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Ssenka, formerly the commercial hub for the Empire's sparsely populated Northern reaches, had supported a population of eight million at its peak prosperity in the years just prior to the war. By the fall of Ssenka to NAR forces, the city was inhabited by less than a quarter of a million imperial citizens, the majority of whom were refugees denied exit from the city by Imperial decree.

The dispersion and destruction of Ssenka's wealth, accumulated over centuries, seriously damaged the Empire's economic stability. Though sparsely populated, the Northern reaches of the Empire are home to significant mineral and fuel reserves that had only recently begun to be developed at the onset of the war. The Empire's loss of its northern territories was doubly detrimental to the Empire's ability to maintain a wartime economy capable of competing with the advanced industrialization of the Northern Allied Republics. Firstly, the Empire lost access to vast pools of strategic resources, and secondly and most injurious of all - the NAR gained new and vast resource reserves.

The fall of Ssenka proved to be the proverbial "nail in the coffin" for the Empire's attempts at defending the Northern territories. With their sole practical foothold on the North bank of the Ibbar Stretch lost, the Empire likewise lost its ability project credible military force into the Northern territories, and the NAR's control of the North's resources became essentially unconstrained and absolute.

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" YOU WILL NOT EAVESDROP ON ME - EVER!" she shouted, viciously laying the switch about her slave's shoulders.

Not stopping to see what damage she had wrought upon the fragile Human, Sable discarded the switch with an angry flick of the wrist, and stormed to the latched door of her apartment. With eyes clenched shut in anger or hopelessness, she wasn't sure, she undid the latch and flipped the lock by memory and left the suffocating room with a slammed door.

To the pit with the filth. All of it. I hadn't done anything wrong. Finally back home, away from the stresses of the front, and here I am served with threats and warnings. A slave who I is already out of my ability to control, and mired in a situation which her own stone-stable commander had warned her was out of anyone's control. To top it off, my damned understanding of the world is being riddled with bullet holes. Human's seizing an Imperial metropolis and immense territories. Her unit, surely no more than a hundred mere individuals after the mauling they'd received, and herself accused of singlehandedly causing the single most ruinous and humiliating defeat the Empire had suffered in centuries.

All of it unbelievable, all of it impossible. Sable fought the urge to crumple into a heap onto the cold tiles of the hall, as the void of doubt threatened to consume her.

Instead of imploding in a surge of hopelessness and futility Sable did what muscle memory dictated, she took a stroll to the nearest purveyor of liquor and attempted to drink the edge off of her worries. Sable eventually found herself leaning against a streetlight, later that evening, half-drunk and watching a large digital screen, several meters across, which buzzed with frantic faces narrating the news from across the Empire. The heavy traffic, pedestrian and motorized, ignored her, and she reciprocated.

Text floated across the bottom of the screen; "Median industrial futures inexplicably down with the aggregate index indicating a loss of confidence in the yield of labor..." Bullshit. The economy was tanking because investors were no doubt fleeing every which way after the defeat at Ssenka. Why did the information ministry insist on such futile propaganda? "The queen mother urges patriotic citizens to apply themselves in their work, to mirror her own tireless labors to strengthen the state of the Empire." Sable chuffed, only partially in amusement. As she turned her attentions back to her still half full bottle the screen shifted from some panel of faceless pundits to the profile of a vaguely familiar face.

Focusing for a moment, Sable identified the greying muzzle of Marshal Ruhr, an aging vixen and a longtime seneschal of the Imperial Military Cadre - essentially the ruling body of the Empire's military. Ruhr, unless Sable was very much mistaken, was the Chief of Wartime Tribunals; Or the Queen's head collector.

Eventually Sable returned her attention to the text on the screen, and felt her heart lurch. "... Ssenka, completely avoidable of course, was the result of supreme carelessness and gross negligence on the part of Regimental garrison command on down to NCO's. The degree, to which the defense of the city was neglected, often willfully, is such that the actions that lead to the setback in Ssenka are equivalent under Imperial law to treason. It is me sincerest belief that..."

Treason? TREASON!? I committed no treason! Fyrr was right, they're insane... I'm insane! They are going to kill us- me!

Sable gagged and slipped away from the streetlight, stumbling through the crowded street she made her way to a transit stop she knew to b several blocks away. Feeling sick, she stopped a block away from the plastic-glass weather shelter marking the transit stop. Sable realized she would have to swipe her military ID to board the Affen City Public Transit bus, which she could now make out turning onto her street several blocks distant. Uncertainty filled her. Would the local authorities already be watching for her? Swiping her ID anywhere could lead anybody with access to the city's secure intranet straight to her. Accessing public transportation, especially, might make them come sooner if they thought she was attempting to flee.

I AM attempting to flee damnit!

With public transportation ruled out, Sable resigned herself to a long walk home. She would take her commander's advice and find the address she had provided. Sable hated to admit it, but she was truly alone and afraid. The water was up to her neck and rising fast.

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Classified to Level 3 Personnel, Specified office; Office of Internal Intelligence [Affen],

_ _''ENT. INDNT: --

_ _''TOPC/CATG: MOB.FT.DIV+[/INTRL.INT.AFFEN] - DETN.FACLTY OP

_ _''DIRC: Affen, Office of Internal Intelligence" Specific LOC; 082.892.002.CD5

_ _''DTE: 11/08/.134

CLASFCTION//: Classified ** to *Level 3 * Personnel *, * Specified office;Office of Internal Intelligence [Affen], **Office of Internal Intelligence.

TXT//:

Action Item//: See below.

Directive; Office of Internal Intelligence [Affen City office] and regional affiliate offices - members of now defunct /blacklisted/ regiment of RA [4/21 composite infantry] registered as having primary residence in Affen City [two (2) individuals] are to be detained as soon as possible. All available field resource officers are to be directed to the task of detention of the [two (2)] below listed individuals.

NCO [Staff Sergeant, 4] LEER, SABLE

Panthera family [Panther], uniform black pelt. Clothed visual; uniform black. Approx.; 6"4, 242 lbs.

Address listed: refer to city records.

RA File: {Select Attachment}

Military ID: 86402763RAD

Enlisted [Corporal, 2] NEFFERAH, NEFFE

Canis family [Coyote], amalgamation tan, faded red, white pelt. Clothed visual; majority white, tan. Approx.; 6"5, 223 lbs.

Address listed: refer to city records.

RA File: {Select Attachment}

Military ID: 86402892RAD

Object to capture individuals listed, detain at secure home-office facilities. Report to [Office of Adjutant General, Royal Army General Staff] at time of capture/significant development in case.

Individuals are to be detained under armed guard.

Individuals are to be considered armed and belligerent.

Individuals are expendable.

Should individuals listed offer resistance which is, in the opinion of any IIC Officer of grade 2 or above, too dangerous to submit to manual live detention exercise then individuals are to be summarily executed.

Discretion is advised, though not essential.

Lady and Commander, Three Claw General L. C. White of 4th Front Command

Under authority of Marshal Ruhr, IMC headquarters.

_ _''''END=TRNSMSN

_ _//KLTL-

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"If I get whipped for bleeding on her floor..." Patrick muttered to himself. Shifting uncomfortably, he felt the tug of drying and crusted blood on his skin and hair. He suspected the effects of being drugged were still wearing off - the hot bloody welts left by the switch looked like they should hurt more than he currently felt. "... Then I guess I'll just have to be curse at her s'more." Patrick sighed, tugging at his bindings for the nth time, affirming again that they were not likely to come off by themselves.

Nine hours of sitting, excruciatingly awake, in a rigidly bound uncomfortable position had left Patrick stiff and his rear and legs worryingly numb. Despite his discomfort, Patrick could not honestly tell himself he'd rather have the cat - Sable - arrive anytime soon. However, should she arrive, he was determined to get her to untie him enough to at least allow for some blood flow.

A small part of him groused that, in a way, the most depressing aspect of his current situation was that he probably wouldn't be able to see much of this grand empire he had spent his life fighting. Here he was, after all, deep in the Empire's heartland, and he couldn't even see out the window because he was bound seated too low. True disappointment that he wouldn't even see what he had wasted away in trenches trying to destroy. Ssenka, it was obvious, had been a beautiful and vibrant metropolis before his comrades had come along and burnt it away. Maybe this city would be next. It was obviously lively - all day he could hear the hustle and bustle of predators stalking the streets on the hunt for groceries and new summer dresses or whatever the hell seven-foot furry murderers had listed in their consumer price indexes.

The door to the apartment flew open with a rush of air and a dry jolt as it collided with a doorstop. Suddenly, humiliatingly, Patrick found himself trembling and lightheaded. The welts stung uncomfortably.

Sable stalked into the room, and after a short pause, proceeded to another room out of sight. Patrick felt his muscles painfully unclench, not remembering when exactly they had tightened. Yet, he felt no lessening of tension in his state of mind - the silence and aggressive posture of the feline made it clear that now was not a good time for anything, especially anything involving him.

Patrick found himself listening intently to the rustling movement coming from the room Sable had entered. It sounded as if she was going through clothing - the sound of a zipper confirmed his expectation that she was likely packing. Hopefully for a journey that involved not being left in the apartment tied up as he was. Patrick wanted to call a question to the cat - but caught himself several times, unable to work up the courage. It pained him that he daren't speak up to an enemy, but the glaring, bloody welts which crisscrossed his body and the aching of his bandaged head outweighed the shame of the revelation.

---

Half an hour, Patrick estimated, passed when Sable emerged from her room with a heavy backpack and clothed in an unfamiliar variety of tunic and loose trousers which ended at the hock of her leg - Patrick concluded that they must be civilian clothes, as he had never seen such an outfit on the battlefield. Sable stood working at some handheld device, silent but for the clicking of her claws on its screen, for a minute before slipping the device into a inconspicuous pocket. Turning towards the trussed-up human she seemed to grimace, before withdrawing a large and unfriendly looking blue syringe from another pocket.

"Hey now... please, there is no need for that-" The cat advanced "-really unneceSSARY!" Too stiff to squirm much he felt the cold prick of the needle connect with muscle at the crux of his neck and shoulder. The deltoid... no, wait... the trapezius...

So what takes three years to get around to writing? Shitty fiction does! In all honesty I had written about two submissions years ago but never had a chance to submit them because the computer died and went to purgatory. So, that combined with suddenly having a team captaincy and more sports and stuff and now college combined to create a three year gap. I will probably make an attempt at building on this story further - because it would be a good exercise for writing fiction which I have not done in ages.

In a way I really want to invest in my other idea, for which there is one submission "A Fain to North" because... well... it seems less silly than this story and I have a better idea of where I want to go with that particular adventure. But I do like some humor and potty-mouthedness. Anyway - if youve read this far please tell me what exactly could use improving or what you would enjoy as a focus in such a story. I am clueless.