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There were times when the two Rejuves, Sam and Skal were able to act their chronological age, but that was exceedingly difficult when the subject of surgery reared its unwelcome head. Sam had caught a snippet of Kadan's discussion on a call concerning her and some form of 'unadvised' treatment. She raised the issue with both Skal and Haal, but neither were able to provide much by way of explanation.

The next morning, Skal was roused and told to dress in his Prospect fatigues. Sam and Haal were already gone. "I'm not having you sat here crying with worry," Kadan barked when the boy asked about her. "we had a call for aid last night from a business in Upmarket, owner claims that a Penny robbed him. Time to get you some street experience." Three words and two smacks on the buttocks later, Skal understood this was not up for debate.

Upmarket was a well named place. It had islands of wealth and decadence, but it was the background quality of the district that raised it in the eyes of the population. Businesses were thriving and industrious, homes were built to be spacious and pleasing to the eye, mirroring the architectural styles of the imperial resurgent period. Bar room rumours claimed the entire City was to be like Upmarket, but the money ran out. They arrived via the magway, into one of the few stations in the City not plastered in graffiti and rendered scuzzy by neglect, and from there it was a short walk along a busy street to a terrace of commercial lots. They were something of a letdown, drab and utilitarian by Upmarket standards. Kadan steered Skal into a shop in the middle of the row, one of the only businesses not Guild affiliated. Shelves of pads, datatabs and communication gear greeted them, behind which stood an anxious looking Kyyreni Dawnsider.

"Are you Baskrn? My name is Kadan, captain of the Guild. This is Skal, he's in training. I understand that you were robbed last night?"

"Yes, indeed." the shopkeeper wrung his paws as he spoke. "He slipped in last night, opened up the back window and slipped right through! He made off with my cash box! A-a-and three of the new model four-one-twos, the ones designed for high-end graphics programs!"

"I see," Kadan said as he made notes on his datapad, which looked as though it was designed with high-force impact in mind. "It says here forensics are on their way, so I'll ask you not to disturb the room. Now, you told dispatch he was a Penny? How do you know?"

"Well we caught him on the cameras. It's hard to make out, but there's definitely a mark on his paw," Baskrn answered. "Let me get you a copy to review?"

"You do that. In the meantime, we'll have a little look around, if that's alright?" as the shopkeep left, Kadan steered Skal out through the back into the transit lot. It was a shared communal space that stank of chemicals due to the styling salon next door dumping its waste into the sewers rather than paying for disposal. An imported grav-bike, well-built and immaculately kept was parked under Baskrn's back window and locked firmly in place by two anchoring clamps. Kadan studied the bike for a few moments before scanning the rest of the yard. It was railed off from the public, but the narrow steel slats and sharpened tips were more to deter the casual thug than the professional burglar. "What are your thoughts, Skal?"

"Well I don't think the Penny stole any datapads," he answered in a muffled tone, shielding his muzzle from the smell with his paws.

"Ah, you're not stupid then. Here, let me borrow you a minute," Kadan picked the boy up and balanced him on top of the bike facing the window. "Thought so! You could just about scramble up from there!"

"But why would they only take a coin box?" Skal asked once his boots touched ground again. "You'd earn more from the same weight of pads easily, so why do more work for less money?"

Kadan smiled at him, "less asking questions, more answering them. Ah, this must be our surveillance."

The pair considered the footage together. The 'Penny' dropped in from off-camera, scuttled up on top of the bike and eased the window open via some from of electronic device. Barely a minute later he was out again, coin-box tucked firmly under his arm as he ran back to his entry point. Someone threw a rope down for him to climb, and he was gone. "I see why he thought she was a Penny," Kadan mused, "that was a slick job. Must have had practice. So, we're looking for a Rejuve of around... six or seven? Blonde, so a Dawnsider, no distinguishing marks or patterns. Well, if he is a Penny then this is going to be a very short search; forensics will find something, then our database will flag him and we can find out who's letting their charge run amok."

"There's something familiar about him," Skal mumbled. His eyes wandered up to the point of egress and along the spiked fence-top. His eyes narrowed, guided by instinct more than conscious thought. Kadan caught the boy's focus and walked with him toward the fence.

"So, time for answers. How did our boy get over the wall? Or perhaps I should ask how would you have done it back in the day?"

Skal hesitated, but he saw no malice in the captain's face. It was, it seemed, an honest question. "Three man team," the boy said softly. "You throw a mattress or a rolled up rug over the spikes, boost the kid over, then the middle-man lies on the padding to lift her back over. If you know how to do it right, the spikes will take the weight without piercing through your padding."

"You think they used a green carpet?" the captain twitched his muzzle toward one of the spikes. There, as predicted, was a snagged strand of old fabric. "Another prize for forensics. Also explains why they used a rejuve - less chance of gutting themselves. Alright, I think we're done here. I'm going to take you to the local precinct, you'll wait for Kas there and he'll take over for me. Much as I'd love to have a day of street work again I have... other duties."

"Would have thought being off the street was a good thing. Safer, at any rate," Skal observed.

"Safer, true, but it's not what I wanted out of life. I know I'm getting on, can't take the beatings like I used to, but down here you can feel like you matter. Now all I seem to do is go to meetings, or visit nobles, and it's nothing but talking and lecturing and fucking politics. That's not the world I wanted to be a part of. I've always found it easier to live down here, old fashioned blood and iron stuff. Truth is, I had a death-wish; I threw myself headlong into gangs and cut my way through them just to see if they could drop me. After a while I cooled off, and the reputation did me a lot of favours. Sometimes when I close my eyes I can still see some of those days and I remember how damn close I came."

"Can I ask you about something like that? A recent one?" Skal probed carefully. "It's about Blister."

The question made Kadan flinch. "No, Skal. You can't ask about that."

Upmarket's precinct was a glorified drunk tank. A great deal of money and effort had gone into producing a narrow-fronted building that was pleasing to look at from the outside, and surprisingly welcoming of anyone who walked through its glass fronted entrance. A Kyyreni female sat at the main desk, dolled up and smelling sweetly of flowers. Skal studied her casual attire for signs of rank and station, comparing what little he saw with what he recalled from his studies. Nothing came to mind. Kadan barely acknowledged her as he steered Skal through to the back of the building, which was far closer to what the boy had come to expect of the Enforcer's Guild. There was a central office that smelled of stale food and open beer bottles, side rooms for meetings one one side and a large holding cell on the other. One Dawnsider was present in the room, lying on top of his desk and snoring quietly.

Kadan gave the young man a hard shove. "Hey! What the Hell are you playing at, sleeping on duty?"

"I'm not on duty!" the Kyyreni groaned. He looked about twenty.

"Then why are you sleeping on the duty desk?"

"Because it's free!" he protested, hurling himself upright and dropping to his feet. Only then did he open his eyes and take stock of who he was talking to. "I... err... c-captain!"

"Save it," Kadan cut in. "This is Prospect Skal, I'm walking him through a case and we need access to your systems. What's your name?"

"Wykr, sir."

"Right. Free advice for you, Wykr; don't live here. Plenty of beds in Billet. I'll leave Skal with you while I make some calls."

"So... I guess we all have to get used to more of 'this' eh? Kids doing Guild work," Wykr offered awkwardly once Kadan was out of earshot. "You've got to be a rejuve, right? But I don't see any marks?"

"I had them removed," Skal replied. "Can we start with security cameras? We have the time and place of the break-in, so is it possible to work out where they might have gone?"

Wykr nodded, "Might be, might be, but a lot of the security networks are privately owned. We'd need to request access, and that can take time. Give me what you've got and I'll see what's available." The young Enforcer studied Skal's datapad and settled at his desk. As slovenly as he appeared on first meeting, the man worked swiftly to search through the available feeds, settling on four that he believed had the most potential. Skal watched with him, eyes flickering from window to window whenever something moved to catch his eye.

"There! Number two! Rewind and play that again!" the rejuve cried suddenly. Wykr complied, putting the feed on full screen and watching intently. "See it? Right in the corner just then!"

Wykr laughed, "Good eye! Looks to me like someone was trying to keep out of the camera! Now that would put them... ah, the magline maintenance yard. Not a hope in Hell you'll get the feeds from there, kid. If you want information you'll have to go on foot. That is, unless your captain can get feeds from other districts, but you'd need to check every camera on every station and service access point. It's a bloody wide search area."

"We know they were on foot, so maybe they didn't use the magline? If they were walking, maybe carrying a load, how far would they really want to go?" Skal asked as he brought up the map of the magline on his datapad. "Security staff on the line would report trespassers, so either they had to be quick or there's a blind-spot. Do you have any cameras covering the station north of the yard?"

Wykr's fingers danced on the keyboard once more. "Oh, look at that!"

Skal obliged. A large group of travelers exited the station together, but toward the back of the group was a pair of adult Dawnsiders in off-white shirts and loose canvas slacks. One of them had an old, green carpet thrown over his shoulder. They seemed to be trying to hide themselves, keeping their heads low and darting south as soon as the crowd gave them room. The camera never got a clear look at their faces. "I think we're looking at an organised gang here," Wykr said. "That outfit looks like they belong to the Old Labourers. I'll get you the address, but I don't advise you go anywhere near without some backup."

Wykr's comments made Skal's stomach knot. He was never high enough in the 67 Crew to get to know the power-politics of the criminal underworld, but he'd heard rumours about the Old Labourers. They were run by a criminal dynasty, formed in the earliest days of Taviksaad's colonisation. Some thought they were the oldest criminal gang on the planet. They were the kind of gang that never had to break the law because they'd been around long enough to get real power; dirt on nobles, members within the Guilds, powerful and deadly off-world contacts. It all sounded childish coming from the mouths of common thugs, but even the higher ups in the gang were careful about what they said when speaking of the old families. That caution made it all real. It turned out, after being briefed on their findings, that Kadan held no such reverence. "We'll go speak to them," he said firmly, making a point to check his weapon before departing the precinct.

After crossing the busy district, weaving through shoppers and sellers and the well-dressed, well-groomed wanderers of Upmarket, Skal found himself stood in the shadow of a finely furbished pub - the Old Labourer. Later, he'd wonder if it was named for the gang or vice-versa; in the moment, he was trying not to tremble as Kadan half-led, half-dragged him passed the two large Kyyreni stood by the door. Inside, the pub was warm and dark, its air heavy with the smells of sweat, beer and various narcotic smokes. Almost immediately a young man in the white-and-canvas of Skal's suspects rose from his stool to square off against Kadan. The Dawnsider rolled his broad shoulders and snarled, "You look lost, E."

Instantly, a voice from behind him barked out, "Beyd! Stop fucking about and move!" The would-be bouncer stepped aside sharply, but scowled at the intruders with murderous eyes as they stepped into the bar proper and were confronted by the speaker. He was an ancient Dawnsider, his fur ashen with age and eyes heavily dilated. A small device was strapped to his chest with a breathing mask, which he held to his muzzle with his left hand. His right trembled over a half-empty pint glass. "I must apologise for the child... captain?"

"Corrector-Captain Kadan, Office of Correctors. We're investigating a robbery and one of our leads thought some of your men might have been involved." Kadan glanced around the bar subtly as he spoke, while Skal's curiosity was much more overt. There was at least a dozen Kyyreni males in the bar, mostly Dawnsiders, with a few females scattered about. They all had one eye on the Captain and his charge.

The old man paused to breathe deeply of whatever his mask fed him. "What made them think our little social club would go around stealing, if you don't mind my asking?"

"The uniform," Kadan answered bluntly. "Two Dawnsiders in your outfits, plus a rejuve boy between six and eight year old. The adults were late teens or early twenties. One of them had an old green carpet."

"Well the carpets in here are blue," the elder replied with a dry chuckle. "As for a rejuve, we've only got one of those hanging around in here. She's in the back, doing the dishes without even being asked."

Skal and Kadan both followed the nod towards the kitchen area. The first thing that hit Skal was the smell of disinfectant, so potent it made his eyes water. Someone had scrubbed the kitchen down recently, and with such commitment that it could have been used as a surgical ward. Two Dawnsider females were waiting for them; an adult with her back to the door slowly chopping meat, and a child washing dishes with the help of a stool. The child's fur was a rich, earthy brown with long, narrow stripes that blended from grey at the edge to black in the centre, but Skal found it hard to focus on her; his fear-fueled imagination kept going back to the slow, steady thuds of the cleaver and all the terrible sources there might be for the meat being cut. Kadan called out to her, "young lady? I'd like a word, if you don't mind."

The girl trembled slightly as she turned her muzzle toward the Enforcer. Her tail, swishing idly behind her before, snapped between her legs so fiercely Skal heard it smack against the cupboard door under the sink. "Y-yes?" she stammered.

"We're here investigating a series of robberies, and we have reason to believe a rejuve is involved. Are you a rejuve, miss?"

"Alka, my name is Alka," the girl answered the implied question. "I-I'm a, umm, what's the word? I rejuved by choice."

"A Voluntaras? Odd that you'd rejuve so young. It's mostly criminals who go down to your age."

Alka trembled slightly at Kadan's comment as she struggled to remove her gloves, revealing bare paws beneath. "I wasn't made this age by choice, but look! No marks! Pennys have to have marks!"

"Yeah, they do," Kadan said, glancing briefly down towards Skal before continuing, "any other rejuves here? Maybe ones who hang around outside? Anyone here regularly meet with a Dawnsider boy around your age?"

"Nosir!" the girl squeaked.

Kadan studied her thoughtfully for a few seconds. Skal, meanwhile, noticed how the female at the chopping board had stopped and was now clearly listening to the exchange. It seemed the Captain noticed as well. "Alright, it's clear we're getting nowhere here. Thank you for your help, Alka. If you or anyone else see or hear something that might help our investigation, I urge you to come forward."

He said nothing else until they were both safely out of the building and back into the streets. "That girl was terrified," he noted.

"Do you think they hurt her?" Skal asked. He was still struggling to avoid thinking about the meat.

"Oh don't worry about that; the Old Labourers have never been involved in the flesh trade. It could be she's a hostage, but more likely they're training her up as a pickpocket, skimmer or lookout. She'll be used for something illegal, but nothing like what you're thinking. We need new leads but-" Kadan paused, his attention summoned by the incessant beeping of his communicator. "-great. Skal, I want you to go home. Ask Kas to work this with you, Gods know the boy will jump at the chance to do some field work. I'll send him a message now with everything he needs to know. You can find your own way back, can't you?"

"Yeah, no problem," Skal answered with a smile. It was always nice to be allowed to travel unsupervised.

"Then get a move on. With any luck forensics will solve this for us, but we don't wait around for lab work. This little team is experienced, so that means there's other victims. Find them, and maybe you'll find our thieves."

---

---

The ride home was both thrilling and chilling in equal measure; the boon of freedom allowed Skal to choose his own way back, which was straight to the nearest magline station in Upmarket, but he got off a stop early so he could stick his nose against the glass of a model shop in Outer Tenements. Ranks of Five Empires era soldiers stood in battle formation with spears pointed at his muzzle, defending Civic Irregulars from four hundred years in their future, while on their flanks were a cargo engine and a sailing ship, neither of which Skal recognised or knew anything about beyond the fact that one drove on land and the other floated on water. His gaze skittered over all of them and locked instantly on the true prize; the Voidsider colony ship. The model was eighteen inches nose to tail, with a bulbous nose covered in sensor pods and braking engines. Her body tapered back to a point, the smooth, teardrop contours marred by the finned vents of the main drives. They were shockingly crude engines, chemical burners reliant on brute force combustion to generate thrust. The very idea that something so basic had been used to propel a vessel beyond the home system seemed like a work of fiction, but Skal knew these ships carried with them 'folding engines', the first of the faster than light drives. Hundreds of these ships had boosted out of Urokon's orbital space, drifting for years on mere inertia until they had a course clear of planetary gravity wells and could finally spool up their main drives.

Skal's eyes glazed over as he saw the fleet in his mind's eye. The model before him, a replica of the ship Bastion of the Twilight Course, became a full-sized vessel racing through the outer reaches of a star system he'd never known. The crew, mostly Nightsiders, fixed their eyes on a distant spec of light and watched on their screens as space rippled and flexed. Their focal point was still minute, but it was getting closer; every instrument confirmed they were gaining speed at a phenomenal rate, far beyond the maximum acceleration of their rocket engines. Skal saw the captain stood upon the bridge, held to the deck by magnetic boots, paws clasped behind his back. The towering man, his black fur trimmed close to the skin, watched with a quiet smile of pride as his crew led the charge, passing farther from Urokon than any other living Kyyreni ever had. In a few weeks, they would overtake the ancient probes flung out into the black long ago, and from there every second was a new milestone reached - farthest travelled, first to reach an alien system, first to stand upon an alien world... Skal became that captain, seeing through his eyes, reading the instruments and feeling the deck tremble beneath his boots.

He saw the first of the amber alerts. A ship had dropped out of formation, it's folding engine burnt out. Another juddered to a halt soon after, reporting irreparable damage. Both these ships faced a return journey of years, perhaps even decades - after all, they had chosen their course with no regard to ever coming back, so the gravity slingshots were far from favourable. These were the first lost, but not the last. As the fleet raced past alien worlds some ships broke formation and began to decelerate, choosing to make a home rather than venture on. Others made course corrections and swiftly vanished into nothingness without so much as a farewell hail. In seconds half the fleet was gone, and Skal began to feel a knot of doubt form in his gut.

Then came a terrible jolt, a lurch that ripped Skal off the deck and sent him tumbling against the wall. The Bastion of the Twilight Course howled as it began to tumble, reality snapping back to shape with ferocious force as its folding engine cut out. Navigation fought to correct the spin and roll, firing thrusters urgently while engineering crews wailed in terror over the comm-link. Their drive was beyond repair. They were hundreds of lightyears from Urokon and their chemical fuel reserve was two thirds full. Skal clamboured across the deck on all fours and grasped at the navigation display, scouring it for any sign of a habitable world. There was none. The nearest star was a fading speck in the distance, orbited by airless balls of rock and ice. Despair gripped him, as did the realisation that he was an old man, a captain from a line of captains - his ship had become a generational vessel, boldly chasing the dream of their grandparents. That revelation filled him with a new conviction, and as the ship righted itself he vowed they would not die in the empty void. They would scour these rocks for fuel and minerals, replenish their water reserves from void ice, and find a way to restore their folding engine. They were the Voidsiders - born and raised in the stars, pioneers and explorers without equal. They would succeed, they would chase the light of their chosen star, even though it shone on the other side of the galaxy. They would get there, one day, and their heroic endeavour would never be forgotten.

The dream was shattered with a loud thud. Skal jumped back in panic as his eyes refocused on the here and now. The bang had been the shopkeeper smacking the glass, and to his shame the Penny boy realised he'd left a nose-print where he'd been daydreaming. He took to his heels and ran as fast as he could for home, arriving sweat-soaked and exhausted from the mad dash. His arrival was so sudden and appearance so startling that when Kas greeted him the Medicalos assumed the worst, and was on the verge of calling in an emergency when Skal got enough breath back to explain himself. "Well now, skyving off to look at your silly little spaceships? Oh, I'll be holding that one over you for a long, long time!" Kas laughed, his previous concerns forgotten in an instant now he knew the reason for Skal's disheveled nature.

"Here's what we found while you were AWOL," Kas said playfully as they entered the office Kas had claimed to work the case in. Haal was with him. the former captain didn't look up from his screen when the pair entered. "We've got nothing on the girl you met or the two Old Labourers, but I think I know who your mystery Penny might be. Turns out he - well, she - is not a Penny at all. We've got one case on record that looks so similar to yours that Haal's certain it was the same suspect. Her name's Sakyr, we arrested her three months ago for a break-in and put her in the pillory for a day as it was her first time. Case file said her family disowned her for being a rejuve."

"I... yeah, I remember her, but it can't be Sakyr! That crime was her first, the one we've got was way too professional."

Haal gave a dismissive sneer at Skal's comment. "Are you truly that naïve? The fact we only have one prior is not proof of her good behaviour; it is far more likely her other crimes went unreported."

"A lot of people don't like paying Guild dues," Kas added in a more approachable tone. "Folks don't advertise it as a rule, and we're technically obliged to answer any call for aid, but if you start summoning Enforcers and the accounts department notices you've never paid us a coin, well, someone might bring that up with your local Lord and he's probably going to put the bill on your taxes with interest. For petty crime it's sometimes cheaper to take the hit, especially if you can blag compensation from a victim relief fund. Despite what a lot of people think, you don't have to go through us to make a claim; you just have to prove to them you've suffered at the hands of criminals."

Skal let out a low chuckle. "Wow, I kind of wish I'd known all this back when I was a ganger."

"Ah, don't you worry, we'll make you a professional crime-lord by the time you're fourteen again," Kas shot back with a silly grin while Haal sneered at the pair.

Kas steered his Penny companion to a temporary work desk - a portable computer on a fold-out table - and walked him through everything they had to work with. It was not the best of tutorials, with Kas occasionally pausing and staring off into space as he tried to remember exactly how to retrieve certain bits of information or accessing a required service, but the occasional snarky remark from Haal helped the pair work their way through the process. Skal tried his best not to look as overwhelmed as he felt; he'd never held a job that required the handing of so much information.

The Penny boy waved a finger at the screen as he worked through his thoughts. "This is all the security footage we have, right? This is from the victim and these are the shops next door?"

"Correct," Haal answered. "However, whoever set up the cameras was grossly negligent; their fields of view offer us nothing. The suspect only appears on the victim's security footage."

Skal's eyes glazed over briefly as he tried a more familiar approach, and began to plot a robbery. "How did they case the place? Were they lurking around the back the whole time or did they come in and nose around the front?"

Kas shrugged. "Front-end cameras never saw anyone like our suspects. Well, there's the odd kid, but not rejuves as best we can tell."

"If Prospect Skal's hunch is right, we should immediately request all footage they have from the past month, not just the day of the robbery. It's unlikely they've even kept the materials we require, but if they have it might prove valuable."

"We need everything since the robbery as well," Skal added. He saw the quizzical look in Kas' face and added, "we never saw the boy again, right? Maybe he didn't leave with the Labourers; maybe he just faded into the crowd. You'd expect a thief to bolt as fast and as far as they could, but what if he just changed his clothes and then stayed close by?"

"Is this theory born of experience?" Haal asked with a frown, but Kas was far more appreciative of the idea.

"Alright, let's chase your idea! If we go now we can get back to the shops before they close! Haal, hold the fort for me while Skal and I do the legwork?"

"It would appear I have no choice in the matter," the former Watch-Captain growled.

Unlike Skal, who travelled via public transport or his own paws, Kas had no qualms about summoning vehicles from the motor pool. It occurred to the Penny as a Lifter-yellow car rolled up in front of the Correctors building that the Guild seemed to make use of other people's equipment far more often than he'd ever realised. As curious as he was as to why, he put aside the question for another day. Their driver was a pleasant, talkative young Dawnsider female whose desire for knowledge was matched only by her need to offer her own input. Skal at least enjoyed the sight of her grey muzzle bobbing left and right as she rattled off the gossip that filtered through her organisation. Lifters, at least according to the chauffer, knew everything about everyone in the City and beyond. Especially beyond, in fact.

They stepped out of the ground-car and saw the Enforcers livery painted boldly on the side of a nearby van. Leaving the forensics team to their work, Kas considered the buildings on the row. Skal couldn't help but smirk when the Medicalos' eyes came to rest the young, attractive females working in the salon. "Yeah, this is a good place to start," he said happily, beckoning Skal to follow. "You want to take the lead?"

"I do," Skal confirmed. They stepped inside and were at once attended by a female whose fur was a tropical teal, blended with shimmering lines of blues and greens. Skal cleared his throat and asked, "Are you the owner?"

The female nodded, "Alija is the name. I assume you're here about next door? Terrible business, but we've already offered all the aid we can."

"I know, and thank you for that, but I was wondering if we can have a look at the cameras out front? We need to see everything since the robbery. There's a chance one of the people involved might have stayed around; a Dawnsider boy, likely a rejuve."

Alija frowned at the comment. "Wait, you're not talking about Sakyr, are you?"

"You've seen her?"

"Indeed I have, she came in here for a dye-job, poor thing! Told me everything she'd been through and how she wanted to look more like her old self again. I was happy to help her, even gave her a discount."

"Can you show us what she looks like now? Do you know where she might be?" Skal asked urgently. Alija was happy to oblige, and when Skal looked at the screen his stomach twisted. "I don't believe it! We spoke to her this morning and didn't even realise!"

Skal gave a few words of thanks and hurried Kas out, whose protests at being hurried he ignored. He explained the situation, noting how quickly Kas' expression went from surprise to dismay when the idea of confronting the Old Labourers was raised. "I don't know that much about them, save odd bits of billet gossip, but I know they're untouchable."

"You've taken down 'untouchable' gangs before," Skal countered, recalling one of the first excursions he and Kas had together.

"That was different," Kas insisted firmly. "They were a petty bunch not worth the effort, but we're talking a House of Crime here! Connections, Skal! A pal of mine got ousted from the Guild chasing people with connections way above his head. We're never going to lay a paw on this girl."

"Kadan wasn't afraid to take them on," Skal countered.

Kas considered this for a few moments. "Well I guess if the captain thinks we can do it... alright, but we bail the second things look ugly, okay? And I'm going to tell him what's going on in case we need backup."

With his plan in motion, Skal led the way as best he remembered it. Without Kadan to trail behind, Skal felt much more exposed than before; it was a sense born not of fear, but of lack of belonging. The City was divided into districts, and those divides were physical things of varying severity. In the more pleasant, open districts one could look inwards and see the engineering wonder of the dome sweep towards its apex, whilst others - like Vices - were completely shut off from the rest of the City save for the designated access points, and even a door held permanently open is a reminder that it might one day be closed. Skal, born and raised in the tenements, was a child of the walled-off world. As he walked past the entertainment centre of Upmarket the distinctions of the City's layout were subtle, yet clear enough if you knew to be conscious of them. Wealth and social standing flowed towards the centre, the Common, with the most desirable properties surrounding it. As a rule, those who lived against the edge of the city dome were the lowest in society, but there was also a clear diagonal split - the south and east being lesser than the north and west. The street Skal and Kas walked filled the same basic function as most of Vices, but the former was in the middle of the western quadrant, and the latter formed the eastern outer district. Upmarket might have had restaurants, bars and even a drug house for the more socially acceptable narcotics, but there were no brothels or rough houses, and the gutters didn't stink of piss. Nobody they passed said anything to them, hardly any even gave a second glance, but the Penny boy felt naked on the streets of Upmarket.

When the pair reached the Old Labour pub, Kas volunteered to stay outside and guard the front, leaving Skal to brave the gang alone. The same surly doorman was waiting inside, but he made no move this time to block the Penny boy as he inched towards the elderly Kyyreni at the bar. The old leader was seemingly asleep on his stool, perhaps lulled by the gentle humming of the machine by his side that filled his breathing mask with a faint mist. Skal stood in timid silence until a middle-aged female tapped the man's shoulder and roused him. "Hmm? You again? Where's your captain?" the old man asked.

"I-I'm here to see Sakyr!" Skal squeaked, struggling to keep his apprehension from showing.

"Nobody here by that name," the old man shot back without hesitation.

Skal attempted to rally himself. "The girl we saw in the kitchen, her name is, or was Sakyr. I need to speak to her, please?"

The Old Labourer's eyes narrowed, piercing Skal with a deeply unpleasant glare that was almost enough to make the boy back out of the building. Then, with a vagueness that clearly expressed his lack of interest, he waved a minion over. Words were exchanged and the minion departed, only to return alone. More words followed, and Skal saw the briefest flicker of confusion in the face of the elderly Kyyreni. He turned toward Skal and that doubt was gone in an instant. "Ah, I'd forgotten. I sent the girl to fetch my medications from the pharmacist, the one across the city run by the Aspatrian. She should be back in an hour, and you are of course welcome to wait," he added in a tone that made it clear Skal was anything but welcome. He offered his thanks and left a mite quicker than dignity permitted.

"We're not actually going to wait here, are we?" Kas asked once he was brought up to date.

Skal shook his head frantically. The very idea made his tail twitch between his legs. "No way! But there was something about how he said it, Sakyr being sent out I mean. I don't think he was telling the truth."

Kas' brow furrowed at the comment, "so you think she might have bolted? Wait, she wouldn't have stolen from them, would she? Nobody's that crazy!"

"I don't know, but if she did then she's in the wind with nowhere to go and nobody to back her up, so we've got to find her first!"

With a swift flick of his paw Kas pulled his datapad from its pouch. "I'll get a bulletin out and have the gate guards watch for her. We should cover the maintenance accesses on the western dome wall as well. Oh, and I'd better update the captain."

Skal accepted this with a nod as his mind began to wander. He tried to imagine what was going through her head, alone and on the run. She had to get out of the City, right? He focused on the problem, and without really meaning to he brought up the memories of his early days as a Penitatas. His mind filled with sights, sounds and smells of the apartment, of being bound naked and helpless, of the terrible aches of both physical punishment and being bound for so long. He had to flinch as the ghost of Kadan's drunken ravings came back, and for a moment he was struck again with mortal terror. His body tensed, fur stood on end, and his heart jumped in pace as he involuntarily returned to that defining moment of fight or flight - that brief, primal instant where he learned just what he was capable of.

Shuddering, he tried to imagine a different choice. He pictured himself flying from the apartment, down the outside stairs and into the streets. His gang was gone and his family couldn't protect him from the Enforcers even if they wanted to. He had a few hours at most... and, he added in a whisper, he had to escape via Upmarket. He could go anywhere after that, but it was essential he started there. West. He would obviously try to get to the maintenance hatches before the alarm was raised, and from there he'd take his chances in the wilderness. No, this wasn't working; he wasn't thinking like the boy he'd been back then. He dug deeper, trying to pull up all the pain and regret he'd buried back then, hardships he'd only begun to work through when Kadan had stopped seeing him as a thing to hate and begun trying to be a father figure... was it really that simple?

"Hey, Skal? Still alive, buddy?" Skal blinked at the words, suddenly aware that Kas was staring at him with some concern.

"Huh? Yeah, sorry. I guess I was overthinking the problem. Can you take things over for me? I want to head back."

"Sure, we can go together."

Skal shook his head, "No thanks, there's somewhere I want to go first. On my own, if that's okay?"

The Medicalos seemed concerned by the request, but he reluctantly accepted. "Alright, but you keep in touch, yeah? I don't want to have to tell the captain you got yourself knifed by an Old Labourer!" Once Kas was safely out of the way, Skal took up his own pad and brought up Sakyr's file. Specifically, her last registered address. If Skal had ran instead of fought, there was one thing he'd have wanted to do more than anything; try to make amends with his family before he lost them forever.

---

---

The address was in Townhouse, not all that far from where Sam used to live. The street was wide and in excellent condition, with cubs playing happily on a road near devoid of ground traffic. Someone had set up a rotating water-sprayer on the corner, with four naked cubs around Skal's age giggling with glee as they alternated between avoiding the spray and leaping headlong into it as their youthful impulses decreed. In the back of his mind, Skal wished he could join in too. The only blight on this perfect scene was the faintly chemical smell in the air, which was likely due to the maintenance vehicle halfway down the road. Red warning barriers indicated they were performing repairs to the air-flow systems - a less pressing duty in a district whose boundary walls didn't reach to the dome-top, but Skal suspected that people in Townhouse expected their air to be as spotless as everything else around them. The house itself was what you'd expect from one of the nicer parts of the City; a tall, if narrow structure with a nicely finished and well-painted frontage, extra effort put into door and window decorations, and fancy tilework on the rooftop. The shared walls with its neighbours were marked by horizontal crenellations of smooth black stone.

Skal approached the door and knocked on it carefully. It was real wood. He had no shortage of time to examine the door, as even after knocking a second time, and then a much more forceful third time, the door remained shut. "Enforcer's Guild!" he barked at last. "Open this door!"

Through the hazed glass he saw a Dawnsider male approach. The door opened just enough for a snout to poke round and growl, "what is it?"

"I'm here about your daughter. Open the door, please," Skal did his best to sound forceful, even if he had to shove his paw into his pocket so it wouldn't reach for the lifering around his neck. "I'm here on Guild business."

"My daughter's not here," the muzzle snapped, after which the door slammed shut.

The Penny boy bared his teeth at the insult. He willed himself to be angry, channeling all the rage he could muster. As his fist pounded the door he yelled out, "You open this door right now or I'm getting men of the line down here! Armed ones!"

There was a pause before the door re-opened. The furious Kyyreni male growled at Skal as he stepped back to permit access, but the boy noticed the subtle tilt of the chin and the angle of his ears that, slight things as they were, told of a man who was trembling with fear on the inside. "All I want is to talk to her," Skal said in as calm a tone as he could manage before stepping through to the living area. There, cuddled against the woman who Skal presumed to be her mother, was Sakyr.

"You're here to arrest me, aren't you?" the girl asked in a trembling voice. Her mother squeezed her tight at the utterance.

"I... I don't know yet," Skal confessed, hovering awkwardly in the middle of the room. "I want to hear your side of things first."

She obliged. Timidly at first, but with growing determination, Sakyr spelled out her life since their last encounter. The public humiliation of the pillory had hurt her pride deeply, but shame didn't fill her belly; a return to crime was inevitable, and a few lucky thefts gave her the funds and confidence to return to her old routine. Soon enough, she was entering homes as well as businesses, and in one such break-in she was caught by a member of the Old Labourers, whose home she'd burgled under the mistaken belief he was out. He'd offered a choice: serve him, or face the mercy of the Enforcer's Guild. She'd chosen the former.

After that, Sakyr had filled various roles for her former victim. By day she did chores, and by night she plotted thefts. The ganger, named Bol, was convinced his talents were being squandered, and as trust built between the two he let her in on his ultimate plan - to flee the City and begin a new life. He had it all figured out, down to the last detail, and their final break-in was just to ensure they had enough coin to grease a few palms before they vanished into the wilderness. She gave up the second member of their criminal trio, Arv, along with physical descriptions of both Kyyreni. "We're supposed to leave the City in an hour, but I couldn't go without saying goodbye to my parents," Sakyr added.

"And she's not going anywhere now," her father added firmly. "I may not believe in this rejuvenation crap, but she's still our blood, our responsibility. We're going to set her right, keep her out of trouble and keep her safe. You have my word on that."

Skal turned back to Sakyr's anxious face. As a Penny himself, even a privileged one, he had no desire to force others into that life. The fact that the Medicalos before him was now embraced by her family made it no easier. "If... If you give me your word you will never return to crime, that's good enough for me." The relief that flooded the girl's face made the choice worth it. Thanked profusely by Sakyr and her mother, and given a begrudging look of respect from the father, Skal returned to the streets and began the long trip home.

---

---

The Office of Correctors was finally getting properly staffed and supplied, which meant good, hearty meals. The rejuvenated ate together, filling themselves on meaty curry that Haal noted, with considerable satisfaction, met every regulation for composition and calorie content. Only Sam's absence spoiled Skal's dinner, but his loneliness was pushed aside when the over-full trio headed to their attic space to play. This was something Haal especially struggled with, as the Medicalos became visibly uncomfortable at the prospect of being 'childish'. Kas had no qualms about breaking out a board game, one full of dice and cards with a surface-level story about heroes trying to reach a dark sorcerer's tower. Barely ten minutes in he was adding his own sound-effects for the event cards, and Haal's disdain for acting his physical age was becoming less convincing.

Kadan returned without anyone's notice, until he called out to the trio. "Haal, Kas, give us the room." The tone sent bolts of ice through Skal's spine. All thoughts of fun forgotten, the two Medicalos retreated from the attic. Kadan shut the door behind them before closing in on Skal. In a low voice full of restrained anger he snarled, "I've been following your progress today, and when you found your lead suspect I noticed nobody thought to check on her family. Imagine my surprise when I found the girl there, and that a member of the Guild had already paid them a visit."

"I-I didn't t-think it'd do any harm to-" Skal began, but he stopped instantly when Kadan slammed a fist against one of the attic's struts.

"You don't get to make that call! You don't get to decide criminals walk free because you feel sorry for them! For fuck's sake, Skal! Do you have any idea how stupid you are? You're a Penitatas, a criminal, and you're helping people evade the fucking law! Do you want to spend the next hundred years in Black Pit? Because I swear to the Gods that's where you'll fucking be if you ever do something like that again!"

Skal was already sobbing when Kadan's paw closed around his wrist. He was jolted against the strut and forcefully stripped of his uniform, left to shiver in fearful apprehension as his enraged master sought a proper tool of punishment. In the corner of his eye, Skal saw the paddle; broad and heavy with holes drilled through it. His squeal of terror came to nothing as a paw closed around his tail and yanked it up to make room for the terrible swing. With a harsh crack the blistering paddle found its mark, prompting Skal to throw back his head and bellow out an animalistic howl of agony.

The one mercy Skal had, if it could be called that, was Kadan's anger made him sloppy. The first strokes of the paddle didn't hit cleanly, coming in at a slight angle that either dug the edge into his cheeks and deflected, or only truly caught him with the smooth, hole-free parts of the paddle. It still hurt, especially an angled strike, but a deep bruise was preferable to a blister. The boy's squirming helped a little, and Kadan never told him to keep still, but he could only delay the inevitable. The seventh time the paddle found his wriggling rear it landed with a solid, echoing thwack squarely against his right cheek, and the surge of agony was such that Skal knew at once he'd earned his first blister. Stilled by the shock of it, Kadan planted a second on his left check, which snapped the boy back into an open-mouthed, closed-eyed sobbing. It was also clear he wasn't getting away with just two blisters.

The rapid thwak of the paddle became more focused and rhythmic. It was a heavy implement, one that took effort to swing and even more to endure. Soon, Skal was too exhausted to do anything but clutch his ad-hoc spanking post and let out his agony in coughing, spluttering gasps. Even crying took too much out of him. The paddle's scope began to wander, it's irregular pattern of strikes moving to include his thighs for a few evil strikes before returning to his burning, crimson rear. When it finally ended, which was far too long coming by Skal's estimation, the boy's rear was a welted, purpling mess. By morning, the boy would have several overlapping blisters to sit on. Without another word, Kadan picked the broken boy up, tossed him over his shoulder and carried him to bed. It was still early, but unconsciousness was far more preferable for the Penny boy than waking, and sheer exhaustion did the rest.

He woke a long time later, in the early hours of the next day. He'd fallen asleep - or perhaps 'passed out' would be better - face down on top of the sheets of Kadan's bed. He occupied the bed alone. Now awake, however faintly, the lingering, pulsing ache of his backside kicked him to an unwanted alertness, and he knew at once he wouldn't get back to sleep for hours, if at all.

The Office wasn't quite silent at night, nowhere was. The sigh of passing vehicles, the whisper of a voice, the soft creak of a floorboard all came to him but offered nothing to latch onto, nothing to distract from the pain. Inevitably, he thought of Sakyr; what had become of the girl? Had Kadan taken her from her family? Was she reclassified as a Penny now? Was she banished to a prison camp in the wilderness? Every fate he considered made him feel sick with regret for failing her, and that in turn led to hating himself for screwing up in the first place. When he thought of Kadan, his master and the man he'd reached out to as a father figure, Skal's heart burned with a wrenching, dissonant mix of hatred and guilt. It seemed the bad old days were back.

As if the universe was waiting for that thought to come to him, Skal's ears pricked at the sound of footsteps in the hall. The held his breath and lay still with his head turned away from the door, listening in the darkness as it swung open and booted feet stomped in. A faint, but unmistakable scent of spirits lingered in the air. "You awake?" Kadan asked softly, with just the hint of a slur.

Skal gave no answer. The bed creaked and shifted as it took Kadan's weight. The captain's tail flopped against Skal's leg haphazardly. "You know where I was before I checked in on Sakyr's family? I was out buying you a fucking toy. I thought you'd done good and I wanted to get you something." There was a rustling and a soft thud of a box being dropped on the covers.

Carefully, Skal pushed himself up on all fours and turned over. His throbbing rear was kept well clear of the bed as he moved. Seeing his movements, Kadan reached for a bedside light and the room lit up in a low amber glow, revealing a model box. The Corrector-Captain popped the lid open, tearing it a little in the process, and lifted out a bizarre looking creation. It consisted of a ring bedecked in vague mechanical elements, vents and storage tanks. One face of the ring had six long pylons thrusting downward, and one quarter of the ring housed what appeared to be a large engine block. He held the thing out for Skal to take.

"That... that's a star miner," the boy said. He shuffled to his knees, wincing and whimpering as his blisters stretched and squeezed, and took the offering. "It uses electromagnetism to draw resources out of a sun's polar regions and take them into the processors along the ring. The valuable materials get stored in those tanks and the rest is ejected back down the pylons, fired right back into the star."

"I thought it was a made up thing, some doomsday weapon from a story or something," Kadan muttered. "So it's a real thing? But aren't stars just hydrogen and helium?"

Skal shook his head. His voice found more confidence as he turned the model over in his paws, examining every detail. It was so large he could almost have worn it as a crown. "Stars contain everything! It's almost all simple elements, but all the heavier stuff is made there too. If you sift long enough, you eventually end up with a hold full of whatever you want. Some of them do mine hydrogen though, or one of its variants, and use it to power fusion reactors. That's what we use ours for."

"Ours?" Kadan parroted.

"Yeah! We have two in the system, one on each pole of the star! One's a hydrogen miner and - hey, this is the one! 'Taviksaadi G-134 Coronal Mass Extractor Platform!' This is the ship that provides fuel for the inner-system mining platforms!"

On the edge of his vision, Skal saw Kadan's paw rise to his muzzle. It had a bottle in it. There was a terrible pause as the captain gulped down something that smelled cheap and fouly potent. Then, in a voice that had no hint of disdain or pandering, Kadan asked, "so if stars are made of starship fuel, how come these miners aren't fueling everything? Why do we have all our fuel refineries down here, or in the ice belt?"

Skal studied his master's face for a moment, puzzled by the interest. This consideration only lasted a moment. "Well, it's about orbital energy. It just takes less work to get fuel to the orbital docks from the other places."

"Oh, right! The star pulls everything in so you need to fight against it."

"Actually, it's the other way around. It's easier to throw something out of the system than it is to hit the star. See, when we launch something from Taviksaad it's still going the same speed as the planet, so in order to reach the star..." the boy dove into his amateur's explanation of orbital mechanics, and Kadan listened as intently as the alcohol allowed. Brute force and ignorance was Kadan's takeaway; if you had enough of both, you could just ignore the rules and do whatever you wanted. But even though modern starships had the raw power to tell physics to go hang, people liked the easy way. After all, tiny savings would eventually escalate into big ones. The Penny boy's blisters were seemingly forgotten now he had a passion to discuss and a willing audience to listen.

With the sudden impulsiveness that comes from drink, Kadan interrupted Skal's lecture by embracing him tightly. "I'm sorry I lost my temper with you. I try, you know? I do try..." he broke to kiss the boy's forehead. "You don't need to worry about that girl, either. She's staying put, and if she behaves she can stay put 'til the end of time for all I care. You messed up, but I know why you messed up. You're okay, right?"

"I'm okay," Skal answered, and was rewarded with another drunken hug. His new toy was then taken away from him.

"Right, this can go upstairs and you can go back to sleep, because it's bloody late. Or bloody early. One of them. Try to sleep if you can." Kadan gave the Penny a smile and left.

It was a confusing parting to say the least. The fleeting, unexpected happiness of the gift mixed with lingering doubts and anxieties, which were only supported by the fact his bottom gave him jolts of pain whenever he moved too much. Still, he thought, having another starship for his collection wasn't something to complain about, and with that thought in mind he turned off the light, winced himself back down onto the bed, and lay awake until the throbbing dulled enough that he could sleep again.