FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

CHAPTER 8

Twenty-seven grim-faced wolves sat around a wide, long conference table deep within the building of the Imperial Ministry of War. The lights were turned down low to accentuate the dozens of monitors and screens that lined the walls around the room. For security reasons the surveillance equipment had been shut down, as well as the intercom linking them to the outside world, and the doors were solidly locked. Very few creatures in the Lupine Empire had been privileged to know half of what was discussed here. The number of wolves that know if the group's existence that were not currently present could be counted on one paw. Not even the emperor himself knew of this group's secret work, or of its importance to his empire. All twenty-seven were either current or ex-military officers of the highest ranks, as it had been this board's policy for well over a century. But neither war nor weaponry was their overall objective. At least, not their primary objective. They dealt in knowledge and technology of the most advanced nature; things that would surely cause a panic if leaked to the general public. Information they wouldn't dare entrust to power-hungry politicians.

Councilwolf Quinn Gilder was the exception. As the highest-ranking member of the High Council's Subcommittee on Military Procurement his cooperation, and the extensive funding he controlled, was absolutely essential to this secret group's success. Gilder was well aware of the fact that he was being used, and while it disturbed him immensely, he understood the importance of his work here was far too important.

"Mr. Clark," Gilder asked, breaking a long silence that had hung over the conference table for several long moments. "What are our chances? Could we conceivably hold out against an all-out invasion by the Vulpines?"

Mr. Clark, a levelheaded military strategist that had been forcibly resigned from the Imperial Army for his tendency to accuse his superiors of their arrogance and shortsightedness, shook his head.

"Not a chance in hell, councilwolf," he said bluntly. "Their capabilities far exceed our own."

There was a derisive snort from the end of the table, and Mr. Clark scowled at the offender, one Admiral Samuel Royce.

"Need I remind the Society that our predecessors warned us of their power decades ago, and yet we did nothing about it. We still don't understand half of what they abandoned on Triticum, and that was five centuries ago!"

Quinn Gilder was inclined to agree. Looking across the dim room he could see the admiral was not convinced.

"I have an option," said Dr. Gibbs, who sat to Gilder's left.

"Yes, Dr. Gibbs? What is it?"

Dr. Gibbs was not the wolf's real name. Twenty of them preferred to be referred to by alias. Quinn Gilder knew exactly what his real name was, and of the retired intelligence officer's important position at the University. He was perhaps the foremost expert on the subject of trans-dimensional phenomenon. Most of their breakthroughs in reverse engineering what little of the foxes' technology they had made had been a direct result of Dr. Gibbs' research on the subject. As such, the black wolf's words deserved a great deal of consideration.

But there was an unwritten rule; a respect to secretly that all here had agreed to. This was an act they each performed for one another to guard against the outside universe and protect reputations.

"Whether or not we stand a chance against them is, I think, a moot point," Dr. Gibbs said coolly. "As Mr. Clark said, their technology is simply so advanced we haven't the ability to understand it, much less fend against it. We've been trying to make sense of their most basic algorithms and systems for nearly two hundred years, and assuming they've advanced further these last centuries there's no telling what they can accomplish."

Councilwolf Gilder considered the scientist's words carefully. In the years following the discovery of Triticum and the fox population on that planet, a major breakthrough in trans-galactic transportation and communication erupted. This was not through Lupine innovation, as most believed, but a lucky find. A small surveying crew mapping the poles of Triticum stumbled upon the remains of an ancient, yet highly advanced, ship uncovered by receding glacial ice. Naval intelligence quickly confiscated the craft and transported it to a secure facility to be studied and hopefully reverse-engineered. It was then that this small group of dedicated scientists and engineers was founded to protect and employ the advancements derived directly from this ship, using them to further advance the expansion of the empire.

Still, many hurtles developed. Not only was the technology advanced far beyond their years, it was virtually unrecognizable. It took several decades to fully understand the computer coding systems and learn the computational language. Adapting that to be compatible with Lupine technology was just as difficult, if not impossible. The progression of breakthroughs was a trickle, at best. But it was a significant trickle.

"Are you suggesting we surrender entirely, doctor," said Admiral Royce, his voice dripping with distain.

Dr. Gibbs didn't hesitate in saying, "Absolutely, Admiral Royce. You will no doubt fight very gallantly for the empire, and die very quickly in the process."

The active-duty officer hid his silent rage.

"I would suggest we cooperate with the fox instead," continued Dr. Gibbs in his usual level tone. "There is no sense in loosing everything we have when we have everything to gain instead. Allow me to explain: Suppose we do surrender and give them exactly what they want. Several million slaves that could just as easily be replaced by machinery and further technology is all we would loose. That and Admiral Royce's pride." Samuel Royce snarled and Dr. Gibbs grinned. "In return we demand a tiny sample of their technology. It doesn't have to be state of the art by any means, either. Just enough to push our understanding that much further," he said, holding up a paw, his thumb and index finger pinched close together. "That would be more than enough to make up for the economic loss."

"I can't believe what you're suggesting," growled Royce. "This is sickening!"

Mr. P, a biologist and the youngest member of the Society, stood from his chair, planting his paws on the tabletop and leaning in to snarl at the naval officer. "These damned foxes are far more advanced than we could hope to contend with, Admiral Royce! We fight, we die...there's no other outcome you could hope for, except their mercy."

Admiral Royce grumbled loudly but said nothing, allowing Mr. P to continue.

"What Dr. Gibbs is suggesting is our best option. We each have something the other wants, true? They want their kind liberated, we want their technology. I say let them take their kind back. What's a few million pathetic slaves compared to limitless possibilities? The only thing we stand to gain from the slaves is physical labor and annual margins of four, maybe five percent. What we have to gain from their technology, however, is limitless."

As Mr. P sat down he was followed by another long silence. The suggestion had struck a chord in those gathered, in one direction or the other. It was Ms. Carter that spoke next.

"Why not trade?" she said. "There's no denying the benefits from working directly with the foxes, if at all possible. As we've heard they've little interest in attacking without provocation. They may even agree to send representatives. Engineers and scientists. If we could arrange for a joint effort to implement their technology the potential would be tremendous."

"Absolutely absurd!" shouted someone.

"No, I agree with Ms. Carter," said another. "Think of the cost-benefit."

"Don't lecture me on cost! I own seventeen slaves myself and I refuse to have my property taken from me!"

More howls and snarls were exchanged around the table as the meeting quickly spiraled out of control. Through it all, however, Councilwolf Gilder remained silent as he contemplated the options.

"Quiet, quiet please!" he barked, and the wolves present slowly settled at the command.

Standing, he ensured that all eyes were on him and he had their undivided attention. "Arguing will get us nowhere. I motion for a vote on the subject."

"I second," said Mr. P quickly.

"All those in favor of striking a bargain with the Vulpines say aye."

"Aye!"

Gilder quickly counted the raised paws. "Seventeen for. The motion is passed with a clear majority." He gathered up his notes and arranged the computer tablets neatly. "Very well," he said gruffly. "I will propose the proposition to the Subcommittee and to the emperor myself."

Several wolves nodded agreement, others scowled.

"Discretion is often the better part of valor," he mumbled, mostly to himself before leaving the dark conference room in silence.

***

Ensign William Yard fidgeted nervously, watching Admiral Harford impatiently across his desk as he reviewed the notes he'd taken during their little "interview." For nearly half an hour the Admiral had questioned and re-questioned the junior officer about Commander Banks and his interactions with him: his behavior and moods toward the other officers on board and, more strangely, with his slaves. Ensign yard answered as honestly as he could, without knowing precisely what the Admiral's objective in all this was.

Ensign Yard didn't actually know that Commander Banks had been captured three days before until the ship's judge adjutant officer had called him in to testify as part of an investigation into the Commander's disappearance. He had noticed the wolf's sudden absence, and the shock the slaves' mysterious disappearance had rocked the ship's crew immediately.

Admiral Hartford noticed the ensign's nervous behavior. The investigation had so far yielded nothing definitive. Before arranging for his interview with Ensign Yard, Admiral Hartford had the tactical officer examine the tactical logs during the incident for any indication of sabotage or tampering. Nothing malicious, he'd assured him, had occurred before or during the attack. System failure had originated in engineering with a complete shut-down of the ship's power core, and reserve generators had failed to engage. Something the chief engineer had assured him was impossible. Should have been impossible. Still, life support had managed to remain active, drawing power from unknown sources.

Where was the link between this and Scott? There wasn't one, as far as the Admiral could tell. He made a call to the communications officer on duty, requesting that she check for any unregistered transmissions-encrypted or otherwise-emanating from the ship over the last ten days. That should have covered more than the entire period Scott had been on board. After fifteen minutes she called back to inform him that there had been none.

Another dead end, and so far the ensign's testimony had been unhelpful.

"I have one final question for you, ensign. Then you're excused." The Admiral's voice sounded strained and distressed to the young officer, who nodded reservedly. "I must ask that you be as sincere as possible. Do you believe, to your best impression and judgment of Group Commander Banks, that he would commit treason to the emperor, his government, or his navy?"

"No!" blurted Ensign Yard, the very word 'treason' triggering the natural response. "I mean...the Commander never gave me the impression that he would betray anybody. No...never."

To be charged with treason to the empire guaranteed execution. Not only did he think Commander Banks could never commit such a crime, he hated the thought of being an instrument to the officer's indictment and termination.

Admiral Hartford nodded slowly and deliberately before make a note of the comment on a tablet. Leaning back he sighed deeply and tapped the bottom corner of the computer tablet before him, stopping the lie-detector and audio recorder that had been documenting the verbal exchange.

"Ensign, if you have anything to say-off the record-I strongly suggest you do so now."

Ensign Yard looked down at the tablet, unsure of how much liberty he should take in a situation like this. Perhaps the Admiral could sense his apprehension about saying anything that could condemn the Commander.

"Sir," he said after a pause, "what is all this about, if I may ask. The adjutant general refused to tell me."

"Commander Banks was abducted by the alien ship, somehow penetrating the Mourning Son's defensive shields and draining the entire power grid. Captain Philips and I are trying to determine how this security breach could have happened."

Ensign Yard wasn't satisfied with such a generic response. "You believe Commander Banks did it, don't you?"

"What I believe he did or didn't do is not important to this investigation," Admiral Hartford pressed. "What is important is whether he did do it or not. Now I'll ask you again, as one officer and loyal wolf to another: Did he ever give you the impression he'd conspire with the alien fox, under any motive whatever? This is imperative to the security of the empire, ensign. And I promise, your name will not be attached to anything you tell me now."

The ensign bit his lip uneasily, the tip of his tail twitching unknowingly. He remembered the events of a few days before, the night prior to the attack on the ship, when he had brought that slave bitch to the Commander's quarters. The way he had hugged her filthy pelt to himself to calm her made him almost sick to his stomach.

"Come to think of it, sir, he did seem unusually...close to that female slave of his." The image crossed his mind again and he cringed disgustedly. "He treated her like...some kind of...lover," he said in a whisper, almost choking on the detestable notion.

Admiral Harford had no trouble hearing him. The wolf's eyes became wide, his ears turning forward with an indignant interest. "That's a very serious accusation, ensign," he said evenly.

"No more serious than treason, sir," he retorted defensively. "And that's not exactly what I meant. It was...friendly."

Admiral Hartford glanced at the computer tablet and considered restarting the recording, but thought better of it and determined the time had come to end the interview.

"Scott...Commander Banks hasn't yet been charged with treason, ensign, and you'll do well to remember that for now. Remember also that this was a legal investigation and everything discussed here is privileged. You're excused now."

Heeding the warning-or threat-Ensign William Yard stood and saluted before gladly leaving the Admiral's office.

***

Scott was vaguely aware of being led to a small room and made to lie on a bed that seemed too small for him. When the guards all but dragged him down the long corridors of the Center to a small room that flashed with intense energy, the wolf's fear of his captors faded almost immediately. If anything he was exhausted, and when the big foxes (almost as tall as his shoulders!) took him to a brig cell and left him in silence he couldn't keep himself from falling into a peaceful sleep. During that time Scott dreamt of his farm and family on Triticum, unaware of the discussion that his captors were having concerning his future.

"You've taken your privileges too far this time, Sozo," grumbled Minister Lokagos. "This is not what we had discussed."

Sozo and the ship's commander watched the wolf through a one-way wall. Scott had just fallen asleep as the Minister found a very proud Sozo there, watching over his captive like a hunter drooling over maimed prey. Lokagos got the distinct impression that it was only a matter of time before this hunter decided to make the final blow.

"This is absolutely necessary, minister. You see, wolves are an especially dominance-driven race of beasts. Very unlike foxes in their social behavior. Something that you have to realize is that their society is very stratified, with obedience and loyalty given to their superiors not necessarily through trust or merit...but through power and the fear of reprisal. They're driven by a pack mentality, you see. Everyone has his place in the hierarchy, and that place must be defended at all costs."

Lokagos flicked his tail-tip in irritation. Sozo was in his god-complex again, giving him a lecture he had heard before.

"When you live with them for so long it becomes clear that control is very important in their relationship with one another-dominant over submissive. By showing him," he pointed at the grey form curled up on the low bed, "that I control his environment and freedom, I will assert my dominance over him. I hope this will make him more cooperative."

Minister Lokagos frowned. "Sounds kind of sadistic to me, Sozo. I fail to see how treating him like a wild beast is supposed to gain his trust."

In all actuality Lokagos had never seen nor met a wolf before, and admittedly knew nothing about their behaviors, customs, and views on life in general. This ignorance was why, in part, he had tolerated Sozo thus far, and as much as it killed him to admit, he needed his experience.

Sozo showed his white teeth in a harsh grin, his expression bearing a sinister gleam aimed keenly for the creature within the cell. "I don't need his trust, minister," he said coldly, "and in all honesty I don't much care whether he trusts me or not. That's not important."

Lokagos turned to stare at his silvered companion. "There is no 'I' or 'me' in this, Sozo. I've warned you before not to let your personal hatred get in the way of accomplishing our mission here. Of all foxes in the universe you should be the one to understand this better than anyone else."

Sozo's well-used façade looked pained by the accusation. "I've never forgotten my duty, Minister, and never will."

"Good. Then you will also remember to heed my authority while you're on this ship. You will remain civil toward our guest at all times, and you will be under supervision throughout. I'll be the first to speak with him as soon as he wakes. Is that understood?"

Sozo made an exaggerated bow, a gesture that served only to anger the minister even further. "Yes, sir," he said with a hint of a mocking snicker.

Snarling, Lokagos made to leave, but not before commanding Sozo to forego using the wolf's behavior modifier ever again, save in emergencies.

"Or I'll have one installed on you. I don't need to remind you that psycho abuse is illegal and carries severe consequences," were the minister's final words before leaving Sozo to his own devises.

The silver fox growled lowly in his throat. Resentfully, he muttered, "Never again...I'll never have anyone control me again..."

Turning back to stare at the still form in the small cubicle of a room, he watched silently. A thousand memories of his tortured past tried to resurface but he fought them back down. Now was not the time to let the pains of his past overtake his emotions, undoing years of healing. But as he stared at the wolf inside, the wall he'd tried so hard to build between past and present felt all the more unstable. He shivered despite the warmth of the climate-controlled corridor as the fur on his back and neck began to itch mildly at first...then build to a dull throb-complaints of past injustices.

Twenty two years of slavery. A lifetime for some. The unlucky ones; the weak, the frail, the hopeless. Sozo was stronger than that, though. His hope had kept him alive, alone and lost, throughout his childhood. But by adulthood the childish folly of hope had died, giving birth to hate and rage until the day he could tolerate it no longer. His anger and his patience had made him strong through the years, strong enough to exact his revenge on the beast that had wronged him and stolen his life from him.

But it had never been enough. The pain never left him...never dimmed or faded away with time. Even now, as he stared with gritted teeth at the hateful form so comfortable now in his sleep, he could see the sweet face of the one he once loved but lost...oh, how many years ago? Sozo trembled uncontrollably at the vision of the lovely vixen's smiling face. He could still remember the smell of her soft fur, her gentle voice. A tear formed at the corner of his eye but he brushed it away before it could fall.

He had to turn away from the wolf before his resolve collapsed entirely.

It didn't matter anymore. The past was gone; all he had now was the future and freedom. Not just for him...for all foxes everywhere. It was only a matter of time before the mighty Lupine Empire would fall to its knees, begging for their gentle mercy. Of this he was certain; returning to him something he thought he'd forgotten years ago: Hope.

And it made him smile sincerely, however faintly.

Sozo took one last glance at his prey. "Let's see him smile before too long," he whispered quietly to himself before padding slowly down the cell-block.

***

Scott stirred himself into wakefulness, noting first that a pure whiteness pierced his eyelids. He must have forgotten to turn his light off the night before. He groaned and rubbed a paw over his face before slowly inching his eyes open. Laying on his side the wolf found himself staring groggily at a cream-white wall just inches from his nose. It was bare and featureless, and as he reached out to press his pawpads on the warm surface it became painfully obvious that he was not in his quarters aboard the Mourning Son.

"Oh gods," he muttered as he remembered the events of the day before. "This can't be happening..."

Scott felt that he had reached the limits of sanity and imagined that his superiors aboard the Mourning Son were in a similar state; trying to make sense of what had happened several days before and how to proceed from there. Chris Hartford was not likely taking it well. When Scott had worked with him years before his companion had never been one to handle stresses of this kind especially well, and Scott doubted that time had cured him of that.

The grey wolf rolled onto his chest and pushed himself up onto all fours, a difficult maneuver considering his bed was obviously built with shorter creatures in mind. Arching his back and flexing his limbs he stretched out the cramps in his limbs from neck to tail-tip and yawned widely, feeling more awake and more rested.

"Ahem," interrupted a muffled noise from his right and the wolf's head twisted in surprise toward the sound. Scott almost fell off the bed in shock as he saw two figures quietly watching him from the far end of the cell.

By the look of it, they had been waiting there since before he'd awoken. An orange-red furred fox sat patiently on a stool, and behind him stood the silver fox from the day before. Sozo was his name? The fox glared venomously at him, his arms firmly crossed over his shoulders in a defiant pose.

"I guess nobody knocks around here..." he muttered crossly under his breath. He quickly sat up, brushing with a paw at the matted fur on his head and face in a futile attempt to at least look presentable.

"Don't worry, Commander Banks. You'll have the chance to bathe as soon as we're done here," said the seated fox, reading Scott's mind. "But for now I want to welcome you aboard my ship, the Excedra. My name is Lokagos, Chief Minister of the Excedra."

Fighting another yawn, Scott looked hard at the fox. Perhaps it was the haunting memory of the previous night, or the fact that he was not a morning wolf, that made him growl angrily, first at the minister and then at the sneering fox behind him.

"Some welcome," he said bitterly. Had he been in a better frame of mind he would have used more tact, but Scott was becoming increasingly more annoyed with his hosts.

Lokagos did not appear to take the impudent comment to offense, however. "Yes, and I'd like to apologize for your mistreatment. I assure you it's been discussed with my associates and it will not happen again."

Scott noticed the indignant flick of Sozo's tail at the minister's comment. His face betrayed resentment, but even that was difficult to see through the hateful glare the fox leveled at the wolf.

"Why have you brought me here? I'd already offered Ionious my help when this whelp here arrested me and messed with my head."

Sozo yapped furiously. "It's more than you deserve, you son of a-"

"Sozo!" barked Lokagos. "Wait outside."

"But minister, you don't-"

"I said wait outside, Sozo! Now, damnit!"

The silver fox bristled, but obeyed the order, disappearing from the room and Scott's immediate view.

Sighing heavily, Lokagos took a long moment to lean forward, elbows on his knees and paws folded in a deliberate motion to appear more personable.

"I know what you and Ionious discussed," he said. "While you were asleep I had a long discussion with him and a few other members of our government. They agree that your input would be most valuable and placed you under my direct authority. I ask that whatever you hoped to do for Ionious, you do for me."

Scott considered for a moment. There wasn't an option implied in the fox's tone, that much he could see. He would either become their instrument, or no doubt suffer something much less pleasant. The question was, which would be worse?

"Then tell me," asked Scott, "if you want my help, what will be my part in all this? I won't betray my race, or help you kill. I understand what you want and I don't deny that you have the right to it, and all I want is to keep my people from making a terrible mistake."

Lokagos studied the wolf skeptically. "Sozo tells me your race is a violent one and will not hesitate to attack even if proven to be no match for us. Is that true?"

Scott was about to say 'no, certainly not,' but realized it was a question he'd been asking himself since abandoning his happy retirement. He prayed that cooler heads would prevail back home, and their leaders would not behave rashly, to their inevitable detriment. But there was a voice in the back of his head that told him that was unlikely.

"I wish I knew, but I really don't. I suppose what Sozo tells you is true to an extent...but in all honesty we're no more aggressive than what I've already seen of your race. Especially Sozo, who you seem to listen to so much."

The fox rocked back a fraction, indignant at the accusation this wolf had thrust at him.

Scott continued, "I may be a wolf and a slave owner. But I've never treated my slaves poorly-or anyone else's for that matter. I don't appreciate being treated like a wild beast," he snarled. "And I certainly don't appreciate having my mind enslaved in my own head!"

Lokagos looked down at his folded paws for a moment and sighed resignedly. "Believe me, it won't happen again, Commander Banks. You're my guest on this ship and afforded certain protections. Sozo will be questioning you soon, but under supervision. There's nothing I can do about that for now. But he will be under my charge, and I give you my word that he will behave from now on."

Scott had little reason to believe the fox was telling him the truth, or that Sozo would not try to enact whatever revenge he felt he was entitled to. After all, Ionious had also said something to the same affect. But finding himself helpless on a strange ship, there was little choice in the matter.

"I hope we can reach some kind of understanding, commander. I really do." Then the fox stood. "In the meantime you'll need to perform your personal hygiene and get something to eat. A steward will explain what level of cleanliness we require of all personnel on this ship."

Lokagos stepped from the small room and an armored guard like the one he'd seen at Ionious' facility stepped in a second afterward, prompting the wolf to follow him. When Scott moved into the hallway a second guard joined them. He saw that the passage was shaped somewhat like the rehabilitation center on their homeland: Off-white with walls that gradually arched in a pleasing slope toward the floor. The floor felt soft beneath his bare footpaws, almost like a firm gel. But at a glance it looked every bit as solid as reinforced alloy. Everything was pleasantly illuminated from somewhere he couldn't quite pin down. The setting was not at all like a military vehicle, but more in the realms of a civilian transport or similar purposes.

Scott couldn't help but notice the rows of small holding cells that lined the corridor and realized the nature of where they had placed him the night before, not to mention the pair of armed guards. Together they formed a box pattern around him as they escorted him down the hall; one ahead and to the right, the other behind and to his left.

"I don't suppose you can tell me where we are," he asked the guard to his left. "The ship, I mean."

The fox looked to him with distrustful eyes and regarded Scott with a scowl. He was young. By Scott's estimation he was no more than twenty years old-but looked no less capable of performing whatever duty he had been assigned. He was a good head shorter than Scott and lean in his build, but the slate black vest, leggings, and visorred helmet gave the effective impression that he was trained to fight, and well. The pistol holstered at his hip didn't help gentle his appearance either. The fox's partner looked back over his shoulder and for a second they made eye contact with one another.

"No," the guard to his left finally said before returning his eyes to the front, saying no more.

The wolf huffed bitterly to nobody in particular, not especially disappointed with the answer itself so much as the meaning behind it. Their look had said enough. Onboard this ship he was a hated monster, and that was not likely to change anytime soon.

***

"Ionious, this board recognizes and understands your concern over the present situation, but I'm afraid the original decision of the Bureau will not be overturned without sufficient cause. And so far, you have not been able to convince us that such cause exists."

Ionious stood at a low podium on a raised platform set before a small board of five Bureau members convened to hear his argument in favor of relieving Sozo of his duties and placing the wolf under his supervision. His efforts had not been fruitful, however, though this problem had been a predictable one: The Vulpine Senate's decrees were binding and little could be done to amend them.

But he was not willing to accept defeat so easily.

"Senator, my concern is that the Bureau has failed to see exactly how volatile the situation may become should the military sector allow itself to be manipulated by the rantings of a fox starved for revenge and brutality. I saw it myself. I fear that if Sozo is permitted to influence events as he already has he will do nothing but enflame relations with the wolves, putting the lives of millions of our people at risk."

Senator Omilitus, the assigned speaker of the board, did not look pleased. Ionious knew that accusing the Bureau of poor judgment was not going to help his case, but he'd run out of options. From the beginning, the issue gravitated toward the delicate balance of power between him, the civilian caretaker of refugees, and Minister Lokagos, the military official with the direct authority (vested in him by the Bureau itself) to procure those refugees as he saw fit. Here, on these terms, Ionious was outside of his element and outside his jurisdiction. He'd managed to get a temporary reprimand imposed on Sozo for the mistreatment of his prisoner, but that had so far proven to be the extent of his persuasion.

As Senator Omilitus held a quiet conversation with the board Ionious was able to take a deep breath. He knew the wheels of doubt were beginning to spin. They knew as well as he did-if not more so-the risks involved in their venture. While Lokagos and the Bureau were equally confident that a full recovery of the slave population was technologically possible, it was entirely impractical. There were seventeen million slaves scattered throughout the Lupine Empire, and not nearly enough resources to support them all at once. Sozo was right about one thing: The violence of the enemy was not to be underestimated. Ionious' greatest fear was that a massive slaughter of the slaves in retribution would result from any attempt to take them from their masters through force. Recovery would have to take time, relying on a concerted effort from both sides to ensure a smooth transition. He'd had hopes that Scott Banks could act as some kind of medium between the two races, considering his willingness to cooperate.

"Ionious," Omilitus finally said. "We recognize your expertise in the field of public health, and your many years of service to the same. That is, in part, why this same board nominated you as head of refugee rehabilitation. But you are encroaching on a military operation and the method by which those refugees are secured is not your responsibility, nor your decision. As to your request to relieve Sozo, this board also finds insufficient cause. He has been reprimanded, yes; and Minister Lokagos has been informed of your concerns and been ordered to act accordingly to his best judgment. Your input has been noted for the record."

Ionious flicked his ears in acknowledgment, knowing when to accept defeat.

"And I am grateful for your patience, senators. I pray to the Sons of Heaven that my misgivings are proven to be unnecessary."

Senator Omilitus flicked an ear in agreement. "Thank you, Ionious. You are excused."

The fox dipped his nose respectfully to the distinguished members of the board before calmly walking from the meeting hall. Once in the lobby he activated his personal teleporter, sending him directly to his office. He found Bothios in his own office down the hall. The medical official was busy pouring over diagnostic data of the stasis patients in ward twelve when his boss interrupted.

"We've been stonewalled, Bothios," he said, plopping himself into a chair. "The Bureau believes this to be strictly a military affair and we are not to interfere. In all honesty I'm not one bit surprised."

Bothios frowned. "No, I suppose we shouldn't be. Did you mention the wolf's willingness to cooperate?"

"Oh course. The board was not interested in taking such an undue risk on...how did they put it...'a potentially violent and unstable creature.' I've spent my life studying this, Bothios, but who do they trust? A lunatic that drifted in from space. I doubt they would have listened to the wolf's former slaves had they been there with me."

"The Bureau conducts this choir, sir," Bothios said sarcastically. "I guess they like Sozo's tune."

The shallow joke did not amuse Ionious.

"Where are Commander Bank's slaves, anyway?"

Bothios didn't look up from his reports as he muttered, "The female has been confined to her quarters until she calms down."

"What happened?"

"The female, Sarah, almost killed me during the link this morning. When she saw what had happened to her, her brother, and the wolf she became so irate that she nearly terminated the link then and there. I'm lucky Mialo could pull me from it when he did! Otherwise I'd be much less coherent right now. When we woke her from stasis she demanded to see him. She wouldn't settle down, so I had security take her to an empty dorm and keep an eye on her."

Ionious frowned, his tone cynical as he said, "I hope this is not a sign of things to come. If so, we defiantly have a lot of work to do."