Chapter Three - Who I am
#4 of The Combat Negotiator
Chapter Three - Who I Am.
The two wolves, tied by more than the sudden physical reunion, lay drowsily on the matted bed sheets. Noses touched, nuzzled and breathed each other in as they talked, about furs they'd met and places they'd seen...but never what they'd done. No, it was time for the good memories to catch up, overtaking the years of death and loss.
'...I've never met any kind of bird, not even the prey types.' Bailey was saying, playing with a tuft of his neck-fur. 'Where did you find them?'
'On the side of a mountain...eagles are fiercely proud, independent. They don't need social contact like we do. There wasn't any way for a normal fur to get up there, without roping from a dropship.'
'And you talked to them?' she said, eyes wide. Even for a well-traveled wolf like herself, that was an experience few furs could claim.
Lance paused, remembering yet another buried memory. 'Tried to.' Came the soft reply, and that said it all. 'They didn't think they needed us.'
'There's a lesson in that, maybe.' she said, then laughed quietly. 'Listen to me, I sound like a church mouse. Maybe-' she was stopped by a shrill beep, which echoed through the private civilian quarters they'd commandeered for the night. Her comm. device, lying discarded in a heap of her own clothes.
'Damn, damn, damn.' she muttered, trying to pull herself upright. They were still knotted, and it was with a marked displeasure that she freed herself from him, unable to wait for a more natural parting. Then, tail twitching softly, she padded naked over to her uniform. Lance couldn't help a stirring feeling in his now-limp penis as he watched her bend over lithely, freeing the electronic device from its combat-webbing attachment. She stared at it for a moment, then growled irritably and stalked off to the bathroom, slamming the door without an explanation.
Lance got up, leaving the blanket in a fur-covered mess, and walked to the door, opening it gently. She was stood in front of the mirror - tears in her eyes. Angrily she turned on him, blinking away any suggestion of weakness.
'I'm leaving.' She said, almost choking on the words. 'Leaving this ship, this system on another stupid classified mission. Do you realise-' she was panting now, and her words sank to a whisper '-that this might be it, again? The last time we ever see each other? Just like five years ago, when we had to...to...'
Maybe there were words for this situation, words you could say to make it all better, but not one fur in a thousand could have found them as they looked at her. Lance could only fold her in his arms, hold her tightly as they shared in each other's pain.
'I know.' he said eventually. 'We both knew this would happen, even if we didn't say it...I...made that decision a long time ago, and it was the hardest thing I've ever done. That we've ever done.'
'Maybe this...this is why predators don't have relationships.' she said, pulling away from him. Not meeting his eyes. 'It makes us too weak. I'm shaking like a damn puppy.' The look in her eyes told them both exactly what she was truly feeling, but she had decided now, and she had to be strong. Be the wolf they'd trained her to be once more. Be a predator...untouchable.
'I'll take a few minutes in a shower.' She said distantly, closing the misted glass screen behind her as she stepped in. As if she didn't know him.
( A couple of painfully empty hours later...)
Lance had ended up in the mess hall after pacing, unseeing, corridor after identical corridor. The smell of processor-made cooking brought him back to reality. Hell, maybe he could do with some food. Take his mind off things. There was a report to write, a debriefing to schedule and he was still wearing his combat uniform - but that could wait. It could all wait.
The mess hall was huge, divided loosely into two by metal partitions - the larger side for ship personnel and soldiers, the smaller for civilians. Whole families lived on board, all of them linked in some way to the running of the ship. Young, impressionable children peeked guiltily across the gap, watching the stoic and casually armed furs as they ate and talked. Every time one of them ventured timidly into the space beyond, they were sent running by a security guard or even from an irate predator.
Tray in hand, Lance moved quickly through the queue and selected the bland, generic meat that all processors supplied. It tasted of...nothing, even if some predators would suggest it tasted like whichever prey they were sitting closest to at the time. At least they served it in burger form - the salad dressing and bread gave it some texture, some identity. He caught the eye of his immediate superior, or at least the fur who gave him his orders, sitting a few tables away. Exchanging a nod, he was about to join the officer when a voice piped for a moment over the crowd...a voice he recognised. Well, he had given his word...
The table he now stood in front of fell slowly into silence as he neared it, then picked up a more natural pace of sound as the furs returned to their meals, to their friends. It was mostly made up of prey, he saw - rabbits, mice, a few of the larger prey species like otters spaced here and there. Even a tabby cat, who appeared to be at home in the mixed company and was flirting openly with one of the female rabbits.
'Hey, Lance!' came the piping voice again. It was Sterrin, the squirrel he'd met just before his last assignment. 'You're, uh, alive then? How did it go? Oh, sorry...' he said, shifting up the bench to make room.
'It was a success. That's about all I can say.' he said, sitting down.
'Oh, of course.' The squirrel hesitated for a moment, then brightened up. 'Um, this-' he squeezed the hand of the female squirrel next to him, who tried to smile with a mouth full of lettuce, then swallowed, giggling. '-is my mate, Aitcha.'
'A fortunate name.' said the rabbit on the other side of the table, who wore the loose grey uniform of a federation scholar. 'Sterrin...Aitcha. Starin' atcha.'
Aitcha giggled again, flushing. 'And this is Cain, annoyingly overqualified language expert.' she shot back.
'I merely wanted to explain it before he thought of it himself, saving him the trouble of telling an old, old joke.' said the rabbit smoothly, returning to his meal.
'So...you really meant it when you said about showing me that combat simulation?' said Sterrin, eager not to lose hope. 'I mean, once I found out who you were...'
'Who I am?' said Lance, pausing at his first mouthful.
The rabbit sighed, and pushed away his plate. 'I'm afraid I took the liberty of recovering archive information of your past exploits, once my eager friend here told of his meeting with you. You have had an interesting past few years, have you not? Many...delicate situations have been successfully solved, and therefore widely publicized by the council, due to your intervention.'
Lance stared at him for a moment, then bit heavily into his burger, shrugging. It made sense, he supposed...but it was the first time he'd heard of it. Where were the letters of commendation, the gesture of thanks, if he was so highly thought of? All he'd ever got at the end of a job was an order to his next location and a paycheck, minus damage pay and personal injury costs. The federation didn't encourage unnecessary generosity towards predators, and in turn predators didn't ask for it.
'All right.' he said, once he could speak again. 'I've got some free time for the next few days-' he didn't, but as long as there wasn't an emergency situation somewhere he could probably get away with it. '-so we need to find a time when you're off duty.'
'Um. Tomorrow? Maybe the afternoon, when we're not...I mean, I'm not...' he flushed, and glanced at Aitcha, who made a show of gazing innocently at the ceiling and whistling until giggles overtook her again.
'Sure. I can priority-book one of the simulation rooms tonight.' grinned Lance, licking the last of the food from his teeth. The relatively innocent, happy lives of these furs was helping to forget yet another fresh pain. Maybe there was something that predators were missing...