. He walked down the corridor and entered the room. It was cavernous, filled with humming printers and filament spools. He sat at the console. He missed his maintenance officer, Vessa. This was her job. He checked the screens for any work that needed to be done.

Purple sat at the console, his yellow eyes scanning the readouts. He worked on checking power relays, the hum of the machinery soothing his mind. It gave him something to do that made him feel better, keeping his hands busy and his thoughts focused on the ship rather than the void.

Feeling a rumble in his stomach, he made his way back down to the galley. He tapped his ear. “Is Pip ready for a break? I bet she is hungry.”

Lyra’s voice purred in his ear. “This would be a good time for a break, I’ll send her to the galley.”Purple smiled. He accessed the food printer interface and ordered up the meat he had hunted earlier, along with synthesized mashed root vegetable in spices. The smell of the cooking meat wafted through the room, making his mouth water.

A few minutes later, Pip padded into the galley. Her nose twitched, sniffing the air. “Smell good,” she said.Purple nodded. “I’ll que up the same thing for you.”

Pip bounced on her toes and nodded. Purple typed in a smaller portion of his order to be made next.When the food was ready, Purple carried the tray to a table, placing Pip’s plate beside his own. They sat side by side, eating together. The silence was comfortable.

Purple looked at her, his expression soft. “Pip, I have a surprise for you after our meal.”

Pip blinked at him, her emerald eyes wide with wonder.

Purple led Pip to the armory. He selected a compact holster, buckling it around her waist. It was a bit large, so he adjusted the straps to ensure it stayed put. He kept the ammunition pouches on his own belt, not trusting her with the live rounds yet. He didn’t want to risk an accident before she learned the basics.

They stepped out onto the field. Beside the ship, the makeshift range stood ready—a line of rusted crates and containers stacked to resemble a barricade.

Purple had Pip kneel on the grass, positioning her about a hundred meters from the targets. “Ready?” he asked.

Purple spoke to Lyra. “Explain everything she needs to know on firearm use and safety.”Lyra replied, “I already have. I saw you make the range, and at the end of her lesson I went over it.”Purple smiled, a rare expression of pride. “Good.”

He handed Pip a charged cartridge. “Set the pistol on the lowest setting,” he instructed. “We don’t need to destroy the targets with one shot.”

Pip took the cartridge. She reached for the holster, her small paws fumbling slightly as she unholstered the blaster pistol. She loaded the cartridge, the slide snapping shut with a satisfying click. She checked the power cell, her emerald eyes narrowing in concentration.

Purple watched her closely. “Good,” he said. “Now, rest your elbow on your chest. Use your other paw to study it. Remember breath, gently squeeze the trigger, don’t pull it, spread your feet apart.”

Pip nodded, her ears swiveling. She got into the firing stance. She took a deep breath, held it, and gently squeezed the trigger.

Zzt.

The first shot missed the target, striking the dirt nearby.

Pip frowned, her tail twitching. She adjusted her stance, bringing her other paw up to steady her aim. She took another breath.

Zzt.

The second shot hit the side of a crate, scorching the metal.

Zzt.

The third shot struck the center of the target, the container went tumbling away.

Pip let out a soft chirp of satisfaction, her eyes wide with accomplishment.

It was a new rotation, Purple was impressed Pip took to using a blaster like it was meant to be in her paw. The small feline stood in the center of the maintenance room, her posture perfect, the weight of the weapon distributed naturally across her shoulder.

Purple was just entering the galley, when Lyra told Purple in his ear, “Captain, the crystal has been decrypted, and I have troubling information on those ancient aliens.”

Purple sighed, and changed his mind about having a normal breakfast and instead grabbed a protein bar and water, then headed to the corridor, “Lyra, have Pip meet me in the maintenance room.”

Lyra answered, “I’ll let Pip know, we can continue her lesson later.”

Purple exited the galley as he removed the wrapper and took a bite out of his protein bar. Purple padded down the corridor, up into the bridge, turned and up again entering the secondary deck, going past the gym and into the maintenance room.

Purple stopped at the scanner table, turned towards the corridor, and waited for Pip.

Pip entered, a curious look on her features.

Purple turned back to the scanner reading the display and said, “Lyra, give us an overview of what you found.”

Lyra answered, “What I found is very troubling, these mystery beings created the Arian species. There is no information on them, or reason in the data, only what they did. It is a log of experiments done on both Arian and the Sylvani, the native species of this planet, and yes the Sylvani were already sentient at the time, just very primitive, they were in the stone age.”

Purple was shocked, blinked, speechless.

Pip gasped and in Sylvani said with a wail, “Nooo... Why would they do that?”

Pip fell to the deck, on all fours beside Purple.

Purple looked at Pip and felt despair and sadness fall over him like a glove.

Purple got down on his knees, and wrapped an arm around Pip’s chest, and pulled her close, “I’m sorry Pip, if there is anything I can do, name it.”

Pip rose up on her toes, shivering violently as she remained on all fours, her world having been turned upside down. Purple’s heart ached, a physical pang of sympathy for the young feline.

“Maybe you should take Pip to medical,” Lyra suggested in his ear-comm. “I can sedate her and guide her through this trauma.”

Purple nodded. He lifted Pip from the deck into his arms as he stood, his wings folding neatly against his back. “I’ve got you, Pip.”

He carried her back down the corridor, down to the main deck, and into the medbay, which sat directly behind the bridge. Pip did not resist; she seemed to be in a daze, her eyes unfocused.

Purple gently laid Pip down inside the medbay pod. As she sank into the gel, it wrapped around her form, cocooning her. Pip’s eyes fluttered closed, and she was quickly sedated.

“I’m sorry about that,” Lyra replied. “I did not know it would hit her so hard, or I would have given a warning.”

Purple nodded. “How is her training going?”

“It is going very well,” Lyra answered. “She has surpassed all of my expectations. Her intelligence is even higher than predicted; she is much more intelligent and thoughtful than you. Her imagination is also high. She also has a high amount of empathy, and this I think is why it is hitting her so hard.”

Purple ignored the slight sting to his pride and placed a paw atop the transparent pod, directly over Pip’s chest. A pang of empathy hit him as he imagined the horror she had just learned. “Yeah, you owe her an apology.”

“Yes, yes I do,” Lyra replied.

Purple could not wait to see what Pip could achieve once she caught up to the rest of the known galaxy.

Purple sat in the galley, the heavy meal sitting in his stomach, but he could not focus on the food. He could only think of Pip. She had been acclimating to her new life so well up to this point, and he could empathize with her. He did not know how he would react if he found out a species that used his people for slaves turned out to be created by another species not of his world.

Purple pushed his meal, a meat-filled bread covered in gravy, around his plate with his fork. Finally, in spite, he took it all and stuffed it into his mouth, chewing it before swallowing it with a gulp.

A few minutes later, Lyra informed Purple in his ear-comm, “I’ve lessoned Pip’s sedative, she should regain consciousness soon. You should be there when she does.”

Purple nodded and stood, placing his tray into the reclamation slot on his way to the medbay.

Purple padded inside softly and stood by Pip’s bed pod. He reached out and touched the control to open it.

The top slid open. Pip lay on her back, her body submerged in the translucent blue gel. The fluid filled the chamber, rising to cover her legs and arms completely. It crept up her sides, stopping halfway, leaving her chest and upper torso exposed to the cool air. Her reddish-brown fur was damp and matted from the procedure, clinging to her skin. Her emerald eyes were heavy, blinking slowly as she tried to focus.

Purple smiled, his ears turning to the sides as he watched her eyes flutter open. “I’m here, remain calm. You’ve had a panic attack. No matter what happens, I’m here for you.”

Pip blinked a few times before looking at Purple. She murmured something, but it was not coherent. She looked disoriented, her pupils dilated.

Purple felt bad for her and gently laid his paw on her shoulder, reminding her, “I’m here.”

Pip tried to move her arm, and the gel slushed a bit.

Purple spoke in as calm a voice as he could, “Pip, relax. You’re in the medbay pod. We will get through this.”

Pip stopped trying to move and blinked a few more times before focusing on Purple’s face. With a groggy voice, she said in Common, “What... Happened?”

In Purple’s ear, Lyra said, “I’ll explain it. Just be here for her.”

Purple gave Pip’s shoulder a gentle squeeze and watched her relax, her hind paws sinking back into the gel.

Purple stood patiently in the medbay, his large frame still as Lyra explained the details of what happened earlier in her ear-comm. His right paw remained resting on Pip’s shoulder, grounding her.

Finally, her eyes closed, then fluttered open. She spoke slowly, her voice trembling slightly. “I kept seeing my parents killed, over, and over.”

Purple nodded, his expression grave. “Would you like to have those memories dulled? The memories will still be there, but the chance of you being triggered by an event and having them come back to haunt you will be almost zero. That should help you recover from that trauma.”

Pip focused on Purple’s eyes, her ears turning partially inward, pressing against the gel. She whispered, “Please...”

Purple nodded again, his voice soft, almost a whisper. “Lyra, do it.”

Lyra responded in his ear-comm. “I’ll start it at once. As the nanites do their work, keep her focused on you.”

Purple nodded once more. He looked down at Pip, his voice gentle. “I bet you really enjoyed the trip, us flying high above the forest, going really fast on the transport.”

Pip smiled softly, her eyes looking a bit sharper as she spoke. “Oh... Yes, that was very fun. I think I like you flying me in the air more, with nothing but your arms holding me, your wings flapping, the air rushing through my fur. It is like I’m flying like a bird.”

Purple smiled softly and continued. “How about after you’re feeling better, I’ll take you on a real flight? Just you, me, and the wind. We can go to that lake; I’m told the fish there are edible.”

Pip looked better already as she answered, still speaking slowly. “Oh, I love fish. We did not get to have fish much; it was a rare treat.”

Purple slowly nodded. “We will bring fishing gear. I’ll find a log, and we can sit at the edge of the lake, and just enjoy ourselves.”

Pip softly smiled and whispered, “I would like that.”

Purple used his other paw to softly stroke Pip’s muzzle, wiping the blue gel away as he told her, “Good. It won’t be much longer before you’re out of the pod.”

Lyra’s voice came through the ear-comm, soothing and calm. “I’m draining the gel, her trauma treatment is done.”

Purple nodded, his yellow eyes fixed on the display as the translucent blue fluid began to recede, draining back into the pod’s reservoir.

Pip noticed the gel leaving her body. She tried to stand, her paws slipping on the smooth surface, and was about to fall back onto the bed when Purple reached in with his paw, steadying her. Pip grabbed onto Purple’s arm, her claws retracted but her grip firm. With a grin, Purple lifted her out and set her down on the deck, then released her.

Pip looked up at him expectantly, her paws resting on her hips.

Purple blinked, then remembered to give Pip her uniform that he had been holding with a chuckle.

Pip donned her clothing, using Purple to keep from falling. She wore the new uniform with pride. “Thank you, Purple.”

Purple nodded, then turned to leave. “I’ll get you something to eat. I’m sure you’re hungry. We can go fishing in the morning, while the sun is rising.”

Pip smiled to herself, her emerald eyes bright. She was looking forward to eating some fish.

Purple padded into the galley and up to the food printer, inputting the command for some nutrition soup suited for Pip.

Pip carefully padded in, one paw on the bulkhead for support. She was still a bit groggy. She sat at the nearest table and waited.

Purple brought her tray over to her and sat it down, then sat at the other side of the table.

Pip grabbed the spoon, blowing on the hot liquid, and started in on it.

Purple smiled, watching her. “You know, I feel responsible for you, to keep you safe, and healthy.”

Pip looked up at Purple. She sat her spoon down in her bowl, stood on the bench, and reached over to put her paw on his arm. “I really appreciate everything you’ve done for me. I promise to pay you back. I want to be useful.”

Purple smiled and patted Pip’s paw that was on his arm. “I’m sure you will be.”

Pip pulled her paw back, sat back down, then got back to devouring what was left in her bowl.

Purple felt a gentle tug on his arm. He blinked, his vision clearing to see Pip shaking his forearm. “Wake up, wake up!”

Purple blinked a few more times, his ears swiveling as he looked down at her. “I’m up... I’m up...”

Pip took a step back, placing her paws on her hips, her tail twitching behind her. “Hurry up! Fish! I want fish!”

Purple threw the bed cover off, his movements swift as he climbed out of the bunk. He padded over to the shower, closing the sealed door behind him.

As the hot water sprayed over him, he could still hear Pip’s voice from the other side of the thin metal. “We go, hurry!”

Purple chuckled, the sound low in his throat. He turned off the water and engaged the shower’s dry mode. A warm, low-humidity ionized air circulated, quickly drying his midnight purple fur.

Once dry, he shut off the dryer and opened the door. He stepped out, padding past Pip, who was watching him with wide, expectant eyes.

Purple pulled on his uniform, the fabric settling over his form, and then slid his leather jacket on, the familiar weight comforting him. Pip was now pushing on his rear, her paws pressing against him. “Go! Go! We go!”

Purple shook his head, a grin tugging at the corner of his muzzle, and left his quarters with Pip following close behind. They moved down the corridor to the galley, where he quickly prepared a breakfast for himself—a chocolate protein shake.

“Did you eat yet?” he asked, handing the cup to her.

Pip nodded vigorously. “Yes, you slow. Hurry.”

Purple chuckled as he drank the last of the shake, placing the container into the reclamation slot. “Are you sure we are the same age?”

Pip nodded again. “Lyra says we are. We go, you fly me to lake, we fish. Never been fishing before.”

Purple gulped the last of the shake and put the container into the reclamation slot. “Oh. We will need fishing rods. I’ll grab a backpack and bring what we need.”

Purple padded out of the galley and down the corridor that led to the cargo and storage hold. As he opened the cupboards and drawers, grabbing the necessary supplies and stuffing them into his backpack, Pip was hopping with pent-up excitement and impatience, her emerald eyes fixed on him.

Flying high above the canopy, the wind rushing through his midnight purple fur and over his large, leathery wings, felt invigorating. The sensation of the safety harness keeping Pip secure against his chest was a comfort. He felt a sense of relief about flying to the lake, a place that seemed untouched and distant from the ship and the trauma they had just endured.

Below them, the lake appeared through the gaps in the trees, a shimmering expanse of water just as he remembered. It was difficult to spot from a distance due to the dense forest surrounding it.

Pip, with her head turned back, watched the forest floor rush by. She rotated her head, her muzzle catching the wind, relishing the sensation of speed and the vertigo-inducing view of the trees passing beneath her with nothing but air between her and the ground. The feeling of absolute freedom was intoxicating to her.

As Purple neared the shore, he began to descend. His wings flapped rhythmically to slow their descent. He could feel Pip’s grip tightening around his torso, and he gripped her tighter in return. Pip let out happy chirping noises, sounding like laughter in joy.

Purple braced his legs, his wings thundering against the air as he executed a running landing. He finally came to a stop in a clear area beside the lake, not far from the forest edge.

Pip tried to release the harness latch behind her but couldn’t reach it. With a low chuckle, Purple reached around and pressed the release. Pip landed with the natural grace of a feline, dropping to all fours immediately. She took off running through the tall grass, gleefully bounding forward. Purple watched as the grass bent aside in her wake, and soon, all he could see was the tip of her reddish-brown tail moving above the greenery. Clearly, Pip was built for quadrupedal locomotion, which explained the well-rounded structure of her shoulders.

For some reason, watching Pip let loose helped Purple feel better about being stuck on this backwater planet.

With a grin that he didn’t realize was showing in his features, his ears perked, and his tail held high and slightly curved, he made his way to the shore. He had already picked their spot from the air. He removed his small backpack and placed it on the ground before turning around and heading back towards the forest, searching for a fallen tree or log.

As he padded through the tall grass, suddenly a reddish-brown blur leaped out at him. Pip tackled him, nuzzling him around his neck and cheek before bounding away again and vanishing into the grass.

Still chuckling at Pip’s antics, Purple entered the forest, his eyes scanning the ground for a suitable piece of driftwood. He spotted a fallen tree, grabbed it, and dragged it out of the dense undergrowth, placing it firmly on the sandy edge of the lake.

Reaching into his backpack, Purple removed the two collapsible fishing rods. In only a few minutes, he had extended them and attached the reels, the metal clicking softly as they locked into place.

Purple turned around, about to call for Pip, when he spotted her padding nonchalantly towards him. With a grin, he said, “Pip, we are ready to start. Sit on the log beside me.”

After Pip sat down beside him, Purple gathered his rod, baited the hook with a wriggling worm, and explained, “Now watch how I get the baited hook out into the lake.”

With a careful cast, he sent the line skimming over the water, then gently placed the rod on the log, bracing it against his knee.

Next, Purple baited Pip’s hook. “Now cast it like I did. Careful not to hook it on anything.”

Pip took the rod carefully with both paws, moving it around to get the feel of the weight. She cast it, and it went about half as far as his did.

Purple nodded and took hold of his own rod, speaking softly. “Good, very good, for a first time. Now keep hold of the rod. You will feel when the fish bites, and you will also see ripples in the water where the line enters it. It will take time, but stay aware of it. Don’t make any noises; we don’t want to scare away the fish.”

Purple showed Pip how to use the reel. “Press this when you’re ready to cast, press and hold this to reel it in. Press and hold this to give it slack. When a fish bites, you want to give the rod a short, swift jerk to lock the hook in.”

Pip nodded, her emerald eyes fixed on the water where the line disappeared.

After just a bit longer than ten minutes, Pip said, “Good thing you had harness.”

Purple looked at her. “I made it just last night. I knew that the lake is over five kilometers flight. Even my arms would have gotten tired holding you for that long.”

“Glad you made, feel safer.”

“You seem to feel much better today.”

“I do, feel weight gone.”

Purple turned back to watch his line.

Suddenly, Pip chirped as her rod jerked. Purple felt excited too. “Good, good, nice lock in. Now start reeling it in. Careful if the rod bends too much; you don’t want the line to break. Tire out the fish, give it slack if needed.”

Pip looked intense, working the reel, the rod bending and going slack as she did.

Purple encouraged her. “Good, good, just like that. I’ll get the fish stringer ready.”

On the back side of the log, they now faced away from the lake. Purple arranged rocks in a circle, placing twigs inside to start the fire. As the flames caught, memories of him and his father camping on a planet he couldn’t remember flooded his mind. He was just a kit then. This brought the worry of seeing his father again. Would he make it out of this system and back to Stellar Citadel? Would he find his crew? Would he ever see them again?

Purple shook his head, needing to focus. He removed a couple of fish from the stringer that hung from a stick propped in the ground. He gutted and scaled them, then carefully placed them in his camping pan. There were six fish in total; four caught by Pip, ranging from twenty to thirty centimeters, and two larger ones that nearly filled the pan. He placed the cover on and rested the pan on the folded-out grill over the fire.

Pip sat beside him, watching intently, her tongue licking her muzzle almost every minute.

Purple sat back and watched the fish cook. It was nice to be out of the ship, in the forest, with nature. It had been such a long time since he had done anything like this before.

Pip looked over at his almost empty backpack. “What else have?”

Purple chuckled. “I just brought what we needed to eat some fresh fish by the lake we got them at. I haven’t done this in ages, but I kept my camping kit. You never know when you may need it, and it doesn’t take up much space in storage.”

Pip nodded and drank some water from the canteen. The more the fish cooked, the faster she licked her muzzle.

Finally, the fish were done. Purple took the pan off the grill, opened it, and slid a fish onto a plate for each of them.

As soon as he had done that, he gutted, scaled, and placed two more in the pan, setting them on the fire.

Purple watched Pip staring at the steaming fish as he said, “Careful now, it is hot.”

For the next several rotations, Purple and Pip spent their time fishing at the lake on the planet’s surface. Purple served as the primary mode of transport, carrying Pip strapped to his chest as they traversed the terrain. He took pride in her progress; she was picking up her training with a newfound intensity. He also enjoyed simply spending time with her. Pip’s Galactic Common was improving daily, her pronunciation becoming clearer with each lesson.

On the next rotation, it was time to make the trip to the asteroid field to load up the ore that the mining drones had extracted. Lyra, the ship’s ADE, calculated that they would have enough fuel to make it back to Station 7, an outpost at the edge of known space used primarily for refueling ships.

Now, however, Pip has completed enough pilot training to move to actual piloting, Purple decided to let Pip pilot the Starborn Prowl; with Lyra’s guardrails in place, off the planet and out to the asteroid being mined.

Purple and Pip were seated in the recreation room. The VR system activated for them both as they leaned back into the reclining seats, the VR helmets settling onto their heads. The technology did not use lenses or audio; instead, it fed signals directly into their receptors and monitored their nervous signals, creating a sensation so realistic it felt as though they were truly there.

Purple and Pip materialized as themselves in a dark, dank room lit only by flickering torches. They were standing in the main menu for the game. In the simulation, the characters appeared as themselves, but dressed in clothing and equipment suitable for the setting.

Purple watched Pip look around in wonder for a minute before he spoke. “I am hoping you have fun with something I’ve enjoyed since I was a kit,” he explained. “This also helps you build confidence when under pressure, and hand-eye coordination. I know that Lyra has been helping you get used to technology, and educating you on things you will need when we go back to civilization. You have been doing nothing but learning and training for the past ten rotations. We are in a game; we pretend we are in ancient times. It is called Six Kingdoms. You don’t have to worry about getting hurt for real; everything you feel is simulated.”

Pip looked up at Purple. She did not look so sure; her ears were folded back against her skull, and her tail was swishing back and forth rapidly.

Purple smiled back at Pip. “Don’t worry. When have I steered you wrong?”

Pip nodded, then looked at the medieval clothing they were wearing.

Purple brought up Pip’s character creation menu, drawing her attention to it and explained, “In this menu, you choose your class, skills, and stats. You start with randomly generated base stats, and you have ten points to spread out to each one. Hover your paw over the stat or skill, and it will explain how it affects gameplay. The game uses both your neuro-reaction times and stats to determine if you hit and cause damage; those are not random. Look them over, and let me know if you have any questions. I’ll load up my character while you do that. I’m a fighter class. Don’t worry about level; the game automatically adjusts to each character to keep it challenging.”

Purple loaded his character. He appeared as a warrior with a two-handed long sword at his waist, a dagger and a bow on his back, and padded leather armor. His equipment was high-level and enhanced.

Purple watched Pip go through the menus. Finally, she chose a ranger. Her stats for strength and dexterity were high, with good awareness. Pip chose to use two slim, slightly curved single-bladed long swords that could be wielded with one or two paws, along with light leather armor and a crossbow.

Purple, with Pip right beside him on the dirt road, walked into town. He led her to a tavern where they would find information for a quest.

Townspeople wandered the streets, a mix of draconian, dwarves and elves. The game used dozens of different species found in the Galactic Empire as such. Pip had never seen any of them before and found herself distracted, her emerald eyes darting from face to face. She almost ran into a tall, lanky alien with multiple eyes and a slimy hide before Purple gently guided her back on course.

Purple pushed the heavy wooden door open and led Pip inside. He found them a seat in a dimly lit corner, and they sat down.

Soon, a barmaid arrived at their table. “What can I get ’cha?”

Purple said, “Two mugs of ale, and any news you have.”

The barmaid turned and went back to the bar.

Pip looked around in wonder, her tail twitching behind her. Even in this fantasy setting, the technology was above what she was used to in her old life. Pip mentioned, “You know even the Arians are in what you call the Bronze Age. This is what, the Steel Age?”

Purple chuckled and answered, “Yeah, something like that. Near the end of the Steel Age if I remember correctly. Now keep in mind, this is a fantasy; there is magic too.”

The barmaid returned with two mugs, placing one in front of each. “As for news, I hear there are orcs to the North of town. I’ve heard they have been attacking travelers; there may be an orc camp nearby.”

A message appeared in front of both of them. Purple tapped ‘Accept,’ and soon after, Pip did too.

With that, a new message appeared: ‘Quest Accepted. Find Orc camp and clear it out.’

Purple took his mug and drank it down.

Pip, following his lead, started drinking it then she dropped the mug and spat it out, making a rawr sound before she started coughing.

Purple grinned and started chuckling. “Not one for ale, eh?”

Pip’s ears folded down to her head. “No, disgusting.”

Still chuckling, Purple got up and made for the exit, with Pip right behind him.

When Pip caught up to him, she whacked him in the rear with her paw and told him, “Very funny.”

That just made him laugh harder before he sprinted out the door and headed North.

Purple, with Pip by his side, headed down the North road. The game interface projected markers on the path, appearing as wooden signposts that glowed faintly in the virtual light.

They slowed as they approached a tipped cart. Dead horses lay on the ground, their lifeless eyes staring upward, while goods were scattered across the dirt. The driver lay dead by the front of the cart, his body slumped against the seat.

Pip looked around the cart, her nose twitching as she searched for clues. Purple circled the perimeter, his midnight purple fur blending slightly with the shadows as he scanned the area. It wasn’t long before he spotted a sign the game had placed—a set of highlighted orc prints heading into the dense woods to the West.

Purple pointed and told Pip, “Over here, we have a trail to follow.”

Pip padded over to Purple and looked where he pointed, her emerald eyes narrowing. “Right, the game is afoot.”

Purple looked at Pip and asked, “Afoot?”

Pip grinned, her whiskers twitching. “Lyra uses that term.”

Purple shook his head with a grin, his yellow eyes gleaming. “Right, well, what are you waiting for?”

Pip nodded, then padded into the woods, following the highlighted prints every few meters. Pip had better night vision than Purple did, and the game took that into account, adjusting the lighting to make her path clear.

Purple knew that too, so he followed Pip now, hot on the trail.

After about a kilometer, Pip’s ears rotated independently, swiveling toward the sound. She softly said, “I hear them. They are not far ahead.”

Purple came up beside Pip and slowly drew his sword, the metal singing softly in the virtual air. Pip got her crossbow ready, her posture low and predatory.

Purple and Pip slowly, carefully, stealthily entered the edge of the camp. The smell of unwashed bodies and smoke filled the air.

Pip took aim while Purple watched for trouble.

With a soft thwip, the arrow flew true, piercing the throat of the Orc guarding the camp.

Purple could see dozens of orcs sleeping around the campfire as he looked around to take stock. They were large, brutish creatures, snoring loudly.

Purple spotted another Orc guard looking around, his eyes wide with confusion as the first guard fell. The fall of the other guard did not go unnoticed.

That was when the Orc ran to a bell on a stand and sounded the alarm, the metal clanging loudly. It went short when her next arrow found another throat.

Purple took Pip, “Get your sword ready, this is where the fun begins.”

Pip put her crossbow on her back, and got her swords ready, one in each paw.

The bell clanged, shattering the silence. The orcs roared, scrambling from their sleep, their brutish forms rising from the shadows. Purple didn’t hesitate. He stepped in front of Pip, his midnight purple wings flaring out, casting a dark shadow over the encroaching horde. He raised his two-handed sword, the blade gleaming in the torchlight.

“Come get some!” Purple roared, his voice echoing in the virtual space.

He met the charge head-on, his sword clashing against the crude axes of the front line. Sparks flew as metal met metal. The orcs were strong, their blows heavy and relentless. Purple grunted as a heavy axe struck his armor, the impact jarring his shoulder. He gritted his teeth, his yellow eyes flashing with determination, and parried the blow, driving his sword into the chest of the attacker.

Pip moved like a blur of copper and emerald. She weaved through the legs of the larger orcs, her dual swords flashing in the firelight. She took down an orc trying to flank Purple, her blades singing a deadly song. However, the numbers were overwhelming. More orcs poured from where they sleeping on the ground, their numbers seemingly endless.

They were pushed back, cornered against some stacked boxes. Purple took a slash to his forearm, the leather armor scorching. He snarled, his horns lowering as he prepared for the final strike. Pip, seeing the danger, leaped high over a box, her swords flashing, the head of the orc went a different direction from the rest of his body, green blood spurting like a fountain from their neck, much more than one would expect.

With a final, desperate swing, Purple cleaved through the last orc, the blade sinking deep into its chest. The creature crumpled to the ground, and silence fell over the camp.

Purple stood panting, his chest heaving, his fur matted with virtual sweat. Pip was beside him, wiping a claw across her muzzle, her emerald eyes scanning the area.

They retreated to a safe spot near the forest. Purple pulled a small vial from his belt, uncorking it. He drank the glowing red liquid, a warmth spreading through his chest as the virtual pain faded. He handed a similar vial to Pip. She uncorked it and drank, the blue light illuminating her face for a moment before fading as her wounds knit together.

Purple stepped onto the bridge, his midnight purple fur absorbing the ambient light as his large, dragon-like wings folded tight against his back. Pip followed, her reddish-brown coat moving with the silent, spring-loaded grace of a digitigrade predator. As Purple made for his seat, he said, “Lyra, plot a course for Pip. It is time we got the fuel and ore from that asteroid, so we can leave this system.”

Purple settled into the captain’s chair, the leather cool beneath his paws. He tapped commands into the console by his arm rest, his yellow eyes scanning the data streams.

Pip took the pilot seat. For the first time, the seat adjusted to her smaller frame, the consoles lowering to meet her reach. Lyra’s voice, soothing and calm, filled the bridge. “Course laid in. Sent to the pilot station for Pip.”

“Pre-flight in progress,” Pip announced, her emerald eyes focused intently on the readouts.

Purple read over the system readings as he waited, his tail giving a slow, rhythmic thump against the deck.

After a few minutes, Pip spoke. “Ready to lift off, and leave the gravity well of Alpha 3.”

Purple nodded, his expression unreadable. “Make it so.”

Pip was nervous. Her paws tightened on the controls, her claws retracted but ready. She double-checked, then triple-checked everything. She engaged the repulse engines, using the lever to slowly apply left.

The Starborn Prowl groaned, the metal protesting as the landing gear finally broke free from the ground where the ship had been sitting for ten rotations, sunk slightly into the dirt.

When the ship was high enough above the forest canopy, Pip engaged the atmospheric engines. The vessel lifted the air, flying towards the sky in a slow, graceful arc.

At fifteen thousand meters, Pip engaged the subliminal drive. The ship shook as they escaped the atmosphere then the gravity well of Alpha 3.

Purple watched Pip, his heart swelling with a rare pride. Lyra had guardrails on the pilot station so she could take over if there were any issues. Lyra’s voice chimed in his ear-comm, quiet and calm. “She is doing great for her first time.”

Pip worked the controls to get the ship on course for the asteroid belt, where their mining drones were almost ready for them. She couldn’t help but look at the viewport. She had never seen space, or her planet from space before.

Pip stared out the viewport, her eyes wide with wonder. Below, the planet Alpha 3 receded, a vibrant sphere of deep blue oceans and sprawling green forests. It looked like a fragile jewel in the vast darkness. To the left, a massive gas giant loomed, its surface a swirling tapestry of orange and violet storms, casting long, dramatic shadows across the void. To the right, a small, grey moon drifted silently, its surface pockmarked with craters, a stark contrast to the living world she had left behind. Ahead, the asteroid belt began to take shape, a field of tumbling diamonds and jagged rocks stretching out into the darkness. She had never seen such beauty. It was overwhelming.

After about fifteen minutes, they reached the point where they needed to slow their approach. This was the tricky part for Pip. She studied the course data, her eyes narrowing in concentration as she tapped the controls. She hit the thruster brakes. On either side of the ship, the forward-facing engines engaged, slowing the vessel as they approached the jagged edge of the asteroid belt.

When they were slowed relative to the speed of the target asteroid, Pip used the azimuth thrusters to match the velocity. She had to be precise; a miscalculation here could send them spinning, and could damage the ship.

“Destination reached, we are now parked at the asteroid,” Pip announced, her voice steady despite the tension in her shoulders.

Lyra’s voice chimed in, soothing and calm. “Drones are almost full, another twelve minutes.”

When that time passed, Lyra announced, “Retrieving mining drones.”

Outside the ship, the mining drones that had been hard at work extracting ore and fuel for the superluminal drive detached from the asteroid. They maneuvered using their retro rockets and went to the refiner that was part of the package installed for the mining drones. The clank of metal on metal echoed through the hull as mag locks engaged, and the ore was transferred. One by one, the drones transferred their loads into the refiner storage. When each drone was done, it went back into the storage outside the ship that was just for them.

When the last one was done, the mining drone storage closed with a thrum that rang throughout the ship.

Lyra announced, “Refining started, it will take about an hour.”

Purple nodded, his expression unreadable. “Right, Lyra, plot a course to the fringe, so we can warp out of system. Pip, when you get the course, take us there. After we leave the belt, and we are clear, have Lyra take over and meet me in the galley.”

Pip responded, “Will do, captain.”

With that, Purple released the magnetic restraints on his chair, got up, and left the bridge. “Pip, you have the bridge.”

In the galley, Purple prepared a treat for Pip and himself. Clad in his black leather jacket, he approached the food printer interface on the side bulkhead. The machine hummed to life, and moments later, a flat cake of rich chocolate emerged and started baking. It was enriched with nutrients, a program he had created himself, something his mother had taught him years ago. It would make a very tasty lunch.

When Pip entered the galley, the printer was almost done. Purple smiled at her, his yellow eyes warm. “As a celebration of your first time piloting a starship, I’m making a treat for us. Take a seat, I’ll serve us.”

Pip’s ears perked at the news. “That sounds great, thank you.”

As Pip took a seat at the table, finding a place on the bench, Purple poured two fruit drinks from a pitcher. The juice was from a fruit that was purple on the outside but white on the inside, found on Alpha 3, just some of the delightful food he had found there. He placed the glasses on a tray.

Purple brought the tray to the table and sat on the opposite side of Pip. From the tray, he placed the cake, which was in a rectangular pan and enough for both of them, in the middle of the table. He placed plates in front of each of them, along with the glasses of juice and utensils.

Purple smiled at Pip as she sniffed the aroma from the cake and said, “This is something my mother made for me when I was younger. It is my favorite food. It is enriched of course, so it is healthy for both of us. The juice is from a local fruit from your world.”

Purple cut a few squares out of the pan, using the knife to move them to his plate. When he was done, Pip copied him. On her plate now, she sniffed them, inhaling the aroma of chocolate. Pip grabbed one with her fork, and took a bite. They were so creamy and rich they almost melted in her mouth.

Pip’s eyes opened wide, her tail waving in delight. She had never had anything so good before. After she swallowed, she said, “Wow, this is good. I can see why it is your favorite.”

Purple smiled at Pip, his ears perked, tail waving happily as he enjoyed the praise and the food.

Purple took another bite, after he swallowed he said, “I am so proud of you, you did a great job of piloting the ship. Lyra was right about you, at the rate you are learning you will outclass many seasoned pilots.”

Pip looked embarrassed, her ears lowered and turned to the sides a bit, and as she stabbed another piece of cake with her fork as she replied, “I want to be of use, I owe you everything. I would have been left for dead if not for you. Lyra focused the training on what I needed to get the drones. The hardest part was matching the asteroid’s velocity. I had to run calculations in my head, so I would know just how much thrust to use, and for how long. I checked my numbers of course, but I wanted to challenge myself, to think on my paws.”

Purple blinked, his tails swayed, impressed, he was not a pilot, but he knew what it took to be one. “That is impressive, I bet you would give Elowen a run if you went toe to toe. I’ll have to have you two compete against each other in the simulator.”

Pip nodded, “I would like that, Lyra told me she is a great pilot.”

Purple looked into Pip’s eyes, “You would stay on with me, as part of my crew after we retrieve them, wont you? I’ll have you and Elowen switch off, or something, she would be a great teacher too, with all her experience.”

Pip smiled, her ears perked, “I would like that. I would stay with you for as long as you allow me, I’ve got nowhere to go, and I don’t want to leave.”

After Pip had a few more squares, she set her fork down with a soft clatter against the plate. She looked up at Purple, her eyes bright with sincerity.

“You know, I had quite a bit of fun playing Six Kingdoms with you,” Pip said. “I really liked how I could fight for myself, and by your side. It felt really good, it really gave me confidence in myself.”

Purple, after placing another helping on his plate, nodded slowly. He chewed thoughtfully before replying. “I was hoping it would do that too. I think it would also help with us working on something together too. There are also training programs, where we fight with modern weapons against pirates, or defending ourselves as we are attacked, that sort of thing. I wanted to start with a game to get you more used to it, also closer to what you would be used to.”

Pip reached across the table with her paw, extending it flat on the table. She motioned with her muzzle, her whiskers twitching slightly.

Purple grinned and placed his large paw over her paw. Pip took hold of two of his fingers, her paw pads warm against his. “I appreciate that,” she said, her voice earnest. “And I think that is a good idea. We don’t know what is waiting for us.”

When Pip let go, Purple took his paw back and said, “Very good then, it will take several rotations to get to the fringe, we will go a few rounds.” Then he started eating again.

Pip slowly chewed on her piece she had by the fork, and gave a slight nod.

Purple swallowed, then said, “Lyra, set up some training exercises in VR for us. Something that would help us learn to work together, get used to each other’s strengths. Like having my ship boarded, or we are attacked on a station, stuff like that.”

Lyra responded, her voice calm and soothing through the ship’s speakers. “Understood, Captain. I’ll have something ready in ten minutes.”

Purple nodded, a satisfied look on his face. “Great, we can get started after our lunch.”

A sterile white room surrounded them. Purple looked up, his yellow eyes scanning the empty space, and said, “Guns. Lots of guns.”

Standing by Purple, Pip looked over. With a soft whoosh, racks of guns slid into view. The next thing she knew, rows of different kinds of blaster guns, pistols, long guns, rifles, stretched on for as far as she could see.

Pip turned around, her head looking all around. All she saw was guns, and she committed, “Now that is; lots of guns.”

Both of them wore special body harnesses over their ship uniforms, fitted with holsters and pockets for multiple blaster weapons, and rings to hold assault blasters, sub machine blasters, or a long gun blaster and ammo holders. There were two sizes available; the other was a smaller version of each for Pip.

Purple started grabbing weapons and ammo, lifting his leather jacket to put them on his harness. After watching Purple for a minute, Pip padded over to the other rack and picked some of her own, lifting her leather jacket—a miniature version of Purple’s—to holster her weapons of choice.

Lyra started giving them the introduction, “When ready, you will start at the entrance to a busy space station. It is not any station, but something I pieced together from a number of stations. There are hostiles attempting to stop you. You are at the station to gather supplies, you will have a marker on your HUD for your destination. There are also civilians about. You get one point for each hostile, and negative five hundred for each civilian. If you make it to the supplier, that is a hundred points, if you make it back to the dock, that is another hundred points.”

Pip and Purple were wearing a wrap-around visor as small as sun glasses and were held on with a strap going under their ears, and a strap going over their head that connected at the back. It functioned as a HUD and could also project virtual screens for text. They were called Arc and could also darken if needed, to help against a flash bang for instance. It was a virtual version of what the crew used when away from the ship, using the comm system so they could stay in touch using text if needed, and they could even gesture with their paws to type if they needed to remain silent. Pip had already been instructed in its use before they started.

Finally, Pip looked up at Purple with an assault rifle in her paws, held at Port Arms.

Purple smiled, he did the same, and said, “We are ready.”

The white room vanished for them, and the next thing they knew they were standing in a hall, in front of a door.

Purple looked down at Pip. She gave a small, determined nod. He reached out and opened the heavy blast door.

They stepped out of the docking bay and into the space station security checkpoint. It was a bustling hub, a nerve center where all docking bays on that level converged. To enter the main station, everyone had to pass through here.

Inside, the air hummed with the sound of distant traffic and the shuffling of feet. A long counter stretched out, with agents helping other arrivals. Behind it, a queue of beings snaked back and forth, following a series of rails that zigzagged toward the front. Armed guards stood in strategic positions around the room, their eyes scanning the crowd.

Purple led Pip down the queue. They waited their turn, flanked by a variety of aliens—some tall and spindly, others short and stout. There were currently five agents working the station, all of them reptilian. Their scales shimmered under the artificial lights, and they moved with a synchronized, cold efficiency.

Finally, their turn came. Purple stepped up to the counter, his posture relaxed but alert.

“Here for supplies for my ship,” Purple said to the agent.

The reptilian agent nodded, its slit-pupiled eyes flicking over Purple. “Check in all your and your crew weapons you are bringing into the station, please.”

Purple nodded to Pip. She stepped forward, getting onto her tiptoes to reach the counter. She unholstered her blasters and a knife, placing them carefully on the metal surface. Purple placed his own weapons beside hers, stacking them neatly.

The agent scanned each weapon with a handheld device. Beep, beep, beep. As each one was processed, they placed them on a tray.

The agent had them walk through a sensor, one at a time. When they passed through, they stepped to the side and handed their weapons back on a tray. Pip and Purple holstered their weapons, checking them to ensure they were secure.

“Enjoy your stay,” the agent said, dismissing them.

They made their way to the exit, which led down a corridor lined with elevators. Purple called one, and they stepped inside. The doors slid shut, and they were on their way to the station main concourse.

Pip was not worried. She knew she was in a training simulation, and if things went wrong, she would feel pain, but she would not be hurt.

The elevator dinged, and the doors opened. Purple looked around. This was both like every station he had been to, and not. It was a chaotic mix of cultures and commerce. This would be really good for Pip, get her used to all the sights and noise. It was very noisy; various beings were all around them, shouting over one another. Lyra was doing a great job so far.

Pip, distracted like a tourist, could not help but look around in wonder. Neon and holographic signs everywhere advertised anything and everything, flickering with vibrant colors. Above them and the buildings was the bulkhead, painted a blue so dark it was almost black and studded with lights that twinkled like stars.

As they walked past shops of all sorts, Purple looked down at Pip and whispered, “Now be careful, there are beings that take advantage of tourists, you don’t want to look like one.”

Pip focused on the training. She could get used to the environment later on her own.

Purple made a subtle gesture with his hand, and their HUD displayed the route they were to take.

Pip’s ears swiveled, catching a sound that no one else could hear—a charging blaster piston. Before Purple could react, she tackled him, the two of them diving for the ground. The virtual walls dinged as blaster rounds struck them. Pip rolled off Purple, springing to her feet and leaping into a roll to gain distance. Purple used his powerful wings and arms to propel himself quickly to his feet, moving backward to create distance.

Pip flattened herself against a wall far enough back to be out of view, her blaster SMG at the ready, facing the alley where the shots had originated. Purple hit the opposite wall, on the other side of the alleyway, his assault blaster at the ready. This position allowed them to hit the tangos from opposite sides.

A message flashed on Purple’s HUD, originating from Pip. “I hear at least four tangos, two on each side. Get ready, I hear them approaching our positions, about to exit the allies.”

Purple thought to himself that those huge ears of hers were not just for show. He saw a shadow fall at the edge of the alley opposite him. He got ready to fire that way. As soon as one of them came into view, Purple opened fire, on semi-auto hitting one of them twice at the center of mass. At the same time, he heard Pip’s SMG rattle off a dozen shots into her targets, almost one second worth. She got them both.

Purple went low on his side of the walkway, to get an angle into the alley. Pip ran out into the walkway, turned, then leaped to the ground and slid on her belly, firing six shots into her target.

Purple padded over towards Pip, as she stood, brushed off her leather jacket with one paw, while looking around for more trouble, her ears rotating like radar.

Purple said with a grin, “You could have let me have them, I was almost in position.”

Pip did not even look his way, but patted his side with her free paw, “I need the practice more than you.”

Purple grunted before he said, “Ready to continue?”

Pip nodded, and followed Purple to their destination. Purple opened the door, and went inside, with Pip right beside him.

****

Over the last few rotations, the training had become a grueling routine. After the VR sessions, they worked out together in the gym. Purple added martial arts training to Pip’s workout regimen. Pip was to train in VR to help with that too, that way her muscle memory would build up faster.

That was how they spent the last few rotations. Purple was sitting in his captain’s chair in the center of the bridge, Pip was at her station, piloting the ship. They were nearly far enough away from the sun to initiate the superluminal drive.

Purple gazed at the stars, the Starborn Prowl was coasting. They would take their velocity with them, so when they exited at the other side, they would be going the same velocity. They could not be accelerating while the superluminal drive capacitors were charging; that took all the ship’s remaining power. The rest was for minimum life support, even the lights were running on batteries. The antimatter reactor would power the warp transit, but at the start they needed an enormous amount of power.

Purple closed his leather jacket, it was getting cold, even his fur was not enough. Purple had gone ahead and made Pip a copy of his jacket that she also now wore.

Pip studied the distance, waiting for the ship to be far enough away. Every system was different, it all depended on the mass of the star. The numbers turned green, letting her know it was time. Pip entered in the coordinates Lyra had given her; they were going to Station 7, the closest outpost on the edge of known space.

Pip quickly pressed her palm pad onto the button. The ship’s systems made sounds that made Pip’s fur stand on end. This was her first time, and Lyra had warned her, but the sounds she heard made her feel like her insides were going to stretch. Then nothing. The stars in the viewscreen stretched and turned into rainbows, then blank. The viewscreen switched to a simulated view, stars flowing towards and past them to give the illusion of movement.

Pip sat back in her seat. The transition was over, and things felt normal again. She did not like that feeling; she was glad it was short-lived.

Purple unbuckled his harness and slid out of the captain’s chair. “Time for some lunch,” he said. “There’s nothing for us to do now; the navigation computer does all the work.”

Pip nodded, unstrapping herself with practiced ease. She took a few quick steps to catch up, joining Purple as he exited the bridge, heading down the ramp to the main deck. The galley was situated in the middle of the ship, while the crew quarters were located on the opposite side.

As Pip passed the medbay, she paused and glanced inside. Memories of her first day on the ship flashed through her mind, and a soft smile touched her muzzle.

Purple went ahead and entered their orders into the keypad of the food printer. He selected an assortment of nutrient-filled meal bars—about a dozen, mostly for himself.

Purple turned when he heard Pip sit down at their table next to the printer. Her leather jacket rustled softly as she moved, and he thought she made that jacket look good.

It still felt strange to sit in a galley that had a maximum capacity of fifty average-sized beings, yet only two were using it.

Purple turned back, retrieved the tray of food and some water from the printer, and brought it to the table. He sat opposite Pip, placing the tray between them.

Pip grabbed one of the bars and started eating. They were traveling to another system, and Pip was pretty excited about traveling the stars—something she never would have even dreamed of a dozen rotations ago.

Purple smiled when he noticed Pip staring off into the distance. “How are you dealing with all the changes in your life?” he asked.

Pip swallowed the last of the bar before answering. “I have to admit, I’m still trying to wrap my head around everything. The lessons with Lyra are helping, sure, but it is all going so fast.”

Purple nodded and softly replied, “Yeah, I know I’m rushing things, but my crew... I have to return to them. I must find out if they survived, and if so, if they need help. I’m responsible for them.”

Pip reached across the table, getting up to stand on the bench to reach Purple’s arm. “Don’t blame yourself,” she said. “They knew it was a dangerous job, and from what I’ve been told, they can handle themselves. Lyra told me about how they got your butt out of the fire a few times.”

Purple nodded. He had given Lyra permission to tell Pip about a few jobs, just so she would know what kind of world she was going to be living in now. He looked softly into Pip’s eyes. “That is why I must know about them.”

Purple was sitting in his usual place on the bridge, having completed two more training sessions and a workout in the gym before returning to his station. Pip was at the helm, her paws dancing over the controls, her eyes scanning the readouts as she prepared for entry into subluminal space. Lyra’s voice was a soothing hum in Pip’s ear-comm, guiding her through the complex calculations.

With a building whine from the ship’s systems, the Starborn Prowl shuddered as it exited superluminal travel. The view screens shifted back to a real-time display of the space surrounding the ship.

“We have successfully traveled to the Station 7 system,” Pip announced, her voice steady. “Course for the station plotted.”

“Get underway, nominal speed,” Purple commanded. “Station 7 is little more than a starship fueling station.”

Pip smiled as the hum of the subluminal drives started up. “One hour to target,” she reported.

Purple nodded. “Keep your eyes peeled. Even if we are on the edge of known space, other ships do come this way. Lyra, let us know if anything is out of the ordinary.”

“Of course, Captain,” Lyra replied, her voice calm. “Our sensors are currently... Receiving a message.”

Purple sat up in his chair, his posture shifting instantly to alert. “Play it over the speakers.”

The message played back, the voice sounding strained but relieved. “Captain, we know you escaped. Thank you for making what could have been our last stand worth it. We all made it out alive, but not unscathed. Along with this message, you will receive an encrypted data packet. You will find the decryption key in my locker. Good luck, Captain.”

Purple quickly asked, “Anything on sensors?”

Lyra sounded slightly annoyed, “As I was saying before I interrupted myself, nothing out of the ordinary detected.”

Purple looked at Pip. “You have the bridge.”

Purple unbuckled, got up, and left the bridge in a rush, his tail lashing behind him in agitation.

He entered the crew quarters and located Krell’s locker. Using his security override, Purple opened it. He dug through Krell’s belongings, knowing the tactical officer well enough to know where he would hide something important. He found it inside Krell’s blaster cleaning kit.

Hurrying to his own quarters, Purple sat down at his desk. He placed the decryption key into the slot by the terminal.

“Lyra, send me that encrypted packet.”

Purple waited as the ship’s systems worked. Finally, the packet was decrypted and displayed on the screen. It was text only. The message read: “Captain, we had to split up. The crew ended up staying on the Stellar Citadel star base. Krell was captured, and as of the making of this message, he is still there. He had set up this message ahead of time so I could get this to you. Krell always thought one step ahead. We fear Krell is being tortured for information—that is what tipped us off that you escaped. We learned more after that, including that they have written you off for dead, but we know you. We have much to discuss on your return. Along with this message are coordinates to our hideout. Your officers will be waiting for you there.”

The message from his crew triggered a flood of memories, pulling Purple back to the Stellar Citadel, a massive star base orbiting the sun just inside the outer asteroid belt, the system had one gas giant and two smaller lifeless rocky planets, but the asteroid belt was huge and rich with platinum metals, and the gas giant was a great source of hydrogen and helium, used to power fusion reactors. The station was a sprawling hub of industry and commerce, a place where smugglers and traders rubbed shoulders with the desperate and the wealthy.

Purple and his bridge officers—Zor’ak, Elowen, Vessa, and Zara—had docked the Starborn Prowl after a successful haul. The credits from the sale were sitting safely in their accounts, enough to set them up for a long shore leave. The crew had scattered to enjoy the station’s amenities, leaving Purple and his officers to meet the buyer in the commercial district.

They entered the sleek office building, flanked by private security guards who scanned their IDs at every turn. The atmosphere was tense, the air thick with the smell of ozone and apprehension. That was when everything went wrong.

The buyer was a nervous reptilian male who stammered out a greeting before the room went silent. The guards didn’t lower their weapons; instead, they raised them, their faces hidden behind visors.

“It’s a setup,” Zor’ak hissed, his hand drifting to his sidearm.

Blaster fire erupted instantly. Purple and his officers dove behind desks and filing cabinets, using the heavy furniture for cover. The sound of blaster bolts ricocheting off metal was deafening. Elowen and Vessa returned fire, their shots tearing through the air, while Zara provided covering fire from the side.

They were making slow progress toward the exit, but the heavy blast doors leading out of the office were sealed shut. The guards were pressing the attack, their numbers overwhelming.

Krell, the tactical officer, was the last one at the door. He slammed his palm against the control panel, his fingers flying across the interface. Sparks showered down as he bypassed the security lock. With a hiss of hydraulics, the door slid open.

“Go!” Krell shouted, shoving Purple through the gap.

Purple stumbled out into the corridor, turning to see Krell and the others still firing. The blast doors slid shut with a thunderous clang, sealing them inside.

“Get out of here,” Krell’s voice crackled in Purple’s ear-comm, strained and urgent. “We will take care of the rest. Go!”

Purple knew that staying would mean the end for them all. He had to trust Krell. He turned and sprinted back toward the docking bay, his feet pounding against the metal deck.

The problem was, when he was halfway between the entrance to the docks and his ship, another ambush awaited. Syndicate hit-squads had blocked the corridor. Purple dropped behind a stack of cargo boxes, his wings tucked tight against his back. He drew his assault blaster, firing round after round to clear a path. He shot his way back to the Starborn Prowl, the adrenaline pumping through his veins.

He tumbled onto the ramp and slammed the hatch shut, locking it down. He slumped against the bulkhead, his chest heaving.

“Captain, we have company,” Lyra’s voice cut through the silence, calm but urgent. “If we don’t undock, and leave this system now, we are going to be in a world of hurt. There are syndicate ships warping into the system!”

Purple ran down the corridors, up the ramp to the bridge and looked at the monitor just in time to see the red warning lights flashing on consoles. Syndicate cruisers were dropping out of superluminal travel, other smaller ships appeared on the sensors that had been hiding in the asteroids. His life had been going so well after his father retired, up until now. Panic seized him, cold and sharp.

Purple gasped, his chest heaving as the memory of the ambush faded, leaving him gasping for air. He wrapped his arms around his chest, clutching his jacket as he returned to the present moment.

Slowly, he got a hold of himself. He closed his eyes, taking slow, deep breaths to steady his racing heart. When he opened them again, his expression was hard and focused. He copied the coordinates to an open file on his personal terminal, ensuring there was no reference name or tag attached to it—Lyra could not access encrypted files.

“Save those coordinates,” Purple told Lyra, his voice low. “Keep them safe, don’t associate them with anything. Save the encrypted packet in the archive.”

“As ordered, Captain,” Lyra chirped, her tone cheerful despite the gravity of the situation.

Purple grunted, unplugging the decryption key from the port. He stood up and walked to the crew quarters. He found Krell’s locker and used his override to open it. He dug through the tactical officer’s belongings until he found the small metal box inside Krell’s blaster cleaning kit. He placed the key back inside, locked the box, and returned it to the locker, locking the locker once more.

Purple leaned over the locker, his paw resting on the cold metal surface. He looked down, his mind racing as he thought about his next move. After they finished fueling up at Station 7, the Stellar Citadel was his next destination. If the syndicate thought he was dead, he should be able to move through the station undetected, looking for clues as to what happened to his crew.

He pushed off the locker, brushing his leather jacket with his paw to smooth out any wrinkles, making sure everything was in order.

He padded back into the bridge. Looking up at the viewscreen, he could see they were not far out. Pip was at the helm, her eyes focused on the readouts.

“We are almost there,” Pip announced. “Lyra contacted them, we have permission to dock and refuel.”

Purple nodded, a faint smile touching his muzzle. “Good, good. Let’s get this over with, we have places to be.”

As they approached the station, the massive docking arms extended, and a heavy docking clamp met the hull of the Starborn Prowl with a loud clang.

After a few minutes, the docking clamps released with a hiss of hydraulics. Lyra’s voice chimed in. “Refueling complete. Account charged.”

Purple smiled as he looked at Pip. “Pip, take us to the fridge, then Citadel.”

This was her second time experiencing the transition from superluminal travel, but the sensation never quite lost its edge. Pip settled into the pilot’s chair, the harness clicking into place with a reassuring snap. She adjusted her grip on the yoke, her claws retracted but ready, her digitigrade paws resting comfortably on the pedals.

The Starborn Prowl shuddered violently as the superluminal drive disengaged, the engines whining down into a low, steady hum. The starfield outside the viewport, previously streaks of light, snapped back into focus as the navigation displays switched from the artificial star animation.

Pip gasped, her emerald eyes widening as the massive structure of Citadel loomed into view. It was colossal, easily the size of a small moon, yet it defied spherical geometry. The station was an irregular, jagged monolith of dark metal and reinforced plating, orbiting between the outer asteroid belt and the looming gas giant. It looked less like a being-made object and more like a fortress carved from the void itself.

Swarms of smaller vessels darted around the station like insects around a hive, while massive freighters could be seen at, heading to or away from the docks. Pip’s attention snapped back to her console, her focus narrowing. She input the coordinates for the approach vector, her fingers dancing across the touch panel. Even at cruising speed, it would take over an hour to close the distance.

Purple sat in his chair, his midnight purple fur ruffled slightly by the ship’s movement. His yellow eyes scanned the readouts, his expression grim. He tapped his ear-comm, his voice low and determined.

“Lyra, contact Citadel,” he ordered. “Get an approach lane and permission to dock.”

“Acknowledged, Captain,” Lyra replied. Her voice, soothing and calm, filled the bridge. “Establishing secure uplink. Stand by for clearance.”

Thirty minutes ticked by in a comfortable silence. Then, Lyra’s voice chimed again.

“Approach vector received and confirmed,” Lyra said. “Sent to Pip’s station. We are cleared for docking at sector Five-D.”

Pip nodded, her tail twitching with anticipation. She adjusted the ship’s heading, guiding the Starborn Prowl toward the designated lane. As they drew closer, the scale of the station became overwhelming. Pip looked up from her console, her muzzle parting slightly in awe. She could see the station’s massive docking arms extending outward like the spokes of a colossal wheel, kilometers wide. Smaller service arms and gantries extended from the main wheel, where ships of all sizes were being berthed or refueled.

The automated guidance systems took over as the ship approached the fifty-kilometer mark. Pip released the yoke, her paws lifting from the controls. The Starborn Prowl drifted forward, the station’s automated sensors locking onto the ship’s transponder. A gentle nudge from the station’s DI guided the corvette into the correct alignment, and the massive docking clamps extended to meet them.

The rear of the ship around the hatch was covered by and sealed with the gangway, the heavy mag-clamps engaging with a resounding, metallic clank that vibrated through the hull.

At the armory, Purple and Pip armed themselves with standard personal protection gear. Purple clipped the small, circular personal shield to his chest, the blue LED glowing steadily as it bonded to his leather jacket. He holstered a sidearm blaster at his hip. Pip followed suit, her smaller paws carefully adjusting the strap of her shield and checking the charge on her own blaster. The weight of the weapons felt foreign to her, but she held the blaster with a steady grip, her claws retracted but ready.

At the hatch, Purple paused, his yellow eyes scanning the seal one last time before tapping the release button. With a pneumatic hiss, the hatch lowered smoothly and pivoted to form a ramp. Outside the ship, the interior of the gangway was visible, a sterile corridor of metal and light.

Pip could not help but look around in wonder, her emerald eyes wide as this was her first time in one. The air smelled of recycled atmosphere and ozone.

Purple guided Pip into the docking area, the hatch of the Starborn Prowl sliding shut behind them with a final thud. They walked around the hub; gangways to docked ships extended every dozen meters, creating a labyrinth of walkways. They had to navigate carefully around large cargo crates stacked on the deck, waiting to be shipped or stored. Pip looked around at all the various aliens moving cargo around—so many different kinds of beings. Some were furless, some scaled and reptilian, all bustling with purpose.

They finally made it to the station entry corridor. Purple guided Pip into the station proper. As they approached the exit, the security station loomed ahead, an imposing structure filled with monitors and scanners. After they cleared that checkpoint, they would be free to go to the station proper.

They had to detour to a side desk where Purple could register Pip as part of his crew. The process was thorough. A scanner took her paw pad prints, a technician clipped a hair from her shoulder for DNA analysis, and a holocam recorded her image and a video interview where Pip had to introduce herself. They also had to declare the weapons she carried. It had not occurred to Purple that he would need to register Pip; her species was not part of known space, and this was her first time in it. He realized his oversight only as the paperwork was being processed.

As Pip followed Purple down the corridor toward the station’s main entry, the hum of the station’s life support seemed to grow louder. The floor was cool beneath her padded paws as she walked, her tail swishing behind her in a slow, rhythmic beat.

Pip reached out with her paw, the back of her hand striking Purple’s hip with a dull thud. Her voice, usually soft, carried a distinct note of annoyance.

“You did not warn me about that,” she said, her muzzle wrinkling slightly. “All that paperwork. My first time doing any, and now I know I hate it.”

Purple’s shoulders slumped slightly, his long tail twitching behind him. He looked down at her, his expression contrite. He adjusted the strap of his leather jacket, his midnight purple fur ruffled.

“I’m sorry, Pip,” he admitted. “It totally slipped my mind. I did not even think about how you being new to known space would cause us so much hassle.”

Pip struck him again, this time with a bit more force, though still playful. “Us? You mean me. All you did was sit with your comm in your face.”

Purple chuckled, a low rumble in his chest. “Sure, sure. I know this is not an excuse, but I have things on my mind, and I’ve also never brought an unknown species into known space.”

Pip hit him again. “I’m not unknown.”

Purple grinned, his yellow eyes crinkling at the corners. “To the rest of the galaxy you are. I can’t even mention that you are from a pre-industrial world. That could cause even more issues for us. Good thing I had you dress similar to me, leather jacket, wearing the HUD glasses, and carrying a blaster helped too.”

Pip swung her paw again, aiming for his hip, but she missed. Her paw connected with the side of his rear, a solid thud.

“For me you mean.”

Pip was not hitting Purple very hard; it was mostly out of frustration. What a way to have her first moments in a new world spent being examined, and filling out paperwork. She looked at the security monitors lining the wall, feeling a bit like a specimen herself.

Purple smiled, his ears flicking forward. “I’ll make it up to you. I’ll treat us to a nice dinner. How does that sound?”

Pip looked to the side at Purple, her ears slightly drooping. She wondered what that even meant. What did he consider nice? She wasn’t sure.

Purple tapped his ear-comm. “Lyra, what is a good place to get dinner? We are heading to the commercial district. Put it on my comm for me.”

Lyra’s voice, soothing and calm, whispered in his ear. “Will do, Captain.”

As Pip followed Purple down the corridor toward the station’s main entry, the hum of the station’s life support seemed to grow louder. The floor was cool beneath her padded paws as she walked, her tail swishing behind her in a slow, rhythmic beat.

Pip narrowed her emerald eyes, repeating the phrase like a mantra. “I belong here.”

She began to groom herself, licking the back of her paw and smoothing the fur on her shoulder, acting as if she had no cares in the world. A small smile showed on Purple’s muzzle as he glanced out the window, seeing the commercial section looming closer. He softly said, “Here we go, remember, stay close.”

They stepped off the tram and out into the thoroughfare. The air was thick with the scent of ozone, synthetic spices, and exhaust. The thoroughfare was a kaleidoscope of neon and motion. Holographic advertisements flickered in the air, projecting images from exotic fruits to luxury starships. Dozens of alien species bustled about—furred creatures in sleek suits, reptilian traders with scales that shifted in the light, towering stone-like beings that looked like they had stepped out of a museum, and insectoid workers with chitinous armor clanking against the metal deck.

Purple placed his paw on Pip’s shoulder. Pip blinked, seemingly waking from a trance, and her posture shifted back to alertness. She went back to her tough routine, ears swiveling to catch every sound.

As they continued on their way down the walkway, Purple adjusted his wrap-around AR glasses, the HUD overlaying his vision. He followed the glowing blue indicator, guiding Pip through the dense crowd. She followed him closely, using his bulk to part the flow of traffic.

Finally, they arrived at a sleek, silver door marked ‘Nebula Kitchen.’ They waited by the sign that said ‘Wait Here.’ After a few minutes, a host approached. They were tall, with smooth pinkish-gray leathery skin glistening under the lights. The host swept one long arm across its chest in a fluid gesture.

“Greetings,” it said, its voice smooth. “I’ll take you to your table.”

They followed the host down a narrow corridor. It stopped in front of a booth near the back. “This is your seat,” the host said, gesturing to the booth. “Enjoy the food.”

With a polite nod, the host turned and walked away.

Purple sat down and tapped the touch screen embedded in the table. He scrolled through the menu options. Lyra’s voice chimed softly in his ear, suggesting a few dishes that would likely appeal to Pip’s palate. He made the selections, the screen confirming the order.

As Purple followed the glowing blue path on his HUD, leading them toward a sector designated for accommodations, Pip trailed close behind. The neon lights of the commercial district faded, replaced by the cooler hum of the lighter commercial area.

Pip couldn’t help herself. “That food was really good,” she said, her muzzle wrinkling slightly as she recalled the taste. “Better than anything I’ve had on your ship. Is there any way we can have that on the ship too?”

Purple just shook his head, his long ears twitching. He fought the urge to let a smile show, though his tail gave a slow, amused swish behind him.

The walkways thinned out, the density of alien life decreasing as they moved toward the quieter zones. Finally, they arrived at the entry, the door opened as they approached. They entered the lobby and Purple approached the wall terminal. He entered their payment info, and the terminal whirred, spitting out two sleek keycards. Purple handed one to Pip.

“Keep this on you,” he explained. “It lets you into the elevator and our room.”

Pip snatched the card from his paw. “Yeah, I know, thank you.” She tucked it into her side pocket, sealing it shut with a satisfying click.

The door hissed shut behind them. The room was stark—bland wallpaper in a neutral gray, and the walls were adorned with generic, abstract artwork that looked like it had been mass-produced. Overhead, recessed lights cast a cool, white glow.

Purple padded over to the desk terminal, sitting down. He immediately began tapping the keys, the screen illuminating his face. He was wired into the station’s network, searching for anything that might connect to his missing crew.

Pip wandered over to the sofa, her paws sinking slightly into the fabric. “So, how long are we staying here?” she asked, looking up at him.

It took a moment for Purple to respond; he was too focused on the scrolling data streams. Finally, he looked up, his expression grim. “For as long as it takes.”

Pip nodded, accepting the answer. She sat back on the sofa and picked up the remote and pressed a button. The wall shifted, and a halo-view projector emerged, casting a three-dimensional image into the room. She switched it to the local news channel.

On the halo-view, Pip watched a news report with half an ear. The hologram flickered, displaying chaotic footage of two rival factions clashing over control of a border sector. Laser fire and explosions lit up the image, but Pip was only half-listening. The alien languages and the sheer scale of the violence were overwhelming; everything was so alien to her, a stark contrast to the quiet forests of her homeworld.

It was about an hour later when Purple walked into the halo projection, his silhouette blocking the light. “I have a lead,” he said, his voice low and urgent. “Shut that down, we are leaving.”

Pip turned it off instantly, the image vanishing from the air. She got up and walked up behind him, looking up at him with her emerald eyes wide. “What did you find?”

While they walked out of the room, Purple explained, “I found a clue, something only I would know. The coded message was in a personal ad of all places. We need to go hang out at this dive bar called Orbital Decay. We do that until we are contacted. The syndicate is monitoring all communications, so it is not safe to just say ‘here I am, come get me.’ The worst part is I don’t even know why they are after us.”

Purple and Pip stood across the street from the bar. It looked worse than Purple remembered. The neon sign buzzed with a dying hum, casting a sickly green light on the grime-streaked windows and the rusted hull plating from old ships. The air smelled of ozone and cheap synth-tobacco.

After watching the place for over fifteen minutes, nothing looked out of place. Purple decided he would head in. Pip followed him very closely; this section of the commercial district had seen better rotations. The lights were dim, and the shadows looked deep. As they neared the entry, Pip took Purple’s paw, holding onto it tightly.

Purple pushed through the doorway, holding it open for Pip. Inside, the air was thick and smelled of stale alcohol, sweat, and recycled air. The bar looked like it had seen more fights than drinks. It was about half full, with workers just getting off their shift, their postures slumped and weary. There was no specific time mentioned in the message, just “end of last shift.”

Purple spotted an empty table in the back corner, tucked away from the main action. He led Pip there. They sat down on the side against the wall, putting their backs to the room.

They had been sitting at the table for some time, the silence stretching thin between them. Purple had ordered a drink, but it just sat there, the liquid dark and unappealing. Pip had no intention of touching any of the foul stuff.

Neither of them talked much. That was when Pip’s ears swiveled, catching a sound that didn’t belong. She grabbed Purple’s arm, pulling herself up to reach his ear and whispered urgently, “Someone is interested in you. Be on alert. At the far end of the bar.”

Pip sat back down on the seat, keeping her eyes fixed on the area, her posture tense.

Purple turned to look at the being that had been studying him from the bar. The being stood, shedding the shadows like a cloak, and began to approach. When Purple got a good look at them, he saw they were a Vex’thar. They were sleek, standing about one point five meters tall with a lean, muscular build that rippled under their short, iridescent fur. The fur shifted between deep blues and purples, catching the dim bar light like oil on water. Their heads were wolf-like, angular with prominent cheekbones and a slight overbite revealing sharp canines. Their digitigrade legs ended in semi-retractable claws that clicked softly against the floor. They looked rough on the edges, their fur matted in places, but their posture was tense, betraying a nervous energy.

Pip scooted closer to Purple, and laid one paw on the hilt of her blade, her claws peeking out just enough to be a threat.

The Vex’thar sat opposite Purple, their weight settling on the chair. They gave Pip a quick, assessing glance before returning their attention back to Purple, their eyes scanning him with a predatory intensity. They gave Purple a good look over before speaking. “You are Purple, yes?”

Purple gave them the same look over. They didn’t look like Syndicate enforcers; they looked like a scavenger or a desperate trader. Their fur looked like it had seen better times, matted with grease and dust. Purple leaned over the table, his voice dropping to a growl. “Who is asking?”

They leaned over the table and softly said, “Korvena. We have mutual friends, yes?”

Purple’s ears went back flat against his skull. They were being cryptic, and he didn’t like it. “I don’t know, do we?”

Korvena looked around the bar, their eyes darting to the shadows, before looking back at Purple. “You know Zharok, a mutual friend. We can’t talk here. The walls have ears. You have a place we can talk, yes?”

As Korvena waited for an answer, they looked around again, their tail twitching nervously. Could Purple trust them? There was only one way to find out.

Purple leaned over the table too, closing the distance. “Tell me how Zharok is doing. Is he still selling crops?”

Korvena looked confused for a moment, their brow furrowing, before they realized it was a test. “Zharok never sold crops,” they said, their voice dropping to a whisper. “You know that. He deals in... more delicate matters.”

Purple sat back up, his eyes narrowing. “We have a room. Follow us. I assume you’re alone?”

Korvena nodded, then stood with a sharp nod.

As they walked down the hall from the elevator, Korvena’s voice cut through the hum of the station. “So tell me, Purple, who is the little feline following us with their paw on their gun? I’ve never seen their species before.”

Purple glanced back at Pip, giving her a subtle nod. She returned the gesture, her emerald eyes fixed on the corridor. He turned his attention back to Korvena. “She is a new member of my crew. She’s the pilot. Pip is watching our backs. Don’t be fooled by her small size; she is a sharpshooter.”

Purple opened the door to their room and stepped inside, his eyes scanning the sterile space for any signs of intrusion. Pip followed him in, turned, and slammed her palm paw pad against the door lock, securing it with a heavy thud. She immediately moved to stand by the door, her body low and ready.

Inside, Korvena gave Pip a wary look, their tail twitching nervously, before turning back to Purple. Purple gestured to the sofa, and Korvena sat.

Purple joined them, sinking into the cushions. His large wings pressed into the pillows along the seat back, his tail sliding under to poke out the back. The sofa was clearly designed for species with tails, the back elevated with an air gap to accommodate them.

Purple turned to face Korvena, his expression serious. “Out with it. Let’s hear it.”

Korvena nodded, looking at Pip. “Sure, but first I need to check for listening devices. I’m going to reach into my pocket and take out the scanner.”

Pip nodded sharply. “Slowly. Keep your other paw where I can see it.”

Korvena did as instructed, their movements deliberate. They activated the scanner, the small device humming as it swept the room. After a moment, it beeped, finding no small transmitters. They slowly put it back in their pocket before speaking. “Alright. Zharok gave me this job. Zor’ak hired him. Your crew are waiting for your return. They are relatively safe, and are being kept out of view in the sublevel area, where people go to get lost.”

After Korvena was done, they gave Purple another look over, a smirk playing on their muzzle. “You know, up close in good lighting you look better than described.”

Purple’s eye ridges rose, and his ears went slightly back, sounding a little annoyed. “Just tell me how to get there.”

Korvena looked Purple in the eyes, their ears turned slightly to the sides, their eyes half-lidded. “Oh, I like you, you smell nice too. I’ve never met a Vorindaxis. Are you involved with anyone?”

Purple leaned back, his posture stiff. He sounded as annoyed as he looked. “Of course I’m not. I’m not even staying here long. As soon as I get my crew back, I’m leaving. Now tell me how to get to them.”

Korvena nodded slowly. “I don’t want to stay on this station any longer than I need to. As for how to get there...”

Purple did not like what he heard; his ears went flat against his skull. He stood up abruptly. “Stay there.”

Purple walked over to the desk terminal, his paws barely making a sound on the floor. He logged in and messaged Zharok, asking for background on Korvena. With the message sent, he waited for a reply. He turned to Pip, who was still standing guard at the door. As they exchanged a look, Purple could tell Pip was annoyed by Korvena’s behavior as well.

Korvena sighed, their tail thumping against the sofa cushion. “You’re no fun. This is the plan: we move your ship to the dry dock for repairs, order a bunch of parts, and your crew is smuggled inside the crates. We have hired the maintenance crew to help. When you are ready, I just send a coded message on that personal ads site, and boom, we get ready.”

Purple stared at Korvena, his ears low on his head. “What do you mean ‘we’?”

Korvena smiled, got up, and walked over to stand behind Purple. Their ears tilted to the sides as they laid their paw on his shoulder. “Oh, I’m coming with you, kitty cat. I have to be there when we receive the crates.”

Purple looked down at Korvena’s paw until they withdrew it. He looked at Pip. That was when he heard the new message ding on the terminal. He turned back to the display and read it before deleting it and logging out.

Purple stood up, then moved to the side of the desk. “Send the message.”

On the bridge of the Starborn Prowl, Pip sat at the navigation console, her emerald eyes scanning the pre-flight diagnostics with intense focus. Her reddish-brown tail flicked rhythmically behind her as her paws danced lightly across the interface. Purple sat in the captain’s chair, his midnight purple fur ruffled slightly from the ship’s movement. He glanced over at Korvena, who was strapped securely into a maintenance station tucked away in the back corner. The station was locked down, a necessary precaution, but it was the only one Purple could keep a watchful eye on. He also needed Korvena to handle the parts orders, which required coded messages.

Purple felt a surge of relief at the thought of leaving the station. He had never been fond of the sterile, enclosed environments of starbases; he much preferred the open sky and the freedom of flight. He suspected Pip felt the same way, given her restless energy. He looked at the feline in front of and to the side of him, admiring her focus. She had come a long way since he found her, and while she still had much to learn, she was doing an excellent job watching their backs. A pang of worry crossed his mind—would his crew accept her? He hoped so.

“We have clearance to undock,” Lyra’s soothing voice chimed through the ear-comms.

Pip nodded, her ears swiveling. She engaged the thrusters, guiding the Starborn Prowl out of the docking bay and out toward the drydock facility. The station’s automated systems took over the heavy lifting as they approached the massive repair gantry. Large robot arms and maintenance drones hovered nearby, their sensors active, ready to assist.

Pip relinquished control, her paws retreating from the console. The station’s guidance computer took the helm, gently nudging the ship into the drydock. Purple watched the metal arms extend, locking the ship into place with a satisfying clank.

Pip finished her checks and shut down her station. The engines whined down, the vibration fading to a low hum.

Purple unstrapped himself from the chair. He stood up, his wings folding neatly against his back, and walked over to where Korvena sat. He leaned over the back of the station, looking down at the runner.

“Make those orders,” Purple said, his voice calm but firm. “Lyra, enable this station.”

Lyra’s voice responded instantly. “Station access granted. You’re all clear, Korvena.”

Korvena began typing rapidly on the interface. Purple watched over their shoulder, his yellow eyes scanning the screen as they input the complex, coded specifications for the necessary repairs.

Purple, Pip, and Korvena stood before the massive cargo bay hatch, which was currently sealed tight against the vacuum of space. The gravity plates on the deck were deactivated, leaving the bay open to the void. Through the reinforced viewport, they watched the maintenance crew of the drydock maneuvering. Large, multi-limbed drones and humanoids floated crates of various sizes into the bay. The crates drifted in with practiced ease, secured by magnetic clamps, and then latched firmly to the deck plating one by one.

Purple watched the display on the wall, his tail twitching with a mix of anticipation and anxiety. He was desperate to see his crew again, but the thought of them cooped up in crates for hours, perhaps days, weighed on him. They all had zero-G training, but that was different from being sealed in a box, unable to move freely. He wondered what shape they were in physically and mentally after the ordeal.

“Received the signal,” Lyra’s voice announced over the intercom, cutting through the silence. “The delivery is complete. Closing the outer hatch. Cargo bay will be ready in a few minutes.”

Purple heard the distinct, heavy thud of the outer hatch sealing against the hull. He watched the indicator light on the console, waiting for it to shift from red to green.

As soon as the light turned green, the inner hatch’s locking mechanism disengaged with a soft hiss. Pip’s paw moved swiftly to the control panel, her fingers dancing across the interface to open the bulkhead.

Purple didn’t wait for it to open all the way. He rushed forward, his wings flaring slightly for balance as he moved. Korvena shouted after him, “Let me open them,” they said, their voice urgent. “I know how they are to be safely opened.”

He slowed, turning to look at Korvena. The runner was already moving, their expression serious.

“Get them opened,” Purple commanded, stepping back to give them space.

Before he could say more, Pip was already on her way to the medbay. She spoke over the comm, her voice steady. “I’ll get the medbay ready, just in case.”

Purple nodded, a silent acknowledgment of her good thinking. He turned his attention back to Korvena, waiting for the crates to be breached.

All the crates looked identical, ten of them, each a perfect two by two by two meters of reinforced polymer. Korvena approached the first one, running a scanner over the surface, then moved to the next. “Not all of them have your crew in them,” Korvena noted, their voice echoing slightly in the bay. “Some are actual parts.”

Korvena turned their attention to the third crate. They typed a sequence of codes into the display on the upper corner of the crate. With a pneumatic hiss, the lid split down the middle. Korvena pulled the halves apart, revealing the contents. Inside, stacked like spare components, were four of Purple’s crew members, separated by layers of hard packing foam. Each section had a life support system attached to keep them alive during transit.

Korvena went to work, releasing the magnetic locks and helping each crew member out of the crate. Purple stood back, his heart hammering against his ribs. It was a sight for sore eyes, but the relief was mixed with dread. It was Vessa, the weapons specialist. But she was supposed to be at the secret location mentioned in the message, not here.

Vessa looked worse for wear. Her deep midnight blue fur was matted with dirt and dried blood, and her distinctive black mask around her eyes was smudged. Purple leaned over, his large frame shielding her slightly, and gently placed an arm around her back. “I’ve got you,” he said softly. “You are going to the med bay.”

They moved slowly up the ramp and down the corridor. Vessa seemed groggy, her eyes half-lidded, her tail dragging behind her.

As they entered the medbay, Pip was already there, her ears perked forward. “Pip, this is Vessa,” Purple said, guiding the injured woman toward a bio-bed. “Vessa, meet Pip, a new member of the crew.”

Vessa turned her head slowly. Her luminous eyes focused on the smaller feline for a moment, recognition flickering in their depths. Then, her head lolled, and she slumped again, too weak to hold herself up.

Pip and Purple moved quickly to help Vessa into the medical pod. They laid her down on the gel-filled bed. As the pod’s lid hissed shut and the healing gel began to rise, enveloping her form, Purple spoke to the ship’s AI. “Lyra, get her healed.”

Without waiting for a response, Purple turned and rushed back to the cargo bay, Pip close behind him.

By the time Purple and Pip returned to the cargo bay, Korvena had already breached another crate. The pneumatic hiss echoed again as the lid split. Four more of Purple’s crew were released, sitting against the crate they had just been in. They looked tired, their tunics rumpled, but otherwise unharmed.

Purple turned to Pip, his voice low. “Pip, look after them. Help them to their quarters.”

He turned his attention back to Korvena, who was working on the next crate. Purple felt a knot of confusion tighten in his chest. He saw Zara. Again, what was she doing here? He moved to help Korvena get her out. Zara was in bad shape; her left leg was bent at an awkward angle, wrapped in a stained cloth, and her right arm was covered in a makeshift bandage. Her white fur, usually immaculate, was matted with dust and dried blood.

Purple took her arm, supporting her weight. “I got you.”

Zara leaned heavily against him, her grip tight. “Thank you, Captain,” she rasped, her voice weak. “I’m a mess. I’m sorry I’ve not been able to report for duty for so long.”

Purple had to grin, despite the grim situation. At least she still had her dark humor.

He carried her carefully to the medbay, his wings folded tight to avoid hitting the doorframe. Inside, he gently undressed her, revealing the extent of the bruising on her flank, and lowered her into the gel bed. As the healing gel began to rise, enveloping her form, he spoke softly. “We will fix you right up.”

As the pod sealed, Lyra’s voice chimed in. “I’ll get her all healed up, no need to tell me.”

Purple stood there for a moment, his mind racing. What was going on? The rest of his bridge crew here, or just Zara and Vessa? He had received coordinates for a secret location, but here they were, in crates. He needed answers.

With a final look at Zara’s eyes fluttering closed as she went under, Purple turned and rushed back to the cargo bay, his paws hitting the deck with a soft thud.

Half the crates were now open. Pip was already there, guiding the crew members released from the crates toward the ramp and down the corridor to the crew quarters, helping them settle in.

It had started to become a routine. Purple would assist Korvena in unsealing a crate, extracting his crew, and Pip would shepherd them to their quarters, four at a time. The rhythmic hiss of pneumatics and the thud of crates hitting the deck filled the cargo bay.

It was on the fourth-to-last crate that the process paused. When Korvena breached the seal, Zor’ak and Elowen were revealed. They were both injured, their tunics stained with dried blood and wrapped in makeshift bandages. Elowen’s oversized ears drooped slightly, and Zor’ak’s chitinous carapace bore several deep scratches.

Pip approached from behind Purple as he gently lifted Elowen out of the crate. He handed her off to the smaller feline. “They need to go to the medbay,” Purple said.

Pip nodded, her emerald eyes serious. She took Elowen’s arm, wrapping it around her own shoulder. Pip was not too much shorter than the fox-like pilot, making the transfer of weight manageable.

Elowen looked around groggily. “Where am I?” she asked, her voice raspy.

As Pip and Elowen began their slow trek down the ramp, Purple answered from behind. “Elowen, you’re on the Starborn Prowl. Meet Pip; she is helping you. She is our newest crew member.”

Elowen turned her head to the side, her large ears swiveling to catch the sound. She looked at Pip, her gaze clearing slightly. “I’ve never seen your species before. Nice to meet you.”

She shifted her weight, wincing as the movement pulled at the bandages around her ribs where she had been hurt.

Pip smiled, her whiskers twitching, her ears forward. “I’ve been trained to be a pilot. I got us back here. Purple was all alone out there in the void.”

Elowen studied Pip more closely, her eyes narrowing with appreciation. “I’m this ship’s pilot, or was...” she trailed off, looking at Purple.

Purple huffed, a low rumble in his chest. “Don’t worry, Elowen. You’re still the main pilot as soon as you’re all healed and cleared. Pip is going to be your co-pilot. She has much to learn from you and has great potential.”

Purple wanted to ask her what happened, what led to their capture, but that could wait. Their health came first.

He turned his attention to Zor’ak. The insectoid navigator towered over him, making Purple look short by comparison. Zor’ak leaned heavily on Purple’s shoulder as Purple helped him down the corridor toward the medbay. Zor’ak’s eyes were clouded, unfocused, and he swayed slightly, indicating a severe head injury.

As Purple and Zor’ak made their way to the medbay, Purple wanted him to feel better, so he said, “You know, you have been making Lyra do your job since you’ve been gone. She is so overworked, and we both miss you.”

Lyra chimed in over the intercom, her voice carrying a hint of sarcasm. “I have missed you very much, and I’m going to have an aneurism if I have to plot another course.”

Zor’ak’s head shook, and his mandibles vibrated in a silent, chittering laugh. He didn’t say anything, his eyes still clouded with pain, but he leaned a little harder on Purple’s shoulder.

When they made it to the medbay, Pip was already there, helping Elowen sit in a chair. Purple guided Zor’ak to the other one and lowered him down. He looked at Pip. “Pip, help them undress and keep them steady. I’m going to do a scan, and I’ll have to do treatment the hard way as our beds are still in use.”

Purple turned and opened the cabinets, pulling out rolls of medical tape and a vial of quick heal. He picked up the medical scanner in his paws and turned back. Pip was helping Elowen with her top, her movements gentle as she peeled the fabric away, careful not to pull on the tape securing the bandages.

Purple activated the scanner. A soft blue light washed over Elowen’s mostly uncovered body, illuminating the taped bandages covering her torso. Purple grunted as he read the data scrolling across the display. “Pip, give Elowen a pain killer. We need to get those bandages off.”

Pip nodded and retrieved the hyper-spray, applying it to Elowen’s shoulder. Elowen flinched but didn’t pull away.

Purple took a sterile cloth and some disinfectant. He gently wiped away the grime around the chest wound. A patch of Elowen’s light gray fur had fallen out where the bandage had been, leaving raw skin exposed. He applied the quick heal to the area along her ribs where it had started to turn red, indicating infection. As he worked, he kept his voice low. “I want a debrief after you’re healed.”

Elowen nodded, her eyes closing as the medication took effect. “Yes, Captain.”

Now, Pip was helping Zor’ak get undressed. Because of the height difference, she had to stand on the counter to reach his shoulders. Purple watched for a moment, then turned his attention to the scanner again, running it over Zor’ak’s head and upper body to assess the damage to his carapace.

Purple applied a quick heal pad to Elowen’s chest along her ribs where it had started to get infected. As he worked, he said, “I want a debrief after you’re healed.”

Elowen nodded, her eyes closing as the medication took effect. “Yes, Captain.”

Purple examined his handiwork, satisfied that the infection was being contained. He looked at Pip. “Pip, get to the bridge. Get us underway.”

Purple gently wrapped fresh bandages around Elowen’s ribs. They would need to be removed again for the pod to fully heal her, but he couldn’t leave her wounds exposed, not even for a minute.

He turned his attention back to Zor’ak. There really wasn’t anything he could do for the insectoid’s head injury; it was all up to the medical pod now. He patted Zor’ak’s shoulder. “Hang in there, buddy. You’re a tough one. You’ll be fine.”

Purple turned to check on Pip, then remembered he had sent her to the bridge. That was when he heard the distinct clunk of the docking clamps releasing, followed by a shudder that ran through the deck plating. The ship was moving.

He wanted to check on the rest of his crew. He didn’t think Krell would be found in a crate, but he had to ask. “Elowen, where is Krell?”

Elowen looked down, her oversized ears drooping to the sides, her tail limp. “We lost track of him,” she said softly. “They took him off station.”

Purple sighed, the sound rumbling in his chest. It was what he had expected to hear. He reached out and ruffled the fur between her ears. “That is troubling. Now relax. It won’t be much longer before we can get you in the pod.”

Purple kept a watchful eye on them as they waited. Finally, the pod was finished with Vessa’s emergency treatment cycle. Purple went over to the pod, pressed the release, and watched the gel drain away. He saw Vessa’s eyes blink open as she woke, looking groggy.

“Welcome back to the world of the living,” Purple said. “We need to get you out so Elowen can be treated. Let me help you out.”

Purple helped Elowen out of the chair and into one of the wall-mounted chairs as he spoke. “Wait here. I’ll help you get dressed in a minute.”

Vessa nodded, sitting back and swaying slightly, still woozy from the drugs in the pod.

Purple turned back to Elowen. He carefully unwrapped the bandages she couldn’t wear in the pod. Then, he helped Elowen into the medical bed, lifting her with a grunt of effort. He tried not to look worried as he lowered her into the gel.

He closed the lid. The pod hissed as it sealed, and the healing gel began to rise. Elowen’s eyes fluttered closed as she went under.

Purple observed Vessa, whose uniform sat in tatters. The dark blue fabric was shredded, stained with grease and grime from the crate and the station’s air. It had been barely enough to cover her.

“You have more uniforms in your locker right?” Purple asked.

Vessa looked up, her ears twitching. She nodded.

Purple turned to Zor’ak. “You’ll be fine if I leave for a few minutes? Zara should be ready after I return.”

Zor’ak nodded, his pincers clicking softly.

Purple turned back to Vessa. “I’ll take you back to your bunk, you can get some rest, then we will talk, alright?”

Vessa nodded. She took Purple’s paw with her own, her grip firm despite her exhaustion.

Purple guided Vessa out of the medbay. They walked through the galley, the smell of the food printer fading as they moved toward the crew quarters. As they passed the other bunks, Purple felt a wave of relief. The rest of his crew was there, sleeping in their bunks. Korvena must have helped them while he was occupied.

They entered Zara’s cabin. Zara looked at him, her blue eyes pleading.

“Could I get help getting cleaned up?” she asked.

Purple looked at her, the weight of his guilt heavy in his chest. “Now?”

“Before I go to bed, please?” Zara nodded.

“Sure, anything for my crew,” Purple said softly.

Purple undressed, shedding his leather jacket and tunic. He helped Zara into the shower stall. The water warmed up quickly. Purple worked the soap into a lather, his large paws moving carefully over Zara’s fur. He washed away the grime of the escape, scrubbing her shoulders and back with gentle pressure. He was meticulous, ensuring every inch of her striped white, and white fur was clean, paying special attention to her muzzle where there was newly healed skin.

Zara held onto Purple’s shoulders with both paws, her grip surprisingly strong despite her weakened state. She leaned into him as he rubbed the thick towel over her fur, the steam from the shower still clinging to her skin. They stood over the air vent that blasted warm, dry air over them, the noise of the ship power plant humming in the background.

“Yeah, those emergency healing cycles really leave you drained,” Purple said, his voice low. “The nanites use your body as the source to heal itself as it feeds you nutrients.”

Zara let out a soft, contented moan as the warm air worked through her damp coat. She looked up at him, her blue eyes heavy with sleep.

“Thank you for everything, Captain,” she whispered, her voice barely audible over the rushing air. “I really appreciate it.”

Purple huffed, a sound that was more of a puff of air than a laugh. “I want you working to get this ship fully repaired as soon as you are able. My ship is a mess, I’ve only been able to do spot repairs so I could return. My ship was heavily damaged during my escape. That is a story I’m saving for later. First though, you are to rest and heal.”

Once Zara was sufficiently dry, Purple helped her out of the stall. He guided her to the narrow bunk, pulling the covers up to her chin. She curled into the mattress, her breathing already evening out as she drifted off into a deep sleep. Purple stood there for a moment, watching her chest rise and fall, before turning to leave.

He gathered his discarded clothes from the floor and pulled them back on, the leather jacket settling comfortably over his shoulders. He let himself out of the cabin, the door hissing shut behind him. He walked back toward the medbay, the ship’s corridors stretching out before him, the lights flickering overhead as he made his way to check on Vessa, Elowen and Zor’ak.

The medbay was quiet, the only sounds coming from the rhythmic hum of the medical equipment. Elowen and Vessa remained in their respective pods, the glass surfaces fogged slightly from the internal climate control. Zor’ak sat in the waiting chair, his large frame hunched slightly, his mandibles working silently as he waited.

After Purple looked around, he asked, “Lyra, how much longer?”

“Six more minutes,” Lyra answered.

Purple went over to Zor’ak. “Just a few more minutes, buddy.”

He then went over to Vessa’s pod and looked into it, watching her as he thought of her weapons handling training, how she taught him everything he knew. He remembered the firing range, the way she corrected his stance, the precision she demanded.

He was lost in thought when the pod dinged. Purple blinked, realizing the cycle was done. He opened the lid and started to help Vessa out as she was blinking, trying to wake. He lifted her to the nearby chair.

Purple looked at her. “Wait here, I’ll help you back to your cabin, I need to get Zor’ak in the pod.”

Vessa sat back as Purple stood, then went over to Zor’ak and said, “Now it is your turn, buddy.”

Zor’ak slowly nodded, his mandibles opened and closed slowly as Purple helped Zor’ak stand. Purple helped Zor’ak get into the pod; he barely fit, having to fold his limbs a bit to make room. Purple sealed it shut and started the cycle.

Purple sighed. Zor’ak was going to be fine.

Purple went over to Vessa. Vessa looked up and reached for him. “Carry me?”

Purple nodded. “Of course.”

Purple lifted Vessa into his arms and carried her to her cabin, which was next to Zara’s.

When Purple laid Vessa into her bed, he noticed she had already fallen asleep, her breathing even. Feeling a sense of relief about his crew, he gently tucked the covers around her.

From the crew quarters, Purple descended the corridor, the rhythmic thrum of the ship’s subliminal engines vibrating through the deck plating beneath his paws. He ascended the ramp that led to the bridge, the air growing cooler and more sterile as he stepped onto the command deck.

Pip was already at her station, her compact frame hunched slightly over the console. She was focused, her large green eyes scanning the readouts with intense concentration.

Purple moved to stand behind her chair. “Vessa and Zara are both resting in their cabins,” he said, his voice low. “How much longer before we are at the fringe?”

Pip nodded, not taking her eyes off the data streams. “A little over two hours.”

Purple reached out and patted Pip’s shoulders. “Thanks,” he said. “Also, great job of getting us on our way, I hardly felt a thing.”

Pip nodded again, her ears swiveling toward him. “I do my best, Captain.”

“As you were,” Purple said, turning to leave.

He headed to the cargo bay, navigating the labyrinthine corridors. When he entered, the smell of recycled air and packing foam greeted him. He walked to the last set of crates he had been working on. They were all open, the contents removed. Korvena was there, efficiently packing the life support units back into their crates and sealing them up.

Purple nodded. Just as he expected, the tactical officer was not with his crew.

Purple smiled at Korvena. “Thanks for cleaning up,” he said. “You didn’t need to do that, I’ve got a crew now.”

Korvena paused, looking up from their work. “Well, that is something I wanted to talk to you about,” they said. Purple was still not sure of their gender.

Purple nodded. “We can talk in the galley,” he said. “I could use some nourishment, and I bet you could too.”

They moved to the galley. Korvena sat at one of the long tables. Purple approached the food printer interface. A moment later, a bowl of nutrient soup materialized. He carried it to the table, placing a bowl in front of each of them.

After Korvena consumed a good portion of the nutrient soup, she set the bowl down and looked up at Purple. “I want to stay on board the Starborn Prowl,” she said. “I can be useful to you.”

Purple blinked, his gaze fixed on her. “Why?”

Korvena smiled warmly, her ears tilting down to the sides a bit. “Mostly because I’ve wanted to get off that station for cycles now. I recently got to the point that it became a must. When I met you, I have to admit I’m attracted to you, so there is that too. As a runner, I’ve gained skills. For one, I’m the best hacker that was ever on that station. I’ve also become friends with some of your crew. Zara is just a little ball of fire, and I like that.”

Purple blinked again, processing the information. “Attracted to me? Are you even female? I can’t tell.”

Korvena looked down at the table, her expression softening. “Yeah, I get that. Not the first time. Yeah, I’m female. Our species, the males are even more colorful and have colorful patterns in their fur.”

Purple cleared his throat, his tail giving a slow, thoughtful wave behind him. “I don’t get romantically involved with my crew. There is too much of a power imbalance, you understand.”

Korvena nodded slowly. “I figured as much. That is why I did not ask to join your crew. I would be independent, but work and live in your ship. I would just pay for room and board. If you needed my skills, I would charge you. Think of me as a subcontractor.”

Purple sat back on the bench seat, his ears folding back slightly against his head. He looked at Korvena, his yellow eyes studying her face. He didn’t know what to think about her proposal; the loneliness of his life had made him wary of attachments, yet the offer was practical.

Watching his hesitation, Korvena added, “I just want a chance. You can always dump me off at another space station or port if it doesn’t work out.”

Purple gazed at the view screen on the wall for a few minutes in thought, the image of the space station shrinking in the distance, ships moving like busy ants in the void. With a shake of his head, he turned back to Korvena.

“You may want to know, I’ve never been in a romantic relationship, or anything close to that,” Purple said. “I was raised here, this was my father’s ship. He is retired now.”

Korvena nodded. “That is fair. Neither have I. I’ll even make my own quarters. You have room in your cargo bay.”

That was true. His father had refitted the ship when he bought it, removing crew quarters to make room for cargo. The bay was spacious, originally designed for two hundred crew, though now it held only a fraction of that. Korvena’s cabin could be just large enough for her, raised so they could use that area for storage. The two shuttles that used to be stored inside the ship were now mounted on the outer hull, on the bow on each side of the ship, accessible via airlocks. It would be handy to have a skilled computer hacker available to him, now more than ever.

Purple sighed, taking a deep breath before he spoke. “I don’t know about being attracted to you, frankly I’ve not even given it any thought. I have way too much on my mind right now. I’ll let you stay, for now. Don’t expect anything from me personally. I’ll have Lyra draw up a contract for you to sign. It will be for one cycle and renewable.”

He gestured behind him towards the cargo bay. “You can use a two by two by two meter area that includes the ingress and raised off the deck with the top against the upper deck in the back corner of the cargo bay on the starboard side, away from the entrance.”

As Korvena listened, her features lit up, her ears perked forward, and her tail gave a slow, rhythmic wag. Her shoulders were no longer slumped.

“That is generous of you,” Korvena said. “I agree to your terms. I can use materials from the crates used to house your crew to build my cabin? They are not expecting them back. I’m also available to help you out when I’m not working.”

Purple nodded. “Sure. And in that case, give the rest to the fabricator to break down into components.”

Korvena nodded, then ate the rest of her soup.