Crucible, Parts 7 and 8
Story by Robert Baird on SoFurry
Both Ellison Coble and the Kashkin take significant, irrevocable steps towards something more troubling.
Both Ellison Coble and the Kashkin take significant, irrevocable steps towards something more troubling
Like with the last submission, these are different chapters on writing.dog, but to avoid submission spam I am combining them into one. There is some smut in this one! And a few returning characters from Hatikvah, who will be important later on. Here comes the big twist in the novel, by the way. Patreon subscribers, this should also be live for you with notes and maps and stuff.
Released under the Creative Commons BY-NC-SA license. Share, modify, and redistribute--as long as it's attributed and noncommercial, anything goes.
Crucible, by Rob Baird. Parts 7 & 8
The edge of Presbyter City
Arcadia, Jericho
03.9.2560
Eshkaja was a Rottweiler mix, he claimed—pure shepherd on his father's side, too, and only two generations removed from the corporate barracks that bred them. He did not look like a guard dog: his eyes were soft, and his folded ears gave him a consistently fuzzy, nonthreatening air.
Even when he bared teeth, as he did now, the gesture was futile. “You shouldn't be so incautious."
Dani took his concern with the sincerity it merited—and patted the mutt's wrist. “I've been doing this for two years, Kajala. Have some faith."
The other dog grunted. “But you're meeting the same one as before, aren't you?"
He meant Ellison Coble, an officer in a Yucatec PMC. They'd met every two weeks for the past four months, with Coble picking the Border Collie up in a rented car, posing as a client. And then, in a quiet, dark alley, he'd slip her a new data chip, or pass along rumors from Arcadia's military.
The intelligence they gleaned proved useful, as far as Dani knew. When he first approached her, she'd made use of her background in computers to analyze the chip he offered as evidence of his willingness to help them. The encryption codes were genuine; they could be traced inarguably back to him.
“I am," she told Eshkaja. “And he hasn't let us down so far. He's taking a risk, too."
His muzzle curled again. “You speak too fondly of him."
The truth was complicated, so she settled for brushing her roommate off. “Let me do my job. I don't try to do yours, do I?"
With her coat buttoned, watching traffic pass by a street on the outskirts of Presbyter City, she could allow herself to dwell on those complications. Coble was friendly, and genuinely good-natured, and she was fond of him. Not merely by comparison to the other humans who propositioned her, and whom she sometimes consented to when she thought it might be worthwhile to get something out of them.
Sometimes Nakath accused one another of being lona: shorn. Naked. It implied a desire to be human; an unseemly sympathy with their erstwhile oppressors. Dani could not be accused of that. She had given up her career in CODA in an act of sabotage to spare some of her captive peers, and never regretted that decision for a moment.
And her job exposed her to some of the worst people in Arcadia, and the conspicuous form of abuse they visited on moreaus like her. She understood their failings. But, she thought, that also gave her insight into their redeeming traits.
When Ellison pulled up, opening the door for her to slip into the rental car, her upbeat mood was sincere. “How've you been?"
“Pretty good. Same as before, I guess, actually—not much is changing. I guess it must be different for you. We've been hearing about the attacks. Nobody you know has been hurt, I hope, right?"
“Everyone knows someone who knows someone," the collie admitted. “Our packs are closely knit, in the Kashkin. But I'm more aware of a… general sense of loss. It has not directly found me, thankfully."
“Good. Good. I hope it doesn't get worse." He pulled the vehicle into an alleyway, and shut the power off. “Or maybe we can do more than hope."
“You have something for me?"
“I do." He passed her a small computer chip. “Presuming you can read it."
“I'll do my best." One of the buttons on her coat concealed a tiny computer—little more than a data storage mechanism. She held Ellison's chip against the back of the button until a soft light briefly flashed. “What is it, anyway?"
“Maps, along with some operational plans. From what I can tell, Billie Moody asked her contacts at the firm who's training them on their mechs to review their strategy. But she was told that was out of their area of expertise. So they went to CODA, instead."
“Not you?"
Ellison shook his head. “The Coordinating Council tries to avoid working with anything that looks too official. If they came to me, I'd be obliged to report it to my supervisors, and my supervisors would tell the Arcadian government."
The 'Arcadian government'—such as it was—couldn't afford to cause trouble, Dani knew. She'd asked Coble about it when they started hearing about new weapons being smuggled in through the planet's Mutually Guaranteed Neutral Zone: why was Arcadia letting them get away with it? Why let Moody operate her private army at all?
He'd pointed out that, with Arcadia drifting further from the Yucatec Alliance, the official civilian administration had come to be dominated by smaller businesses: independent operations, taking advantage of the relative autonomy they found. By contrast, although the Coordinating Council made only a quarter of the economy, all of them had ties to major corporations off-world.
And that meant that, if Jericho came under attack, those corporations would be their only hope of rescue from somewhere else. The government in Ford City refused to cross the Moodies and their allies as a result, although obviously Coble didn't feel any loyalty to Arcadia beyond that. “But you're not telling them now?"
“It depends on what you tell me. If it's bad enough, I might have to."
“Bad enough for whom?"
Ellison gave her a bitter laugh. “I don't know. The government is terrified of looking weak. Weak against you, of course, but also against the Council. They should crack down on the militias, especially if they're starting to talk strategy. But their first instinct will be to sweep it under the rug. It would have to be very damning—and you'd have to take it seriously."
“How did you get hold of this information?" she asked him. “Have you looked at it?"
“I have, yes, unofficially—the same way I received it. I have friends in the Defense Authority who thought I should be informed. CODA also turned them down. They're contractually prohibited from involvement on Jericho."
“And to keep the lawyers from getting involved, your friends came to you first? What's the saying—'under the table'? Not the rug." she guessed, trying to think of how much she'd need to tell her superiors. Dani herself was a CODA veteran, as were numerous other moreaus—many of whom had left the Defense Authority on better terms than she had. It wasn't implausible that a leak would make its way back to CODA.
“Exactly. As far as I know, CODA didn't offer any comments on the plan. It might change if they get somebody who knows what they're talking about to review it. But what shouldn't change, I'm guessing, is the order of battle."
“That would be helpful," the collie agreed. And it could be massaged into their models without making CODA's involvement too obvious. “Is there anything you're worried about?"
“Me? Why?"
“Didn't that happen in the last war? The militias were powerful enough that they thought they could go rogue. It must be part of your strategic planning."
Ellison sighed. “It's complex. If I were to officially know about the plans, I'd agree that… well, they're so well-armed that they might want to act rashly. Tensions are obviously rising—you don't have to tell me that—and when it boils over… if," he corrected himself reluctantly. “If it boils over…"
He was quiet; thoughtful. “If, yes?" she prodded.
“I'm a little concerned. They go after one of your boats, you shoot back, a stray round hits a warehouse on the northern side of the Arkadiensee, and… we'd want to keep things contained, right? Arcadia would, definitely. General Devry orders a few rockets shot across the lake… maybe they do damage; maybe not. That's it. I think you'd let it end there."
“Probably." It would just be one of countless such provocations.
“But I'm concerned the Coordinating Council might use it as an excuse to act unilaterally."
“It seems like they're trying to provoke us to do that," she countered. Militia hydrofoils had started feinting towards the Kashkin's boats on the southern shore: sometimes shooting first, and sometimes trying to bait the fishermen into doing it for them. It was not the Jericho Home Guard's doing—but neither was it Arcadians acting in isolation.
“Probably." Coble leaned back in the seat, staring off towards the ceiling. “We know that you're not going to make the first move. Moody will push that as far as she can."
“With the help of her allies," Dani said. The Sanganese had been cozying up to the militias of the Coordinating Council; for several months now, every raid in the western mountains had been a joint operation. “What do you think about, perhaps… what if I had a specific request for you?"
“It would depend on the request."
“Copies of the MSB-25 forms for the southern sector."
Ellison blinked rapidly. “The configuration data for our sensors?"
“I'm told that our passive surveillance could be adapted if we knew more about the scanners the Home Guard used. Apparently, it would permit us to make more sense of what we see from the Moodies. I could, of course, find a way to make sure that information gets back to you…"
“You're 'told,' huh?"
“Yes."
Coble straightened up, giving her a sharp, sideways glance. “I'm told that you were a sensor operator for CODA with a computer science degree, focused in signal processing."
“You're asking for me to evaluate the truthfulness of why I was asked?"
“I'm telling you I know that you know why you were asked. With the MSB-25s you could recalibrate your jammers to blind the entire network."
There was no point in playing dumb. “Yes. Probably—it would certainly help. I… it wasn't my idea, if that was your suspicion. My supervisors think that I've grown close to you. They suggested this friendship might lead you to accept."
“Very bold of them," he grunted.
“I'll tell them you don't have access. You had some reservations, of course, but it's also privileged data for the Arcadian military, not Geruda—it would raise eyebrows if you were found prying into it. They'll understand your comfort level."
“About betraying the Home Guard? Look. We—" Coble caught himself abruptly. “Someone's coming." A moment later, a beam of light pierced the vehicle; he slid the window down and leaned out. “Hey."
“Hey, man." It was the Sanganese man: Captain Shirakawa—recently a frocked colonel, and in line to take over command of the Kingdom's southern operations. Dani knew him well. “You always rent these trashy GMCs. Only time I see cheap Alliance metal this far north, I swear it."
“Corporate discount, y'know…"
“Cheap, is what it… oh." He'd finally noticed her. “Did I disturb something?"
Dani gambled: “N-no, sir. We were just—"
“You let it talk? Fuck, you're a soft touch." But it had been the right move, explaining Ellison's sudden nervousness. “You are. Oh, man. You gonna cuddle afterwards, too?"
“No. We, uh. Well—no," Coble declared firmly.
“This is a regular hobby of yours, isn't it?" the other man guessed. “What'd I tell you? They're only good for one thing."
“It's not regular. Just a couple times. The, uh… you know." He pantomimed the outline of a muzzle with his fingers. “If I have errands up here…"
“You don't have to explain yourself to me." Shirakawa laughed. “I got you into this, right? Maybe even with this one. Was it? They all kinda look the same."
Ellison coughed awkwardly. “I'm not sure. I don't think it recognized me, at least."
“Oh, it did. It recognized me." He leaned down, until his head was partway inside the car. “You recognize me—don't you, bitch? See? See? Look at it trying to decide if it should talk. Fucking hell."
“You know it? This one?"
Shirakawa laughed again, and stood back up. “I'm pretty sure I do. Not by name. But I know it can learn lessons. First time? Said it didn't know what to do. I told it: look, if I feel teeth, they're coming out. And you know what? Never felt 'em. You got teeth, bitch?"
Dani kept her muzzle closed, and shook her head quickly. She suspected that if she answered verbally, he might feel the need to make a demonstration of her, and the quicker things wrapped up the better. Coble tried an apprehensive chuckle: “I haven't noticed, for sure."
“Exactly. Thank me for that, huh? I'll let ya to it. Better use 'em while you can, y'know? Open season seems to have been spreading a bit recently. The lake's not overrun, not anymore. A couple more months, and we won't even have to put out poisoned bait."
“Maybe, uh… maybe we can cover that in private," Ellison suggested. “Tomorrow."
“You're so paranoid, EJ. You better not be paying full price."
“We were negotiating."
“Why? There's fuck-all to negotiate," he snorted. “Fifteen obols. And that's if it cleans you off good. You hear that? I better not find somebody's been tipping you," he warned Dani, before slapping the door of the car. “Whatever. I'm going to the bar. Head over when you're done."
The two sat silently while his footsteps receded, and Coble closed the window again. “We should be more careful," Dani said. “I'll figure out a better way to share information."
“Nobody's ever come out this way before."
She couldn't always tell if Ellison was too trusting, or if the naïveté was an act, too. “He was looking for me. He knows I'm often in this neighborhood. And we encounter each other… not infrequently."
“Oh." A pause. “I'm sorry."
No, the collie decided, it was genuine surprise. Coble had a decency about him that Eshkaja would never understand, entirely because Coble was too bare-skinned to be trusted. Were he a moreau—any average farmer, any random corporate refugee—Eshkaja would've been asking when the two would settle down together.
This, too, was silly. She did not have those feelings for Ellison, and she told herself it was not simply because he was human. Their encounters were professional—but they were professional because she respected him, and that he respected her in kind. His concern now only confirmed that she'd made the right choice.
And, for that matter, the right choice in not pressing the issue with the sensors. “It's worth it," she assured him. “Even if he doesn't say anything useful, it makes him complacent. Some of their other contractors aren't so disciplined, as a result."
“I can guess. It's just… I don't know. The way he talks about you."
“I've heard worse. And better," she added, gesturing towards him. “All part of the job. Speaking of which…"
This time, the confused look faded quickly when she sorted out the money and handed it over, leaving only a handful of small chips. “In case Shirakawa finds you?"
“I'll tell him you dumped me without paying."
Ellison nodded, and the chips disappeared into his jacket pocket. “You'll get these back. Next time we meet."
She had to smile. “I trust you. I'll be in touch, somehow, Ellison." Dani hit the button for the car's door, and stepped out into the night. She was about to close it again when he reached his hand out to stop her. “Yes?"
“You're right about the MSB-25s. The Home Guard keeps those certificates, and I have no good reason to see them. It might raise questions."
“Yes. I think my supervisors will understand."
“But we do coordinate the maintenance contract. If you can get me the parameters you want, I can make sure they're updated on the next service interval. Does that work?"
In spite of herself, Dani felt her ears splay. She gathered herself up enough to nod. “That works." The door closed, and with a quiet hum the hoverdyne pulled from the alley and back onto the streets of Presbyter City.
She practiced what she'd tell Shirakawa. Ellison was embarrassed by the interruption; he'd kicked her out curtly, without paying her anything. Maybe the other man would ask to see her wallet—ask if she was feeling a bit desperate—ask what she was willing to do to make up the difference…
Maybe she'd go along with it, although her patience for dealing with the Sanganese officer was low. In any case he didn't seem to be anywhere around; she kept her shoulders hunched anyway, and her eyes nervously flickering from one corner to the next, just in case.
Dani was two blocks from the alley when a taxi glided up to her, window already rolled down. “Get in." The driver was an unassuming moreau—plenty of them worked similar jobs in the human sectors of Jericho, courtesy of their corporate training.
But she knew this man in particular. Toski Kulan worked for the same organization as the collie—two ranks higher. Dani took a seat in the back of the cab, and waited for him to close the window again. “Comrade Kulan. Good evening."
“Are you safe? What was that with Shirakawa?"
“It was a chance encounter. He's never seen me with EJ before."
Kulan grunted. “You're sure?"
“I'm sure. We'll find a new way to communicate."
“Your supervisor tells me that you're the one who didn't want to use dead drops. It's not a good idea to keep meeting him in person like this."
Dani had known that she was being watched, of course: the intelligence service protected its assets carefully. Her work was so routine, though, that she'd never asked who was keeping an eye on her. Was Kulan's interest recent? “It has its advantages, comrade."
“Which are?"
“He's suggestible. He can't get us the sensor data we wanted. It would raise too many questions. And, as I said, we're asking him to go much further than he has before—to actively betray his own kin. If we'd just put the request in a drop, how would he have taken it?"
“Either he wishes to help us, or he doesn't."
The collie shook her head. “He's not just a tool, Kulan. Did you have audio from the conversation we had with Shirakawa? No? EJ didn't like the way he spoke to me. After he left, Major Coble suggested that if I could give him configuration details for their sensors, he'd make sure they were programmed with whatever data we want."
“You believe he'll do that?"
“I do, yes. We have a rapport, comrade Kulan. And I don't think that would've happened if we hadn't met face-to-face."
He digested that, and finally nodded thoughtfully. “Perhaps not. Take care that you're not getting too close, though, sister. You know we can't trust them."
“We'll have to at some point—don't we?"
City of Ganil Kodaw
Kashkin, Jericho
19.9.2560
Kalasos shut her eyes as her husband's tongue lapped her muzzle fondly, knowing even before he started that he was about to nibble his way past her cheek to her sensitive ears. “Kalla…"
“I'm serious," she protested. “It's important."
“I know." Arkasha nipped her ear. And he did, to his credit; she trusted him. He didn't like the late night she worked at her office, and he didn't like when she paired them with earlier mornings—but he understood. “The next one will be important, too. You always find new jobs. Always need to stay busy. I would've thought our sons were enough."
She laughed, and batted him away. “Maybe with a third."
Arkasha froze, pushing back on the bed to look at her curiously. “Are you serious this time?"
“I do think things are calming down," she said. “And if I land this next contract, I can afford to hire a full-time public relations assistant. That would make things even calmer, and…"
And she did want another child. They'd talked about it before, always as a hypothetical. The twins, coming as they did shortly after her retirement from the OVKK, were fortuitous—but so much work that her civilian career stalled. Getting it started again, seeking new clients for her consulting services, took nearly as much effort.
But that had paid off, and…
“Now?" he prompted.
“Perhaps…"
Arkasha lifted his head, straining to focus on the clock. He sighed. “We should start getting ready, though, to be honest. Only an hour before it's time to start wrangling the pups."
They were fairly well-behaved, on balance, but Kalasos knew what he meant. She followed the shepherd out of bed, and where Arkasha settled for a loose-fitting robe Kalasos dressed in proper clothes, so that she could leave for the office as soon as she was done helping him with breakfast.
Partway through that, a knock at the door interrupted, soft enough that they both glanced at one another, assuming they'd misheard. The knock came again, and Arkasha went to see who might want their attention so early in the morning. “Hello?"
“Hello, sir. I'm looking for Etkash Koha nor'Kalasos."
The mixed-breed's ears perked, and she made her way over to the door. A young tiger stood on the other side. He was dressed in an OVKK uniform that gave his name as 'Dara' and, when he saw Kalasos, he straightened crisply.
“Good morning, ma'am. Colonel Kalasos, I presume?"
Even as indulgent as it was, the smile took some effort. “Not anymore, jananga. Can we help you? Would you like some breakfast?"
“I've been asked to bring you to Corsini, ma'am."
“Why? There must be some mistake, sergeant. I haven't been to the Kennel in five years. I don't even remember the directions."
That was untrue. And the way she laughed, trying to play it off, clearly made the tiger uncomfortable. He looked over his shoulder at a waiting car. “Your name was specifically mentioned. But I wasn't given any other details. I'm sorry."
“You should go, then. You're too important, I always say. This meeting, that meeting—you're in high demand," her mate joked. “Managing breakfast by myself is one of the drawbacks of being married to a celebrity, but I can handle it."
“I'll be back soon," she promised.
Indeed, despite the tiger's protest, Kalasos was sure a mistake had been made somewhere. Perhaps they were clearing out old paperwork and thought she was still involved with the OVKK. They'd learn better when security checked her clearance and stopped things from progressing any further.
“Who even asked for me, Sergeant Dara?"
He turned the hoverdyne onto the main road towards Corsini, looking for traffic on the desolate early-morning highway before answering. “Captain Hashad. My commanding officer, in operations."
“You're not a driver, I take it."
“A paralegal. I'm don't know why Captain Hashad was asked either, ma'am. Are you retired?"
“Yes. I work as a consultant now."
Sturdy wire fence bounded the OVKK's headquarters on the Corsini Plain; such security measures were uncommon, and its nickname—“the Kennel"—had been all but inevitable. Kalasos missed the work, at times… but leaving the Kennel had felt appropriately liberating, too.
Two guards met the vehicle at the gate. Dara handed the computer with his orders on it over and, unsurprisingly to Kalasos, they were ordered to wait. A minute later, the senior MP came back—and raised his paw in salute. “Sorry for the hassle, ma'am. Sergeant, park in Bay Two and wait for your escort."
“Understood."
They pulled through the barricade smoothly. When it closed behind them, Kalasos's curiosity built. “'Escort,' inana Dara?"
He had no answer, but the parking bay wasn't far off and the promised escort was already waiting. She recognized the Border Collie: Genakhot, an old comrade, a veteran of their fight for independence. General Genakhot, as it happened. Minister Genakhot, senior commander of the OVKK and responsible for the Commonwealth's defense.
Genakhot returned Dara's salute. “Thank you. You're dismissed, sergeant. Colonel, if you could follow me…"
“Doctor," she suggested. “Inanu."
The Border Collie gave her a thin smile, holding the door for her and waiting for it to close behind them. “Inanu Kalasos. I'm sorry we had to bother you before you left for work. But…"
“But you did ask for me? I can't imagine why, jananga. It's been years." The walk was short: she felt sure of their destination already.
“That is why." He pressed his paw to a security scanner, waiting for its confirmatory chime. The OVKK's intelligence center hadn't changed in five years; even the holographic screens were yet to be updated. “Do you remember Project 81?"
And everything clicked into place. “Oh. Do you remember it?"
“No," he admitted. “Sanuk Kara did."
Project 81 wasn't even really a 'project' on its own: more a collection of algorithms Kalasos and her team had developed to help with the OVKK's strategic simulations. The need for them wound down even before her departure: until Genakhot mentioned it, she'd forgotten the initiative existed.
Her access codes were probably still locking the computer files, in that case, and Genakhot called her back to change that. “Was it good work?" He'd stopped at the entrance to the server room, waiting.
“Interesting work, at least, but not as useful in peacetime. And I'd rather have that, given the choice."
“So would I. I take it you don't think about coming back?"
“I enjoy retirement, Gennich. And I enjoy my family. Arkasha remembers how long I used to spend in the Kennel. If I went back…" She shook her head. “As I said: I'd rather have peace."
“We might need you. Not for long, but… just to double-check something. Sanuk Kara wanted to use one of your algorithms with a new model, and you're… well, you're the best one to judge if it makes sense."
“Only because we're old friends," the mixed-breed told him. She settled in at the nearest console; her credentials, troublingly, granted immediate access. Brushing aside her unease, she found her way to the Project 81 documents. “I've transferred permissions away from my account. The last-modified date says they haven't been touched since 2554, so I'm sure they're out of date, but… there you go."
“Thank you. And… would you be willing to help us with one more thing?"
Sanuk Kara appeared before she could prompt him for details. The Samoyed smiled; the eye she'd been born with brightened naturally, and its biomechanical counterpart seemed to follow a second later. “Inanu Kalasos. It's good to see you again."
Kalasos shook General Sanuk's paw warmly. Her prosthetic arm and ear were all but indistinguishable from what she'd been born with. The eye, though—by now, twenty years after the war, it was almost a deliberate affectation. Kalasos could respect that. “You as well, Sanuk."
“We pulled inanu Doktoru Kalasos away from her family," Genakhot said. “So we should be brief, if possible. You had questions about the Project 81 model, right?"
“Yes, sir." The Samoyed leaned over the computer, navigating to a document that, according to the logs, had been modified only a few minutes earlier. “Can you validate this data format?"
Kalasos couldn't tell how comforted she was by the ease with which she recalled the debugging subroutines she'd designed. Either way, it was second-nature. “Yes. It looks fine. You really have this kind of resolution?"
Sanuk Kara nodded. “The intercept stations have been working overtime. We needed something that could handle that degree of precision, and I remembered you'd worked on this. Project 81."
“Yes, the algorithms will handle it. Double-check the inputs though: you're going to get weird evolutions."
“Accurate ones?"
“Yes. Well… no. They can only be as accurate as the starting parameters, and these assumptions are… flipped, I think."
Genakhot and Sanuk Kara exchanged a glance. “You can tell that just by looking?" the Border Collie asked. “I'm impressed."
“I did design these, after all," Kalasos pointed out. “What simulation are you running, anyway? If it's classified, you don't have to say, but… what type, at least?"
“Your Kontot software. Ha'ukral."
Kontot—KoNTOT, formally, “software for predictive observation through self-learning and analysis"—had been developed under her tenure; the hakh-Ukral set of scenarios were strategic planning ones. “And this is input to a behavioral node? Right. Well, then your evolutions are definitely going to diverge. The way you have these weights inverted, it might look plausible, but incorrect. That should all be in the documentation, if you have any questions about it."
“Your help would not go unappreciated, inanu Kalasos."
And she felt a nagging itch to at least try running the simulation, just to see. That was no more comforting than her familiarity with the old codebase. Kalasos forced herself back, stood, and bowed politely to Sanuk Kara. “I appreciate the compliment. But you'll be able to manage."
“It's not merely idle praise, colonel. We could use someone of your caliber."
“You have plenty. The Kashkin is full of smart young citizens willing to help."
Genakhot stepped in to save her: “It's true," he said. “I'll find a driver to take you back home, inanu Kalasos. It was good to see you again."
Breakfast had been served, and their two children were at school already, when she returned home. Arkasha set about reheating the portion he'd set aside. “And you're still going to the office, I take it?"
“I should," she agreed. “Sorry for leaving you to handle everything, love." Her mate only chuckled until he'd finished arranging her plate. He left his, too, she realized. “I am sorry. And the office can wait."
“For a bit, perhaps. Tea?"
“Please."
“Sit," he ordered. “I'll bring it over. What was the visit about, anyway? You were gone too long for it to be a mistake."
“Not quite a mistake. They needed access to some old software I'd written."
Arkasha settled opposite her at the table, filling her cup from a fresh pot of tea. “And only you could help them?"
“Only I had the password." She sliced a helping of storjan; its inside was stuffed not with the jam their children enjoyed but a local cheese Kalasos herself was fond of. “I don't deserve you, Arkich…"
“I'm the only one who can say whether you do or not. What was the software?"
“Old. Old work," she said. “Your storjan is wonderful, love."
Arkasha watched her take the next bite. “I think you miss it. You can admit that. I don't mind."
“There are… parts of it I miss, yes. I enjoyed being part of something." She reached across the table, and took the shepherd's paw. “But I'm part of something now. What we've built is worth it, Arkich."
And she meant it.
Although her thoughts drifted back to the encounter on occasion, after a week with nothing further from anyone at the Kennel she settled back into routine. Completely ordinary, she would've said, if asked, and deflected any questions about why her nights had been growing longer and longer.
The most pressing contract came from an off-world company: a Nakath-owned firm wanting to branch out into serving humans in a neighboring city. The largest bank had offered them a loan, on steep terms; they were understandably skeptical of the economic models they'd been given.
Inspiration struck well after dark. If Schweizer turns out to have bid on that property—and they had, she saw, with only a little searching. “Kosarja," she muttered, albeit with a grin. “Ileda hachu kosarja…"
“Which bastards?" a quiet voice prompted.
Kalasos only realized at that point she'd been speaking out loud. She reached behind her until she could pat Arkasha's side, pulling him closer. “Schweizer. They're a proxy company for UMM—actually, a wholly owned subsidiary. UMM has options open across the continent, which didn't make sense to me."
“Of course," Arkasha said indulgently, resting his paws on his mate's sides while he looked at the mess of data on the screen. “But it does now."
“UMM knows something about the rumored cobalt deposits. Must be more than rumors—they can crash the market any time they want; buy up all this infrastructure at a fraction of its value."
“And that would be bad," he ventured. “And very important, of course. Very important."
Kalasos's ears lowered slightly. “It's late, isn't it? I'll finish up as soon as I can."
“You could finish up now," the shepherd suggested instead. “You've been working too much, Kalla. It's not that late. Although… I've already put the pups to bed."
“I told you to interrupt me if you needed help…"
“I didn't. And I didn't want to distract you until I was ready."
“Ready?"
“You know what I mean." The shepherd's paws met just below her ribcage; his muzzle settled into the base of her ear. “Do I need to put you to bed, too?" The low rumble of her mate's voice sent an unbidden shiver through her.
“No."
“No?" He shifted his hips, pressing into her rear so lightly the hint of firm, warm pressure was almost too subtle to notice.
Almost. “I can get there on my own."
“You sure?" No special talent at predicting the future was needed. When she started to twist free, his hold tightened. He ground more provocatively, staying close long enough to make his swelling perceptible.
She noticed for the first time that her paw, when she'd patted him, had settled into bare fur. “Do you think I can't? Or do you not want me to?"
“You're not even dressed for it." He tugged the waistband of her pants, to make his point clear. “So I'm not sure you don't need help…"
Pulling away from her mate, she slid the trousers off and into a heap on the floor. “Better?" Another tug; she slipped from her shirt, too, and looked back over her shoulder at the grinning shepherd. “So now it's time for bed?"
Arkasha slid closer, grinding heavier without the barrier of clothing between them. “Now I don't know that we should really wait that long." His paws turned her from the door to the nearest wall, all couple of shuffling steps away. When he had her up against it, he nipped the mutt's ear. “Do you?"
No, she did not. Kalasos reached down to help him, guiding Arkasha into position, pressing with her fingers until his pre-slick tip slid inside her. She gasped at the gentle penetration, the sound a whispered invitation—a plea, answered in a shuddering huff of her mate's breath at her ear as, hips arching strongly, his hard shepherd cock sank gratifyingly deep.
The steady, careful thrusts that followed kept him buried, left enough of him in her there was no chance he might accidentally slip out. She could focus instead on his smooth strokes, and the exquisite rhythm of his throbbing warmth alternately dragging along her walls as he tugged free and pressing them apart when he took her again.
Judging it was time to let him know she'd adjusted, Kalasos pushed back. He grunted in response, bucking up until the dog was lifting her hips, pivoting her on his hilted shaft. But his knot, as she'd expected, was nowhere thick enough to tie, and a few seconds later he relaxed once more into the even, measured tempo of a slow, deliberate mating.
If he'd wanted slow or tender, though, he could've taken her to bed. And he hadn't, and Kalasos knew it was only a matter of time before she started to sense the familiar signs. First a muffled growl, and the tense way it cut off when he realized. She grinned inwardly, hearing it as if on cue; gauged his gradually increasing speed.
By the third growl, panting marked its end rather than any conscious effort and every few thrusts jerked to a shaky, straining halt before he took the next one.
With a quiet whimper she let her stance weaken: just a fraction, just enough to sag back and into the shepherd. He overcompensated—rammed her forward as the whole of his length claimed her in one strong plunge—and his grip went fiercely tight around her belly.
He didn't relax. Wouldn't, now: leaned on her back to pin her against the wall and fill her ear with ragged, demanding snarls. Just what he demanded was obvious—the rocking of his hips growing shorter, pushing the couple together with more and more insistence.
The rubbing, swiveling girth of his knot nudged dangerous notions into her when he hilted. She was close—could be close—if she gave in… let him give in… and he was so thick as it was, her insides already slick with the precum he spilled in quicker, telling throbs, and so pent-up there was no telling what he'd managed with that alone…
“You're going to tie me." Her words ran together in the husky, desperate exhalation, but they might've been a warning. She might've been telling the shepherd he had only another few chances to pull out. When he didn't, though—when his grasp strengthened and he drove into her firmly to let her know he wasn't even trying—her moan was shameless.
He bucked against her rump, still swelling, until every movement tugged at her and he locked solidly into place. Claimed—warm in his embrace, helpless to resist the nipping teeth on her scruff—she yielded. Pleasure rolled through her, tensing her muscles only to unstring them again.
She squirmed and arched as she rode her peak, her mate's arms the only thing holding her still. Then he groaned, claws digging in at her sides, and pushed up with one last, urgent thrust. She felt his cock pulse hard and deep, planting the hot splashes of his seed in her.
Kalasos could only whine and shudder, climax stretching out while the shepherd pumped her squeezing, snug pussy full. He pressed into her repeatedly—strong at first, then more and more gently as the warmth of his cum spread through her insides and she heard his groans turn into huffing, sated grunts.
Then he stopped. Still embracing her, shaft still twitching on occasion through the load he'd claimed the mutt with, Arkasha nosed her scruff. “Kalla, my love…" Simple as they were, the words—and the tone in them—made his goal clear. More than anything, the soft rumble carrying through her fur told her how intentionally he'd bred her.
And how few regrets he'd had. Trying to consider if she had any of her own, hazy in her contented afterglow, she turned to lick his nose. “What if I am in heat, hmm?"
“What if you are? Someone had to start things. You've been talking about it…"
That, she admitted, was true. She let him guide her to bed without bothering to turn the computer off. Some things were more important than work; with Arkasha, it wasn't even up for debate. The real question, he asked, cradling her snugly. Is: what if you're not in heat yet, and we have to try again? Kalasos didn't argue.
But she felt how easily the grin came to her muzzle.
She savored the attention; the way his fingers stroked her fur—slowing, as his breathing became deep and regular. The shepherd didn't stir when he slid at last from her. His seed followed a bit later; Kalasos rose carefully, shuffling to find a towel before the trickle became anything less manageable. How long had they been tied? Half an hour? Longer?
It was, she admitted, nice to think he might've done the job. And if not… if not, yes, they could try again. Her life was settled enough for a third child, and she had wanted it, and Arkasha was a good mate. She could settle back into bed with him, snuggle his warm body and drift off thinking about that…
But her mind was wandering. She hadn't finished up her report, and her clients would appreciate an early delivery. And if you wind up with another newborn, you're not going to have the time to focus on projects like this. You'll have more important things.
Not that these mining records aren't important.
If she tried to explain that to Arkasha, the shepherd would listen patiently. He'd nod, and let her have her way, but he wouldn't believe her. Back at the Kennel, he had—he'd understood why she didn't return until dawn, some days. He understood why she missed that, better even than she herself did.
But it was time to let the past go. Nothing would change if the project update had to wait another day. She saved the files and switched the glowing display off. There: that was it. A start, anyway; what had Arkasha said? Someone had to start things. She could learn from him.
A smile flickered over her. Her mate was perceptive. She'd thought herself so clever, figuring out what Schweizer was up to. She'd felt a little thrill, too, when Sanuk Kara was so impressed at how quickly she'd seen the setup in those simulation errors. But that kind of prediction was easy. Arkasha saw how—
Kalasos paused at the threshold to the den. She turned, head canted, staring at the computer. How would you make a mistake on the basic model variables like that? They must've been intentional. What, then? Had she forgotten what the variables did? It had to be that. Surely, it had to be that.
The other explanation was that Sanuk Kara had been impressed by her intuition, and Kalasos couldn't permit herself to intuit the obvious conclusion. No. You got excited because you were back at your old office, and you overlooked something. Sanuk and Genakhot asked for her because they were old comrades. Because they were doing her one last favor before she closed that door.
Or.
You're not going to be able to sleep, now. Might as well settle your nerves. “You're being foolish," she told herself, and powered the computer back on. “You want a reason not to be happy about you and Arkasha trying again, because…"
Her login codes still worked.
Kalasos splayed her ears, and called up the models in the Project 81 folder. No: she hadn't misremembered how the inputs were processed. And the specifications for the starting parameters were rigid, and well-defined. Sanuk Kara wouldn't have slipped up that way. Kalasos definitely wouldn't have slipped up that way.
The screen flashed: an incoming call, from an unknown number. Genakhot's face on the other side was no surprise. “Curiosity got the better of you, inanu?"
“Concern did."
“We shouldn't talk like this. I'll send a car."
“Now?"
Her stomach tightened. Arkasha mumbled drowsily when she nosed his ear and let him know she had an errand to take care of. He nodded; perhaps he'd remember when he rose, and perhaps—with any luck—she'd be back before it mattered.
As hurriedly as she tugged on her clothes, the promised car was still already waiting when she stepped out into the crisp night air. Her driver made no conversation, though she saw him look her over, catch her obvious tension, and open his muzzle to ask what the matter was.
Genakhot, too, avoided small-talk. He guided her through the operations center, whose skeletal night shift paid neither of them any mind. In his office, with the door closed, the old Border Collie finally sat. “So, then, inanu."
Kalasos sat, too, and realized she hadn't planned what to say. “When I… when I guessed the model parameters were wrong, did you think I'd figured it out?"
“General Sanuk and I spoke afterwards. We concluded you hadn't at the time, but that you probably would. Security alerted me to an unexpected access attempt, and…" he laughed unhappily. “It was almost a relief. The car was on the way before I called you."
“Why are you even… why even try?"
“Kontot is the best we have, and your algorithms were enough for something workable when we integrated them."
“It's irresponsible. More than that, it's dangerous—word could get out. My department stopped running those scenarios specifically because of the risk of provocation."
“I know."
“For what? Speculation? Daydreaming? About a preemptive attack, Genakhot!"
“No."
“No? Then what?"
Genakhot folded his age-whitened paws, and it was as his fingers pressed tightly together that she saw they'd been shaking. “Starting last year, we became aware of a growing number of exercises being conducted by the Jericho military, alongside an expansive rearmament program."
“Yassuja." Not because she didn't believe it, but because she saw where he was trying to lead her. “Inana Genakhot…"
“They're drifting from the Yucatec sphere of influence. Allying with the Sanganese in the north was only more proof. Nine months ago, with approval from the president, Minister Ashenar asked me to begin operational planning. At the same time, we increased our readiness. Plausibly, wherever possible… We've rotated most of the active-duty soldiers through off-world assignments for intensive training on upgraded front-line equipment, with the cover that it's owned by the Black Hills Free State."
“And hasn't been shipped here."
“Not yet, no."
“Do they know about this at the Observatory?"
“I informed the Foreign Ministry last month. Our ambassadors have been given encrypted instructions for… the eventuality. I wanted to know how clear we could make our predictions, though, and…"
“My algorithms," Kalasos murmured. “With those…"
“We were at the limit of our forecasting ability. Sometimes Kontot projected victory; sometimes it didn't. It would be—as you said—irresponsible to act in that case. I couldn't even give the president a straight answer."
“Now?"
He stretched the fingers of one paw, tapping the computer to bring up a map. Simple, clear lines pulsed along it. “By next summer, our chance of being able to defend ourselves if attacked evaporates completely. Next month, we could knock out enough of their military to force concessions. In between is a closing window of opportunity."
“Their military isn't the only one you need to worry about."
“We'd have to attack quickly and decisively enough that their allies wouldn't be able to rescue them. As they planned to do with us, twenty years ago. It seems possible."
“Did you show the president this?" Genakhot nodded. “Do you even know if it's correct?"
“Not on my own, inanu. I have to trust my analysts. Stoshiy Talenja is responsible, and she says it's accurate. You remember her? I'll have her come down."
Talenja was a studious badger, with a quiet voice belied by her sharp features. Once, Kalasos considered her an apprentice. They hadn't spoken much since the dog's retirement. But when Talenja saw her, the badger's eyes widened excitedly. “Colonel! Ah—sir," she added quickly to Genakhot. “Major Talenja, reporting as ordered."
“At ease. Inanu Doktoru Kalasos may have some questions about the contingency plans you've been refining. She had those questions for me, that is, but I couldn't answer."
“About the accuracy," Kalasos explained. “How stable is the output?"
“Stable, ma'am. The q-value is under .02 now."
“How many iterations?"
“About six hundred, at last count."
She did some quick figuring in her head. “In eight days? You have to be using every machine in the complex for that."
“More, actually, ma'am. We leased another six bays from a research lab in Davis. I was…" The badger looked to Genakhot for approval to continue. “I was told resources would be no object."
“It's not. Does that make sense, Kalasos? You're comfortable with the accuracy?"
“I think so."
“Good. You're dismissed, major. Or—you wanted to ask a question of Dr. Kalasos?"
“As long as you're here, ma'am…" Talenja clasped her paws, and her ears perked hopefully. “Can you look at something?" 'Something' proved to be the summary accompanying the last round of tests. “I don't know what to make of the falloff about nine generations in. I hoped that it would go away with more rounds of simulation, but instead it's really just smoothing out."
Kalasos felt the refusal to get involved in her muzzle, felt the words forming even as she knew she'd never say them. Nor would she pronounce the human word addiction. “Let's see the node map for this."
With an eager nod, the badger cleared the rest of the table and called up an overview of the simulation parameters. “The unstable component is this one, I think, ma'am. If we reduce the weight, the falloff all but disappears. And these are the inputs."
She walked through the data path in her mind, tracing the sequence by which the information would all add up and trying to see where it might fail. “Why are these marked as 'validated'? You can't pull these sensor data figures from intercepts."
“They're not. We have an inside source in the Home Guard."
Yassuja. The dog bit her tongue, but she couldn't deny it any longer. If Genakhot said the Foreign Ministry knew what was happening… if they were taking advantage of spies within Jericho… “Can I speak to the general privately, Talenja?"
“Oh? Oh. Of course." The badger bowed, grabbed her computer, and slipped from the office.
“Thank you for your help," Genakhot said. “I'll get a car for you."
“That's not why we need to talk."
“No, I suppose not."
“These aren't 'contingencies.' The cabinet's already approved an attack." Genakhot's fingers were trembling again; he didn't have to bother confirming her supposition. “When?"
“That's classified. Outside the cabinet, only a dozen people know. And…" He shook his head softly. “You're retired, Inanu Doktoru Kalasos. You've more than paid your dues to the Kashkin, old friend."
“That depends on what the cost is, doesn't it?"
“No, Kalla. You have."
Dawn was four hours off. In four and a half, give or take, Arkasha would get up. If she wasn't there, he'd sigh with fond exasperation at the empty bed, and rouse their sons, and start making breakfast. He'd take them to school; start his own job. Know—trust—that his mate had paid those dues.
That she'd earned their safety. Earned the freedom to be excited about making their future together without worrying. Earned… her paw drifted instinctively to her belly. She stopped herself, swallowed hard, and straightened as she faced him.
“I need to know how long we have to refine the simulations."
“I shouldn't have brought Talenja in," the Border Collie realized, his voice gentle. “Sleep on it, at least. Understand that… understand that what you're asking has implications, Kalla."
“Trust me, sir: I do."