Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Didn’t expect anyone else to be up this early,” Shepherd commented to the other captain to let him know of her presence. She was entering into the main hangar where she would do a few warm up exercises with Oatchi, reinforce the training they had done last night, and maybe take him out for a walk. Moss had been allowed aboard while the S.S. Shepherd was parked like this, since rescue pups were very social. Her new koppad background was of Moss and Oatchi curled up together, it was so cute.

Olimar turned and gave her a weak, tired smile, gaze turning back on Moss. The bigger dog was still sleeping, feet kicking in response to whatever she was dreaming about.

“It’s a hard habit to break, once you’re used to it. Say, Captain Shepherd-”

“Please, just call me Erma right now.”

“Erma, would you come have a look at this?”

“What is it?” She asked, immediately rushing over, Oatchi at her heels. “Is she hurt?”

“Oh, no, sorry, I didn’t mean to make you worry. I just figured you have more experience with rescue pups than me, I wanted to check that this is standard.”

She understood what he was asking when she got a little closer. He’d pulled back some of the fur on her stomach, exposing one nipple to view, and it was slightly perked, a difference in the normally flat appearance they bore.

“She’s coming out of a menstrual cycle, right?”

“Ah, good catch. Are you sure you aren’t actually a biologist?”

“If only,” Olimar chuckled.

“Yes, she’s on the tail end of one. Has she been more tired than usual?”

“Not really, but she has been eating less.”

“If she’s the kind of mix I think she is, that’s standard too. I’m glad Oatchi’s litter was mostly boys, his breed has it a lot worse.”

“He’s the blend mixed with Karutan mountain wolves, right?”

“You do know your stuff! Yeah, they are more resilient to thinner air that way. Heat cycles less often, but they last longer and can be rougher. Oatchi’s from the last litter Babski had before being spayed and moved to oceanic rescue. He certainly didn’t get her swimming skills, but he’s coming along-” Shepherd cut herself off, knowing she had a tendency to talk too much about her dogs. “Uh. Yeah. Moss will be just fine, though.”

“Do you have any rescue pups crossed with hocotatian boppips?”

“Ah, for desert climates? My great-grandmother experimented with some genetic crossover, but we were never able to fully breed the two. Too different. If you’re asking about the eye stalks, no, none of the genetically modified pups have them.”

“Ah, darn, I was kind of hoping to see what a rescue pup with the eye stalks would look like.”

“Your dog back home is a boppip, right? Bulbie?”

“You remembered?”

“You named the bulborb after him, how could I forget something like that? You’re a lot like me, Captain Olimar, you care so much-”

If she hadn’t been right next to him, she wouldn’t have heard the suck of air through his teeth, wouldn’t have noticed the slightest little wince. But she was right here, and she did see it.

“Olimar?”

“I’m…not like you. You’re one of a kind, Erma.”

“Nonsense, I can sense a kindred spirit when I-”

“I almost ignored it.”

Erma didn’t speak for a moment, unsure what that was supposed to mean, and Olimar continued, voice lower and more hesitant.

“There was a moment, when I was leaving the first time, where Moss started to suffer and I ignored it. I was selfish and could only think about how hard I had been trying to get home, I debated not caring that leaving was clearly hurting Moss. I…I almost left anyway.”

“But you didn’t.”

Olimar looked up at her, finally. She didn’t have much experience with Hocotatians, but she knew that their eyes were always really hard to see. Somehow, at this moment, she swore she could see that they were more watery than usual.

“You didn’t leave. You didn’t risk it, even though nobody would have judged you for it. Even if you considered it, we all know that you turned around and crashed a second time for her.” She reached a hand out to his shoulder. “You literally risked your life to save her. I’m sure if she could understand you, that’s the only part she would care about.”

Moss kicked again, body shaking as she woke herself up. She looked between both of them with tired, lidded eyes, tail just barely starting to wag, lazily flopping on the ground. Olimar grinned, leaning forward to push his forehead against her.

“It was the right thing to do.”

“And that’s how I know you’re like me.”

Moss pulled herself up, stretching out, giving Olimar a little nuzzle before moving over to greet Oatchi. She licked one of his ears, and he barked, pushing his head towards her to rub against her. Moss, in turn, leaned down, eyes closing.

“The rescue corps could always use a biologist.”

“I’m not a-”

“You could be. Just think about it, alright? Spend time with your family, spend time with your dog, and just think about it for a while.”

“Thank you, Erma. I don’t know how to possibly-”

“Just send me pictures of Bulbie. Maybe we can get a proper boppip mix going, see if we can get those goofy little eye stalks.”

Olimar chuckled. “You wouldn’t want his DNA, Bulbie has a bad thyroid.”

“Is that common in boppips?”

“No, not at all. He’s just a weird one.”

“Well, come join me on my walk and tell me all about him!”

So he did. She, in turn, told him about some of her favorites among the various rescue pups, and if both of them ended up taking a much longer morning walk than usual, they didn’t notice or mind.

Chapter Text

Despite how big and tough they would get, each rescue pup started as this small, fragile thing, a tiny warm lump of life. Erma never got over the feeling of holding a new one; granted, she did her best not to handle them after just being born unless some medical interference was necessary, so she usually got her chance the day after or the day after that. They would usually just sit in her hands and wiggle a little, sometimes whining at being away from their mother, every once in a while growling at her weird smell. They meant no offense by it, she knew that; they were new and the world was huge and scary.

She’d helped with dozens of deliveries at this point; her mother had been the one running the space pup breeding program, so Erma had been involved in the process since the time she herself had grown big enough. Rescue pups did most of the work anyway; the rest of them were just there for moral support, really.

Still, the moment one got to hold this tiny little life was something precious, something almost sacred. Erma had cried a few times; there was no shame in it. She was not even a little bit surprised that Olimar, the empathetic soul he was, was crying now.

“I didn’t expect him to be so small,” he told her with a teary grin, gaze still stuck to the tiny pup just laying in his hands. It was his first litter since accepting Erma’s offer of coming to work with the Rescue Corps. He was still in official training to actually be a veterinarian, but was probably the hardest working one she’d seen, doing double with the engineers. Russ routinely sang his praises, not-so-subtly trying to push captain Shepherd into giving the man a raise, which Olimar would deny even if she did offer it. Hocotatian work culture was a toxic mindset that was hard to escape, after all.

At least he had accepted her offer. At least she could share this with him.

She was rather fond of Olimar. He was the most “dad” a person who wasn’t her actual father could be, and at times she found herself wishing he had been her dad instead (though her own father was a great man, there was something sweet about Olimar’s constant cheer). He always seemed so concerned over his “temper”, which apparently was just him thinking any negative thought at all, because she’d barely heard him raise his voice the entire time he’d been here. Well, once, actually, when he’d seen Dingo pick up something smoking and thought it was a bomb (it was, but one of Yonny’s small ones), and even then, just enough to warn the Ohrian before quieting back down.

She gave him a knowing pat on the shoulder, knowing exactly how wonderful a moment with one of these little ones could be. She crouched down next to him. “They’re usually smaller, believe it or not.”

“Smaller?”

“Mmhmm. Oskar’s just a really big guy, all his pups come out super chunky like this. Combine that with tall mama Tulsa here,” she cooed at the lanky lavender dog, who wagged at the mention of her name, “and you get pups that will be mostly leg. They’re really funny in their early years, where the legs will have gotten full size but the rest of them hasn’t caught up.”

“I can hardly imagine this little one walking around like a dweevil, the legs are still so short-” he joked, rolling the puppy slightly to one side to gesture at the truly tiny little legs. Both of them took a second to coo as the pup kicked slightly, exposing those precious little beans.

“Do you want to name her?”

“Her?”

“Oh, ones that have this many colors are almost always girls. Dark blue, light blue, lavender, and white. Same as her mama!” She reached over and gave Tulsa a good scratch behind the ears.

“In that case…” he paused for a moment, looking at the tiny pup in his hands. “Lichen.”

“Lichen?”

“She has a pattern a bit like Moss, see?” Sure enough, she did have the one eye and one ear dark blue combo, just like Moss had.

“I bet Moss would Like-n that, if she knew.”

“Captain,” Olimar groaned, but he was smiling that big goofy smile. “You can’t complain about me doing them and then do worse ones-”

“I never complained about the puns, that was entirely Collin!"

Chapter Text

“Welcome, one and all, to the annual Enoheean Dog Show! Our tried and true tradition on this frost feast-”

“Frost feast?” Pom interrupted.

“Oh, traditionally Enoheeans would all have one huge final meal around this time and then enter into hibernation for the winter!” Collin explained to her, and Pom nodded, mouth full of snacks. That explained why there was so much food sitting out in their common area, at least. The rescue corps liked to be multicultural and tried to celebrate every holiday they could (with the caveat that they could never really guarantee a holiday off). Pom, Collin, and Bernard shared the couch, Erma on her stomach on the floor right in front of the view screen, Olimar in his own chair and Yonny having just got up to use the bathroom, Russ and him sharing some pillows on the floor. Oatchi was curled up in a dog bed in the corner, fast asleep.

“We here at the Arknen institute love dogs, and this year we want to help dogs-”

“Bets, what will it be this time?” Shepherd called.

“Taking donations to feed homeless dogs,” Collin guessed.

“I BET it’s matching poko FOR poko.”

“Adopt don't shop ad, nothing more,” Russ said flatly.

“-our canines for kids foundation, to train more pups as therapy animals!”

“Not actually the worst, kehehe!”

“Russ is right, that almost sounds…useful?” Collin said, and looked away when Erma shot him a glare.

“Why the hostility, captain? That does sound like a good thing,” Olimar asked

“Because the Arknen institute is a bunch of rich jerks who COULD make a difference in the galaxy and instead choose to just PRETEND they are doing something,” Bernard answered for her.

“Yeah, the dog show is the only part that doesn't suck. Even then, some of the breed standards they have are outdated and awful for the dogs, but they won't change them!”

“We head into our first group! This year, we begin with the space pups!”

“Ugh, no!” All three giyans groaned at once.

“There's a common JOKE that whichever category gets PICKED FIRST always LOSES,” Bernard helpfully explained to the two other non-giyans.

“We have the Shepherd space pup, the Giyan space pup, the Ooji space pup-”

“Aw, the Ooji pup is actually cute this year!” Collin commented.

“Are they not always?” Pom asked.

“No, the breed standard usually has them with almost inverted noses, gives them a lot of breathing issues. This one has a flat face, but the nose is still out further,” Erma answered. “Oh, oh, look at that sweet Ohrian hound!”

“Did I miss it??” Yonny was out of breath as he ran back in, but the Ohrian hound was being showcased, so he need not have feared. “Yes!! What a good color, too!” The Ohrian hound was a nice brown and black, getting a full walk around the oval track while the dog itself kept looking around, barely containing excitement.

“Judge Felicity is making her choices now, and she is a veteran here with the dog show, having raised a fair number of winning space hounds-”

“No, not her!!” Shepherd groaned, throwing a pretzel toward the screen. “Ugh, she always picks the-”

“The Ooji space pup is our winner!”

“Every time!”

The group settled during the brief commercial break, ignoring the advertisements entirely, finally turning the viewscreen off mute when the next round started.

“Up next is our working group! These dogs have been bred for special jobs on each of their respective planets. First, there’s the Sigurian Schnauzer, the Sigurian Boppip, the Hocotatian Boppip, the Tagwan lesser Boppip, the Enoheen Sassa-La-Rassa,”

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen a fluffier dog,” Olimar commented to himself. The sassa-la-rassa did just look like a big ball of fluff, no legs or face really visible under there.

“-the Ocobish otter dog, the Moyaman poodle, the Mihaman poodle-”

“Those two look exactly the same,” Pom noted.

“Moyama and Mihama are twin planets,” Yonny told her. “The differences between them are cultural, not genetic. Those two are the same dog.”

“They always send the same color, too. Heh, remember that year where both poodles were sponsored by the same family?” Russ added.

“Ah, what a scandal, finding out they were from the same litter and raised on Maxima. Mom was a Mihaman, dad a Moyaman, so they had this whole panel of scientists look at their DNA to determine which one was which,” Shepherd chuckled as she remembered it. “Almost caused an intergalactic incident!”

There was no intergalactic incident here, however, only the melding of various members of the rescue corps enjoying a moment together, watching dogs. They had a rare moment of calm between bigger missions; the crew had returned from a search-and-rescue on Flukuey and somehow hadn’t been needed yet since, so they could hang out in their section of the base around one of Giya’s colony stations.

“Our final category, our most anticipated with our newest breed entry, the hounds! We have our Hocotatian cactus hound, our Oojian cat hound, the unmistakable Sozor sink hound, the Koppaite western lark hound, the Maximal runner dog, the Conohound, and our newest entry-”

“What??”

“No way!”

“How did he-”

“Oh, this is what he meant when he said he was getting a dog!”

“The second largest recorded breed, the Hocotatian Sirehound!” Sure enough, there was Louie on tv, dressed head to toe in a fancy suit, pulling along a leash that just barely controlled the ancient sirehound. For a wild dog, the beast did pretty well on the walk, but it was still hilariously comical to see it towering over every other contestant. When the sirehound won best of the hound group, Louie gave a small smile, turning around and petting one of the ears of the massive dog.

The sirehound placed third. Best in show was the Sassa-la-rassa, followed by a Karut orange retriever.