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CHAPTER 5

The wall terminal flashed an incoming message and Scott finished buttoning his shirt before responding.

"Yes?" he asked after tapping the receiver.

The message came as audio only. "Commander Banks, this is Doctor Simon. We thought you might want to know your special project is awake and responsive. He's asked to speak with you."

Scott checked his watch. 0742 hours. "Thank you, doctor. I'll be down by 0800."

"Alright, commander. We'll be waiting for you." And the transmission terminated.

The wolf yawned and stretched, forcing any sleepiness from his mind and body. Turning to Sarah, he frowned and shrugged. The vixen was sitting at his desk chair sipping a cup of hot tea.

"Sorry, Sarah. It looks like breakfast will have to wait unless you want to take it in the slave quarters." He had promised to bring her something to eat from the officer's mess so that she wouldn't have to return to the slave quarters to eat. But it seemed as though his promise would have to be postponed. "I've got to go out, but I suppose you can stay here for the time being. If anyone asks, tell them you're doing housekeeping for me, okay?"

The vixen looked thoughtful, her ears canted slightly to the sides.

"Actually, um...I was thinking about going back to the quarters to make sure John is okay. I felt bad about leaving him there by himself last night. I know he's capable, but..."

"But he tends to get himself into trouble." Scott nodded his understanding. "If you want to come back here with John to watch the net, you can. They only air news here I'm afraid." The wolf smirked and Sarah smiled in kind, her fluffy tail wagging slightly.

"It's gotta be better than staying in the slave quarters."

Leaving his quarters, he crossed the threshold but stopped in the doorway. Looking up and down the hall before turning back to the vixen he said, "I think everything will be alright in the end, Sarah. Something tells me we won't be here much longer."

Before Sarah could ask for an explanation Scott was gone.

The trek back to the quarters was much less eventful than the night before, though the corridors were busy with wolves passing this way and that, most likely on their way to their duty stations for the 0800 shift change. Few of them paid the slightest attention to the short vixen as she dodged and weaved around the dominant wolves around, trying not to be run over. Sarah kept her eyes down, trying not to make eye contact. Sarah noticed several other foxes as well as they passed by her. One of them, a male with especially dark fur, was carrying several boxes in his arm. As he drew nearer she could see him staring at her approvingly and when he passed he offered a sly wink to the vixen, a flirtatious smirk pulling at his lips. She blushed but didn't look back.

It was reasonably easy to find her way back to the quarters now that she was much less flustered than she had been. When she arrived her brother was reclining on his cot. He jumped to his paws when he saw her and wrapped his arms around her tightly.

"Damnit Sarah, I was so worried!"

She smiled warmly and tweaked his whiskers. "You shouldn't be, John."

He sighed and shook his head bewilderedly. "I suppose I should have known you'd skate by this time. You're good at getting out of trouble, and always have been."

"I'm not a cub anymore, John." Then her tone dropped and her ears fell a little. "Thank you, by the way, for helping me last night. I've never been more scared of anyone in my life."

John hugged her tightly again, whispering into her ear, "That's alright, Sarah." Then, with an evil chuckle he said, "If you'd stayed longer last night you would've seen that stupid brute after being stunned like that. Whimpering like a pup, with piss all over himself. Had to drag him back to his cot...couldn't lift him onto it, though."

Sarah looked over to where her attacker's cot was and saw a lump sprawled out across the bed.

"He must have gotten himself back up there during the night. Must still be sore, too."

"Forget about him," she said. "Come on, Scott said we should do some 'housekeeping' for him in his quarters."

***

Elijah was sitting patiently once again, and didn't say a word as Scott took his place on a chair across from the young wolf.

"Am I still speaking with Ionious?" he asked casually.

"Yes," was the shallow reply.

Scott nodded. "Good. There are still some things I don't understand about the connection between our slaves and your people."

The young wolf nodded too. "Your understanding at this point is not altogether necessary, Commander Banks. In fact, a certain level of confusion is expected. What is important is that you understand our motives and our superior abilities."

Scott wasn't sure whether he should take that as an insult or a pure statement of fact. Either way he let it role off his back, considering that everything he said and did in this interview was recorded and subject to scrutiny by the Admiralty, Frontier Command, and the High Council.

Scott preferred to stay on topic. "As you appear to already know, we discovered a planet over a hundred years ago that was inhabited by the species we now use as slaves...which you have claimed to be related to."

The younger wolf stared silently at him, the shell that was his nephew seemingly unimpressed by this revelation.

"What we found there was not an advanced civilization. There was never any trace of intergalactic technology, no atomic fusion, and none of the advanced alloys necessary to perform such a feat. Nothing suggested they came from anywhere but that planet. To this day nothing of the type has been found on Triticum. Can you explain how such a past could have simply disappeared?"

The being had been listening patiently, silently nodding. "What you stumbled upon was a colony of our race. A backward one, admittedly, but our kind nonetheless. I believe I have already told you how they got there, Commander. Did you not study the tablet I gave you? The travelers destroyed their transports and raised their children without the knowledge of other worlds outside their own, developing for centuries independently without interference. At the time, we were not technologically advanced enough to track them through deep space. That, and they were good at masking any remaining traces. We happened upon them purely by accident. Imagine our anger and frustration when we discovered our kin had been enslaved by yours, Commander. Would you not feel similarly compelled to free them had they been wolves?"

Scott's brow rose at the question. "I suppose so," he said softly. He became keenly aware that the interrogation was no longer in his control. "But please understand that it will not be easy to convince our government that you are both telling the truth and capable of forcing us to give up something so important to our economy and society. They are our property," he said, biting back the bitterness in his heart at the statement. He knew he was being watched.

The figure of Scott's nephew nodded. "That was also expected, Commander." Then, as if discovering himself for the first time, he looked down at his paws, stretched out his legs, and flexed his arms. "It's easy to see how your species would believe themselves to be superior. By all accounts your physical forms are just that. But also understand, Commander, you're every bit as capable of dying as any other known to exist in this universe. You bear the same weaknesses that all sentient beings do. Foxes are no different, Commander Banks."

Scott leaned back in his chair, the small white-washed room suddenly feeling very confining. "What are you-"

The overhead lighting flickered and died, bathing the room in darkness. Scott jumped up, his body tensed as his instinctual brain flashed with alarm. After a moment the emergency lighting activated and faint green light colored the small cubicle.

"What's going on now," Scott grumbled. He tried to open the door but the controls failed to respond to his touch. He slapped the intercom. "Doctor Simon, this is Commander Banks. What's happening out there?"

Silence was the only response.

"Doctor Simon," Scott barked. "Bridge? This is Commander Banks. Do you copy? Bridge, do you copy?"

"I sincerely doubt they can hear you, Commander," said the youth, his voice so calm it was almost mocking him in the low light.

Scott growled angrily, turning on the wolf. A flash of white fangs and the wolf leveled an accusing paw at his nephew. "You're doing this, aren't you?"

The younger's expression betrayed no emotion as he stared up at the older wolf. "It's what you wanted, isn't it? What both of us wanted. A show of force. Some proof of our abilities. Consider this your second warning, Commander. Your third will not be so benign, I can promise you that."

Scott's hackles rose, claustrophobia and the edge of panic suddenly making his heart race in his chest. In his anger and stress Scott wanted to hit him, to shake and throttle him. But as much as he wanted to hurt the ghost within the young wolf, all he could see was his sister's son.

"Commander, consider this to be the proof your leaders been seeking, nothing more. No harm will come to you or your crew...at this juncture, at least. We're going to bring you to us, Commander Banks. I suggest you take a deep breath."

"What are you-"

A wind pierced through the wolf's body, cold and sudden, and cut him short. Before Scott could so much as howl for help the room was bathed in a bright flash of pure white light, and was suddenly gone.

***

"Captain Philips!"

The old white wolf watched in rapt amazement as a massive craft, unlike any he'd ever seen in his long military career, materialized out of empty space to the Mourning Son's forward. The ship was titanic, greater than anything he knew to exist before, its hull quickly filling the viewing screen. It didn't look far from a pale moon, either: The hull was a dull creamy white, seemingly unbroken across its flattened oval frame. It was distinctively featureless; its absence of engines, airfoils, or wings-even decoratively-was as alien as its girth. Philips was oddly reminded of a smooth white river stone, hanging suspended in space.

"Raise shields, lieutenant!" he yelled to the bridge tactical officer over his shoulder. "Do it NOW!"

The lieutenant tried but shook his head. "They're not responding, sir! The shields are down-weapons are down."

"Full reverse," he barked to the helms officer. "Take us out of here!"

The Mourning Son lurched backward in space for all of a moment before shuddering to a complete stop. A shrill whistle pierced the bridge, causing those on deck to grab their sensitive ears painfully. The electrical components flashed and flickered, then died, all at the same instant. The bridge fell into darkness before the emergency lights took over.

"What the hell happened!" shouted Captain Philips, his rage momentarily aimed at the engineering officer.

The engineer pounded commandingly on his terminal and swore aloud. "Nothing, sir. I'm reading zero power to the primary or auxiliary systems, except life support and the antigravity matrix. Complete power failure on grids-"

The captain didn't wait for the engineer to finish. "Lieutenant Hunter, hail them!" he commanded his communications officer.

"They've already hailed us, sir."

Captain Philips turned to face the forward monitor. "On screen, then."

With power offline the large screen showed only a transparent view of the universe ahead of them, now blocked by the massive alien ship. The shining ivory ship's smooth curves played tricks with the brilliant light of a nearby star.

"The controls are locked, sir," reported the comms officer, and Captain Philips opened his mouth to yell but was stopped as the monitor shaded and flashed to life.

A view of space gave way to a demanding creature. The fox's upper half filled the screen, his jaw firmly set in a severe grimace. The uniform he wore was a deep burgundy, a solid light-blue stripe running diagonally from his left shoulder and down toward his right hip. His long black ears flicked once as a sign of acknowledgment.

"Lupine ship Mourning Son, I am Minister Lokagos of the Vulpine Confederacy. I regret the first meeting between our kind and yours must be under these harsh circumstances."

Captain Philips snarled despite his better judgment. "I'd appreciate the courtesy of skipping the pleasantries, fox. You've attacked my ship! I consider that an act of war."

The fox frowned. "No, not an act of war. Your ship or your people have not been harmed in any way. Consider this a formal warning to pass onto your leaders: We will not negotiate the release of those you now hold as slaves. They will be freed and returned to their own race whether by diplomacy or by force."

"There are millions of slaves that serve the Lupine Empire, fox. We could not possibly release them all."

Minister Lokagos' face became cross. "Then retribution for millions is what it will take to atone for the sins of your race. We will expect your final decision within eight of your days. There will be no exceptions."

Captain Philips hated being talked down to, but the circumstances gave him little control. "How will we contact you?"

"You will not contact us, wolf. We will contact you at the appropriate time. I warn you: Do not underestimate us."

The monitor blinked off and light returned to the bridge as the ship's systems sprang back to life. Captain Philips stared at a blank view of space before his ship, the craft having disappeared into the blackness of space once more.

"Status report," he commanded as he trotted his way to the captain's station, pointing to the engineer.

The engineering officer stared blankly at the forward monitor, his jaw hanging open in stunned surprise. There was a torturous silence about the command bridge.

"Status report!"

Shuddering visibly, the engineer dropped his gaze to the controls at his paws. "All systems operable, sir."

"Impossible," growled the captain aloud.

Admiral Hartford came running onto the bridge at that moment, panting heavily and demanding answers. Captain Philips paid the admiral little attention as he jumped from station to station, assessing his staff's reports on what had happened a minute before.

"Captain, sir!" shouted the security officer.

The captain looked up from the tactical display. "What, lieutenant?"

"The quartermaster has just reported that the slaves are...well...They're all gone, sir."

Captain Philips stood, an incredulous scowl on his muzzle.

But it was Admiral Hartford that asked, "What do you mean 'gone?'"

"They're no longer on the ship, sir. The quartermaster is reporting that they simply disappeared, sir."

Captain Philips moved to the security officer's station, muttering "Bloody hell" under his breath.

"And that's not all, sir. The ship's log indicates that Commander Banks is no longer on board either."

Admiral Hartford scoffed in disbelief, but Captain Philips leveled an angry scowl at him.

"Admiral," he growled. "I think it's time you made a call to your contacts on the High Council."

"Just what are you-"

"Or I will do it myself, admiral. This is clearly above our control."

Admiral Hartford hesitated uncertainly.

"Now!" barked Captain Philips before turning his attention to the security station's terminal.

Admiral Hartford nodded, saying nothing as he turned and trotted from the command bridge.