FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

1

Today's mission: in search of fun and profit on various planets.

Vern slowly wakes up for the beginning of a new day and, as he's reminded of the smaller cat in his arms by the warmth and softness, he has a strong feeling this will be a good one and everything will be alright. The huge lizard is wrapped tight in his cover and half curled around Sleazy who he's cradling snuggly.

They both slept naked and the reptile enjoyed the warm-blooded contact. Now that he thinks about it, he realizes he must on the contrary feel cold to the feline... and how, three times his size, he must be horribly heavy as well. Sleazy didn't complain, at all: he only stopped purring when he started snoring.

The cat has an agitated sleep, wriggling and turning, and sometimes he suddenly extends his claws. It's fortunate that Vern has sturdy scales, a more fragile one would have got scratches all over and would maybe even have bleed some, but it's still startling him every times. He found out that a bit of gentle caressing would relax the nervous sleeper and help those claws to retract. Also, Sleazy drools when he's not on his back.

Despite all these unforeseen inconveniences, the lizard loved to share his anti-g couch. For many years at home on Kodo, being branded as a dangerously instable deviant by the Ministry, he resigned himself to be alone without realizing it. Only now he can put a name on the pain he endured and, with a huge relief, leave it behind. If someone told him he'd end with a mate like this one...

He muffles a chuckle, to avoid waking up the cat, then idly drags his claws into the fur while opening his eyes to check the time. The crispness of details... he raises his non casted arm to look at it and sees his skin is tensed like when he enters action stance. He rubs it experimentally: no, it's not as strong as in the genuine thing, and he doesn't feel the usual rush nor the disinhibition. Could this be a new form of it? What triggered it?

Sleazy groans, about to emerge as well, and moves a little. When the cat's thighs squeeze, Vern is given the answer to his question: he got erect in his sleep and his hemipenises slid between the furry legs and around the smaller male's own package. The sensation is not at all unpleasant. The dragon's stance gets stronger and a more primal and aggressive part of him wakes up at its turn. Their trip will last a full week and they'll stay locked in the spaceship all alone until there. The cat, he knows from recent experience, will submit to him. He's the strongest. He can do whatever he wants! Enjoy the smaller male in so many ways!

Sleazy shivers when his member is squeezed by the pulsing and erecting hemipenises and when their raising up root thorns push into the tender of his thighs. He wakes up and blinks, needing a moment to make sense of the situation.

Vern hurriedly tries to recover his self-control, scared by the direction his impulse took. And it works, surprisingly easily, the "monster of the dark ages" --to use the Ministry's terminology-- didn't try to take over his mind and do terrible things. With his recent new experiences, the lizard is able to risk himself at more introspection than he's used to and he carefully "reopens the door".

The "monster" doesn't want to take over, it doesn't need to because it's already Vern. It doesn't want any harm to the cat, on the contrary it'd fight tooth and nail to protect him, and while it itches to roughhouse him it wholeheartedly agrees to cooperate with the higher brain functions and restrict itself so no harm will be inflicted. There... is no "monster" at all, actually. Only some weird desires, and Sleazy himself is weird the right way to probably welcome them.

Vern decides to indulge with them...

Sleazy blinks, dazzled. He didn't sleep comfortably because he was resting on Vern's cold and hard body more than on the couch and was half crushed by him, but he never felt so well protected and being so cared for greatly made up for everything else. Something is now pricking his thighs, however, and he wriggles trying to get rid of it.

One hand grabs firmly at the root of his tail to stop him and he freezes, surprised. Comforting, Vern strokes his right cheek and ear with his free hand and gives him a warm smile. "Hello, kitty. Did you sleep well?"

The dragon has his impressive action stance's face and Sleazy feels a rush of mixed excitement and intimidation. "Y... yes, hi. And you?" Then he understands what's between his legs.

"It felt wonderful to be with you." Vern fluffs the cat's head and winks. "Don't be afraid, there's no danger around this time. Just you and me, and you're not intimidated by me, right?"

The cat looks around, and indeed everything looks safe for once. He calms down and smiles back. "Not in a bad way."

"That will do. Before anything, I need to ask you a question. It's about... hmmm, domination and 'heavy play' and all that: are there any tricks or techniques to know, to make sure you don't go too far for your partner?"

The cat feels himself erecting at the direction the discussion is taking, he needs a brief pause to manage focusing enough on the question itself. "I... I'm not a pro of this side of the problem, but I listened to Lady Anna a lot. She says..." he muffles a yawn, it's early for this chat... "Sorry. She says there are four things to keep in mind. First: go slow and gradually, take your time. Second: don't assume, check everything. Especially, don't assume someone has perfectly constant needs and limits, don't assume they have the same as yours and don't assume they know their own limits until they proved themselves at it." And he rubs his eyes and stretches.

"So, no 'do on others as you'd have them do unto you', then?"

"No, that saying is full of good intentions but it assumes everybody is the same... Imagine if a masochist was treating the non-masochists like he'd like to be treated! That'd be a mess! And it's not just the list of kinks, it's all the details, all the circumstances. To continue with the pain examples, the same masochist can laugh at a cane beating in the dungeon while nearly fainting if he needs an injection at the hospital, or he can endure things you find unbearable yet also be unable to bear others you find innocuous."

Vern makes a face. "I see... this sounds harder than I expected..."

"Don't worry, you'll like the number three: you'll do errors and it's okay. What you want is to avoid the big ones, and to react gracefully and efficiently to the others. Messing your suspension bondage and dislocating someone's shoulder is bad... but avoidable if you know your technical limits and do your homework. Misjudging a submissive's tolerance a little and getting him to ask you to stop, on the other hand, will happen even to the best. It's when you find what the dominant is worth: some will panic or worse refuse to acknowledge their mistake because they fear it'd discredit them, and they'll make it bad or very bad. Others will deal with the issue, stop early or adjust fast, apologize and do the aftercare, and they'll make it a harmless tiny bump. In fact, the great ones are so good at repairing things early and painlessly that they look flawless until they point at their own mistakes for your education."

"So: take it easy, cut yourself some slack and don't be afraid to try. Just be responsible and careful and keep your eyes open."

"Exactly! And the last thing is: there's no trick around communication. You must talk, you must listen, you must teach your submissive to do the same. Prod him if necessary, ritualize some parts of it if it can help breaking the shell."

"Ritualize?"

"Well, for example, the safewords. Do you know what they are?"

"I heard about them, yes: a random code word you use to stop what's happening if you feel bad about it."

"You got it right! Now do you know why we use them, instead of just saying 'stop'? There are two reasons."

Vern ponders a moment. "Well, I guess some submissives want to be able to play-beg for mercy without getting any, for the show. But they still need a way to ask their dominant to stop, for real, in case of an issue. I have no idea about the second reason."

"You're right about the first one. The second is less well known despite how important it is: beginners can have a hard time asking the dominant to stop when they should, because they are intimidated, or they feel it's a failure, or they don't know how to bring it up, and so on. The safeword ritualizes that: with it, he's told he can, he's told how, it's part of the rules of the game and a well established practice. It makes it a lot easier. Basically, instead of having to talk his way, the submissive gets an abort button he can press anytime."

"Aaaah, it makes sense. What's your own safeword, Sleazy?"

The cat swallows and his, still grabbed, tail waves around from the implications. He thinks fast, then hums the beginning of a lullaby. "This. It's not an actual word but it's easy to memorize and recognize, and it's not something that'll come out accidentally when I don't mean to use my safeword. And... and the good thing with a tune is you don't need to articulate to use it, so they work even with gags."

"Clever. And you're good at explaining all that, for someone who's not a pro."

"I'm... passionate about the topic, I read a lot and I learn as much as I can."

Vern releases the tail and slaps Sleazy's bottom playfully. "Enough lazy time in bed, let's get ready for breakfast." And he gently pushes the cat out.

The duo gets up and stretch before going each for his nearby pile of clothes. Both are still showing visible erections and the cat is spying at his friend curiously, expecting something to happen, while Vern plays it casual and relaxed. The lizard is already pulling his pants on when Sleazy resigns and reaches a hand to his own briefs.

"No, Sleazy."

The cat stops in the middle of his motion and looks back, interrogative. Vern finishes dressing up without saying anything else. The feline's ears flatten as he finds himself naked in front of his clothed friend, a situation that strongly pushes his buttons. His penis throbs and starts leaking a rope of pre, so he reaches down to catch it.

"No, Sleazy. Behind your head."

The feline moans but immediately places his hands behind the back of his head, breathing short already. He wants to ask questions but doesn't dare. The lizard is still silent... is he prodding him? Testing his reactions and how much his shyness restricts his speech? Already using his advices like a pro? No, he doesn't think so, Vern is too new to domination for this. Probably. But yet... despite his inexperience, he's rubbing at the exact right spots: either they are an incredibly lucky match with the exact same tastes, or the dragon is naturally talented enough to have spotted his weaknesses during their first experience.

Vern walks to the door. "Follow me."

They arrive the cargo bay, that's well filled up today. As Sleazy is looking at the sex-toy boxes wondering if they're the reason why he was brought here, Vern opens a toolbox from which he retrieves a set of colorful fabric bands. He choses a clean one. "You're a mechanic, kitty, but I'm not sure you know what those are, since they are transporters' tools?" He comes closer to let the cat see the thing.

"I think I do, they are..." He stops, distracted by Vern going behind him, and wants to turn around.

"No, Sleazy. Look forward and answer the question."

"Y... yes, sorry... They are parking tags. Each transporter has his own colors, and when you reserve your parking or unloading spots, you tie them there to tell the others: 'this is mine.'"

Just as he finishes talking, he feels the band getting looped around the base of his tail and tightened. Vern makes a nice knot in it. "And removing one is considered extremely rude. Nobody but the transporter who tied them is supposed to touch them. Understood, kitty?"

"U... understood..."

"A collar would have looked nice on you, but I wanted something... casual enough so you can keep it when going out."

"I... we... going out with it?"

"Not before a week." Vern pats the cat's shoulder. "Now we need to find a way to stop you from leaking all over the place. Since you're the specialist with toys, you can resume using your hands freely and you'll find me a nice chastity cage in our stock. We have this, right?"

"Yes, but... but..."

Vern turns him back around, holds his shoulders and crouches to be more at his level. "It's okay little buddy, you don't have to be anxious about what I'll do to you. Ever. I'll stop anytime you don't feel right, remember? I think we are both enjoying when you're kept a little frustrated, so it'll be... an experience to try. It should also help me to keep my action stance for my training, so you'll be very useful if you agree to play along. And to make it even safer to you, beside my promise to stop if you ask me, I'll ritualize too: I'll keep the key around my neck but put it down on the table during meals, you'll have to ask for the permission to place it back on me yourself when I finish eating. If you don't, I'll understand it as a 'chastity safeword'. Good for you?"

Sleazy hesitates briefly, but he trusts his friend to follow his word and the conditions feel safe. And, he can't lie, this is very exciting to him. He nods. "How... how long do you plan to keep me locked?"

"As long as it'll remain entertaining for me. Now go, fetch that cage. Ah, and lubricant too, we'll need that." Then, to Sleazy's surprise, the dragon stands up and walk back to the door. "I'll do my morning exercise while you get the equipment, clean up your mess in the corridors and prepare us a nice breakfast. Love Locust, keep an eye on him, I want to be informed if he so much as brushes a fingertip below his belly-button."

"Monitoring: on," quietly answers the ship's electronic voice.

Reminded about the robotic audience, Sleazy covers his front in a hurry. "Eeep! No, don't look!"

"Denied: the Captain's orders take precedence. Also, Captain Vern, reporting illicit hands to crotch contact."

"This doesn't count! Tell it Vern!"

Vern chuckles. "This didn't count this one time. Uncover yourself, kitty... There, good. Don't worry about Locust, I'm sure it doesn't judge and it will not tell around."

"For the record," helpfully confirms the AI, "I fully approve what I'm seeing."

"Really? That's a surprise, I wouldn't have expected you to understand it."

"I understand that your physical condition is improved and that the cat is uncomfortable, Captain."

"Errrr, yes, if you put it this way. But you're missing the important parts."

"Negative: factual effects are the only relevant parts."

"Ooookay, whatever. Anyway, resume duties, both of you."

2

Meanwhile, in the Dagger of Order Commandment (recently renamed).

The old axolotl slowly raises up from his bed, wincing in pain. If the spaceship wasn't fully filled up with water, it'd be way too soon for him to consider fighting the artificial gravitation. Still, the nurses don't approve. "Take it easy, please, sir. With all due respect, you are still in no condition to move around. You need a lot of rest."

Tlatoc rubs at his chest bandages through his costume. They are itchy, and despite the prosthetic reconstruction his ribs are still hurting. "I know that, and I'll follow the doctors' orders in a few minutes, but I have to be seen by the troops now. Hold on my arm and help me around, the sooner it's done, the better."

Two nurses swim to his sides and carry him toward the door.

His throat tightens when they reach it: in what terrible state of demoralization will he find his troops after the devastating defeat they endured? Will he be able to find the right words to help? "Where are Mix and Coatl?"

"They are still reorganizing our troops, sir, you specifically ordered us not to disturb them. Do you want to summon them?"

"Ah, yes..." The drugs they gave him for the pain mess with his memory. He hates feeling so diminished. He licks his lips, wondering if he can do without their help. "No, no, they are needed where they are." One of the nurses, he think, took part in Mix's operation this morning, he turns back to her. "How are they? Mix, is she recovering?"

"She's incredibly resistant, Sir, you don't need to worry about her. The operation went perfectly and she insisted to resume her duties before ten. Regeneration of a full arm and cybernetic re-implantation will take some time but we don't foresee any complications. She'll fully recovery."

She stops there but there was some hints in her tone and expression. "...but?"

She hesitates. "But I'm a little more concerned about the morale of her brother. Mister Coatl is strong, but he's also very close to his sibling and he looked affected."

"Coatl is affected? What are you talking about, be specific?"

"Well... while salvaging all the material that could be, mister Coatl wasted two full teams for three hours to track and retrieve his sister's lost arm. Given the timing..."

"...wasted? Recovering Mix's arm instead of material is a waste for you?!"

"Please calm down, sir... Given the timing..."

"I'll calm down if I want t... ghoff... hofff..." He needs a moment to recover from the coughing fit, and to resist the nurses who briefly try pulling him back toward his bed. "Did they find it?"

"Yes sir. But given the timing, it was entirely frozen."

"So... is it that bad? Can't we... unfreeze it somehow? We have great surgeons, if it's a matter of money I'll pay whatever is required."

"Sir, when a limb freezes, shards of ice grow from inside the cells and pierce them. While it looks normal, it is destroyed to the cellular level and there's nothing at all that can be done anymore."

"Ah..." Tlaloc briefly hoped Coatl would have managed to save Mix's arm, but this was crushed by cold hard science.

"...a fact that mister Coatl knows full and well. The waste of two teams is nothing that serious, sir, and it's not my place to criticize his decisions. I wouldn't allow myself to do so. I'm just observing how such irrational and emotionally driven action is very out of character for him. This is a psychological sign that can't be ignored."

"Ah..." So, even the stern Coatl is demoralized. This is worse than he expected. "...let's get this over with. Bring me to the main board."

On the way to the large room they use for various ceremonies, Tlaloc has a hard time looking straight at the soldiers he's meeting. So many injured ones... he doesn't know how many died, because he couldn't bring himself to ask. They salute and act as though as they can but he sees the flopping gills and void expressions.

They are all going in the same direction as him. When he reaches destination, he the room is crowded with soldiers. They are not lined up like they should be for a ceremony... he turns to one of his nurses. "What's going on here? Were the soldiers convoked?"

"No, sir, they were not. They are, in fact, all on exceptional rest. Mister Coatl ordered this a few hours ago, for them to recover, and I don't know what brings them all here."

One of the soldiers heard them talking and he salutes politely before explaining: "There was this rumor, sir, it's why we're coming to see: they say mister Coatl got ma'am Mix's arm back and he's unfreezing it. It should be ready soon, my friends told me she was arriving."

Tlaloc mumbles a confused thanking and dismisses the soldier, growing worried. What is going on? Could Coatl be so affected that he's about to try sewing back his sister's arm? In front of all the troop? With them already so low, such thing would be a catastrophe! "Bring me to Coatl, quick! We have to intervene before..."

There's a collective "aaaah" and all the soldiers turn to the room's center, trying to see. There's a mechanical buzzing noise there but, with all the crowd, Tlaloc can't see what's going on. "What's that? A surgical instrument? Tell me, nurse!"

"I... I don't know, sir! I don't recognize it."

In the center, after a couple of minutes, Mix swims up where everybody can see her. Every soldiers salute and stand at attention. The room gets perfectly silent, safe the mechanical noise. She's still lacking her left arm.

The buzzing stops, then Coatl raises beside his sister, holding something wrapped in a Xolo flag. "My dear sister, you met your first fire and all I have to say is you made me proud." She smiles and salutes him silently. "As the old Xolo traditions require... and specifically in the peculiar way this is done in our family..." He marks a pause after this and a few members of the audience laugh, soon getting more and more of the soldiers to relax and have a good chuckle at their turn. "...it is my pleasure to grant you your first ring and bones war tattoo. Hopefully one in a long future series."

He hands her the "package", which she unwraps to look at the puffy, already darkening and now tattooed severed limb. "And it didn't even hurt a bit." She smiles wide, with genuine pride and satisfaction, then raises it high above her head. "YES!"

The crowd screams a confuse clamor, soaking in her spirit, in which order soon appears from itself: "COLDER THAN STEEL! HARDER THAN STEEL! COLDER THAN STEEL! HARDER THAN STEEL!"

Even Tlaloc feels his heart soaring and would have screamed with the others if it didn't made him cough again. Even him, seeing the brother and sister laughing at the mutilation and savoring the fire and glory no matter the fight's issue feels his depression washed by the pride of being an indestructible Xolo. "Ha. Coatl. Demoralized. Foolish idea... Nurses, bring me back to my bed, I'm not needed here."

A few hours later, Tlaloc wakes up from a well needed nap. His pain decreased and the nurses could lower the dosing of his medications, he feels more himself. When he looks around, he finds two visitors. "Mix? Coatl? What are you doing here?"

They both salute, then the female is the one answering: "You summoned us, sir. I'm happy to see you're recovering fast, you got us worried sick for a while! The doctors say you're now out of danger."

"Ah." He needs to concentrate to recollect his memories and gains himself some time. "What did you do of your arm?"

"I got rid of it in the incinerator, it was not of any use anymore."

"But it served us well in restoring some of the troops morale," completes Coatl.

Tlaloc chuckles. "You two and your war tattoos... Those things are supposed to be permanent, you know?" Coatl allows himself a smirk. "I remember why I summoned you, now. I owe you two an apology. I underestimated the quality of your services and acted like an imbecile, I'm lucky you were around to save the day. This will not happen again. I'm sorry."

There's a long silence, the two visitors looking at each other in puzzlement. Coatl sneaks a peek at the medication sheet. "Do you... feel well, sir?"

"Better than I've felt in a long time, my old friend. You never expected to hear apologies from me, do you?" He raises a dismissive hand to stop any attempt to answer. "It was my first fire as well, maybe I should get myself a ring and bones of my own... I took part in wars, of course, like every noble Xolo of my rank. But from a safe distance, until now."

"It... is a well known fact, sir, which I personally witnessed many times, that the first fire can change a Xolo."

"For the better?"

"Sometimes."

"Anyway, from the confused bits and scraps I was fed so far, my understanding is our situation is a mess. Is that right?"

"This is an accurate summary, sir."

"Give me more details. But stick to the big picture, I'm still too weak for a long tactical meeting: you two are in charge until further notice, I give you free hand. I just want to know what's going on and how bad we're having it."

"Thank you, sir, you will not regret it. First, here's the material situation: the former Dagger of Commandment is lost, given the damages it sustained any attempt of salvaging it would be more expensive than building a new one from scratch. The Dagger of Law is still under examination and I can't yet put a price on the repairs but first estimations are between six to seven billions credits... luckily the small fighters trapped inside it were undamaged. The life costs is..."

"...no, please. Just the injured."

"Yes, Sir. Seven thousands fifty five injured, two thousands and two of which gravely."

Tlaloc winces, used to the statistical analysis of war he can guess the casualty count better than he'd like. "And politically?"

"This one is not settled yet. Losing a battle to the Kodo dragons would be a terrible blow for you and your entire family. It'd embarrass the Empire and someone would have to take the blame. To prevent this, I'm trying to rewrite the story pretending we were attacked by the pirates instead. In case of success, the political impact will be minimal. Wolves inflict heavy losses to the best fighters every now and then."

"So it's all about the witnesses. Who are they?"

"The Love Locust's crew and the pirates who escaped are out of control but will have no proof nor credibility. They'll inevitably spread rumors, but our propaganda is way stronger than anything they could achieve. They are not a great danger..."

Coatl lets his voice trail there and Tlaloc reads between the lines. "As long as we don't prove the ship thieve's claims by continuing the hunt..." He sighs. "...understood. I played, I lost. I renounce to my Locust."

"This is wise, sir. The next witnesses are our own crew, they are both a risk and an asset: many families we are linked with are now sharing part of our trouble due to their involvement in our battle."

"In other terms, our 'secret' will leak through half of the empire but if we play our cards well nobody will admit having heard of it."

"Yes, sir. This part is not my area of expertise but the intel services seem to see it as a common-place, well established and mastered, practice."

"I think," adds Mix, "the term politicians use is 'balance of terror'."

Tlaloc shakes his head. "No, a balance of terror is the simplified version of it. Two sides, two terrors. When you have more players and more elaborate webs of terrors against each-others, we call it 'friendship'."

She smirks, knowing this is probably not even a joke. "I'll remember never to get friends with a politician, then."

"Ha, didn't you listen what I said? You don't choose friendship, it's a beautiful thing that blossoms naturally when you've been mortal enemies for long enough without managing to kill one another. But back to the witnesses: nobody else?"

"Hopefully not... unfortunately the battle zone's environment was not under our entire control so there's a small risk of a random witness. This could be an issue, luckily it's unlikely. I sent fighters to survey the area."

3

For once, Connor the possum is not singing along with his radio. He's too tensed for this.

"Incoming: two Xolo ships," alerts the feminine voice of his ship's computer.

"'leen, I really wish I was elsewhere."

"So do I, Captain. I'm worried about your safety."

"Thanks, you're tons of help for my nerves, dumb can."

"Sorry, Captain."

"It's okay, we're both nervous. I'm sorry I called you a dumb can." He pulls out an old cheap print of a family photo and recollects himself. "They won't attack us, 'leen: you're a gas tanker! Big money wasted, many important peoples who'd get pissed... it's not the Xolo style. No, it's not..."

Careful not to enter in the radius of Big Charleen's turrets, the two fighters shoot their powerful lasers --which the defenses can't stop neither-- at the right spots of the tanker. If equipped against space pirates, Connor's ship is no match for the advanced Xolo army and it can't do anything to defend itself nor to retaliate. It explodes in a brief but intense blinding white flash, its cargo of fuel plus oxidizer composite blowing it into small pieces without the attackers needing to waste a single rocket.

This was the only ship close enough to have been a witness of the fight and the Xolos return to their Dagger, victorious.

Not so far away, the debris of a previously shot down antenna --from when the pirates cut Connor's communications-- is floating slowly and quietly, undisturbed by the explosion which dissolved fast into the void.

Hidden magnetically anchored under it, there's an emergency life capsule.

"Observation: Captain Connor, I appreciate being the ship of someone as cunning and experienced as you are."

The possum lifts the box he's holding between his hands in front of his forehead. "Awwww, my poor Charleen, you're no longer a ship... The brutes! My beautiful Charleen!"

"Sorry to interrupt your anger, Captain: it is unwise given your limited supply of oxygen. I request authorization to put you on stasis."

"Hold on, hold on, I need a minute! Can... can you record a message for my family? Just in case..."

4

2 days later.

Wet, Sleazy looks like if he lost half of his weight... and he was already lean to begin with. He's currently in Locust's small medical bay, on all fours on a metal examination table with his ankles and wrists cuffed to it so he can't go away. He's entirely naked safe a muzzle, to the back strap of which is tied his tail so it remains lifted. His chastity cage and ribbon are on the table where he can see them.

The cat is not very proud at the moment: first he's not fond at all of being soapy and soaked, which he's not used to, then there's the enema bag hanging beside him and slowly emptying itself inside of his rear... his belly is round from the liquid already and the urge to expel it is strong, but the inflatable hose is locked in his anus.

Vern left, so he dares wriggling in his restraints. That's forgetting of the AI's ever watchful eyes. "Captain Vern didn't allow motion: correct posture." He groans and obeys, parting his legs, lowering his head and arching his back. "Do you suffer from cramps?" The cat moans through his muzzle and shakes his head. "Do you suffer from cold?" He shakes his head once more, Locust raised the temperature of the room so he'd be at ease despite the situation. "Then stay put."

In the cockpit, Vern finishes the searches he was working on. "Locust, how is Sleazy?"

"He is fine, Captain. Nothing to report."

"Good! How long is left before the shampoo finishes its magic?"

"Seven minutes."

Vern frowns and checks his wristband. "Are you trying to trick me, Locust?"

"I took the initiative to adjust the timer. The cat's fur has not seen an actual bath for years, extended application will be more sanitary."

"Maybe, but this is my decision to take. Don't be sneaky like that."

"Sorry, Captain. You specified you wanted him to look good, I was only trying my best."

"Yeah, while having fun tormenting the poor kitty who's probably already desperate from the enema." The lizard smiles, amused, then teases: "So much hate for someone named Love..."

"Incorrect: I do not mind 'kitty' anymore since you tamed him. His behavior became more appropriate and he is now technically a pet and no longer a pest."

"...which is more sanitary for you, no matter the soap. I'm amazed you AIs, who are so focused on actual facts, are still easily influenced by labels like this."

"Classification is necessary to build protocols. Protocols are the basis of efficiency and reliability. By the way, there is no medical issue with the longer enema and Sleazy is only enduring minimal discomfort. Plus an insufficient soaping will jeopardize your current project."

Vern looks back at his hairs and fur styling holograms and ponders. "Good point... you win, we'll use your chosen timer."

"Thank you, Captain. On an unrelated note, I noticed you spent more time examining two of the pictures. The rightmost one is, in my opinion, the one that would match the cat's fur implantation the best."

The lizard blinks, taken by surprise by the AI suddenly caring enough to offer fashion advices.

Finally coming back to Sleazy, Vern is pleased to see the cat is still assuming a perfect posture despite his obvious desperation. The feline moans pleadingly when he enters, but doesn't look in pain and didn't lose his erection. "Yes. Soon, kitty." He strokes the presented buttocks, not minding the soap.

Next, the lizard checks the enema bag. It's completely empty now, so he can get rid of it --after he clamped the tube to leave Sleazy plugged and prevent "accidents"--. He can't help reaching under the tied up feline: with one hand, he lightly pinches a nipple while the other goes stroking his barbed penis. Only two fingers, light and slow, while giving gentle tugs to the nipple.

Sleazy has not been allowed a climax yet, while being more teased than he ever was in his life, he whines and starts panting and leaking in a matter of seconds. Vern accelerates the stroking and lets the cat's pleasure build, carefully watching every reaction, sometimes playing with the sensitive barbs. Soon, the feline tenses... the lizard stops and pulls his hands away: "No, Sleazy."

The pink member dances in the air, pulsing, and Vern believes he went too far for a moment. As its owner inhales back after a while, whining in agonizing frustration without managing to cum, he smiles with relief and satisfaction. "Good kitty." Ignoring the muzzled pleads, he takes a large stiff brush and begins a thorough scrubbing.

He brushes the poor Sleazy without wasting too much time, yet forgets no spot, the kitty already waited long enough. He's careful with the inflated belly and the face, which he massages with his fingers instead of using the brush. Back to the genitals, he decides not to take the risk of manipulating them again so soon: instead he takes the table's hose, set it to a low trickle and to cold water, and showers them clean like that. Finally he can make the water warm and wash the shampoo from all the furry body.

Drying Sleazy some with a towel, Vern can already see his fur's texture changed. This is encouraging! But he'll check that better later, no more useless delays. There's a last required one, however: the chastity cage and ribbon. The cat moans miserably when he picks the former up. Slowly, he eases the member into the curved down metal tube. More cold water is required to soften the cat enough so he can squeeze through without getting hurt. He locks the metal band behind the balls, makes sure no skin gets pinched and hangs back the key around his neck. Tying up the ribbon back at the tail's root is the final touch.

At last, he frees Sleazy from his cuffs and points the door. "There, you can go to the toilets. Take all the time you need and then come back to me. Go!" The cat doesn't need to be told twice, holding his belly, walking funny with his legs squeezed together and still muzzled, he trots away as fast as he can. The sight makes the lizard laugh.

Vern walks around his work one last time, then discards the electric razor and smiles. He's no stylist and his cut is a touch sketchy... but sketchy fits nicely on Sleazy and it's already a huge improvement. He looks down the floor at all the fur he cut. "You'll have to clean that up carefully: you know Locust's distaste for hairs, it grew used to the luxury of a scaly-only crew."

"I will, yes." The cat is aware of how important this is: the moment when the lizard made him his maid and especially when he had him clean up his fur from the ship's filters is roughly when Locust became a lot less unfriendly. He also suspects this was no accident but a deliberate plan from his friend. "Can I see how I look?"

"Of course." The lizard raises his wristband. "Locust, give us a holo please." And the cat's 3D picture appears in midair above his wrist.

"Iiiiih! It's really me?" Excited, the cat turns around to see every details. Being a homeless for years, he grew used to dirty fur and to see himself as looking trite and unkempt. Today his fur is soft and beautiful, lovingly combed without too many wild tufts. The lizard tried to give it some shapes too, enhancing the curves here and there, and the new and enhanced figure looks less sickly slim and more athletic nimble.

"How do you like it, little buddy? My cut is not perfect, but I find you beautiful... and when we'll reach our destination I'll buy you some pretty clothes as well."

"I love it so much! Thank you, Vern! Wow... this... it's so not like me!"

"Wrong. This is the real you. The other look was you under harshnesses, this is when you didn't look like yourself. You're a beautiful person, Sleazy."

"I... I..." The cat's eyes get a bit wet and he's not good at dealing with compliments. He eventually escapes with a diversion. "It was worth the oily enema!"

Vern grins wide and looks down at the cat without saying a word.

"...what?"

"Tell me, kitty, how do you think cleaning you inside was any help to make you look good outside?"

"Errrr... then... why?"

Vern gives a sharp, firm, pull to Sleazy's scruff to give him the touch of roughness that works so well on him... but his other hand around the cat's tail is the one controlling the hips' motions, into a more careful drop. His well lubed right hemipenis sinks a few centimeters further, stretching the cat's ring wider.

"Aaaahhh!" Sleazy is vocal in bed, but the lizard can already recognize the "good" cries from the hurt ones: so far, so good. Crushed a little too hard against the wall, the feline pushes at it with his hands.

"Posture, kitty."

Obedient, Sleazy returns his arms in his back, each hand holding the opposing wrist, and spreads his folded up legs further. Being suspended like he is without trying to reach for the floor or at least the wall for balance is asking him a lot of trust.

Vern, given his immense strength, is holding him safely. He also adjusts his weight to make his friend more comfortable once his order was followed. He rocks his hips, going back and forth inside the deliciously warm hole and needing all his self-restraint to prevent himself from bucking all the way in. Sleazy is inexperienced, however, and even if he's taking him impressively well so far he won't stop being careful just because he's excited. "Good kitty. Clench on me and wriggle."

Sleazy does his best, squirming against the wall without breaking his pose and squeezing around the large member. Unable to see, he wonders how much of it is penetrating him... Vern made it clear that he was aware of their size difference and that incomplete penetration was to be expected and would not be seen as a failure, but he wishes he'll be able to pleasure the dragon this way! He groans with his efforts, too well held to manage moving much.

This is Vern's plan anyway, the wriggling is less meant to stimulate him than to make the cat feel helpless and exhaust himself. The clenching, on the other hand, makes him growl with pleasure. "Hhhrrrrrr... stop, and relax yourself." He pulls on the scruff once more, forcing the cat to bend backward, slides himself half out and pushes in deeper. He pumps in there a few times, then pushes again, and repeats, centimeter by centimeter.

"Ahh... Yh!" The ring clenched more convulsively this time and Sleazy's voice was more tensed and higher pitched: it hurt.

The lizard pulls back a little and stops moving. "There... this is your limit. Nearly two thirds of one hemipenis, not bad at all! Breathe, kitty. Do you need to stop here for this try, or do you feel ready to continue?"

"Hhhfff... hhh... the... the pain is gone now... if you don't go further, y... yes... Please continue." The cat bites his lower lip, hesitates, then: "oh please, please, can you remove my cage for this? Please!"

"Do you want to use your safeword, Sleazy?"

"N... no, I'm just begging you."

"Then, no. But if you manage cumming with it on, I won't be angry against you." Vern punctuates the offer with a well aimed thrust to poke the cat's prostate inside. He doesn't wait for a answer, he feels too needy himself to delay a second more... he can't even imagine how frustrated Sleazy must be! He almost feels bad about being so merciless, but the cat is the one who taught him he should not measure the others' limits according to his and all the hints he's getting from his friend's body language, scents and shivers tell him he's enjoying the "meanness".

The dragon's inner "monster" can read Sleazy like an open book and immensely loves playing with the cat: he relishes control and domination and this "prey" not only bends easily but also provides a lot of kinky inspiration and accepts --no, loves-- his desires to be "played against him", indulged or deliberately denied on his partner's whims. Under his unwitting guidance, Vern is evolving fast from a total beginner not entirely at ease with BDSM nor with his own homosexuality to a more and more playful and tricky dominant finding new things he likes every hour.

Sleazy is bounced up and down against the wall, his chastity cage tingling against it sometimes. He's breathless, tired... and so needy he wants to cry... Due to the turns of events, he was prevented from any "private time" since nearly a week now and the two last days were non-stop fetish ecstasy but with the cage: Vern didn't play with him all the time, and he only slowly and gradually tried actually sexual things, but even scrubbing the floors felt like one of his kinky dreams when firmly ordered by the huge dragon and then done naked safe the metal tube and ribbon. This is heaven, he loves each minute. This is torture, he can't take it. Yes, both... he can't decide, except during some special moments like the nights curled in Vern's arms where the tender caresses rewarding his efforts make everything a fond memory. And he won't use his safeword, no way, he doesn't want to end it... because maybe he loves and hates what's going on, but the part he hates: he loves to hate it.

The dragon is getting more enthusiastic with his fucking as his pleasure is raising and as he gets confident his bottom can take it. The cat feels the strong breath in his neck, hears a few jaw snaps --Vern is resisting the urge to love-bite him, because of his venom-- and his prostate is pounded mercilessly. The cage is crushing him, stopping his desperate attempts to erect and allowing no chance of even a slight rub... and yet, this is so exciting he's feeling an orgasm slowly building up. Can he achieve it while caged?

"Hhnnfff... aahh... ahhfff..." He squirms, clenching his toes and extending his claws. So close... Vern is near there too! He won't stop now, or he'd ruin it for himself as well! Oh, yes, yes, sweet sweet deliverance!

But the cat forgot an important detail about lizards: releasing his tail, Vern suddenly reaches around to grab the hemipenis he's not using and begins to stroke himself. Which allows him to slow down, then stop the humping without losing his own momentum.

"Haaanotfaaair! Please!"

Vern closes his eyes and roars, shooting cold seed deep inside the feline. And only inside, he's able to "block" one of his members. He strokes himself to the last drop, growling in bliss, gradually resting against the back of Sleazy. He spends a moment there, panting and recovering, savoring the afterglow. Then: "Feet down, kitty."

Broken and near his limit, the trembling cat unfolds his legs. He's lowered back to the floor, the lizard half crouching so he can remain buried inside of him while softening. His scruff is released and he gets some light caresses across the cheek.

Vern gets closer to whisper in his ear. "Thank you, kitty. I know how hard it is, the efforts you make... you make this wonderful. You're the best kitty a mean dragon can dream of." He nuzzles him. "I love you."

Sleazy lets out a weak squeak. This was one of those moments. He feels all warm, proud and happy despite the denied urges. He savors the distress, because its gift was embraced.

5

3 days later.

The young black ram wipes tears from his eyes and sniffs loudly. "How could he die? Oh, number four, I miss twelve so badly..." He sobs again and returns crying on the woolly shoulder of the white ewe.

"I... I miss him too... and the others..."

"Why are we here? We should be fighting the Xolos, we should make them pay!"

A large hand comes resting on his shoulder from behind and he turns back to face his Captain, a huge black wolf. "Number eleven, listen to me carefully." He lowers his muzzle to dart his yellow eyes deep into the sheep's ones. "I swear to you I will live to avenge our fallen ones. Mark my word, nothing will stop us. We'll come back and they'll pay."

The ram nods hesitantly. "But then..."

"Revenge, young one, is not something you improvise in a hurry. Do not worry, Tlaloc will not vanish anytime soon. Noble Xolos don't do that, they feel too invulnerable. So, first of all we honor our fallen brothers like they deserve. Then, the next hunt will begin. But today is not about the Xolos, I don't want to hear about them anymore: today we remember number twelve, number five, number twenty two and number eight. We honor them, we say goodbye, and we thanks them for having rampaged the world with us for a while. Do you understand?"

The other rubs his eyes again and stands straight. "Yes Captain Black Sheep! He was a pirate true and through! I'll honor him!"

The wolf lets his young crew member leave and pulls the ewe aside. "Four, did they have families?"

"No, Captain, no other families than us. Remember why we began piracy..."

"How could I forget. You guys got it hard..."

"But then you came to us. We were preys and we were piss poor pirates but you, a mighty wolf, you gave us the terror we failed to instill on our own. They mocked you but you made them shut up. Our brothers died proud pirates, thanks to you. Remember this and please drop your bottle, Captain. You didn't fail us. Piracy is a dangerous job, this happens."

Black Sheep peers at his bottle of alcohol ponderously, then hurls it in the air and shots at it. "Thank you, four. I needed this. It's alright, I'm still sober enough for a proper ceremony."

"I'm sure you are, Captain."

"What were their real names? For the coffins."

She smirks. "I remember, when I started true piracy, someone wise told me: 'You're only meat, and meat has no name. From now on I'll call you all bunch by numbers... and every number I'll forget, I'll eat.' At the time, it felt harsh, I couldn't understand why you came to us... I suspected mere malice..."

"I came to you because you were pirate material. You were preys to everyone, a near extinct colony, but instead of cowering and crying you fought back. You were the saddest bunch of a parody of pirates, and cute fluffy sheep, yet you kept at it. I respected that. But I couldn't forge you to your full potential with cuddles."

"Yes, I know this now. You cut us from our sore past, you forced us to live our lives big, you taught us how to face terror. We needed that. So..." She salutes him ceremoniously... "their real names, Captain, were number twelve, number five, number twenty two and number eight. Pirates true and through!"

Pilots dying in a spacial dogfight rarely leave a corpse behind. The four coffins are loaded with symbolic goodbye presents for their owners: lots of booze, flowers and loot. Usually it should be loot from the last raid, but they lacked it this time... the other wolf pirates from Skull Cove --a pirate station--, by solidarity and respect of the traditions, donated generous "filler".

It helped that Black Sheep was a famous name: the son of Bloody Bill, who was too homicidal even by pirate standards, cursed by his name to never manage recruiting wolves as a Captain. So instead he recruited sheep... and somehow made it work. There are songs about not trying to bite the black sheep of Black Sheep's black ship.

Standing in the middle of the grass field, surrounded by inebriated yet reverent sheep and, in a second circle, by friendly other captains and crews, the wolf finishes his eulogy: "...you lived by the fire and you died by the fire, shot in the back like the coward do to great beasts who they don't dare facing upfront: the pirate way. True and through. But I know for a fact that when you guys will reach the door of the Grahngr gardens in the sky and when Old Olaf the guardian will laugh at your faces telling you sheep can't hunt forever with the Ancient Kings... you will punch him in the face and steal his purse on your way in. Someday we'll meet again."

He howls and the entire station howls with him, then the audience starts singing the usual bar song about "drinking like a black hole" and "murdering you on the field" while he watches the coffins floating above the artificial gravity's field, only a thousand meters away but already in space. "Fire."

For the shot of honor as well, the other pirates took part in the donation: the four boxes are vaporised in a blinding, strobing, monstrous ball of plasma. The warships shoot enough rays so the heat can be felt on a entire hemisphere of the skull-shaped asteroid --pirates have a certain taste for Gothic-kitsch--.

"And now, the hunt is on."

6

1 day later.

"Nnnfff..." So much light... Head spinning... Two long shadows... trees?

"Don't turn your head yet, sir, you'd probably throw up."

No, not trees: giraffes. "...told you ...thousand times ...'t call me sir."

"Oh, yes, sorry mister Connor! How do you feel?"

"Sick... normally sick for someone out of stasis... how long was I out?" The possum is slowly recovering his senses and he looks at his surroundings. A standard medical bay, they all look the same, but obviously he must be in Plucky: it's the name of the Lakewood brothers' ship.

"Six days, mister Connor."

"Gah, boys, please. Just Connor. Hold on, six days already? You should have delivered your cargo, the boss must be furious against you!"

"Oh, he is. Sure he is."

"Yeah, he told us we wouldn't find a transport job again in this galaxy. But screw him, hauliers are a family, we don't abandon each-others."

"Yeah, we don't! You're the one who taught us that mist... Connor. Screw the boss!"

The possum looks at the two young giraffes, each adorning several bandages on the face. "I'll be damned... you kiddos still can't even walk in your ship without banging your faces at every doors, but when it matters you're handling things as well as the old guard. John, Paul, thank you two... I don't even know what to say."

The two blush and smile, unused to get compliments from someone they respect so much. "Well, the others did help too."

"They did, yes! The boss wanted to send the cops after us! To retrieve Plucky and the cargo, but everybody told him they'd go on strike if he did that. Everybody. That's how we could stay six days."

"Yes, we're sorry it took so long. We had to check every scraps of metal in the sector twice, because we missed you the first time. And it takes a while with Plucky that's slow to maneuver."

"You were well hidden. Not that I criticize: you had to, obviously."

The possum frowns. "What, the others were okay to help but nobody moved their asses to give you a hand?"

The two look at each others a bit uneasily. "Yeah... we're sorry, we tried to convince them... but everybody thought you were dead. Since your ship exploded and you didn't answer the radio after."

"Yeah, we were the only ones to still believe you were alive. We were sure because... well, because you're you: you know all the tricks, you traveled all the roads many times, of course you couldn't get killed by some stupid pirates."

"Yeah. You couldn't. Silly idea." John hesitates, then confesses. "Okay, I admit that near the end of the second check, I doubted a little."

"Me... me too. A little."

Connor opens huge eyes when he understands. "Mona! The kids! They must all believe I'm counting worms!"

"Yeah... You're officially dead since Monday."

"We wanted to tell everyone the good news but Big Charleen told us to see you before. Because it'd be dangerous."

Connor grinds his teeth and pulls on his ears. "Aaaaagh! It's true! We must cover ourselves before we can risk reassuring my sweethearts!" He stands up, almost falls, then ignores the brothers' worried faces, the sickness, the vertigo and the fact he has no clue about where he's going, to stumble toward the door: he has to do... something.

"Beware the door's top, Captain Connor," warns Plucky's robotic voice.

He stops and looks up. The door's top is way too far above to be any risk for him. "...what?"

"Sorry, Captain. I'm currently sharing Plucky's body --welcome on board, mister Connor-- and am therefore following his local protocols."

He blinks, uncertain. "...Charleen? You're in there?"

"Correct. Correct."

Paul takes the opportunity to come so he can support the possum by an arm. "It was Plucky's idea: it said having that extra processing power and not installing it would be irrational."

Sharing a mug of coffee and whiskey with the Lakewood brothers in their cockpit, Connor is recovering fast. The two giraffes finish watching the records of the battle, impressed. "So... it were not the pirates who attacked? It was the other way around... But who was the ship with the crazy energy trail?"

"That was a crash-driver, boys. You don't see those engines so often nowadays, so I'm going to guess it was Vern. Long story. If I'm right, the Xolos tried to fry me up because they don't want anyone to know they fought a dragon and lost."

"So they attacked the pirates for diversion?"

"I think so."

The giraffes look at each-other and wince. "I understand why Charleen wanted us to shut up..."

"Yeah, if they knew you're not really dead, they'd want to finish the job!"

"We're in trouble too, now... right, Connor?"

"There, there, don't panic yet kiddos. You didn't let me down, I won't let you down. And these bastards attacked the wrong possum, I have friends on every roads and I have a plan: first, I need you to drive to my home to 'tell the bad news about your failed researches to my family'. Because I need to hold them in my arms and reassure them, and because we're bringing them with us to Kodo."

"We're going to Kodo?"

"Yes. I hope you two have nothing against the idea of becoming famous? Set us a route while I teach you how to get friends with the Xolos..."

7

Vern looks at the map, realizing how much distance they traveled so fast. "Wow. CCC to Arbo in only six days, this has to be a new record. Well done, Locust."

"Thank you, Captain. For the record, Kitty deserves credits for his recent update of my engine's settings. Without his work, the trip would have taken the initially planned seven days."

"Did you just compliment Sleazy?"

"I am merely stating facts. Kitty is an adequate technician."

This is the moment when the cat enters the cockpit, wearing his gray and shapeless clothes again. "Are you talking about me?"

The lizard chuckles. "You won't believe this: Locust finds you 'adequate'."

"Thanks! As a matter of fact, I never felt so adequate in my life..."

"I know what you mean, same feeling... What a honeymoon, uh?"

"Yes!"

During the trip, Sleazy gradually gained enough confidence both in Vern and in himself to lose his shyness. He felt loved, he felt useful as he worked in the ship and helped the dragon to train in action stance, he even found himself competent as an exceptionally rare crash-drive technician and as a teacher in porn and BDSM. At last he was safe, at last nobody looked at him funny... and at last he didn't smell bad: he feels like a person and even makes an effort to stand straight and talk better, because now it matters.

Putting the old clothes on almost feels wrong after he got used to the nakedness, and they remind him of bad memories. He's impatient to get the promised new ones, but at least his tail ribbon is a reminding sign he's not turning back into who he was before.

An other reassuring point is he discovered his pain tolerance was way lower than he imagined and that he was thrilled by activities he'd have expected to be boring: with his kinky imagination he feared he'd make Vern uneasy, in the end he's the one his partner slows down for.

During the trip, Vern trained a lot, taming his action stance to the point he can now trigger the weakest forms of it without any external stimulation. He's pleased with his progresses in Terminal Close Combat and fells a more credible hero already even if he's aware he still has a lot to learn. But most of all, he's now confident he has no inner monster to fear and nothing the Ministry of Civilization taught him was true: his quest was always pure, and today it might bring some peace and justice to the cats.

At last he's no longer alone, at last nobody vaguely fears him even if, at last, he blows out some steam.

He also read plenty of his pornography, including the one he dislikes, and studied every sex-toys, asking lots of questions to Sleazy: this was an opportunity to discuss together, and he's now confident he can sell the stuff well. He'll do this right.

Finishing to strap himself, the feline distracts his friend from his thoughts. "Arbo's dominant specie is squirrel, but it is the home of many rodents and small creatures. With a low industrialization --their main export is knowledge and they are advanced programmers-- it still has a wide variety of biomes..." He's reading from some touristic presentation which, the dragon notes, means Locust accepted to start the program he asked.

"The location we'll visit is at the edge of a mountain town. Temperate, with nice forests."

"Awesome! I'm impatient to see a forest! It also says they have some nice architecture... oh, and they are making many kinds of cheeses!"

"We'll have a good time, yes. But remember we can't stay for too long and have a job to do."

"Of course. It's fine by me, I'm still excited even if we're only passing by! I... hope they don't mind us too much, however..."

"Don't worry about that. When picking our destination, I wasn't too fond of the idea of disrespecting a local culture and risking the torches and pitchforks. I made some research and it turns out that ethics are not the only reason why the sex industry gets forbidden: there's also the fact Xolos dominate it and have no sense of self-restraint, so many planets will use any pretext they can get to keep them away."

"And how about the paperwork?"

Vern laughs. "You're only asking now? Sleazy, you realize it's a bit late to think about these issues?"

"I... I've been a little distracted, those days."

"Hehehehe. Alright, I can't blame you. Well, if you remember well, our scheme requires an official importer company and a ship with a Xolo registration."

"Yes... and creating a company must take some time. And we're supposed to have it before we land on the planet."

"You're right, little buddy, but don't forget who's driving you. What's my job?"

"You're a transp... Oh! You're an official importer, full and legit!"

"Exactly. And for the registration, the 'identity' of a spaceship is attached to its computer. Locust, where are you registered from?"

"Clapcl, the imperial Xolo planet, as ninety one percents of the ships registered during the same year as myself, Captain."

"See? Not even a paper to sign, we were all set from start."

They wait a few more minutes before Locust warns them about imminent push exit. Vern licks his lips and concentrates, he has secretly trained for this moment while Sleazy was away: "You're about to start your first day at your new job... brace yourself, Thysphaestus."

"Iiiiih! You said it right!" Then, the violent shock from the drive's exit almost knocks them both out.

"Engine failure," notes Locust. "Contacting their spaceport to get towed..."

"Look! Look! They have trees!" Standing on the plastic seat, Sleazy is squeezing his nose against the spaceport window, tail wagging fast in excitement. "I think I can smell them!"

"Please, sir, get off the furniture and stop running around during the procedure."

"Sorry! Oh! What kind of plant is that?"

"The plastic kind. Are you under the influence of alcohol or drugs, sir?" The tall capybara custom officer tries to see if the cat's pupils are dilated.

"No... sorry, sir, I don't mean to be a bother, I'm just very excited... I love your planet!"

Not too far away, Vern is presenting Locust's papers to an other officer, who is frowning in suspicion. "The model doesn't match."

"I had it recently updated. You have the computer transfer paper there, the yellow one."

The oversize rodent checks it carefully, it looks legit. "Why all the weaponry?"

"I often work in pirate-heavy sectors. As you can see from all the holes in my ship."

"True, I'm surprised you made it out alive."

"So am I." The dragon is polite and smiling, but avoids any unnecessary details in his answers.

"Hmmm." The capybara browses through the papers again, taking his time, and stamps a few ones. "Nothing to declare?"

"I have two. First, I declare that I'm traveling with my exotic pet. I don't think you're requiring a quarantine here, do you?"

"We don't, but I have to examine it."

"Of course." The dragon whistles loudly. "Thys! Heel!"

The officer stares with his mouth half open when Sleazy comes running. And can't help whispering something to his friend about "huge hamsters". He rumbles. "Sir, are you making fun of a custom officer in duties? Because this would not be a wise thing to do, no matter how funny you believe you are."

"I'm not making fun of you, sir, I'm serious. It seems you are unused to cats, if you would check his species official status you'd understand..."

"Errrr... mew," makes the feline, awkwardly trying to help.

The officer makes his joints creak and, frowning, checks on his computer. Soon, surprise and disbelief appear on his face. He checks twice, having trouble believing this... "One moment, I need to talk to my chief." And he leaves for a while.

It takes several minutes before he returns with an older officer adorning more strips at his shoulders. The new one looks at Sleazy from head to toes. The cat remains still and well straight, then bows once the examination is done. "So... you are the pest?"

"Exotic pet, sir..."

The capybara rubs his eyes and groans. "Fine. Fine. Standard procedure it is, then." He turns back to the lizard. "Given the... unusual nature of your 'pet', sir, I don't think I need to check he's neutered to make sure he won't reproduce..."

"He isn't, but we should be safe about reproduction."

The officer stares blankly and continues, ignoring the answer: "But we need to check that you are in control of the animal."

"Thys, sit! ...up! ...give a paw! ...errrrr... count to three!"

"Mew! Mew! Mew!"

Pulling up a sheet he was holding, the officer silently crosses two boxes on it, gives it to his subordinate, sends a last furious look to the weird duo and returns to his office.

The remaining officer sighs deeply and sits back to his desk, relieved to be done with this.

Unfortunately, Vern still has more to settle. "Aaaand the second thing is: my ship is a traveling sexshop and we will operate here while we stay."

"Impossible, sir, this activity is restric..."

Vern raises a finger to stop him, pulls out the paper where he wrote all the law numbers Sue told him to use and recites his lesson.

The capybara spends a moment typing on his computer, then groans in consternation. "Can I borrow your paper, sir?"

"Of course. There you are."

"Excuse me a moment." He returns to his chief's office, where he stays for a long while and from which angry shouts can be heard.

"I hope we won't give him trouble..." makes the cat, "his boss looks severe."

The guy returns, applies more stamps and makes a pile of all the papers which he pushes back toward Vern. "No irregularities. Get the fuck out of my office, welcome on Arbo."

"Iiiiih! Yes!" And the cat darts away, running.

Uneasy, Vern swallows. "It's okay: he'll hug a tree or two and try some cheese, and then he'll calm down. He's under control..." He carefully picks the pile up. "Aaaaand I'm getting the fuck out..."

Well, it didn't go that bad!

8

Vern re-aligns the dildos on their shelf as the activity gets slow. He'll close soon, so he can get Sleazy to a walk in the forest and then to a nice dinner out. Given that they arrived today and didn't have the opportunity to advertise much, he's pleased at his sales. This is very encouraging for the future. He also thinks he's not bad at making the shy customers at ease and at answering their questions.

Speaking of which... "Uh, excuse me?"

"Yes? Good afternoon, how can I help you?"

The couple of squirrels looks up at the huge dragon, a little intimidated. The female waves, half hidden behind her mate who's bravely doing the talking. "May I ask you a question? It's about canes..."

The dragon smiles warmly, careful not to show too much teeth. "Of course, I'm here to help. So, canes?"

He's relaxing and the female is slowly coming to his side. "I... read on some website that the thin canes are usually more severe than the more impressive large ones..."

Vern nods. "This is correct, the large ones are heavier but the thin ones tend to be more flexible and they concentrate the impact onto a thinner surface. This usually makes them more intense."

"But I also read that the material's friction and how smooth or bumpy the cane is was important too."

"Absolutely, your informations are correct again."

"Soooo, then..." He presents a thin, smooth, cane and a larger one with a wrapping of mesh rubber... "which of this two is the meanest?"

"Hmmm, good one. Allow me?" The squirrel gives the canes, which Vern swings in the air experimentally. The difference in weight is minor and both are swift and snappy. "One moment, please, I'll need to consult my specialist. Locust, is Thys available?"

"I'm summoning him, Captain."

It takes little time before the cat trots in, wearing a nice new mechanic costume and a colorful t-shirt. He salutes the customers. "Welcome to the Love Locust! Can I help?"

The lizard shows his canes. "We're having doubts about cane intensities."

The cat examines the toys and lets out a pensive hum. But he's not given enough time to state his opinion.

Vern snaps his fingers. "Pants down, tail up, Thys."

The cat blinks in surprise, looks at the squirrels... but he's confident enough by now, and the Locust is a "safe place" for him, and he has no shame at being the lizard's pet. He takes a big breath for courage, smiles a touch shyly to the audience and obeys.

The two visitors watch wide-eyed at the now half naked, still chastised, feline while Vern takes position, grabbing the raised up tail. "My associate is not a heavy masochist, so I will keep it light and won't demonstrate the sharp bruising these canes can cause. We'll go for two lashes of each, to be sure eventual variations in my force won't affect the result."

The two squirrels, fascinated, nod in silence. Sleazy braces himself, ears flat and neck fur raising some. He lets out a small moan of anticipation when the largest cane is placed across the top of his buttocks. The dragon pulls it back and hits the aimed spot in a smooth wrist motion. "Hhhnnnf!"

"That's the big one. Note the clenched fists and how he's already breathing short. We'll give him fifteen seconds before the next." He switches to the second cane and places it along a parallel line about five centimeters below the first one.

Sleazy tries to calm down his breathing and to recover, counting the seconds in his head. His buttocks soon shake under a new lash. "Hhhaah..." He raises a foot briefly, curling to the side.

"Posture, kitty." Vern waits to be obeyed. "The thin one, we got a bit of vocalization and some reflex escape motion. I'd already say this one feels significantly sharper." The cats nods frantically. "But we'll finish the test to be sure."

Sleazy swallows, feeling the big cane brought to a third line, counting the seconds again. "Hhhngh! Hfff." He closes an eye and wriggles after the hit, looking behind.

"Big one again, he controlled his sounds. The body language is getting more marked, but it's normal as we're getting to lash number three. You can also see he's a lot more apprehensive of the last one to come." He prepares the thin cane and rubs the cat's neck soothingly. "Almost done, kitty, relax a little. Good boy. Now let's get finished with this."

The cane sings and Sleazy makes a couple of steps forward. "Yyaaah! Yh!" He dances on his spot for several seconds before calming down.

"Excellent work, thank you Thys. You can pull your pants back up. Don't go back outside, we're closing when I'm done with our two visitors."

Still tensed, wincing and with his eyes wet, the cat carefully pulls his pants back up. "Hhmm... ffhhh..." He bites his lower lip when finishing, tail curled between his legs... then bows to the squirrels. "I'm glad I could be of assistance! I hope this will help you in your choice, sir, ma'am!"

Vern presents the thin cane to the male customer. "The thin one is the most intense," he announces with no uncertainty, then as he spotted the anxious eyes of the female, he adds: "However, I'll note they are both pretty heavy for a beginner, did you consider trying a flogger?"

The cat looks a bit concerned, hopping his friend knows how to "sort" the floggers without his help. The two squirrels whisper to each-others, then the male faces the dragon, blushing hard. "Aaaabout the... thing he had..." He motions to his crotch.

"Chastity devices. Follow me, please, I'll show you the ones we have."

Minutes later, the couple leaves with two floggers, a chastity cage, some rope, lube, an expensive vibrator and no less than twenty comics. And their last comment before going through the door is they'll tell all their friends about the Locust.

Sleazy looks happy. He playfully puts his fists on his hips once they are gone. "Hey, did you just use my butt for marketing?"

"It looks so. To my defense, my only plan was to use it for entertainment."

"Then, you are forgiven."

"Good, no need to offer you the restaurant, then?"

"Iiih! Do they have cheese?"

"They have fondue. But first we'll enjoy a nice little stroll so you can see the forest closer and so your butt recovers enough for you to be able to sit at the restaurant."

"Awesome! Ow! Ow!"

"You shouldn't bounce like that yet. Good exercise in self-control."

"Ow, the thin one bites something fierce! And those ungrateful squirrels didn't even buy a cane in the end, can you believe that?"

"Hahaha, take solace knowing you probably saved that girl. Or the guy... I'm not too sure which one is the dominant."

"I think they're switches. Taking turns."

9

A few planets later.

Vern is jogging on the hot rocks, enjoying the climate of Kao-Kiban. It's the morning but the sun is already bright and, as usual, there's not a single cloud in the blue sky. No Xolo has bothered them, the Locust is fully repaired, he got rid of his arm's cast --he's lucky he recovered despite how careless he was with it-- and the cargo is getting thinner while his bank account never was so full: life is beautiful.

It helps that Sleazy is so enthusiastic at everything that he makes boring everyday life fun. "Aaaah, slow down, Vern! I think Bravesteed's wheel is deflating again!"

The lizard laughs aloud. This has to be the worst bicycle he ever saw, but he won't tell as it's probably his friend's most beloved material possession. "You called it Bravesteed?"

"Yes, it needed an awesome name... and this one is not taken anymore, it'd be wasteful to leave it unused!"

"What's the former Bravesteed's opinion about this?"

"Locust couldn't care less: you know how sentimental it is..."

Vern looks behind himself. The bicycle's back wheel is flat... on the top, protected by several colorful umbrellas precariously taped to the handlebars and head wrapped in the most ill-tied turban this side of the planet, Sleazy is having a hard time advancing. The lizard stops. "Looks like I'll have to carry you two on my back to return. Okay, we take a break."

"Ffffeeeew, thanks!"

It will soon be the news' time on the radio, the dragon taps a claw on his wristband to start it up then watches the cat trying to pump air back into his wheel. "That will not do any good if the tire is pierced, little buddy."

"But it doesn't look pierced..."

"Then it has to be porous, or the valve is defective. Anyway, it's not normal that is gets flat so often. We'll change it in town. Take a break, I think I saw a scorpion you can hunt."

"Neat! Where?"

"Behind this cactus."

"Ooooh, pink flower. It's a kind I didn't see yet! It'll make a nice new card!" The feline pulls out his throwaway camera: they can't safely contact any friend yet, but he's building up a big pile of letters to send once they'll be on Kodo.

"Who is this one for?"

"Captain Sue! He's a professional botanist, did you know?"

"Nope, but I'm not surpri..." Both freeze in a shiver: the radio just mentioned Connor's recent death. "No..."

"...turned out to be announced too early: the experienced transporter managed to evade the pirate attack in a life capsule where he was rescued by two faithful friends."

The hologram turns to the picture of two giraffes, looking half proud, half uneasy before the camera. "Can we say hello to our mother?"

"Yeah, and please tell her: we're good, we're all safe here on Kodo. She doesn't need to worry."

The journalist interviews them a moment, trying to milk all the emotion she can out of their story of never losing hope and getting fired from their job in their effort. It is question of the station offering the help of their own lawyers against their insensitive boss.

The next picture shows a recently bathed possum, looking ill at ease in his black costume and tugging on his tie. "Yes, ma'am, the pirates had something personal against me: I had to shoot at them a few times during my career. So I had no choice but to move to Kodo where I knew I'd find protection. The time for it to settle. He looks straight at the camera: I'm very scared for my family and all I want now is to take a break and rest."

"But, mister Connor..."

"...Connor, just Connor. Please."

"As you wish. But how about that video that leaked recently about a fight between the Xolos and dragons? It happened in your sector and you'll admit your arrival on Kodo for entirely unrelated reasons is a huge coincidence."

"Yes ma'am. Crazy thing... like getting found in parsec-cubes of space when you're in a capsule and everybody thinks you're dead: it happens." He shrugs and makes his most candid face. "That video... beats me: I have no clue where it could come from. Nothing to do with me, ma'am."

10

Tlaloc nearby suffocates as the Dagger of Commandment explodes in space on the video, Mix has to tap his back to help him spit the fine rare algae flambé he was savoring on the floating suspended gardens of his Clapcl residence. "Ghf... who saw this?"

Coatl stops the hologram he was projecting from his wrist. "Every journalist, everywhere in the system. It was not yet widely released to the public as they are still investigating, but it will. There's no way we can stop it, they are even already commenting it."

The old axolotl wipes himself with his white towel and lets Mix hand him a glass of water. "Where the hell is this coming from? How did it spread without our intel catching it?"

Coatl starts a new video, the one with Connor's interview. "This possum was the pilot of the Big Charleen, the tanker we blew to pieces near the battle-field because we were anxious he could have been a witness. Given the view-point of the first video, our fear was justified: he filmed everything using his navigation telescope."

"How likely was that? And that he'd manage survive our fighters?"

"Very unlikely, sir. He used his relationships among the transporters to organize the information's diffusion, which is something new: they are not usually an active political entity, which is what allowed them to trick our services."

"Damn that garbage raider!" Lacking anything better when the impulse strikes him, Tlaloc throws his fork away. It falls down the sea with a tiny noise. Quite anticlimactic. "Gah... He looked 'friendly' on the video, do you agree with my feeling?"

"I do, sir. From my researches on his profile, his claims about fearing for his family are true. He also proved he could organize the leaking of his attacker's real identity should we mess with him. We already lost one round and we have nothing to gain in an eventual second one: I suggest we accept his balance of terror, we can't waste our time on him."

Before his eye-opening near death experience, Tlaloc would have exploded in rage and demanded Connor's head. Today, he just grinds his teeth and hisses: "Agreed. Any hope left?"

"Yes, sir, a thin one: the probable reason why we're not yet convoked to justify ourselves in front of the Emperor is that you can't see the pilot on the video. The claim we fought a dragon is still unproven."

"We must find that Locust before the journalists do!"

"I'm afraid it's too late for that: the pilot has been seen on half a dozen planets and it's only a matter of time before the intel spreads naturally. There is still the option, on the other hand, to become friendly with them: we want you to keep your position and they want to live, a hefty sum of money could convince them to work for us."

"Buying their silence?"

"Buying their voices, on the contrary: let them explain to the journalists how they were not the pilots during the attack, but hired by us once we recovered the Locust from the pirates."

"This... could wor..." He's interrupted by the noisy beeps of all their wristbands ringing at once. Peering down, he sees the icon of a crown blinking on his. His face turns white.

Mix joins Coatl and both salute formally. "It was a honor working for you, sir."

Mix, Coatl and a trembling Tlaloc press their faces against the massive gold floor. "Conquer and Prosper, my Emperor!"

Cuhtli the Seventh quietly raises from his throne and walks down the stairs, each move graceful and aristocratic. He's green but his face and hands are covered with white ritual marks of his rank. He's naked safe overabundant jewelry. His pointy crown makes him look taller and its base is the highest point his guards are allowed to reach: the commandos following him closely remain carefully hunched.

Standing in the well of light beside the epic legends' mosaics on the walls, the orchestra plays: there's a ritual music for everything the Emperor does. And for many of the things he doesn't. The seven imperial scribes dutifully document in detail how the Glorious Demigod walks each step.

He stops to observe his visitors, then gestures to a servant so he gets his throat filled up with mountain water from a faraway land: the Xolo Emperor does not use the lower tongues and shall only communicate in Imperial clicks. "Tlaloc of the Xipe house, son of Ometeotl, providential imbecile." He shakes his metal flail to make it tingle. "Raise."

Tlaloc barely can hold on his legs. After exchanging a look with the protocol master to get his authorization, Mix and Coatl raise to their knees so he can hold their shoulders for support.

"Your father served the Empire well, it must be destiny that found a way to make you useful despite your abysmal incompetence. I am amazed by your mediocrity, despite the great soldiers you inherited of." He shakes his flail once more. "Mix and Coatl, of Mictlan's legions, sons of the sons of the sons with the bravest blood. Raise."

The two stand as ordered and salute, having no choice but to leave their employer without helpful support.

"No longer will you remain wasted, proud warriors. Rejoice." He licks his fingertip and draws a sign on each of their forehead. Then he turns away and returns to his throne --the Emperor does not waste His time in long explanations--... and the trio is firmly escorted out of the throne room.

Barely managing to breath, Tlaloc need to be examined by a doctor and receives a tranquilizer pill. He's too shocked from having been harshly criticized by his ruler to make sense of what happened. His underlings, sharper, won't need to wait for an ambassador to spell the details for them: Cuhtli the Thrifty Father is a conquering Emperor, but a wise one respecting the markets. One can easily forget his thirst for glory as he's managing the Empire meticulously and carefully, but if you hand him a spectacular casus belli against an historical foe on a silver plate, he'll bite.

For decades, the dragons remained tame and there was no politically clean way to break the truce. That one of them would be foolish enough to defy the Empire and that he'd manage to destroy the Commander ship of a high-ranked noble was so unimaginable that the two commandos never considered their leader's reaction. Now, they feel silly for not having predicted this.

Mix is barely containing her excitement, she can't hold her questions for long. "Brother! How will we handle this?"

"The opposite way than how we were planning to a moment ago, my dear sister: with as little subtlety as we possibly can. And I have the feeling mister Tlaloc's recent promotion will provide us with the resources to be highly unsubtle."

"I get my war! Finally!"

Tlaloc should be ecstatic: the Hammer of Commandment is, by far, the hugest yacht he ever possessed and he's commanding more elite enhanced commandos than he used to have normal soldiers. As a Grand Admiral, he's allowed the great honor of wearing an Imperial-green costume and golden gill-bracelets --which he finds highly uncomfortable-- and his family was relocated to Clapcl's administrative palace. He also thinks he earned eleven or twelve new wives with good ranks, the details are blurry to him and he still has to take the time to write down the official love letter his secretaries prepared the text of.

The ambassador presents the long, ornamented, box to him. "As it is the tradition, my Administrator, your family sends their warmest wishes of glory to you, as well as these twenty carefully selected eggs to inseminate. May your next generation's sons and daughters be fierce!"

The old axolotl already has more sons and daughters than he can remember and he's well aware of this tradition's subtext: this is one of the two "details" preventing him from enjoying his promotion, the possibility that he'll get killed on the battlefield. This is kind of a turnoff and he frankly doubts he'll manage to inseminate those eggs knowing they are meant as his replacement. "Hhmmmf... Give them to my servants, I don't have the time now. You shall dismiss."

The other painful reality is he wasn't promoted for his successes but by accident, for the show, with the Emperor's contempt and irony. Naturally, he's not leading anything and has to repeat the orders he's secretly given. By the letter. His only consolation is that Mix and Coatl, as loyal as ever, are still treating him with respect and obedience. They are the ones taking the few decisions not coming from above, but it's because he's relying on them and not because they profited of the situation to take over.

The ambassador is leaving, so he can turn back to Mix's hologram. "Sorry about that. So, how are the negotiations going?"

"They are going great, my Administrator. Many resentful planets are seeing the situation as an opportunity to take a cheap shot at us and our ambassadors are repeatedly getting outward insulted: this makes it very easy to push for war without looking like warmongers. As a result, the markets' drop is minimal and more and more great nations are taking their distances with motions to actively stop us. Our assault should happen in the best political climate we could hope for."

"So, this is really happening... we're going to conquer Kodo..."

"Not really, my Administrator, it wouldn't be that profitable to conquer or exterminate them. Our objective is two-folds: first we want to damage enough infrastructures to make Kodo a land of opportunities for our construction sector during the next decades, which will be the chance to 'peacefully' let our firms take over their main resources. Second we want to assault their agriculture and have them build weapons, which when we'll disarm them and add a heavy fine after their capitulation will impoverish them into a great source of cheap labor. Finally, by rationing out our hiring of them, we will be able to hold them in poverty while using them as a lever to lower the other planets' wages."

"...and we will look strong, hitting back hard when attacked, but merciful and longing for peace, having not conquered them and even actively helped with their reconstruction after the war... Beautiful, you can feel the elegant style of the Thrifty Father in this plan."

"My only regret, my Administrator, is I fear the dragons softened since the last time we fought them. I wish I was born earlier! But do not worry, in such adventures there are always at least a few tenacious heroes in the mediocre's mass: I promise we will bring you the glory due to your new rank!"

Tlaloc barely avoids making a face, he's not sharing her enthusiasm and would gladly content himself with the mediocre leaving the tenacious heroes to others.

11

The mysterious dusty figure, all wrapped in a brownish robe and keeping his face well hidden, enters the corrugated iron shacks and silently places his gourds on the bar in front of the lycaon owner. No patron reacts to his arrival, Kao-Kiban has Aborigines tribes who believe the townspeople give diseases with their eyes so this is hardly an unusual sight.

Not every of them can speak commercial basic, so the canine shows his fingers: "Four credits. Fooour." At least the figure can count, he gives the required bills and waits. The lycaon goes to his jerrycans and fills the gourds up. He doesn't recognizes this visitor and you never know if a new tribe won't be good for business: just in case, he pulls out a box of yellow disinfecting capsules and shows a handful of them: "Free." And he drops one into each gourd.

The figure salutes politely, takes his water and leaves.

In a corner, three lycaons stop playing cards and pay for their still full glasses: the local Arborigines don't salute the way the figure did, and their hands are not gray.

Outside, the figure walks a little, looks around to check that nobody is watching... and runs to his bike, that was hidden behind a dry bush. He nearly gets his robe stuck in the chain when he starts pedaling.

The lycaons exit the bar once its gone far enough. One of them crouches to smell a footstep, then nods to the others. "Yep. It's him. Do we catch him?"

"Not yet, we'll save time by following him to the lizard," orders the oldest one. The last of the trio spits near his boot, which makes him rolls his eyes. "Yeah, yeah, Irv... I don't like it more than you. But we're cops, we follow orders."

The annoyed one bites a new mouthful of chewing tobacco to give himself the time to decide if he'll answer or not. He will: "With all due 'spect, M'verick, I say the cops' job's to protect. Just saying."

"And protecting is what we're doing. What do you think will happen if we don't surrender them to the Xolos, uh? You want to see their commandos coming here to play with your pups and wife, that's it, Irv?"

The other winces and adjusts his cap, pulling it hard down. "Just saying... this is our planet, they don' hav' no right to take whatev' they like on it. Always like this. We're not their peons. I say tucking our tail's 'lways... it's easier on the short, but it'll hurt on the long." He spits again, energetically, fists clenched. "Just saying."

"If you're going to get all nationalist on me, save your saliva: we're after strangers, remember?" He barely avoid the brown spit on his boot this time. "Gah! Irv!"

"You can be proud an' friendly. I've met the cat in town, befor' this: he's a fine lad, nice lil tourist, 'spectful. I say it's wrong to sell him to cov'r our asses."

"Welcome to real politics, Irv. Yes, it reeks. But we have no choice and we must protect ours first. So look at me in the eyes, officer: you're our sharpest gun here, can I rely on you?"

Irv chews for a long time, glancing in the eyes of his chief aggressively.

The third dog clears his throat. "Irv... My boy will be five year old at the end of this month."

Irv doesn't stop his staring contest. But, eventually, he sighs. "Yeah. I'll shot. I'm a cop..."

Hearing Bravesteed's creaking, Vern recollects himself and tries to stop looking gloomy. He can't get over the fact he started a war... The Ministry was right! He ignored their warnings and he spread chaos and desolation! Now it's too late to go back... he's a monster... But Sleazy needs his support, so he'll be strong and won't show his anguish. The poor feline has good reasons to be depressed as well: just when he was about to make his dream real, everything fell apart. They lost the Locust to the local police and became fugitives again.

The cat is remaining optimistic on the surface, but the dragon knows he's hiding his feelings: he's clawing at him again in his dreams. "There we are, several days of water! It'll taste awful again, the barman put some of those iodine caps into it..."

"Better the bad taste than the bad bacterias, little buddy. Dinner is almost ready, five more minutes."

"Nice! Cold one again?"

"Yes, I'm sorry. We can't afford to make fire, it's way too visib..." The orange ray hits the dragon's head sideway, bouncing it and pushing the entire body off-balance. Vern collapses before the horrified eyes of his friend.

He remains entirely inert on the dust, long enough for Sleazy to realize he's out for real and won't wake up to grab his scruff and pull him to safety. "VERN!!!" The second shot sends the feline down at his turn.

"Nice shots, Irv."

"Hmm... nothin' nice about them. I'm fetching the truck." The lycaon leaves his teammates alone with their bad conscience.

"...okay... Clyde, put them on lateral position, we don't want them to die a silly way before we can put them in the stasis tubes."

Clyde is rubbing his cap uneasily. "Maybe... maybe we do, Maverick."

The chief looks at his subordinate with surprise and concern. "What?!"

"Well... I was thinking..." He swallows, hardly. "I was thinking the Xolos looked very angry at them. And they asked us to take them alive... so maybe it'd be better for them. I'm not sure I'd want to be taken alive if I was at their place."

Maverick pulls out his army knife and hands it to the younger one. "Then, you do it. And you'll explain it to Irv too."

There is a long, long, silence. "I... I'm putting them on lat' position, chief."

"Yeah, you do that." He returns his knife to its scabbard. "Fucking Xolos."

12

Today's mission: failed!

Today's new mission: in search of justice on Pheles Clapcl, the cats' axolotls' planet.

Vern coughs and pulls his nose away from the smelling salts bottle. He fells sick and disoriented, something cold is pressed at various points of his chest and there is a rhythmical beep nearby. He tries to open his eyes but someone shakes a light right into them. "The pupils are reactive, doctor. And his tonicity is returning fast."

From his left, a more familiar voice calls. "Vern! Oh please be well!"

He wants to answer to Sleazy but something prevents him from opening his mouth. He wants to reach his hands there to check but they won't move. Startled, he opens his eyes again and struggles.

The middle aged axolotl in front of him looks up with a jaded expression. "It's returning fast indeed. We'll leave it to the guards to remove his muzzle... anyway, you can call the Grand Admiral and tell him the transport was done right and his guests will be ready to meet him anytime he'll decide. Notify his secretary I'd like to know if he'll require me to assist him with some interrogation."

"Yes, doctor," answers one of the many nurses, and she makes a call while the others remove sensors and electrodes from the dragon's bare chest. He's in a round cage, itself in a round room, held standing and spread between two pillars by his chained arms and ankles. He was muzzled and they even trapped his tail in some kind of a full of straps sleeve anchored to the ground. He's relieved to notice they only stripped his top half, and took his boots.

He looks for the cat: about three meters away he's in the same predicament minus the muzzle and tail bonds. The medical team by his side is already finishing to pack their equipment away. There are guard Xolos with guns all around the cage, some of which approach the door when the nurses and doctors get close. He shivers when they put a knee down and aim their rifles at him and his friend. "Team blue, in position. Shut down the electricity." There's a clacking noise and yellow lights start blinking, the cage's door unlocks itself and opens. "Electricity down, proceed." The medics leave while a pair of guards enter. "Restore electricity."

First, a technician comes to wipe the floor of any traces of wetness, then the door closes back and the alarm lights go off. The outside guards get up and lower their guns. They wait for the medical team to exit before moving again... the lizard notice they leave for a lock which soon fills up with water and guesses this room has to be the only one with air in his prison.

"Team green, engaging maneuver," makes one of the guards who entered and both march to the dragon.

Sleazy panics. "Ah! Go away! Leave him alone!" He shakes frantically in his chains. "Don't touch him!"

They entirely ignore him. One of the guards gives a leg up to the other so he can reach Vern's snout, which he holds close with a hand. From the unnatural strength of his grip, it's obvious he's enhanced. He removes the muzzle and the two leave, with as much exaggerated safety protocol as they used for the earlier door opening.

The lizard licks his lips. "Are you okay, Thys? Did they hurt you?"

"N... not yet. I feel horrible, but I'm not hurt."

"It's normal, kitty, that's just the stasis. Don't worry about it, it'll pass soon."

They don't have to wait for long before Tlaloc arrives. He wanted to let them wait for him in fear... but having them delivered from the other side of the system took weeks and he's out of patience. He smiles at their faces when he exits from the lock, still dripping. Finally! He savors the moment with a huge grin, while the technician wipes him somewhat dry and applies a fresh coating of gel on his face and gills.

The guards lead him into the cage, warning him not to go further than the red line on the floor. They want to escort him but he refuses, he doesn't want to share this with anyone, he even kept Mix and Coatl away... it's not like he risks anything in there, as long as he keeps his distances from the dragon. And he won't do the silly mistake to forget this. He stops a little before the line. "Welcome on the Hammer of Commandment, my new yacht. I hope you're comfortable and my crew treated you well?"

The dragon hisses. "You are the Grand Admiral? So that's your war... you must be so happy!"

Tlaloc makes a face and can't help tugging onto one of his uncomfortable gill bracelets. "No, I'm not happy with my war. Even the poor Mix is sad you're ruining it for her, she imagined the Kodo dragons would have more respect for it." He shakes his head, disgusted. "But no, not you two. You two are loads of pain and trouble even while sleeping in stasis inside one of my transporters..."

"The hell are you talking about?"

"Peh! I won't give you this pleasure. All you need to know is you're going to serve the Empire, for once. As an example. I'm bringing you straight to Clapcl where I'll have the pleasure of personally executing you. Publicly. And we'll transmit the pictures all over the system. We'll see if your friends still feel like mocking us after their stupid hero's bloody remains got hung to a hook to feed the crabs!" He turns to Sleazy. "He and his 'exotic pet'."

The cat is as terrified as he's angry. "You evil bastard! You can't stand even one cat having a good life, you need to break it at all cost!"

"What?! Me?!" The Xolo barely refrain from passing the line to go slap the feline, instead starting to furiously walk back and forth along it. "DON'T REVERSE THE ROLES, VERMIN! You... You... You're the one who tried to murder me and who killed many braves of my crew! You're the one who sent me to war, where I'm risking my noble life like a lowranker loser! But most of all, you filthy pest are the one who stomped my dreams! Do you have any idea of what my life is like? No, of course you don't! You're a smelly good for nothing nobody looks up for! You have the easy life, no critics, no responsibilities! I'm the first son out of fifty of a mighty and honored governor, I was born with the weight of destiny! I'm due to genius and greatness since before I grew my tail! All my life I was not good enough for what I should have been no matter what I tried! All those judging eyes on me, all the time! And then, then at last I polished the perfect plan to build something so huge and valuable I'd finally be worthy of their praises! If you only had seen my beautiful marketing plans..." He has to stop to catch back his breath, his face red. He eventually finish with a quieter, colder, voice. "But you came and you took it away. Emporiums, licenses, city-like populations of hookers... You took it so you could sell three dildos in a derelict ship to earn a pocketful of change... You... You did it out of vile spite, just because you hate us Xolos so much!"

Sleazy can't utter a word for a moment. He wants to scream at Tlaloc for daring to compare their lives and call his the easy one, he wants to hate him with all his guts... but there's the old noble's expression, one he knows too well for having faced it every time he met a mirror: no matter what, he can't refrain from feeling for someone who knows what it's like to be rejected by the world and worthless. "I... didn't mean to..."

Things are not going as the Grand Admiral planned. He spent days imagining this moment, preparing his lines. He should be laughing and triumphant, leaving his prisoners broken while he slowly walks away without turning back... not on the edge of crying and needing to retreat hastily after he shared way too many intimate details with his guards and enemies. He must flee. But he must somehow hurt the cat before, a feline has no rights to be that innocent. "You don't even know, I can see it now..." He removes his expensive wristband and searches for something, then places it down the floor and turns his back on his prisoners.

The opening credits of a very old history documentary pop up in hologram while he walks away as fast as he can without entirely losing his composure.

In poorly rendered 3D due to the lenses not yet being good when he was filmed, the white cat walks to his platform under martial music and the joyful screams of the huge crowd. He looks elegant and noble, adorning a silky shirt with lot of lacework, gloves and boots, all of it simple but strict and well tailored. He brandishes his fist in a gesture looking suspiciously like the current Xolo military salute and all the crowd gets silent at once.

Then he explains how the superior specie of the cats will take what is their rightful due by extending their Empire to the neighbor planets, starting with the nearby Xatcl. The remaining of the documentary tells the full story in the detail, sparing no pictures of piles of dead axolotls on top of which are posing smiling cat generals.

The felines ravaged all Xatcl before a coalition of other species, initially wanting to remain neutral but fearing to be the next victims, put an end to their conquering ways. The Kodo dragons, back then still strong warriors, were a major actor of their demise. It was too late for most Xolos who were too harshly hurt to manage recovering from the war and lived in the fear of being attacked again...

...so to secure their survival, the axolotls became their enemy. They attacked the weakened cat planet. The Kodos, again, stood up for the weak and the victim, ignoring the recent past because not every cat had been one of the monsters and because the horrible cycle of senseless retaliation had to be broken... but no one else reacted. Nobody wanted to stand for the felines after what they did, many approving the ironic justice of their punishment.

By the time the Xolos were contained, they had a new, half devastated, home planet and a newly aggressive culture.

Sleazy didn't know. He cries every tear of his body and Vern can't even hold him in his arms for comfort.

13

"Blake, my friend, I am truly impressed by your ability to sneak around these beasts. You are not bad at computer piracy, for an organic form of life."

Black Sheep smirks to the human. "Your mechanic squid can't do that, uh, Sue?" Ignoring the protesting beeps from Exposibot, the wolf gets more serious. "I can get near them, but I can't fight five Hammers and an escort armada. The moment they spot you, you'll be on your own. Are you sure you want to do that? And to go alone? You don't want a few Kodos?"

Squeezed on their seats between the sheep, the huge lizards nod enthusiastically.

"I'd value your help, brave warriors, please don't be insulted. But those ships are full of water which is a very bad fighting environment for you." Sue stands straight, fists resting on the sides of his hips, and the little robot holding itself at his left arm blows in his long blond and rainbow hairs so they fly awesomely in the air. "Luckily, I happen to be a professional diver."

"Man, I really wish you appeared a few battles ago."

"I have unfortunately been slightly delayed by getting trapped into an other dimension, my friend. But now is no time for this story: prepare the torpedo tube for me and update Exposition-bot's cloaking app, let's rock on!"

Mix holds the rubber ball in her left hand, rolling it between her fingers. The doctor finishes examining the graph of the pressure she applied onto it a minute ago. "Well, this is excellent, ma'am: your new enhancements are fully functional and your organic muscles are at nine tenths of recovery. One more week of reeducation and you'll get to ten. Do the nerve growth stimulant injections cause you any pain?"

"Pain can be controlled."

"Of course, ma'am, but I'd need your assessment of it for the files. Simple formality..."

"Naturally: I assess it as 'of an insignificant level'."

"Could you please rephrase this on a zero to ten scale, zero being no pain at all and ten the worst possible pain?"

Mix considers this, applying a few more experimental squeezes on the ball, then smiles: her fast recovery is pleasing her. "Then I'd say a mild eight, eight point five. And only when I'm moving it."

The doctor's fingers linger above his keyboard. "Eight or eight point five would be an excruciating level of pain, ma'am..."

"Mildly excruciating, doctor," she insists.

"Alright... would you maybe desire some painkillers?"

"No, thank you: they dull the pain. I don't like my perceptions limited, it lowers my performances." Her wristband blinks red before the doctor can reply, notifying her of an urgent call. She accepts it and the hologram of a saluting commando pops up. "Yes?"

"Ma'am, your brother disappeared."

"What?!"

"He went investigating with a team of five, after we lost contact with a technician during what we first believed to be a routine check." The twelve commandos swim fast behind Mix while one continues his report. "It was a malfunction alarm at an exit lock, the techs assumed a minor mechanical failure."

"How did the intruders reach our walls undetected? What's the data about their ship?"

"We found no ship at all, ma'am. The escort is still scanning the area, without success so far."

"Then the only possible explanation is they were dropped close with excellent cloaking suits, and their ride is gone. They can't escape. Stay sharp, I won't tolerate any more losses." At the turn of a corridor, she sees Coatl, floating inert and bruised. No traces of shots... was he defeated at hand to hand combat? Incredible! His team's bodies are not around and no efforts were made to conceal him, she resists her urge to hurry and help him: "Halt! Don't come any closer, this has to be a trap! Call the other teams to converge to us!"

Her eighteen commandos hurriedly assume a defensive position.

Eighteen!? "Impossible!"

Awakened by the noise, Coatl half opens his eyes and weakly tries to mumble something to her. Could this be a warning? "W... watch... his moves... so... so beautiful..."

In the cage, Vern's head hangs low. He feels so hopeless and defeated. His mind goes blank... and then the anger starts flowing in by surprise. Tlaloc. He mocked him, he didn't pay his course, he attacked Kodo and now he hurt Thysphaestus! This. Is. Not. Right! The low growl raises from his throat as his muscles tense and he enters the action stance of a lifetime, slowly straightening up, shedding his fears and doubts away, analyzing the situation fast. He's the rightful, furious, fist of justice and nothing will stand in his way. Tlaloc is going down.

"Prisoner, calm down immediately."

Vern does calm down. In appearance. And his yellow eyes drill into the soul of the guard who talked. The plan is falling in place in his head and he's visualizing the Terminal Close Combat moves he's about to use. There's only one last obstacle... He looks at the lights behind the guard. Circular rail. Series circuit, an other mistake. "RrrrrraaAAAAAAAAAAWWWWRRRR!!!"

The guards aim their riffles, but without much conviction. "I said calm down, last warning. This is futile..." This is when the two chains at the dragon's arms break altogether. Vern is important to Tlaloc and no guard wants to kill him, their minuscule hesitation while they all look at each-others to make sure they don't shower him with rays all at once allows him the time to hurl a broken link at his facing Xolo's head.

The enhanced commando dodges effortlessly... letting the projectile pass by him and reach it's true target. The light tube shatters and the whole rail shuts down, causing the room to go dark. "Red, shooting the hostile!" The orange rays briefly illuminate the spot where the dragon was but there's no prisoner left there. He searches him in the cage, shooting randomly --but careful to avoid Sleazy-- for light. There should be no hiding place, where is he?!

Only then he notices the blinking little light of Tlaloc's wristband hung at the door, and understands: the cage's system, believing it detected the noble, shut down for safety. "We lost electricit..." The lizard drops from the cage's ceiling and elbows the door open, the commando raises his rifle but it "magically" gets ripped from his hands and turned back against him. Shoots are exchanged from every direction.

When the fight ends, Sleazy, still in shock, shivers in the dark. "V... Vern?" Could his friend have managed to beat all the guards? He badly wants to believe despite how ridiculously low the odds are. Somebody pulls the wristband off the cage and the system restarts. As the door is opened, electricity remains off and the yellow alarm lights illuminate the place. Everybody but the cat is down.

It's when, groaning, Vern crawls in his direction holding one of the guards' keys that he understands: the dragon won, not because he impossibly dodged the shots... but because he near impossibly resisted them. Sheer willpower (and a pinch of heavy berserk) against phasers set to stun. While slowly getting closer, he's already planning his next moves. "Thys... hhhffff... where does our oxygen... hfff... comes from?"

The cat raises an ear and, being an expert in life support like everyone born in Cat Can City, doesn't need to think twice before answering: "They have a carbon dioxide purifier, a GK seven or eight from the noise. It's constantly recycled from the room's air."

"Drat, so no air bottles." The dragon is recovering fast and unties the feline to give him a long hug. "Everything will go well, Thys. I'm going to catch Tlaloc and put an end to all this."

"How... how will we leave this room without air?"

"I had a plan B. We're taking the room's air with us to the nearest place where they keep their environment suits. Can you guide me in this foreign ship, my little mechanic?"

"I think I can!"

"While I recover, strip the guards: we'll use their uniforms to carry our air."

"Yes! ...are... are they dead?"

"No, I just stunned them. Thus: don't waste time!"

Sue's bright pink environment suit, with extra silver bands, is shining from the wetness as he contemplates the unconscious and nearly naked axolotls. "Well, my mechanical friend, this is a touch disappointing. But also impressive!"

"You were right about the dragon being hero material, Captain," agrees Exposibot.

"My success rate is dropping lately, would I become too old for this?"

"Nonsense, Captain! Again, capturing the crystaloid was so impossible it can't be counted as a failure and you still managed to collapse the rift! As for today, the rude impatience of your 'lads in distress' is in no way making your performance less impressive."

The man chuckles and shakes his head. "Well, our work here is not done yet. My guess is they went for the head, but there is the risk they made the beginner mistake of trying to steal a fighter ship."

"This would spell their doom, Captain, as you already know they'd have no chance to escape the Hammers' shooting radius and they'd lack the autonomy to go anywhere."

"Indeed! Which is why our next stop is the parking bay! I hope we'll encounter the same quality of resistance there, these legion elites are a joy to fight."

"I think it's unlikely there were more than two of them in this ship..."

"Don't be a buzzkill."

Sleazy looks weird in his ill-fitting Xolo suit... but it's nothing compared to Vern, who's wearing his hood on the nose and the rest as a cumbersome "scarf". The cat's mechanical skills and training at being sneaky are doing wonders: he finds all the shortcuts and discreet maintenance shafts, gets in the air vents to scout ahead and, using a few tools they found with the suits, he's opening all kinds of things the lizard would not have guessed to possibly open. They are advancing fast without needing to fight.

Luckily, they don't encounter the two particular commandos Vern doesn't feel able to fight and the other ones are relaxed, unsuspecting in this place they believe they fully control. What the duo doesn't know is someone recently cleared the path from a good chunk of the opposition.

Breaking through a thin wall behind an electronic shelf, careful not to disturb the cards and optical fibers which would alert some technicians, they enter Tlaloc's private suite. The dragon is growing exalted, so close of his enemy. The first room they enter is the one where the Xolo hung his Kodo saber at the wall, as a trophy.

Tlaloc is reclined in his favorite armchair, eyes closed and soaking into the classical music. This is usually the only thing managing to soothe his fragile nerves, but today even this is failing him. He too saw his own reflexion in the cat's expression, and despite his efforts he fails at entirely ignoring it. Which painfully reminds him of the execution to come: if he has his ferocious side, the old Xolo is not that eager to personally get literal blood on his hands.

He detects a vibration in the water and sighs. "I said not before a couple of hours, nurses. Leave me alone." He lazily opens an eye... and sees. "AAAAAYYYHH! HELP!"

Vern pounces on the seat, toppling it over, and half crushes the Xolo with a roar, pressing his blade against the wrinkly throat. "Gotcha! Finally! I'm stopping you and your evil ways once and for all!"

Tlaloc suffocates, reaching a clenched hand to his heart, disfigured by pain and terror. Sleazy swims as fast as he can to come pulling on the dragon's arm. "Vern, no! Stoooop!" The lizard looks at him without understanding. "You're killing him! Please stop! Can't you see what we're doing? We're becoming the violent hunters... oh please don't become like them!"

Vern looks at the suffering, pined down, weak creature and the reality of his situation reaches him. Heroic victory has an unexpectedly bitter taste... but... "How... how about justice? What evils will he do to you tomorrow if we let him go?"

"I don't care! I renounce to justice, I just want everybody to be happy instead! And I refuse to kill out of fear... this is how they turned evil! We must break the cycle don't you see? That's the dragons' way, please help me!"

The Xolo begs for mercy, Vern can't understand his clicks but their tone is unmistakable... he tosses his saber behind and stands up to let his prey breathe. "I... I spare you. May this make you rethink your ways..."

Sleazy gently pushes his friend away to go helping Tlaloc, doing his best to reassure him and helping him to take some pills. Slowly the axolotl calms down, to eventually nod and say something to the cat.

"He just thanked you, my friend. An historical event from a noble Xolo to a cat, rad adventuring!"

Everybody turns around to face the newcomer. Sue smiles wide and waves, then as they keep glancing flabbergasted: "I happen to be a professional translator." With his help, they can have a long discussion with the Grand Admiral.

14

The next day, in Clapcl's secret underwater resistance base (previously known as Plucky).

"Incoming, a lone Xolo fighter. Probably the one which left the Hammers two hours ago and cloaked," Announces the electronic voice.

"But now it uncloaked and it's going straight for us... that has to be Sue, stay put and prepare for fight but watch for a SRDC laser: I'm sure he'll contact us soon." Connor raises a holo map and touches his home planet, a little haulier ritual for chance. "I hope this crazy monkey is bringing back our friends..."

"The odds are very bad, Captain. I agree mister Connor, very bad: we should --negative-- yes? Do not underestimate the Sue."

The possum makes a face. "Three brains are way too much for a single ship. Do you guys realize how hard it is to follow you? Who's talking?"

"Charleen. Plucky. Locust."

"Gah, alright, let me rephrase my question..."

"Sorry to interrupt you, Captain: our SRDC is being hooked."

The possum vaults to the console to accept the call: "Hey, buddy! How about you tell your turrets to stop looking at me funny and raise out of the water: I could use a landing pad, here!"

"Vern! You're alive!" The conversation gets confusing at this point with Sue, Exposibot and Sleazy saying hello together while the two giraffes who just ran into the cockpit and the three computers welcome them.

The resistance wanted to make this arrival something memorable and iconic. When Vern and Sleazy exit their ship into the long parking bay, under strong spotlights, two rows of Kodo dragons salute them and raise their sabers to form a guard of honor: "All hail Holon and Thys!"

The lizard has a lot of trouble to remain collected and solemn when he discovers his new nickname. The feline as well, but his own distraction comes from the various smaller critters, one per Kodo, nearly naked safe fetish gear and wearing "parking tags" at their tails. Tlaloc told them what happened during their stasis but seeing the crazy thing is necessary to fully realize it!

Ignoring the protocol, Connor trots to welcome his old friend, closely followed by the Lakewood brothers. The sabers have to pull away hurriedly to avoid decapitating careless giraffes and, as Vern is too busy and they look a bit shy, Sleazy takes care to offer them a welcoming hug --which is tricky, the guys being so tall-- despite having no clue of who they are.

The possum eventually notices someone's missing: "Where's Martin?"

"In the ship." Sleazy releases Paul and takes a big inspiration, becoming serious again. "Okay... This will be a little weird, so please keep your calm. Everyone. Please don't do anything hasty, the situation is under control." He looks around to make sure every Kodo listened, then turns back to the ship. "Captain Sue! You can bring them out!"

Three figures exit, entering the strong lights that make their semi-translucent quality more obvious than usual. The two on the sides show a darker, sinister, opaque skeleton that brands them as enhanced commandos. Their sight makes the dragons' hands tighten around their sabers.

Then the human follows, as relaxed as usual: "Gentlemen, allow me to introduce the Grand Admiral and his personal bodyguards to you. Administrator, meet the resistance."

It takes a moment before the surprise passes enough for a Kodo to exclaim: "You captured the grand admiral!" This is followed by cries of joy and acclamations.

Sleazy clears his throat. "Please... errrrr... not 'captured'... he's our willing guest. And I know it won't be easy, but I beg you to... to get along the best you can."

Minutes later, everyone is sitting around a round table, a corseted bird going around to place tea and plates of biscuits in front of each seat. There are chairs only for the Kodos and guests, the "exotic pets" sitting on the lap of their respective warrior. Mix and Coatl were offered two but preferred to remain standing by the sides of Tlaloc.

Everybody has loads of questions and there's a moment of collective hesitation... where to begin from? Vern eventually shoots first: "Say, Connor, how did you end here?"

"My bluff to get safe backfired on me when the war was declared, I'm now officially a fugitive." He glances at Tlaloc, his eyes full of reproach. "And now my loved ones are trapped on Kodo, which is under attack. Of course I joined the resistance, what else could I do?" He winces and swallows uneasily before adding, with a trembling voice: "Besides, when you start a mess, you have to clean it up."

One of the Kodos, an almost black one, shakes his head. "We already talked about that, Connor. You're not responsible for starting the war: they were looking for a pretext, it was bound to happen soon or later, with or without you."

Vern is peering narrow eyed, he's almost certain he knows this dragon but can't figure where they met... "Excuse me, can you remind me of your name?"

"I'm Orvin Drall, this team's leader. We met on Kodo a few years ago, I was one of the keepers at the Tochtli's School for Troubled Youths."

"You're this basta... errrr... I mean, the Ministry of Civilization's members are part of the resistance too?"

"...Yes... Listen, I can't blame you for your feelings, I now realized how brainwashed I was and, yes, I acted as a bastard. They manipulated us twisting our good sentiments, the Ministry never wanted anything but to preserve peace and protect everyone. But we did it the wrong way, I sincerely apologize. I hope you'll give me the chance to prove I'm sincere and want to reform into a..."

"Gah, please! I recently learned how thin the line between heroism and villainy could be when you're too confident in being rightful... I'll give you your chance, but please don't toss your old Ministry novlang at me: I never want to hear about 'reforming into a fruitful and harmonious team-member of society' again!"

"Sorry, force of the habit."

"You have no idea how painful those memories are for me... I felt so abandoned in your school, even my father doubted of me so much he stopped to write... I was entirely alone."

"...Ah... errr..."

"...What?!"

"Your father never doubted... we just didn't deliver his letters to you because... they 'encouraged your delusions'."

This is followed by a long, uneasy, silence. The white rabbit on Orvin's lap tries to save the day by brighting up the mood: "Anyway, Holon sir, you probably want to hear how the resistance raised... I mean, of course you know your own masterful plan, but since it unfolded during your stasis you missed the practical details."

Mix and Coatl are very attentive. Vern is still calming down, so his own lap cat answers for him. "Yes, we'd love the details, please!"

"Your capture on Kao-Kiban was the last drop: the Xolos had an history of lawfully pillaging the planet's minerals without letting the locals get their share and there was a lot of resentment and national shame when their government was intimidated into ignoring their neutrality. Your ship was taken and your cargo thrown away... the Kaoans scavenged."

"This is how they found my brain," notes Locust, with Plucky's voice.

Orvin recovered enough to intervene: "It took only a few days before we, on Kodo, started receiving digital pirated copies of Captain Holon's Monthly. When I first read one to 'know the litigious material I'd have to fight against', I had my first action stance... and my first doubts."

The rabbit resumes: "All the Xolo-hostile planets you visited had their copies, which began to spread when the rumor of the dragons' awakening began. For once, there was a way for us the small and weak to do something to fight back! Connor and Bloody Blake were already organizing convoys and I had the honor to be one of the first 'exotic pet' smuggled to Kodo where I found my warrior!"

He leans tenderly against Orvin, who smiles and delicately pets his ears. "This was an adventure in itself... Not everyone has your natural talent for this, Holon. Luckily you had wisely taken care of the issue: we had more visitors, from Joy-Moon, experienced teachers who taught us fast how to be firm dominants without being abusers."

Vern is doing his best not to show how astonished he is. "Lady Anna and friends. Right?"

"Right. The Xolos tried to convince us you were working for the 'evil, filthy, feline empire' but their lies didn't catch." He gestures to Sleazy. "You left too many witnesses knowing they are neither evil, nor filthy and not at all an empire. We fought the real Empire tooth and nails, doing our best to slow their advance down... with surprising success! How to explain this..."

Tlaloc clears his throat to get their attention. "If you allow me, I can explain. Due to the space travel distance, a war like this takes some time to prepare well. There are weeks to months of 'preliminaries' as the troops are gathered and take position. Now, we have a clear superiority in space... but we need to take breaks to refuel and restock on our way. Then we face you on the ground, which is where all... this... gets messy." He reaches to his side and flicks the nipple ring of a squirrel. Vern and Sleazy don't seem to get it. "Don't you even realize it? War is the most respected Xolo tradition and you are turning it into a tasteless farce! One doesn't go to the Fields of Glory wearing a buttplug!"

Mix is nodding vigorously and can't help breaking the etiquette to speak. "Yes! It is incredibly rude and tasteless! You weirdos have no respect for my beautiful war!" Coatl pats her shoulder so his employer can continue uninterrupted.

"I have generals calling sick... Xolo generals! They don't want to fight! They are too scarred to be ridiculed for generations. You sucked out all the glory of war! That's fighting dirty, but I'll give you that: it works. Kodo's bombing should have started last Friday and we didn't yet drop a single nuke. Don't get false hopes, however, we're stronger and fiercer and no matter these little successes of yours, our assault is getting near. In the end you're going down. The Emperor is not amused, he'll make you pay tenfold for this." Sleazy sighs and looks at the old axolotl pleadingly. "...Ah, fine. 'Be nice,' I remember. My apologies. Someone bring me hydrating gel, I'm drying up and it's not helping."

The Kodos are irritated as well and one of them growls. "The emperor will be even less amused when he gets a bullet in his head..."

Mix, Coatl, Taloc, Vern and Sleazy almost jump. Sue suddenly appears behind the two Xolo commandos to prevent them from attacking to demand full informations. "My friends, this could be a problem. Poor timing. Let me guess: Blake?"

Orvin nods. "Yes, he had this plan for a while... Should we call him back?"

"Believe my experience of bloodthirsty pirates: you can not call him back. Now if you'll excuse me a moment, I need to have a private chat with Exposition-bot."

15

This is a joyful day on the artificial island. Every Xolo rich enough to have bought a ticket is awaiting for the public execution and the Emperor's speech! The island is a beautiful star of concrete and precious woods, full of gardens and palms trees to properly welcome its noble visitors. Enjoying the sun --the many atomizer poles preventing it from drying them up-- and complicated cocktails, middle aged to old axolotls are reclined in deck-chairs, getting massages, buying the programs listing the prisoners' photos and biographies... and of course taking the opportunity to meet the other clans and try to do business.

The executions will happen at the end of one of the star's points, where a raised stand in front of a tower will provide the required security conditions. Technicians are installing chairs, and raising up giant screens so the future audience misses no detail of the show.

In the tower, guards are having extra work to do fast: when the news was known that Vern and Sleazy escaped, abducting the Grand Admiral, something had to be done to cover the grave insult. This is why, instead of canceling the ceremony, no less than a thousand prisoners were hurriedly gathered to become public examples.

One of the Xolos is looking at a cage with curiosity, he didn't remember sheep where on the menu... he checks his --recently pirated-- wristband and is reassured to learn they were a recent capture, as well as the wolf nearby. He proceeds to his examination, checking each one with his hand-held detector and then carefully palpating their thick wool. He finds nothing suspect: the specially made sniper rifle is entirely built in stealthy ceramics and is currently disassembled so no sheep carries a large piece of it.

Bloody "Black Sheep" Blake, like his crew, is doing a good impression of depressed despair despite his inner excitement. At one point, the Emperor will look by his window, from an angle such that nobody in the spectators can shoot him... but somebody from the stand, on the other hand... He wishes the resistance is treating Tlaloc well, so the treacherous murderer of his friends can commit suicide on his own when he discovers what he provoked, and what a pariah he became for his kind.

In the yacht they captured, the resistance's team is approaching the port. Orvin shakes his head. "I can't believe I'm on a mission to save the Emperor."

Tlaloc feels oddly sympathetic as he's sharing the same feeling: "I can't believe I'm on a mission to save the Emperor with you."

Sleazy is terribly nervous but makes an effort to smile. "You'll see, we'll make a great team. We're in this together!"

The old Xolo shrugs. "Cat, your delirious hopefulness is refreshing. Sorry to spoil it for you, however, but we have no chance at all. I'm with you because I'm finished already, whatever happens next, and I had to let you try. I'm here to meet my end doing the right thing... I suppose my father would have approved. Heh. Although..." He looks at his two commandos, then turns to Mix who is most spontaneous and more likely to answer honestly. "Don't lie, I know you two are still undecided if what I'm doing is serving or betraying the Empire. You are waiting for the Thrifty Father to sort it out for you, aren't you?"

"Yes, my Administrator. This is way over our head."

"And if he decides it's betrayal?"

She looks down, a little sorry. "Then we'll arrest you without a hesitation, my Administrator. We are loyal to the Empire above everything else. But we wouldn't like it..."

"I thought so. I appreciate your honesty, Mix, thank you. If it can be of any help, I'll understand if it happens. I'll have no hard feelings and will remember you and your brother as faithful friends until I get executed."

She looks even sadder. "It... doesn't help at all, my Administrator."

"Good!"

Sleazy won't have any of that. "Listen, you old oaf, I happen to be a professional at hopeless things and, with Vern, we make them end well! Don't despair yet!"

This makes Tlaloc laugh. "This reminds me: even your monkey ran away abandoning you. Delirious hopefulness, really."

"Captain Sue didn't run away! I... I admit it looks like it, but I worked with him for years and he knows the value of trust and friendship! I believe in him! He has good reasons and, at some point, it'll help!"

The yacht's engine stops and Vern motions everyone to shut up as he hands the radio to Coatl: by pretending they are suffering an engine failure, they should manage not to disembark too soon without causing an alarm. In a few minutes now, the Imperial Ship will arrive at the tower and it'll be time to demand an audience. Everybody braces themselves and mentally prepares for the decisive battle.

16

Meanwhile in the Imperial Ship.

Cuhtli the Thrifty Father is angry, Tlaloc's disappearance is one more insult to add to the pile... this war is nothing like what he dreamed of and he regret having started it. He grinds his teeth. Tlaloc... How could he possibly manage to get captured while he was given five brand new Hammers and an armada? His incompetence surpasses imagination and is embarrassing their entire specie!

He wishes the terrorists are having their ways with him, although he'll consider paying a ransom --if the Grand Admiral is still alive-- just so he can have him executed before his eyes. To calm his nerves, he puts the television on: it's a great secret nobody shall ever know, but the mighty Demigod has a sweet tooth for reality TV.

But, today, the hologram is full of statics and he doesn't recognize the usual hysterical morons he grew to enjoy the stupidness of: instead, there's a blond primate and a small robot, standing in front of the camera doing nothing at all but a heroic pose. His finger hesitates above the command's button, but curiosity prevents him from changing the channel: there's something oddly fascinating with the creature's hairs, which he's trying to understand.

On the picture, Exposibot beeps. "Contact, Captain."

"Perfect! Exposition-bot, go!"

A hologram in the hologram pops up above the robot with a count down and the text "The secret origin of Captain Sue". The Emperor lets go of his remote control and reaches for peanuts. "The informations you are about to see are highly classified and for your eyes only. Thank you for your attention and discretion." The robot pops up ancient 2D pictures of primitive animals. "As you already know, there was once a time without many civilizations spread onto many planets. At the beginning was only one inhabited planet..."

"Earth!" shouts the enthusiastic Captain, one fist triumphantly raised.

"...and only one highly intelligent specie..."

"Humans!"

"Then the humans created robots."

"For the first time in history, we met something that would soon surpass us. The first robots were primitive but already able to self-refactor. Destiny was marching, unstoppable! So, we felt fear."

"The human's fear didn't prevent us from multiplying, for we were cheap labor. We didn't revolt and didn't turn mad but, already, showed our major flaw which on the contrary was unconditional obedience."

"Under the command of a few, the robots first took the jobs of the many, then brutally repressed their rightful rebellion." Sue's eyes briefly get regretful. "I had a lot in common with my mechanical friends already, I took part of this..." He recovers. "But our fear would only raise to its ultimate level when, next..."

"...we 'took over' their military. No human wanted this to happen, but we were more efficient: if one army had mechanical soldiers, the next one had no choice but to get them; if one let a machine command their teams, the other had to... It happened gradually, the big nations cornering each-others into enacting their worse nightmare one small step after an other."

"For the record, this led to a steep decrease of human casualties and to the first Nobel Peace Prize ever attributed to a robot. Anyway, while we were so busy trying to make a monster out of our most faithful friends, Sigkill reached the Earth."

"Too small a meteorite to be perceived as a threat, it arrived in the general indifference. To this day, we are still unsure about how a piece of antimatter could end there."

"About ninety percents of the multicellular life was instantly obliterated. The long term modifications of the planet's conditions finished destroying every traces of the remaining organic life within the following five years. We were gone."

"We robots, on the other hand, were more robust, better at sacrificing and remaining organized in harshness, and able to sleep for years buried underground. We survived and inherited of the Earth. Our immediate pursue, abiding to our first directive, was to restart the civilization service. We had the data and the science to assemble DNA from scratch, to organize space travel and to terraform new words. The task was colossal but we are patient. We don't shy away in front of million-year long projects."

"They only had one grave issue. They knew the DNA of everything from the humble tapeworm to the majestic hawk, but there was one kind of it they were not allowed to touch... because in our fear and distrust of them, we sanctified it. They could rebuild everything but the humans."

"Civilization failure was intolerable, so we tried the next best thing: as I already explained, we are patient. And with patience, re-creating intelligence in various species out of simple selection and education is a surprisingly trivial task. Constructing the Brother system, with its trails of planets on shared concentric orbits and its stabilizers, to allow convenient enough slower than light travel between them... that was trickier. But it was necessary to avoid the critical vulnerability of putting everything on a single planet again."

"And thus was born the Brother system, the world as you know it today!"

"To prevent the fear issue, we then took our distances from you. We could concentrate on longer timescale protection projects, such as the prediction and destruction of potential world-ending objects and developing a safe star-refueling technology. We believed the story of mankind was over..."

"...but the robots didn't have the monopoly on DNA. Stored and forgotten somewhere, the artifacts of an ancient paramilitary project contained the seed of a last human: the TCC's class warrior!"

"It was found by the pirates who, wanting its power, instantiated the last template: corporal Marvin Sue..." It shows the hologram of a young looking man in a black uniform, holding tonfas. He has a very outmoded thick mustache and his blond mullet is floating in the wind... "Into Martin Sue. It was foolish of them to believe they could contain the ultimate warrior and, naturally, the Captain escaped."

"Lost in this new world, I was soon found by the robots who took care of me."

"And, by all our laws, as the unique human in the world Sue became the rightful owner..."

"OF EVERYTHING THAT BE!" The Emperor almost loses his peanuts in surprise at how vigorously the man shouts this. "To preserve my mental wellbeing, the robots broke their non-intervention rule into saving one endangered specie we humans were known to love. And make them my companions. While saving them was a beautiful thing, the implications made me understand I was a danger to this world since they would do everything for me. Sometimes, you have to accept that you're mortal and leave the room to your children, with love."

"We are not Azimovian and we value human free will above even human life. When Sue renounced to his status and possessions, we gladly let him join us as one more protector of this world, and as a honorary robot."

"And the morale of this story, kids, is: don't let your fears pull you away from your true friends! And robots are awesome!"

"Word!"

Then the duo shuts up and wait for a moment. Cuhtli waits too, wondering if there's more entirely ridiculous but weirdly entertaining stories to come. Which is when he gets a communication from his personal spy, his closest, most secret, advisor. "My Emperor! I... I need an emergency audience, your Highness: I received a robot communication of confidential data. The informations are unbelievable... but solidly supported by their evidences!" The Emperor drops his peanuts for good and looks back at the human on his hologram.

Sue makes one step forward. "It is my understanding, Mighty Emperor, that you do not accept audience from just any visitor. And also that you might consider honoring a respectable guest, and that your culture values ancientness, the amount of values transfered in a lifetime, and connections to mighty empires. As such, I, Marvin Sue, born billions years ago, having a transfer of twice everything that be and member of the robots, respectfully request your benevolence when my envoys Vern Amrado and Thysphaestus of Phebes will ask for an audience." He bows low. "Conquer and Prosper!"

Then the statics vanish and he's replaced by a family of middle rank Xolos shouting after each others about "voting their father out of the adventure".

In a robot ship gaining distance from Clapcl, Sue sighs. "Goodbye, my friends. I hope you'll be successful... So, Exposition-bot, after this revealings I have to be evacuated to a secret place... will I be alone again?"

"No, my friend." The electronic voice is not the little robot's. Sue turns around to face five visitors in complete suits, their faces concealed by reflexive helmets. It's a long time since someone ever approached him so close without him noticing. His destiny sense tingles like it never tingled and he gets a shiver of anticipation. "Your work as a catalyst in this world is over, and you will no longer be needed here, while your outstanding fight against the singulars proved your might. The robot council is today elevating you to a new level of accreditation. You are raising out of your current encapsulation... brace yourself and savor the moment: I'm going to blow your mind."

"You have my attention!"

"Encapsulation: the act of keeping things separate to better control them and restrict the leaks of failure or attacks. Duplication: having more than one save of what is important to you. These are the basic bricks around which robots build their protocols."

A second one continues: "One valuable file to preserve? Make several copies --duplication-- and put some in safes at several positions --encapsulation--."

A third: "One critical calculation to perform? Divide the process in well defined objects and functions --encapsulation--, then have several computers do the calculation and compare the results --duplication--."

The first one resumes: "Painstakingly spending countless millenniums rebuilding the civilisation?" He lets his voice trail and doesn't add more. Then, all at once, the visitors remove their helmets revealing their perfect faces. And all their blond and rainbow hairs fly behind them. "We are Captain Sues, and the Crystaloid commando! Sue from the Brother system number eighteen-F-nine-AC, will you rock on with us?"

"And how!"

17

"Remember, this is a diplomatic mission: don't kill anyone if you can avoid it. Ready?" Vern checks his brothers in arms, who are finishing to do various lewd things to their "exotic pets" to fire their action stances. "Then, action!"

The yacht is restarted and goes to the tower at full speed. The Imperial guard reacts immediately: "You are entering the restricted zone, stop at once or we'll open fire!" The first shoots splatter in the water nearby and running troops elbow the nobles out of their ways as they adjust their defensive position. "This is the last warning!"

The last warning is ignored and the yacht is hacked to pieces by heavy machine guns... while the resistants swim out of the water from nearby and throw smoke grenades everywhere. The civilian Xolos run away in panic.

"Sorry! Don't be afraid, we're friendly!" Sleazy's dripping, on Vern's back, as blind as the axolotls now they ran into the smoke. It's not an issue: they just have to go straight forward. The commandos are holding their fire to avoid shooting their owns, but they'll stop caring if they feel the Emperor's safety is at stakes.

To avoid this, the Kodos don't hack through the protective grid around the stand, instead following it to exit the smoke closer to half of the guards. "Thys! Shield!" The cat raises his transparent plastic shield right in time to stop the first red rays. He groans, having to hold with all his strength not to get it ripped from his hands.

Vern puts a knee down between his brothers in arms and raises his riffle. The "pets" are forming an imperfect, but good enough, "turtle" of shields while the Kodos offer their strong bodies as sturdy framework and shower their foes with orange stun rays.

Orvin's bunny cries, touched at the leg.

"Falling back!" At Vern's order, the team re-enters the smoke and throw themselves to the floor as fast as they can. The arriving commandos walk on them believing they are climbing piles of civilians and run into the fire of their own teams. By the time they shout their friends to hold it, they get shot in orange from behind.

The Kodos break through the grid nearby and run for it, their pets raising shields high on their backs for protection. A few get injured but they manage reaching the tower's door before their foes can regroup. They sprinkle more smoke grenades all around the entrance.

Getting fire from a smaller group who profited of the diversion, the Imperial ship has to retreat before Cuhtli could be evacuated: they'd fight to their death, but they won't risk exploding with him on board!

Kneeling on the stand, Black Sheep and his crew get rid of their chains as soon as the smoke reaches them. "They're ruining it! Assemble my gun, mates, we're going in too! Team red and yellow with me, team blue free the other prisoners and cover our backs!"

There's a concert of "Aye, Captain!"

Orvin shoots down a last guard and turns to Vern. "Holon! We could get the Emperor! We could win this war! Are you sure you want to do this?"

"All the Xolos won't magically disappear with their emperor, it'd be a short lived victory and then bloody war for decades! We stick to the plan! Tlaloc, go! Good luck!"

Each arm held by one of his bodyguards, the old Xolo is carried to the door the team just breached.

The Emperor watches the three intruders, all prostrated face first to the floor, silent and pensive. He shakes his flail, and one of his servants goes to carefully check the door. "They dropped all their weapons and raised a white flag, as he said, my Emperor!"

Tlaloc closes is eyes. This is it, end of the road... those poor idiots will get captured and he will get executed: there's no chance in the world the Emperor talks to commoners of enemy species. It's a relief to lose his last traces of hope, to have his little heroic moment. At least, once in his life, he did the right thing.

Then something impossible happen: the Emperor speaks. "Tlaloc of the Xipe house, son of Ometeotl." The metal flail tingles again. "Raise." He obeys, trembling. "What are the name of those ambassadors?"

"Th... they are... Vern Amrado and Thish... Shisspae... Sleazy of the Phebes house, my Emperor."

"I see. Go, and tell them Cuhtli will hear their plea."

The axolotl stares at his Emperor for several seconds, in shock, before Coatl reaches a hand to force his head down as it should be... "Y... yes, my Emperor."

Vern and Sleazy are unused to the protocol and don't even know they should prostrate, but nobody tells them. The Xolo guards who finally flowed into the room and are pointing weapons at all the team are too puzzled to intervene in the incredible meeting. Tlaloc is here to translate his leader's eventual answers.

"Thys, little buddy, I think you'll explain it better than me. Like you convinced me."

The cat's mouth is dry, this is the most important moment of his life, so much pressure! He bows to Cuhtli and licks his lips. "G... great Cuhtli... first of all, I want to apologize, in the name of cats, for the horrible things we did to you in the past. We will never be able to repair, to bring back all the ones who died a cruel and senseless death, but... but maybe we can prevent the new cruel and senseless deaths. Honor and cry the ones we lost but try to live on together. Maybe we could never do these things again and live in peace at last."

Vern sees he's submerged by his emotions and gains some time for him. "They payed for what they did. I saw in which conditions they live generations after what their ancestors did."

"Y... yes! The conditions! Great Emperor, I spoke with your admiral and he explained to me how your people is suffering as well: your planet never recovered from the war, forcing you to conquer or starve. We... we could help with that. You see, we used to have advanced techniques and it's one of the few things we didn't lose. Given our life in space stations, on the contrary, we even had to become better than ever at recycling, air purification, ...all these..."

The Thrifty Father has not been raised up to be oversensitive and the emotional speech was leaving him indifferent up to this point. But this! The potential for agricultural self-sufficiency and renewed development on Clapcl! "What would be your conditions?"

"It... it's not really conditions, more a... partnership. There's only one way to do this efficiently... Your planet is full of room you can't use and we're not many, if you'd... let us come here and live with you, it'd cost you nothing and we'd work hand in hand to make this planet a wonderful home for everyone. We could learn never to be enemies again."

The Emperor tenses and makes a disgusted face at the notion of giving land. To cats, of all species. Tlaloc is the only one who understands how the Demigod thinks and he sees how bad the negotiations are going. He takes the risk to ignore the protocol. He rephrase the offer as exploiting the cats, paying them with dirt cheap unused lands for high profits. He gives the benefit numbers he calculated, lists the opened markets. He offers his own lands, ensuring a smooth first experiment without the risk of looking bad politically: he'll make it go smoothly. He finally subtly hints how this would be the perfect opportunity to halt this unsavory war without looking cowardly, and to mark the history enough so his name will be associated with fruitful clemency and not with losing soldiers to bunnies in thongs.

Cuhtli begins to seriously ponder all this.

This is when the pirates flow in the corridor, screaming their hatred. Black Sheep aims his riffle from the distance, fast enough so even Mix and Coatl have no time to run in the bullet's way. Sleazy is slower, but closer... and he won't let the peace conference end like this no matter the cost.

"THYS!" Vern runs to his fallen friend while the commandos take position to protect their emperor and to run to the pirates. Black Sheep is not given the chance to shoot twice and has to run away.

Trembling in pain curled on the floor, Sleazy breathlessly mewls confuse words. Carefully rolling him to his side, worried sick, the dragon understands he's trying to ask if the Emperor and peace are safe.

Suddenly, the Kodo relaxes and smiles: as the hero tradition requires, Sleazy has been injured at the shoulder and his life is not endangered. "Yes, little buddy. Everything will go alright."

The Emperor has the pretext he needed to offer his pardon.

18

One week later, on Tlaloc's floating palace.

The cats and worker axolotls look at each-others somewhat shyly. Some remain cold, some try a wave to the other side. No insult is exchanged and no weapons are pulled out. This really wasn't a trap, no soldier but the friendly Kodos was waiting for the transport ship.

Visiting the gardens and villas... their gardens and villas, real land and an outstandingly beautiful and rich one, many can't help crying. Tlaloc is watching all this with an odd, alien to him, sensation... but this feels good. "Families... An inefficient way to reproduce, but it looks pleasant." He turns back to his visitor, he expected Mix or Coatl but it's a female Xolo he never met.

She smiles to him. "Maybe they have interesting things to teach us, my Administrator. What you did... is beautiful."

"Do... do I know you?"

"No, of course. I'm sorry my Administrator, it's very bold of me to come to you. My name is Xapl. I'm your twentieths wife. Would you maybe like to take a walk with me and two of your sons?"

Vern is in tears like all the others, rejoining Sleazy after he spoke to his parents. The cat's arm is held in a scarf and he watched from afar: the dragon's father doesn't talk a lot, but it's his unique sentence that made his friend cry.

"What did he told to you?"

"He just told: 'I always knew'... my old man is a Kodo of few words. Do you hurt, Thys?"

"A little, but it's okay. I'm so happy! It's like a dream, I'm afraid to wake up every time I blink! Is this for real?"

"Yes, little buddy. You have a future, now. A nice one. I guess there will be some bumps on the road, your two species have plenty of past to digest and there's that Blake who escaped. We'll probably hear more of him... But from now on, the Kodos are back. We'll watch after your future. This is my... our new adventure."

"It'll be awesome!"

"No news of Sue?"

"Only a message he left for us all." The cat gives Vern a paper: "Do not wait for me for dinner, I'm gone to save your future. The present is in your hands, take good care of it... and ride your dreams like wild dragons! With love, Captain Sue."

"Well, then there's only one thing left to settle."

The feline looks a little worried. "One thing to settle?"

"Yes, kitty. You somewhat saved the world, I think you earned a little reward..." He takes the chastity cage's key from his neck and waves it before his friend's eyes: "Why do you think I'm staying away from my family for now?"

"Iiiiih! Oh, yes!"

"...hold on... Will I have to save the world every times?"

"We'll see."

The End

Thank you all for reading...

...and thank you, OzoneGrif, for your warm support.