Crossing Boundaries Pt. 10

This is a short work of erotic fiction containing furry, or anthropomorphic, characters, which are animals that either demonstrate human intelligence or walk on two legs, for the purposes of these tales. It is a thriving and growing fandom in which creators are prevalent in art and writing especially.

Please note that all characters are clearly over eighteen and written as such in all stories.

-----

The space station was nearing completion, all down to the skill and dedication of those that were stationed there, looking down at the planet on which they had been born. They'd been up there for nigh on one hundred years by that point, yet the needs of people came above all else, working for the greater good. At least with the elongated, extended lifespans of human beings, as they had evolved and further developed their psychic powers, finding new ways of expanding their knowledge of the world, it meant that they had more chances to do more, simply put. A century on the space station was nothing in the grand scheme of things.

Yet the near years would always feel longer and more drawn out than those that were one hundred years ago, time never quite being remembered as it was, not for humans and not for anthros either.

The man sighed, brushing his fingers back through his black hair, though he had something of an androgynous look about him, dressed in a polo and jeans, a brown belt at his waist. Thankfully for him, they'd managed to fix the anti-gravity system of the development space station some days ago, though floating around and dealing with a constant lack of gravity had led to some challenges, not for the first time. It was just something that they had to deal with, however, people there from all walks of human life, from those that were there to fix and build out the exterior of the station to the scientists, there to take readings and quicker action, to feed back to those on the planet and progress.

However, he was far from alone in the control room, writing with a pen that they had developed for use in such an environment, though they most often used simple pencils still for when the anti-gravity system ticked offline. There were still a few bugs in the system, to be fair, that had to be worked out. It was nearing completion, regardless, and the dogs that they kept there to complete more menial tasks and less specialised labour had been a benefit to all the humans, allowing them to delve into more intricate, intelligent work.

The dogs... He mused over that, shaking his head. He'd never dealt with them that closely on the planet, though he had not considered them capable of such technical knowledge before. Though, he supposed, it was the difference between someone who could be trained to use and run some things on the space station, yet would never specialise in even a single machine like the engineer that designed it from scratch. But they were clearly capable of more knowledge than he'd been aware of and, although he could not quite put his finger on it, that troubled him.

It didn't matter though, he was sure. Dogs had been the loyal servants of humans for so many years already, so long back that it was almost beyond the limits of human memory, as powerful as that was. At best, it meant that they could make the canines more useful than they had been before to human beings -- if that was where they fit best in the grand scheme of the world, of course. Who was to say where the dogs were best suited, after all? He had been up on the space station for so long already that he would not have a good idea, regardless, of what the world was like on the planet anymore. Even small changes could have knock-on effects, ripples that may not be seen by someone down there in the thick of it.

He sighed, waiting for the newly completed fusion reactor to finish its final systems checks. It seemed to be taking forever, but it had been several years since he had had the chance to work with something like that, so he had to be patient. Patience was something that they should have learned up there, though once it was initialised and taking over providing the station power, it would change everything. No more would they have to maintain the small, temporary reactors that had been sent up before, freeing them up to do even more intricate work. Which was, in fact, what they were all there to do.

Things were moving quickly, however, he could tell, at least from the small bits of information that had been sent up from the planet, the green and blue so inviting to him and yet so far away. Although he knew he could not return home until the mission was complete, his assigned (willingly so) span of time up on the space station, there was something about home that could never, not even in a million years, be replicated by the space station. Technology couldn't replace everything, as much as they tried, as many simulations as they delved into.

But since the incident with the anthro nation invading, or at least trying to...things had moved so swiftly in his world. Humanity had not known what to do when it had happened, some of the border cities struggling more than others, though the anthros had never reached anything of great importance -- it was more in line with supply chains being cut off and trade routes, their towering cities designed to be as self-sufficient as possible. Frankly, no one even believed that the anthros would have managed to take a single city.

But it had set off something, the ripples of effect, that could never again be taken back. Humans had spent millennia content in their lands, in their cities, in the places where they had grown and prospered with their psychic powers, never wanting for anything. There had not, to be fair, been anything of great importance for any of them to do, though that was not their fault, not when so much already had been automated, even down to farming and food production, which was, of course, vital to their health and wellbeing. Most humans whiled away their time on idle interests, taking the time to pursue their hobbies without any greater goal.

Truthfully, the last major project that humanity as a whole had undertaken was repairing the planet from the damage it had taken in the Great War. That had been of intricate importance, even for those that did not see beyond the walls of their towering cities, for they needed the planet to survive, they needed the planet to still be there to sustain them. Even out there on the space station, it was obvious even to him.

The Great War had, of course, forced them to retreat to the heart of their lands and the landmass where their primary occupancy was: he could see it from the station, a sense of home clawing at his chest. But that war... It had not solved anything. Neither had anything subsequent, truth be told.

On a civilisation-wide level, humanity could, of course, remember the first time they had encountered the anthros. And that was more than the dogs, of course, though they could surely be forgiven for initially thinking that the anthros and the dogs were the same things. They had animal features, after all, both walking on two legs like humans -- yet the dogs would never be the same as anthros. They were a different race -- so many different races and species -- amongst the anthros, the new, young race that wielded stone-tipped spears, so many years ago. They had stumbled upon human shores on primitive rafts, not knowing what they would find there, though it had not been at all difficult for humans to, at least politely, make the anthros leave back then.

That had been simple, the humans leaving the anthros be, content with that and observing them from something of a distance as their technology developed further and further. If they were left alone, they had no problem with the anthro, seeking out their knowledge bases, furthering their skills, developing technology. But the anthros themselves had then suddenly (relatively speaking, for it was several hundred years later) appeared back on their shores with an invasion, a fleet of ships and soldiers intent on taking them.

That had impressed some humans, their resilience, their tenacity, even when their intelligence and way of using the world around them were so far behind human beings. It was impressive, some said, that this plucky race had pressed on to such an extent, though they could never have compared to humans. And they had come with armoured, magical vehicles too, nothing to compare to their tanks and self-defence items of warfare, but, still. It was something notable, something at least of a little interest in a world that, for humans, had never changed all that much, not as the long, slow years of their lives passed in relative peace.

Although they had the tools, they were not assembled in a way to be a military force to defend their country in that way, though it had not been as difficult as some higher powers had suggested to scramble together a military presence. They had all been volunteers, often young males that were interested in making a name for themselves, in having a sense of purpose in the world, though women were as interested, if perhaps not quite on as high a level. Their tools and technology had been slapped together into rudimentary arms and armour, taking some mild inspiration from the anthros and easily bettering it without all that much effort at all.

The battlemages had offered them some manner of challenge initially, but not enough to cause them any great concern, not really. Magic that struck the air itself and cut through to them, forming fireballs and bursts of stringent power... It had reminded human beings, initially, of their own psychic powers, although it swiftly became obvious which was superior. The psychic powers were born with them, growing as they aged and spiking to greater heights at certain points in their lifespans. Truth be told, not many humans used their psychic powers to their full extent, but they didn't have any need to. Whereas all anthros could learn magic, they came to understand, not all anthros did learn how to use magic, which was interesting indeed to them.

But why should humanity spend all that much time considering the nature of anthros when they had not done anything other than attack them? There had been no serious forms of communication prior, nothing to bring about an alliance, though humans had not thought them capable of such a thing. The invasion of anthros had been crushed before they could do more than to begin to build a base on the coast, hurling them back from the border of ocean and land.

The counter-invasion of humans into anthro lands, well... Anyone could have expected that, humans conquering the country that had so ill-advisedly tried to conquer them. It had been a fool's errand right from the beginning, but, in the end, it had been the anthros who had suffered the most. With a new army and military operation, both on land, in the water and in the air, the humans had not been able to control their soldiers perhaps as well as they should have either. But that was not something that anyone had thought to publicise, kept well under wraps. It was not as if they saw the anthros on any kind of equal footing with them anyway.

After conquering the anthro lands, the war over, the anthros were expelled entirely from the New Human territory, humans occupying land on two different land masses. It had been a scuffle and a half, though nothing all that much serious for them, something that many were involved in but did not consider the dire nature of, considering the differences between them and anthros. Metaphorically, they could finally catch their breath, though a return for all to a more idyllic, quiet lifestyle could not be had, not as a requirement for more rose within their lands.

Discussions arose, the need to negotiate, the requirement for diplomacy, ambassadors' appointment, roles that had never been considered before arising as if they had always needed them. They did not always have the best person for every job in the roles, but they did what they could, because it was all that they could do.

It was the voices, however, that rose, radical voices that had been ignored, that caused the most strife and turmoil, an undercurrent of unrest. Some believed that they should have been diplomatic with the anthros without ousting them rudely (humans had not been under any threat, after all), others wanted more rights for animals like the dogs. Some thought that magic was something that they could use too, minority voices within the human lands gaining followings and attention, more so than ever before.

Yet what was the most poignant of all was the voices that rose highest, slamming their fists down. They stated that humans had become so much less than it had once been, that such creatures could think that they were stronger than them, strong enough to usurp them. Their leaders declared that they had fallen far from what they had been before, before they had retreated after the Great War, even if that had been a military decision, not playing any further part in a war like that.

Not many wanted problems, but the pressure on the people to do something, to be something more, had grown over time, pressuring people who had no place in it to shake off their mindlessness, to stop merely going along with everything. They sought power, hungry and frothing at the mouth with ruthless greed, but the voices that urged them to be more, to awaken to a new age of humankind screamed, curling into the most reinforced of fortresses.

They wanted to build a future, a greater future, one like what their ancestors had had. What that truly meant was up for debate, yet the hunger for power was not to be denied, not as those very people steamrolled the elections, gaining high positions in government while those that voted for them were under the illusion that they were finally being listened to. That was all they needed to incite change, bit by bit, like a pebble rolling down a rocky scree, stimulating and picking up other debris as it went until it tipped into a furious, roaring avalanche of change.

Some had been separate from it, seeing everything happening from a distance as ancient vaults of data were unsealed, revealing more ways in which to use their power for darker means, massive underground foundries awakened once more, projects begun. And, once they had begun, they would be harder than ever to stop, for there was no reason to -- no reason that any sane and sensible human would put forward, of course.

That was how the space station had come to be, ultimately. And that was how he had come to be there, only one single cog in the human machine, a part of so much even though he longed for home and did not honestly understand the grand scheme of it. Despite his long life, he had many years to come and did not yet understand what was going on behind the scenes and under the surface, despite the stirrings of unease that something was not quite what it seemed. But what could anyone do about it when they were not the ones in power, when they were not the ones in control?

He sighed and shook his head, glancing at the progress on the screen, waiting, waiting, always waiting. Was that all he was going to spend the rest of his life doing -- waiting?

Ah, but if it was about safety... Yes, he could understand that. He could understand protecting their lands, seeking to push back those who had sought to crush them, though the anthros were no threat. They were so far behind the times, only a little more than their dogs, that they did not even see that they didn't have to use magic. Without psychic powers, they were nothing against humans, even with their magic, as the war had proven, and it was only right that they took their true place in the world.

Which meant that humans would have to take a step forward too, a step higher, higher than they had ever reached before.

The dogs being more intelligent too would only benefit humans, proving their good will, their breeding skill in honing the species perfectly to their will and servitude. Finally, the space station's fusion reactor showed a green light, ready to go, the systems checks completed and whirring to life with a light hum, so quiet for what it was, coming online at long last.

It was the right stage for them, he said inwardly to himself, though his attention was already taken up by more, looking and thinking ahead. The projects were more interesting than routine work up there, pushing them forward even into space exploration, things that humans had never even considered before. And who wanted to continue with the same thing daily, day in and day out, nothing ever changing?

The war had changed everything, even if he only got to see things from a distance up there, hearing voices channelled and filtered, even though he had been able to vote in the elections. Up there, things were different. But maybe that allowed him to gain a true perspective of what was going on, back on the planet.

Or not.

He was not to know. But their work would go on, nonetheless, given their orders and researching, doing all that they needed to do.

They would see to it that it was done.