One might expect the bridge of the Furious Claw Of Inquiry to be on top of its hull, complete with a huge window to look out upon the glorious star-laden expanse of space. This is why one doesn't let Hollywood design starships. Such a location invites destruction of the nerve center of the ship by either A) a chunk of debris moving at a good fraction of lightspeed, or B) the business end of a weapons-grade maser wielded by your friendly local space pirate.

Just as it should be, the bridge of the Furious Claw was deep within the armored hull of the ship. But the view against the semicircular wall in front of Oscar was still amazing, even if it was a projection instead of a direct view of the outside.

Near the front of that wall was one of the motorbike-shaped couches that constituted a Dorarizin workstation. Pilot-Navigator Grawfren-of-Delzreg, AKA 'Gertie', sat at that workstation as she steered the ship from normality into the blatant disregard for common sense known as warp travel.

Oscar sat in a chair that the Dorarizin claimed was sized for an average human, but he privately called bullshit on that. He was bigger than the average human and the chair still felt a little too roomy. Plus it wasn't a real workstation since it had no controls. All the chair had was a small panel at his right hand with indicators that would tell him in which way he would die if something failed catastrophically. He suspected the true reason for the chair was so that the crew could keep an eye on 'their' human while the ship was maneuvering into and out of warp.

But on the other hand he now had a uniform like the others, complete with an emergency p-suit tucked into a small cylinder at his hip. Donning and doffing the latter was the initial bit of safety training he'd gone through after the first meal. It wasn't hard; the instructions consisted mostly of 'slap this wad of nanofabric onto yourself and let it wrap around you'.

"Nice view," he said to nobody in particular. It was indeed pretty; the stars twinkled like diamonds on black velvet with only a slight shimmer to betray that they were in warp.

"[It's a computer recreation,]" replied Captain Rgrarshok. "[If you looked out a real window while in warp, you wouldn't see [?error, possible expletive relating to excrement?].]" The captain and first officer sat hunched to one side of him on their own workstations. She reached into a side pocket of her uniform and pulled out a small transparent vial before handing it to Oscar.

"[This is the 'Green' I mentioned earlier.]"

Oscar accepted the vial and tilted it up towards the overhead lights. Within it lay a few pinches of a green crystalline powder that looked like fine salt. "It's a drug?"

"[Technically not,]" replied the captain. "[At least, it's not manufactured as one. That's why my team is assigned to these cases. This powder is more properly called 'feather-dust'. The [Karnakians] use different types of feather-dust to clean and re-scent their feathers. Most of them are not a problem, except for this particular kind. You see, Green is just as harmless to them as the others, but...]"

"But not harmless to Dorarizin."

"[Hah! You scent the trail with admirable speed. Yes, this particular type of feather-dust has a very bad effect on us; it's similar to the [Human] reaction to the substance known as [methamphetamine]. It's utterly forbidden in the core worlds, and even possessing a little leads to significant punishment. The amount in that vial would be enough to have your claws permanently removed.]"

One thing Oscar was still getting used to was the way the xenos were pretty chill in most respects...until one ran into something like this, where they suddenly adopted a zero-tolerance policy worthy of the harshest police state. But he supposed such draconian measures made sense. An FTL starship of any size was a horrifyingly destructive weapon, so one couldn't have its crew off of their tits on space-meth.

He also understood why the Furious Claw and its go-anywhere mandate was involved in tracking Green. He decided to speak aloud his conclusions. "But it's easy to enforce such laws in your core worlds where there's nobody but Dorarizin around. On the border worlds next to Karnakian space, or on some planet where you and the raptors interact constantly, it would be a lot harder to control possession. After all, it's perfectly innocent for your average Karnakian to have a nice big jar of Green."

Oscar didn't miss the little glance that passed between the two Dorarizin. He wondered if this briefing was more of a test. The captain gave her equivalent of a nod.

"[Again, you claw directly at it. We are heading for a border world called [Pak'tahl]. We have reliable intelligence that a major supplier of Green is using it as their base of operations and we intend to dig them out of their burrow. With enough evidence we should be able to turn the Dorarizin involved over to the Inquisition.]"

"Hmm. And what'll be my role in this?"

"[Officially you are still a Trainee, which means you will simply accompany us during the investigation and observe."

He sensed there was an unsaid part of that sentence. "And unofficially?"

The captain's ear slowly tilted forward in the Dorarizin equivalent of a raised eyebrow.

"[Unofficially? We are a small crew, so all are expected to contribute to the hunt. I know you've had a lot more experience than the typical trainee, so feel free to speak up if you have any observations."

Oscar leaned back in his chair and then to one side as he tried to imitate James T. Kirk's seated swagger. He was in space, after all. "Well, I did have to work this one case where a couple of corporals got cute and tried to set up a drug smuggling operation in their barracks. I guess I won't be completely useless. How long for us to get to Pak'tahl?"

"[About [three weeks]. Plenty of time for you to get up to speed on your required training.]"

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Oscar did what felt like the millionth squat as his legs started to give the jelly-wobble that indicated oncoming muscle failure. He just managed to get the bar up into its rack with a clank and figured that he'd pushed himself enough. Any more and he'd need a spotter.

Working out was a good way to keep his mind occupied, but his very best efforts seemed like literal child's play given what was going on in the gym beyond the little setup they'd provided him. Right now, every bit of Dorarizin exercise equipment was folded away to leave a smooth, mat-like expanse of floor.

Oscar grabbed his towel and wiped his forehead while he watched the ongoing bout. Specialist Myyreh-of-Relgreh, AKA "Myra", prowled around First Officer Ngralh. The pair circled each other like two giant wrestlers looking for the right opportunity to clinch.

When he'd first asked the dark-brown Dorarizin what her specialty was, Myyreh had blinked her deep blue eyes at him. Then she'd smiled and held up a paw while extending her claws with a meaningful waggle.

Myyreh was the ship's CQC expert, which was really saying something when talking about a race of three-meter-tall murdermachines. She and Ngralh were in the middle of what they called a 'friendly little sparring session', but to Oscar it looked more like an all-out canine war.

The two combatants sprang at each other again and then broke apart; Ngralh now favored his right knee. The attack and riposte had been so fast that it took Oscar a few moments to work out what had happened. The XO had gone for a high tackle that Myyreh had intercepted with a low kick to the knee.

Oscar settled his towel over his shoulders as Myyreh shot in for a grapple. Ngralh tried to copy her intercepting kick, but his foot got batted aside and after one confused whirl of limbs the XO found himself pressed stomach-first into the mat with Myyreh twisting his arm awkwardly behind him. He slapped the mat once with his free paw and she immediately released him. He bounded back to his feet with the typical Dorarizin blurring speed, but now no longer crouched.

"[Good bout,]" he said. The pair hugged, and then Myyreh looked over at Oscar with a predatory look that he didn't like in the slightest.

"[Hey, Trainee [Oscar], come on out here.]"

Oscar looked in vain behind him as if hoping to see some other human. He turned back to Myyreh and saw that Ngralh now squatted at the edge of the mat with a calculating grin on his face.

The human crossed his arms as he regarded Myrreh's huge form. She was more rangy in build than the average Dorarizin but her muscles were defined enough to easily show through her fur. "Specialist Myra, you cannot be serious."

"[I'm not asking to spar. I just want to get a sense of how well you dodge and move. The captain assigned me to watch your tail, after all.]" She beckoned with one paw. "[Just a little testing, I promise I'll be gentle.]"

He sighed and tossed his towel aside as he moved onto the mat. He tried to make it a confident stride but Oscar was smart enough to know when he was way out of his weight class. "If I'm honest, I don't see the point of this."

"[Are you afraid, Trainee?]"

Oscar shrugged his shoulders and got into a ready stance. "No, but as the human philosopher Harry Callahan once said, 'A man's got to know his limitations.'"

Myyreh flicked her ears in the Dorarizin equivalent of a nod. "[That is a very wise saying. But I need to see how much I need to keep my nose pointed in your direction when we're dirtside. I'm just going to try to grab you, and you try to avoid me. You can hit me if you want to.]"

As soon as Oscar nodded one of her huge paws made a clutching motion at his head. He slipped the attack and shuffled right, keeping his fists up and chin tucked in. Myyreh made a few more swipes at him which he also avoided. He knew she was keeping her attacks deliberately slow for the moment.

She grinned. "[Okay Trainee, you're not completely helpless.]" Her eyes shifted to take in his stance. "[Is that a [Human] fighting style?]"

He nodded. "It's from a human country called Thailand-" Oscar slipped to the left as she made another, faster grab for him while he spoke. He briefly thought about trying a little jiujutsu on her, but that would be like trying to grapple with a bulldozer. No, he had to keep moving.

"Float like a butterfly," he muttered, as Myyreh's attacks became faster and more numerous. There would, however, be no stinging as like unto the proverbial bee. Not if he wanted to keep out of her clutches.

"[Come on! You're just dodging! Let me truly scent your ability!]" She made a leap forward, one that Oscar had to roll to the side to avoid. "[You can't run all the time!]"

Oscar made another roll as her paw slammed down into the space he'd just occupied. He rolled again around the crouching xeno and regained his footing. As Myyreh snapped her huge head around Oscar saw an opening and kicked...

Decades of training and conditioning had made his shins hard enough to smash through a baseball bat with ease. But as he connected with Myyreh's unguarded shoulder it didn't feel like a bat, it felt more like he'd tried to kick a steel girder.

Myyreh rolled to one side from the force of his kick, then sat back on her haunches like a gorilla getting ready to charge. She no longer smiled as she rubbed absently at her kicked shoulder.

Oscar hobbled back a bit and tried to ignore the pain in his shin. "Shit, sorry Myra. You okay?"

Her grin came back. "[Not bad, [Human]. I actually felt that. Good bout!]" She spread her arms in a silent invitation for a hug.

The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

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The Ballad of Drezneh is one of the Dorarizin's most epic stories, on a par with human tales such as Journey To The West or the Mahabharata. The tale is of a brave ship's captain who leads her crew on a long trek to safety after their ship crash-lands on a remote and hostile planet. It was supposedly based on historical fact, although Oscar was pretty sure the movie they were now watching took some liberties with the truth. He found it unlikely that the real Drezneh kept getting into fist-fights with giant crabs.

"And the gal playing Captain Drezneh is...Zranf?" he asked. On the recreational lounge's main screen yet another giant crab made a clawing swipe at the redoubtable captain, who responded with a roar and a leap.

"[Yeah,]" replied Bgrarh, "[She's one of our best actors. This is a pretty good version, too. A lot better than that opera from a few [decades] ago.]"

The rest of the crew shuddered, even Captain Rgrarshok. That meant that Oscar shuddered as well, since he was sitting in the Captain's lap while she combed his hair with extended claws. He was surprised that the normally-aloof Rgrarshok had made the offer...well, it was not so much an 'offer', more a command of 'sit in my lap and let me groom you'. He had to admit the slight scratching and massage of his scalp felt nice.

He glanced around the lounge and saw that the Dorarizin were arranged in little groups going through similar grooming rituals, although he also noted that their grooming was mutual. The human pondered the social consequences of offering to groom Rgrarshok and figured he should at least ask.

Oscar cleared his throat. "So, ah, did you want me to groom you as well? Sorry if that's rude, I'm still getting a handle on what's considered proper."

Her claws gave his head one final gentle scratch and then she settled her arms around him. "[Don't worry. Your claws aren't really suited for it. And besides, as the captain it's my job to groom everybody.]"

He was also getting a handle on Dorarizin culture and pack structures. They had more females than males, so a typical 'family' pack consisted of one or two males with two or three females running things. The alpha females (and Rgrarshok definitely counted as one) were traditionally in charge of making sure that the pack was healthy and able to hunt. This crew was not a family-pack per se, but they were more closely bonded than the much larger crew of, say, a mobile mining station.

So this was just a case of familial pack traditions applied more broadly. At least that's what Oscar hoped it was, and that the huge captain wasn't becoming interested in him in 'that' way. It would be unprofessional. And more importantly, even if he reciprocated any possible interest then the first time they tried some interspecies nookie she'd break his pelvis.

But the rest of the movie passed without incident, and the captain seemed content to just let Oscar use her as a warm and fluffy recliner.

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Doctor Kgrashak-of-Rgreth pressed her paw-pads into Oscar's bare back. He was pretty sure that there was no need for her to get physical for his examination, what with the xenos having nanotech and all. But he figured it was just another example of the Dorarizin being their usual touchy-feely selves.

It was chilly in the Claw's medbay, since he was now only wearing compression shorts while the good doctor looked him over. Her paws reached up and squeezed his shoulders and neck, then Oscar twitched a bit as he felt her cold nose poke into and sniff at his neck.

Then she moved around the exam table and poked the same damp appendage into his chest. As she inhaled deeply Oscar wanted to make a joke about her buying him dinner first, then figured that explaining the joke might be more trouble than it was worth.

"So can you smell anything wrong?" he asked. "I mean, I'm assuming that the pack-scenting is still there, seeing as how you're not grabbing for me."

Kgrashak leaned back and began examining his arms. "[There are layers to scents. I can still smell your [Human] scent, but it's overlaid with the pack-scent so my instincts know that you're not abandoned. And then on top of that is 'your' scent, which tells me your identity and health."

"So you can tell how healthy I am just through smelling?"

"[It's taken a few exams for me to get trained up on your particular scent profile, but yes. Now, what are the symptoms of Green abuse?]"

"Pop quiz time, eh Kate?" Oscar cleared his throat. "Mild Green abuse symptoms include dilated pupils, some slight tremors in the tail even when at rest, and general irritability. Mild users also tend to be easily distracted. At higher dosages, the user's ears lay flat back against their head most of the time and their claws extend spasmodically. Their concentration suffers to a noticeable extent, and they have difficulty staying seated. That level is when Green usage is usually discovered and dealt with. However, in the most extreme cases the user becomes...well, they turn into what we humans would call a 'berserker'. The pupils become so dilated that the eyes appear completely black, their tail fuzzes out and their claws extend permanently. Worst of all, their prey drive kicks into high gear and they'll chase and kill anything that moves. Fortunately such extreme abuse cases are rare, since it usually results in a death or two. The death of the user, if no one else."

Kgrashak finished prodding his thighs and nodded. "[Well summarized. It's unlikely that we'll run into such an extreme case of Green abuse on this assignment, but it's possible. Now do you understand why we assigned Myyreh to protect you?]"

"Oh, yeah. I got that loud and clear, and I'm happy she's doin' so. Momma Williams didn't raise no dummy."

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The Trainee Junior Investigator plinked away at his guitar, trying to figure out a tricky bit of fingering as he half-watched some sappy romantic comedy. It was not a movie to Oscar's usual taste, as it had too few explosions. But he was starved for seeing normal-sized people with no fur doing normal human things. At first he'd resented the mandated 4-hours-per-day seclusion, but now he was seeing the benefits of it.

As the rom-com wrapped up, his fingers started sounding out a cheesy pop song from his youth. "Ohhhhhh, we're halfway there...Wooaaahoohh, lemon and a pear!" he warbled. Bon Jovi didn't really work on an acoustic guitar, but it was better than nothing. The little lyrical joke made him smile to himself, and then the smile faded as he came to an uncomfortable realization.

Originally he would have let an IED take his other leg off rather than admit it...but he was scared.

The first week it had started out as a mild unease. He'd told himself it was just nerves, just getting used to a 10-hour sleep cycle while being snuggled every night by huge furry aliens. The next week that unease turned into a low-level panic; he couldn't shake the notion that something was following him, some unseen predator that always ducked back out of sight when he turned to look.

And the panic wasn't going away. If anything it was getting worse, no matter how much he tried to treat this assignment like any other mission. He kept telling himself that it was just like his Ranger days when he'd been deep in enemy territory.

Although 'enemy' was the wrong label. The Dorarizin were perfectly nice save for an enthusiam for physical contact. And Bgrarh snored like a chainsaw when it was his turn to sleep-cuddle Oscar. Apart from that they'd been excellent hosts, giving him no hint of threatening behavior.

Their politeness still didn't help. Oscar was used to being the biggest, toughest sonovabitch in the place. But now he'd been reduced to a toddler in both relative size and strength. The ship's walls were too tall and far apart, everything was sized for giants and not for him, his was the only 'normal' human voice he heard amid an endless sea of growls and snarls and clicks...

Oscar checked the time and saw that he still had a couple of hours to go. He absently strummed a few chords as he pondered the implications of what he was about to do. Originally he'd promised himself to never touch the memed Dorarizin files, both out of respect for his hosts and because needing to do so seemed really fucking weak.

But that was before he'd spent two weeks amid a pack of apex predators in the middle of nowhere. Before he could second-guess himself, Oscar reached for his terminal's remote and called up the well hidden folder.

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"[You smell a lot more relaxed today, Trainee [Oscar.]]"

He glanced up from the drone on the bench towards Engineer Egwreh. "Eh, I slept with Nate last night. He snores less than Benny."

Of course, that was not the reason for his improved mood. It was amazing how two hours of watching Captain Drezneh doing heroic deeds while spouting 'Much wow, very excite' was enough to restore his equilibrium.

He pressed his palm against the drone's control panel, and it lit up with an orange outline around his hand. He tapped the glyphs around it in the instructed sequence, then closed the panel's cover. "Well, it didn't blow up on me. How did I do?"

Egwreh's eyes unfocused a little as she accessed the drone through her implant. "[Not bad at all. It's now keyed to your biometrics and will follow you.]"

"Will it accept my commands?"

"[A few. You can tell it to stay in one place, for example. But if you get more than [ten meters] away it will move to keep you within that range. It's intended as a backup to Myyreh's protection."]

"Y'all are really not taking chances, are ya."

"[We are not going to be the first crew to lose a human in space. The captain will turn us into wall decorations if that happens.]"

He regarded the basketball-sized metal ball of the drone's body which sat in a cradle on the workbench. "So what kind of weaponry does it have?"

"[Strictly non-lethal protection. We're a Senate investigative team, so we don't carry anything that could be, shall we say, 'mistaken' for military-grade hardware.]"

And the Dorarizin didn't really go in for things like sidearms. Probably because they could run at 120 klicks per hour and had claws which could rend metal.

In spite of having both Myrreh and the drone looking after him, Oscar also wanted a little something extra on his hip. Maybe he could finagle a favor out of Egwreh later on and get her to do a little nanofabrication on the side.

"[Go ahead and try out the drone,]" said the engineer. "[You should get used to having it follow you.]"

If he was going to have a robotic nursemaid, then Oscar figured he'd have a little fun with it. He clenched his teeth and raised a dramatic hand like a mad scientist giving orders to his latest abomination. "Rise, my creation!"

The sphere beep-booped and hovered off of its cradle as instructed. "[This unit is now operational and programmed to provide protection.]"

Oscar grinned. "Sweet, I've got a minion!" He tapped a finger on his chin as he regarded the hovering sphere. "But you need a proper name, something butler-y I think. I'ma call you Jeeves."

A few lights blinked on the drone's chrome surface. "[This unit will respond to the designated label.]"

Egwreh gave him a sidelong glance. "[You do realize that drones are not actually sapient, right? They're not even sentient, they're just some expert systems lashed together with a language synthesizer.]"

"Don't listen to Emma, Jeeves. She's just jealous that she doesn't get a minion. Now...follow me!"

Oscar hopped off of the stool he'd been using to reach the workbench, then trotted for the door. He'd gotten in the habit of moving at least at a jog everywhere due to the sheer size of the ship.

The drone beep-booped and trailed along obediently behind the human. Egrweh watched them leave as her tail twitched slightly. After the door closed, she let out a quiet "[Awww,]" as her tail wagged faster.

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"[And you're sure you don't mind? I mean, it is allowed by regulation but I didn't want to offend you. I was worried you'd think we were teasing you.]"

"I understand your worry, Captain. But it's really no problem. If it makes Bennie happy, I'm fine with him wearing it."

The captain sighed. "[All right. I do want Bgrarh at maximum efficiency, and if this helps him then so be it. We should be coming out of warp in a few [hours] anyway.]"

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Pak'tahl was a mining colony. A few hundred years ago, the Karnakians had some ideas on a more efficient means to extract the moon's resources while the Dorarizin had the manpower (er, xeno-power) to try out those ideas.

They'd succeeded in spades, and after several centuries of prosperity the colony settled down into a more-or-less equally divided world where alien stood next to alien in peace and brotherhood...or at least that was the official story.

It floated like a gray-green marble in the bridge's viewscreens, and beyond the colony was the red-banded gas giant which was the moon's primary.

"[The colony's resource output has been steadily dropping over the last few decades,]" said Ngralh. The bridge also functioned as the ship's conference room, and the rest of the crew gathered around as the First Officer went through his briefing.

"[Due to the drop-off in production, certain elements in the colony have turned to, shall we say, alternative means of income.]"

A picture of a Dorarizin male appeared, overlaid onto the outside view. "[This is Hrzharh-of-Azrehs. During our last few assignments we've found Green shipments with some residual [DNA]. The [DNA] samples match each other and also partially match Hrzharh's filed genome. Given the number of shipments involved, we believe he acts as a significant node in the smuggling network."

Another picture, of a larger female, appeared next to Hrzharh. Oscar felt the haughtiness of her expression right through the picture.

The XO continued. "[This person is the main reason we can't just turn this case over to the Inquisition. This is one Grawreh-of-Rrelren, Alpha of Hrzharh's pack. She's from a very prestigious clan line and can yank a lot of tails in the Imperial bureaucracy. Which in turn means she has quite a lot of pull in the galactic Senate."

A few more females appeared next to Grawreh, then another male. "[Kergrakh, the Beta female of the pack, and Zreshak, the Gamma. This last one is Nrgeth-of-Arzerghr, the second male of the pack. He's come under suspicion of Green smuggling once before, but no hard evidence was ever found.]"

Egrweh spoke up. "[What about local law enforcement?]"

Ngralh called up another picture, below the line of pack pictures. This was the first overweight Dorarizin that Oscar had ever seen, with a roll of furry flesh that extended out over the collar of his uniform.

"[Kergrth-of-Ahrraht,]" said the XO. "[He's tasked with investigating crimes in the Dorarizin sector of the colony. Most of his arrests wind up with successful prosecutions, but that's because he hardly arrests anyone. He's probably as corrupt as a weeks-dead erzet, but again there is no solid evidence of such.]"

Captain Rgrarshok now stepped forward to address them. "[We've kept all messages about this mission off of the official channels, so the Pak'tahl smuggling ring didn't know we were coming. About [ten minutes] ago we notified the colony of our planned orbit. I'm sure they have contacts in traffic control who are letting them know at this very moment that 'We Who Hunt Between The Spaces' has arrived. They're going to panic, which is good. We need to keep that panic going, starting by hauling Hrzharh into an interrogation room and getting him scared enough to shed a few teeth.]"

Oscar could not find fault with the captain's strategy. Panicked people made mistakes, mistakes which could then be exploited.

He decided to speak up. "Where do you want me, Captain?"

She nodded at him. "[You're with me and Ngralh. He's going to find Hrzharh and do the aforementioned hauling. I want you in the room when we interrogate him.]" She grinned. "[Apart from letting you log some training time, you'll also act as a nice distraction for our suspect.]"

"Ah, because I'm unusual? Good idea."

A look passed over the captain's face, one that Oscar didn't recognize. "[Of course, yes...unusual.]"