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CHAPTER 4

"This is absurd!" growled Admiral Hartford. "I will not be threatened or insulted by this ridiculous notion!"

Admiral Hartford, Captain Philips, and Commander Banks were in the captain's office, discussing the day's events in privacy. A very brief rundown of the conversation between Scott and his 'nephew' had quickly turned into an argument between the officers.

Captain Philips nodded, his paws folded before his muzzle as if in prayer. With his calculating eyes he glanced from the admiral to the newest officer aboard his ship. His cautious nature was telling him that there were far too many questions that needed answering.

"What's your take on this, Commander Banks," he asked. "He's obviously willing to speak candidly with you and no one else."

Scott nodded. "Sir, I'm not entirely sure why this 'Ionious' should be so interested in me, but I suspect it's simply coincidence: He's using my nephew as a bridge, and I'm the most familiar to him that's in the military. However, I agree with Admiral Hartford that it does seem ridiculously far-fetched. An advanced civilization of fox that's returned to rescue their relatives? Something doesn't quite add up."

Admiral Hartford growled under his breath. "This is some kind of scam!" The wolf pounded a fist on the captain's office desk. Captain Philips looked down at the wolf's paw distastefully, but if the admiral had noticed he didn't care. "There's not a chance in hell I'm going to call up the High Council and try to explain this. I'll be resigned immediately and laughed out of the admiralty."

Again, Scott had to agree with his old friend. The tablet Ionious had given him contained numerous files, not the least of them being a very specific list of instructions. Every single fox in wolf paws was to be freed from slavery and released to their own people. If they refused to comply, necessary force would be applied. With that came a guarantee that Ionious' race would be victorious should worst come to worst.

It was difficult to tell exactly what was true and what was not, but something about the creature's bizarre behavior and candid threats unsettled him.

"Gentleman, if I may suggest," said Scott after picking up the tablet his nephew had materialized for him, "We should obviously precede very carefully with this case. I don't know how much of this is true; our engineers said that a ship of the design on these blueprints should be impossible to construct and employ, but we shouldn't be willing to take this lightly. He managed to teleport this tablet through our shields, correct?"

Captain Philips nodded. "The tactical officer confirmed they were fully active at the time, and no disturbances or breaches were recorded. The science officer confirmed, as did helm."

"Yes, sir," continued Scott. "That alone indicates that we're dealing with something advanced that we have not encountered before. Doctor Hass has his medical staff running in circles trying to figure out how my nephew is still alive, much less responsive and cognizant...some of the time, at least. But what or who is responsible, they can't say. It's possible it's a trick. Someone is using an advanced technology to scam us or cause hysteria. The Nanunah terrorist cell used techniques like this several decades ago. But that was just smoke and mirrors compared to this."

Captain Philips cleared his throat with a grunt. "It seems to me that whether a cleaver fabrication or not it still demands investigation. I'm not willing to bet the safety of my ship on that theory." His voice was cool and calm. "Commander Banks, since that creature (whatever it may be) seems so content with talking to you and you alone, by all means use that opportunity to get as much information as you can." His hard eyes shifted to the admiral, and Scott could have sworn he saw distrust in the captain's hard face. "That is," cooed Captain Philips, "with the admiral's permission, since he's leading this investigation."

Not to be outdone, Admiral Hartford stared at the old wolf across his wide desk and grinned toothily. "Of course. I can get you whatever you need, commander. Security clearances, passes. Even a letter of mark from the High Council or the emperor, if that's what it takes."

Scott didn't doubt it. Admiral Chris Hartford's father was on the council-and rather high up, if Scott remembered correctly. Secretly, he wondered if it was how his old friend had obtained his admiralty, but that was a different matter entirely.

"I doubt it will go that far, sir," he said. "If it does I'll let you know. For now I'll stick to questioning and consulting the records."

Captain Philips seemed satisfied by that. "Begin immediately. This 'Ionious' gave us no timelines, unfortunately."

Scott stood obediently and saluted. "Yes, sir," he said and left the captain's office.

Admiral Hartford sighed loudly, his paw tap-tapping on the captain's desk. "I have an odd feeling about this, captain, and I can't put my paw on it," he said.

Captain Philips didn't offer any response. He turned his attention to his computer screen, glaring side-long at the superior officer and hoping he caught the hint to leave his office.

The admiral did stand, but before leaving he leaned over the solid oak desk, silently demanding the old wolf's full attention. "Captain, I trust that any information gathered in this matter will be put through me directly. Right?"

"Absolutely, sir." The pure-white wolf's expression betrayed none of his contempt as he matched the admiral's stare measure for measure. "I wouldn't dream of going over anybody's head."

Hartford felt his hackles rise, but fought to keep them down. He refused to rise to the captain's bate, knowing how much Captain Philips would love to rub his fur the wrong way. Although he outranked Captain Philips he had very little authority over the officer, except in matters of this investigation. And by the gods, he wasn't going to let that control escape his paws.

Having said his part the admiral left, leaving the captain to shake his head.

"I should have retired years ago," he growled and turned his attention to matters that concerned his ship and her crew.

Scott had checked in on his nephew to see if he was awake, but he was still comatose. During the long walk from the medical bay to his personal quarters Scott went over his mental list of questions he needed answered. That would have to wait, unfortunately, while his young relation was off-line and could not be awoken no matter how hard anybody tried.

Outside the ship time seemed to be suspended in space. In a sense, it was. On board digital readouts read 1434 hours, but in space the inky blackness of a sunless expanse gave no clue as to what time of day it may have been. It was unsettling to look out a window and see perpetual night no matter what time it may have been. Scott looked out a window while passing on his way down the hall, imagining it would be a nice afternoon at home. Then he remembered it was actually early morning there.

Neither Sarah nor John were in his quarters when he arrived and Scott decided that was a good thing if he was to get work done. He didn't want to excite or disturb them with the idea of a superior race of foxes floating through space, even if it was true. Not now, anyway.

During normal duty hours his slaves could pass throughout the ship without an escort so long as it was in the service of their master. But since he had been in meetings all day Sarah and John were restricted to the slaves' quarters where they could not get into mischief while their master was away. Scott himself trusted them not to, but powers that be did not.

"Computer," he commanded to his empty room, and was rewarded by a short melody confirming he had the system's attention. "Open the Elijah Gardner investigation file."

***

After only two days aboard The Mourning Son, Sarah was both irritated and terrified with their new lifestyle. The ship's policy meant they were required to remain in the slave's quarters when not needed by their masters, which consisted of nothing more than a wide open room with a low ceiling and poor ventilation. There was no privacy except in the latrine and their beds were simple cots set up in long rows across the floor. Their restraint collars were to be worn at all times, no exceptions. They could go to a recreation hall to play games or exercise, but without any friends aboard the ship that seemed hardly better than simply sitting and waiting.

Sarah hated it with a passion. The quarters were cramped and crowded. The food was disgusting and the place smelled none-too faintly of sweat, dander, and bodily waste. What was worse, she was one of only a few females and had received more than her fair share of hungry looks from the other males. To protect her John claimed to be her mate, not her brother, and that seemed to have kept desires at bay...for the time being. John never left her side, just as fearful of abuse as she was. Although she was grateful to her brother for this, Sarah was humiliated beyond belief.

"There's a definite hierarchy here, isn't there," said John.

Sarah didn't answer, her eyes beaming with resentment at the other foxes around them. Neither one of them had seen so many of their own kind together in one place, and Sarah was horrified at the sixty or so that called this place home.

"That one over there...," John pointed, "Rackle I heard his name was. He's in charge by the looks of it. He's one of the captain's slaves. He must think he can get away with more down here because of it."

Sarah groaned. "I don't care, John. They're all the same anyway. Dirty, violent, and horny."

John laughed aloud at her shrewd description of their kind. "We have to try and fit in. We can't just be outsiders the whole time we're here."

"Oh?" She crossed her arms defensively. "Why not?"

John's grin faded. He looked around the room in a quick sweep, just to make sure nobody was paying especially close attention to them. "That's how people get hurt," he whispered. He'd heard about this kind of thing back home. In places like this their kind formed groups, gangs really, to help protect one another and get what they wanted from others. John knew he couldn't protect his sister by himself. It was best to try and belong.

Every so often, a wolf in what looked like black body armor would walk down the rows of cots. He always wore a nasty scowl on his muzzle and carried a stun-gun in one paw. Sarah saw him use it only once, when two slaves were fighting in the meal line earlier that day. The bigger of the two was trying to push the smaller out of the way, but he refused to give up his place. The big one growled angrily, but didn't see the wolf come up from behind him. Just a quick tap of that stunner, and the big one was on the floor weeping like a pup.

"Keep your place in line, slaves, or you don't eat!" snarled the wolf. In a way Sarah both loved and hated him.

John had noticed before lunch that day that one of the slaves in the next row had been staring at them. At first he dismissed it as nothing more than an interest in the newcomers, but when it continued through their meal the fox couldn't shake his natural sense of alarm and returned the stranger's stare with a defiant glare of his own. The stranger obviously didn't understand the message, for he got up and padded right up to John and sat himself down on the cot next to him without so much as a "begging your pardon."

"Don' know anyfur, do ya?" He gave John a sly grin as he looked the pair of newcomers up and down. John could see from that crooked smile that he was missing several teeth, and a few more were sure to soon follow. "Seems ta' me like you nee' a friend."

The hairs on the back of John's neck were tingling like crazy. "Oh, yeah?" he ventured carefully. "And are you a friend?"

The stranger shrugged as if it really didn't matter to him. "Can be, if ya nee' it."

He wasn't colored like most other foxes. His fur was a sort of dirty red with dirty grey towards the back of his head. His chest and chin wasn't the normal cream-white either, but a lighter shade of grey. John thought he must have been from a different part of the empire, or have mixed blood.

"Name's Greg'rie, friend," and that toothy smile returned. "Looks like you've got a good back to ya. I'll watch it for ya if ya watch mine."

John regarded Gregory with a suspicious eye. As far as he could tell he had every reason to doubt the dark fox. He also realized that this, as strange as it may seem, was one of the best relationships he could have hoped for in this place and considered the benefits to outweigh the risk. He just prayed there were no strings attached...

"That sounds fair enough to me, Gregory. I'm John." He extended his paw, which was quickly sniffed. "This is my mate, Sarah."

Sarah didn't move for several long seconds until John nudged her in the side with an elbow. The vixen reluctantly offered her paw, which Gregory sniffed politely, though for a moment longer than Sarah would have liked, a strange grin playing across his muzzle.

Gregory looked to John and winked. "You a lucky fox, m' friend." Then, pulling John close to him he whispered, "She'll be hard ta' keep in here. Be careful with 'er." And without further word he was back to his own bed.

"You see, honey?" John grinned cheekily at his sister. "We've made a new friend already."

"I don't like him," she said simply.

Her brother's face became serious as he whispered, "Well, what other choice do we have?"

Sarah hugged herself, hating to admit what reality had dealt them so far. As her eyes scanned the room she caught a few glances from the other slaves. Most of them were sitting or resting. Some were playing card games or joking with one another. One group of foxes at the far corner were leaning over something Sarah could not see, then broke up as the wolf security guard came near to investigate. Perhaps John was right in saying she should be more sociable and stand out less in this new world of theirs. Most of the other slaves here were in the same situation as she and her brother were, and just as incapable of controlling it.

She caught a lustful grin from a scruffy-looking male a few cots away. Her resentful thoughts returned and she scowled at him angrily, making him grin all the more.

***

Scott's eyes were bleary as he leaned over the computer in his quarters. Several hours of pouring over records, files, testimonials, and data outputs had yielded very little conclusive information and formed more questions than answers. Prior to the explosion on Station R12-3 long range scanners detected what appeared to be a ship hanging in space over the planet; a huge one by the looks of it, and not unlike what he had seen on Ionious' tablet. Did that suggest that such a craft existed? Perhaps.

There was more to the computer tablet than just schematics. It had some cultural information as well, describing exactly how these foxes (if that's what they were) lived, what their language sounded like, and where they came from.

He came to a section describing who it was his race had come to enslave, and Scott was instantly intrigued. Five hundred years before this time a band of foxes had departed their planet for deep space, never intending to return. They were, in a sense, puritans who resented how technology was destroying their culture and way of life; replacing sentience for machine, art for twisted hunks of metal, porcelain, and polymers. They searched for a new home and a simpler life, and found such a place on a distant planet after four years of drifting through space, jumping from planet to planet.

Scott made a quick calculation, realizing with surprise that while these people were exploring deep space his own had yet to develop gas combustion engines.

The planet these puritans settled on was much like their original home, but unpopulated by any intelligent life to speak of. The climate was mild, the ground fertile, and the world was more than capable of supporting life for potentially millions of years. They landed, established settlements and farms, and destroyed all remains of their past. Their offspring would never know of their parent's follies. Their number at the time they departed was two thousand seven hundred, and estimated to be just over three thousand by the time they reached their new home.

This planet was the same one Scott called home: Triticum, the agricultural capital of the Lupine Empire. The original home of the slaves. Sarah and John's ancestors.

In a sudden moment of inspiration Scott reached over and tapped the communications mount on the wall beside his desk.

"State inquiry," said the computer.

"Call Ensign William Yard."

The return was swift. "Sir, this is Ensign Yard. What can I do for you?"

"I hope I haven't disturbed you, ensign."

"No, not at all, sir."

"Good. I need to access my personal records at home, but it's a non-military network. I think I'll need assistance with some of the security protocols. It's been a few years and I'm sure they've changed."

"I'm on my way," said the ensign as he left his quarters, the transmission terminating. He was at Scott's quarters in minutes, panting lightly. "Sorry," he explained. "I was up to my tail in risk assessments-an additional duty they dumped on me. This is a welcome distraction, sir."

Ensign Yard navigated Scott through the bureaucracy of the naval network information services like a professional.

"There you are, sir," he said after a few minutes. "You just need to know all the back doors."

"Thank you, ensign," he said, then to the computer directed, "Open the Greywind Clan archives." Ensign Yard watched over his shoulder as he accessed his family's personal records. "Dr. Nigel Banks was a distant relative of mine on my father's side," Scott explained. "He was a civilian adviser and agriculturalist assigned to the expedition that discovered Triticum years ago."

"Ah, I see..."

"Open personal accounts of Nigel Greywind-Banks, authorization Scott Greywind-Banks," he said as he took a seat behind the consol. The chair was specially designed to accommodate his large tail. "Display only those entries related to the discovery and exploration of Triticum."

There were far more entries in Nigel Banks' personal records than Scott remembered. He scanned through the dates set down in his journal documenting the expedition and came upon some of the passages most relevant to the planet's discovery.

"Here we are: September 9, 2282. I think that's what we want."

He had read some of his great great great uncle's journal only once before as a young pup. His family had kept them private, even from the rest of the Greywind Clan at large, and at the time he had read it he didn't fully understand what was so special about it. Now he hoped it would shed some light on their present investigation.

"Sir, if I may beg your pardon..."

Scott looked up. "I'm sorry, ensign. I think I'll be alright from here on. Thank you for your help."

The young wolf nodded. "You're welcome, sir."

Alone again, Scott began to read.

"9 September 2282. We finally made up-front, personal contact with the alien species today. It's incredible just how similar they are physically to our own. We had to wait a long time, but the phonics computer had finally cracked their language, which is unlike anything we've encountered yet in its unique caricature. We started with radio contact first to announce our arrival to the government in the largest of the population centers. It was strange how they seemed to welcome our coming. It gave me the impression that they were expecting our arrival somehow. I personally attended the meeting, and was myself amazed at the hospitality they greeted us with. Their leader, one Thesiphus (my spelling is probably way off), was a very enthusiastic creature. I'm sure that it will not be hard earning their trust. Their cities and buildings are not especially grand, but were obviously built to last a long time. It is strange to me how a society like theirs, probably being close to discovering atomic energy, would be so under-populated. Our scans from the ship tell us they total barely 1.5 million. This leads me to believe they've recently suffered some kind of terrible die-off. War, disease, famine. It's difficult to say, and further questioning will hopefully reveal the answer. They call themselves 'alopekia.' One of the junior officers noted today that their paws are mostly black while the rest of their bodies are either white or orange-red. He said it looked like they were wearing "fur socks,' or 'fox' for short. I kind of like that name. It's much easier to say than alopekia.

"15 September 2282. I was performing a few soil tests today when Thesiphus asked me if we were the 'patriarchs.' I told him I didn't know what he was talking about. He explained that his people were waiting for their forbearers to return from the heavens. They were apparently beings of amazing abilities that came from the stars hundreds of years ago. I was confused and wondered if there was a problem with the translators. I asked him to explain 'hundreds' for me to make sure I heard him correctly. Apparently their written history is exceptionally new. Their oldest books were written not more than four hundred years before. He asked me if this displeased me, again referring to us as patriarchs. I said it didn't, of course. Their faith in us grows greater every day as they show us more of their world. They appear to be a highly intelligent species with a deep interest in science and technology. Some of the more curious foxes are constantly asking us for little gadgets and samples of our technology. I have to continually remind them that we can't, for our protection and theirs. Doctor Prophetes, their equivalent of a minister of public health, seemed most unyielding in his questions about medicine and how we fight disease. I told him that I had no medical expertise, and that he'd have to arrange a meeting with one of the medical officers.

"17 September 2282. My survey of the largest continents on this planet was completed today. By every account this should be the best location to develop an agricultural hub. The space necessary is available and the soil here is better than anything I've ever seen at home. My report to the High Council will be ready shortly, but I have concerns about the native population. The land we need shouldn't displace them by much, but the best soils are in their territory. I'm sure that an understanding can be reached.

"19 September 2282. Dr. Perkins told me some very disturbing news today. Dr. Prophetes had told him that the pups on his world were afflicted with a very terrible disease that Thesiphus had been pressuring him into finding a treatment for. I asked Dr. Perkins to look into it. He came back with a full report with chilling facts. As many as 67% of the youth on this planet are infected with a blood parasite that kills as many as 32% of them by the age of four. With a mortality rate this high it is amazing they have any kind of population growth. They have no way to cure it, and don't know how it is transmitted. Thesiphus and Prophetes practically begged Commander Wallace to help them somehow. He could only promise he'd have Frontier Command look into it, but without a disease control unit there may not be much we could do. Admiral Kent was notified of the situation and he seemed very willing to dispatch a support fleet ship as soon as possible. At best it would take four months to reach this planet."

Scott continued to pour over his ancestor's journal, finding most of it to be accounts of their further dealings with the foxes. What Scott found most interesting was Nigel's admission of how critical their mission was. It appeared the Ministry of Agriculture had estimated the empire's food production would fall to critical levels within the next fifty years if new worlds to colonize and develop could not be found, and the empire would face a panic.

This was something Scott had never heard before, though it made sense considering their urgency at colonizing Triticum. But how did that translate to slavery? This, more than anything, was what Scott wanted to know.

***

Sarah and John were preparing to sleep for the night. The mandatory curfew wasn't for twenty minutes, lights-out following fifteen minutes later; but with little at all to do in the quarters but sit and wait it seemed pointless to wait to sleep. John made sure his sister was in bed first before putting himself down for the night. He managed to fall asleep quickly, snoring lightly, turned on his side to keep the bright overhead lights from piercing his heavy eyelids.

Sleep was not as forthcoming for Sarah, however. For whatever reason, she couldn't keep from twisting and turning. It might have been the uncomfortable cot, the muffled noises of those around her, the lights, or the uneasiness of being there. Perhaps it was some combination of them all. Gods, how she hated this place. The scruffy fox a few cots away that kept staring at her had grown more bold the last several hours. At one point he managed to sneak up behind her and rub his paw up her arm a few times before she pulled away in horror and John threatened to break his muzzle in two.

Just the thought of him made Sarah shiver. The way his claws had scratched at her skin under the thick fur and the tingle it made, the way he grinned at her as he retreated from John's threat.

As she stared blankly at the ceiling, trying not to think of anything specific, her eyes started slowly closing, little by little. But before darkness enveloped her vision a quick shadow fell over her face and her eyes shot wide open as a paw clamped tightly over her muzzle before she could yelp. Another paw caught her under the arm as she tired to sit upright and she was dragged from her cot. Her attacker held her tightly from behind, his cruel arm around her chest twisted up so he could grip the scruff of her neck with a tight fist, long claws pinching her skin. Sarah tried to shriek, to struggle and break the grip, but her attacker just yanked firmly on her scruff, making her eyes water with pain.

"Shhh, little foxie," whispered a voice in her ear. "Don't struggle...unless you want it to hurt, hehe, which is fine by me."

She didn't recognize the voice, but as her panic was replaced by anger and fear she could recognize his scent: dirty, musty, and lustful. It was that damned fox that had groped her earlier!

She kicked out at her attacker and jerked her head back sharply, feeling a rewarding crunch as her skull connected solidly with his nose. But the grip didn't weaken enough for her to break it, and he kicked her in the side with his knee.

The fox growled angrily in her ear. "Try that again an' I'll scar ya, bitch! You're gonna stay with me tonight, an' your gonna like it!"

Her eyes darted to John, but his back was turned to her, still sleeping. As the fox began to drag her away her anger quickly disappeared and fear consumed her. She struggled again but he only tugged harder on her neck, his claws now digging into her soft flesh. To her horror she could smell the lust in his scent, his foul determination and merciless attraction to the female of his species. Sarah kicked out again, this time catching the edge of her cot, sending it sliding across the floor and thumping into John's bed. But he simply rolled over in his sleep.

The fox pulled her around and pushed her toward his own bed. Sarah growled angrily through clenched jaws, but nobody around her tried to help her. How could they just sit and stare at them! Or pretend like nothing was happening! What was wrong with them all?

Then she heard a laud roar from behind and was suddenly knocked to the ground as something hit her from behind and the fox's grip loosened around her body and jaw.

"You bastard! Don't you EVER touch her again!"

Sarah sat up as the initial shock of the impact quickly wore off. The fox was now on the ground laying on his back while John straddled his chest, beating his fist relentlessly into this snout and face. Blood was flung everywhere as he growled out his rage; Sarah had never seen her twin brother so violent and angered her entire life! She would have been horrified at his violence if she didn't hate the fox underneath him so entirely.

The fox on the ground managed to wedge his leg between them and forced John off his chest with a strong kick and seized the opportunity to brain John below the ear with his paw, his claws digging long marks in his face, which started bleeding almost immediately.

The fox would have pounced on John, rage boiling in his blood-shot eyes and bloodied face. But another fox grabbed him from behind, swinging his arms up under his armpits in a headlock.

"Stop it now, ya filthy piece a' shit!" hissed Gregory as he struggled to keep the snarling fox in his grasp. But Sarah's attacker relentlessly bucked and kicked, growling and howling in his murderous fury.

He almost broke free despite Gregory's best efforts, but as Sarah and John watched in stunned silence a wolf security guard rushed in, and with a flash of his stun-gun the fox was on the floor in an instant, writhing on the floor in agony as he rolled into a fetal position, urinating on himself.

"Get to your beds. Now!" barked the wolf.

John helped the vixen up off the floor and set her on her bed.

"Are you alright, Sarah," asked John, hugging his sister close to himself. "I'm so sorry. I should've been watching! I should've-"

"No, no, I'm fine," she assured him quickly, but she couldn't control herself from shaking.

"No, you're not." He put a paw to his face and winced.

Sarah considered for a moment. "I can't stay here. I can't..." Her voice squeaked as she was on the verge of breakdown.

John held her softly by the arm and pulled her close. "It's almost curfew, Sarah! You'll get punished if they know you're out after curfew," he said gently in her ear.

She shook away from his grip and glared at her brother accusingly. "I don't care what happens, I can't stay here any more! I hate it," she yowled, then looked around herself quickly. "I'm gonna find Scott," she said quietly.

John shook his head fearfully. "Sarah...no..."

She didn't listen, driven by fear and adrenaline. John didn't stop her as she bolted down the isle, slipped past the wolf guard when his back was turned, through the door, disappearing down the hallway. John was still shaken by the fight but was recovering from his rush, panting heavily and feeling his face throbbing for the first time. He lifted his paw to the pain and hissed when it stung. Pulling back his paw he could see the blood on his leathery pawpads.

"Tha' was close, eh?" said Gregory, a shrewd smirk on his muzzle. When the wolf guard wasn't looking he kicked the moaning fox sharply in the gut. "Nev'r liked da' scum anyways."

"Thanks for your help," said John around deep breaths, rubbing his head.

Gregory winked. "Jus' return the favor someday," he said as he walked away.

Sarah shuffled through the ship, quickly realizing she couldn't begin to know where either she or her master was. Crewmembers passed up and down the long corridor, most of them not sparing her a first glance. When she saw a younger-looking female wolf walking her way she made the decision to chance a question.

"Excuse me, ma'am," she stammered out when she was close.

The wolfess looked up from a tablet she was reading as she walked and scowled as she passed the vixen, not so much as uttering an insult.

Sarah hung her ears and lowered her tail shamefully as she continued along the corridor for a distance, stopping at an intersection. As she looked left, then right, she felt hopelessly lost. Sarah had not yet been outside the slave's quarters while on board the past two days, except of course for the walk from the hanger. She might have decided to simply go back to her brother, but she doubted she would be able to retrace her steps. The environmental controls were very effective at erasing scent trails, so her nose was virtually useless. And the hallways all looked so similar. How could any creature get used to it?

"Excuse me, sir," she tried again with a crewmember that didn't seem to be in as great a hurry as the first. When he didn't straight-out shun her away she ventured further, her ears low and her muzzle dipped politely.

"Sir, I'm trying to find my master's quarters. He needs me to take care of something for him, and I'm afraid I'm lost."

The wolf frowned down at her and took a moment to look her up and down. The vixen shuddered a little under the scrutiny of his cool blue eyes, which registered nothing more than pure indifference, the tip of his tail twitching ever so slightly as he considered her plea. Finally, he jerked his head to the side and stepped over to the wall beside a computer terminal. Lifting a finger in front of his nose he made a deliberate sweep to the screen. Sarah got the impression he felt he was instructing a child rather than an adult.

His claw-tip tapped the screen once at the center of a bright green circle, the liquid crystal making a cool flicker at the contact.

"State inquiry," came a mechanical voice.

With his eyes still glaring at the hapless vixen, cool and uncaring, he said, "Locate Warrant Officer Bowam."

There was a light chime and the soft mechanical voice sang out once more. "Warrant Officer Thomas Bowam is less than one meter from this terminal."

Sarah's ears perked up as she understood immediately. "Thank you, sir," she said with a little bob of the head, and the wolf disappeared down the hall without another word.

Armed with directions the computer so politely provided for her, Sarah road a lift to deck seven-crew quarters-and passed quickly through the corridor looking intently for the section her master's room was in. There were more crewmembers walking along this deck, however, and she carefully navigated the narrow hall, trying not to bump into any wolves on her journey.

Further ahead another intersection crossed her path, but this time she could make sense of the labels marked on the walls. For once in a long time she was thankful she could at least read the signs. Officer quarters were to the right, by the look of it, and she followed the turn that directed her toward her goal.

Rounding another corner she failed to pay enough attention to where she was walking and bumped right into something solid. She gasped as she looked up into the face of a tall wolf who was, by the looks of it, heading in the opposite direction.

As a slight look of shock wore off his broad muzzle his face broke into a brazen smirk. "Well, what have we here," he chuckled. "You're awfully pretty to be out here by yourself, vixen."

Sarah bowed her head, saying "I'm very sorry, sir," and tried to walk around the wolf, but he side-stepped and blocked her path.

"Hey, hey! Where do you think you're going so late, hmm? You should be in your quarters by now."

"Please, sir," Sarah choked out, her worry quickly mounting. "I need to see my master for some urgent business."

A big paw landed on her arm and squeezed gently. "Come now, little vixen. I'm sure your master can wait just a few minutes. Come with me, foxy."

Hearing the disgusting way he uttered that little pet name sent a wave of anger through the fox, who pushed firmly at the brute's chest. She'd already endured enough of this type of crap, and she wouldn't bear any more!

"Leave me alone," she said firmly but quietly. Angering the wolf was definitely not in her best interests.

Something seemed to snap in the wolf at that moment. His almost pleasant face turned hard as he snarled heatedly. He grabbed Sarah by the other arm and held her tightly. Sarah yelped in pain as he squeezed just a little too hard.

"I think you'd better show me more respect than that, slave. I'll teach you some respect!" he snarled and dragged her along the empty hallway.

"No!" she barked, but was rewarded with a slap on the muzzle by his big paw.

A million fears and visions flashed through her mind as Sarah relented to his strength, not wanting to submit but too afraid to anger him further. What would he do to her? Beat her? Or worse? She started to whimper uncontrollably, and the wolf shook her even harder. He finally stopped at a door and tapped the controls. It slid open with a mocking hiss and Sarah stared with horror at the darkness inside.

"No! Let me go!" She tugged at her captor as hard as she could without pulling out her own fur, and the brute slapped her again, this time harder.

"Shut up, bitch," he snarled.

Sarah tasted rather than felt the cut in her lip, the blood touching her tongue with a metallic sting.

"Hey you!" she heard from behind and turned to see a rather pissed-looking wolf. He was in a different uniform than her tormentor, more like what she had seen Scott wearing on their first day onboard.

"What the hell do you think you're doing, sailor!" growled this new wolf, stepping in close.

The strong paw left her arm and fell to the wolf's side as he snapped to attention. "Nothing, sir. I was just...teaching this fox a lesson in manners, sir."

The officer looked down at the vixen, who hugged herself tightly and trembled. Sarah shook her head quickly and the officer's nostrils flared dangerously.

"I'd have you drawn up on charges if I thought it'd get anywhere," he growled and firmly but gently took Sarah under the arm and drew her closer to his side. His hard expression didn't deviate from the other wolf as he added, "Get your loathsome pelt outta here, you understand me Jenkins?"

"Yes, sir!" The big wolf saluted crispy. Looking down at the vixen he muttered, "Filthy bitch probably has fleas anyways," and sauntered into his room, the door hissing shut behind him.

The wolf rounded on Sarah, his eyes narrow and accusatory. "You're one of Commander Bank's slaves, aren't you fox?" the officer asked. When she nodded he sighed and pulled her along with him. "Come on," the wolf grumbled. "I'm taking you to Commander Banks. I can't guarantee he won't whip you himself, though."

Sarah was still unsure of this stranger, but followed closely all the same, assuming he wouldn't try to hurt her after that display in the corridor. More importantly he seemed to know who Scott was and would take her directly to him.

***

Scott felt about ready to pass out, the lines of text on his computer screen blurring together as his eyes fought to stay in focus. He was startled from his stupor by the synthesized ring of his doorbell. From his desk he grunted to clear his throat and used the intercom to say "Come in" as he stood to smooth down his uniform. When the door slid open he was surprised to see it admit Ensign Yard toeing Sarah by the arm.

"Good evening, sir," the junior officer said. "I believe this belongs to you."

Scott's brow furrowed in a mix of confusion and concern. His eyes made contact with hers, but she quickly shied away, seeming content to stare at the far wall.

"Yes, what happened?" he asked worriedly. The question was aimed at Sarah, but it was Ensign Yard that answered for her.

"Well, sir, I found her in the hallway with a ruffian from engineering. Almost had some trouble, I'd say. I'm sure she could tell you more about it than me, sir. As to why she was wandering the hallway after curfew, I've left that for you to determine."

Scott nodded, genuinely grateful to the young officer. "Thank you, ensign. I appreciate that."

Then, walking up to the vixen he put his paws firmly, but gently, on her shoulders and stared down into her face. Again she shied away and wouldn't look up at him. A shudder ran through her body.

"Sarah...Sarah look at me," he said, and when she finally did he saw fear in her eyes. But not of him. "What happened? Are you alright?"

"I'm really sorry, sir," she stammered. "I...I couldn't stay there with the rest of them. Another slave, he..." She swallowed hard, the next words catching in her throat as the very thought made her blanch in shame. "He tried to rape me, sir."

"Rape you!" Scott shouted suddenly. "Did he hurt you?"

She shook her head and again turned away, tears beginning to fall down her cream-furred cheeks.

Scott was shocked and horrified...and enraged.

"Ensign Yard!" he snapped.

"Sir?"

"What the hell kind of ship do you have here when a fleet-grade officer's property can be damaged like this?"

Ensign Yard stiffened, his eyes wide. "Sir, I...um...," he stammered, clearly caught off-guard. "I'm afraid I didn't know..."

Scott growled angrily. "I want you to inform the slave master onboard of this. If he thinks this is some kind of joke, tell him I'd be more than willing to take it up with the captain, or higher if need be. I hold him directly responsible for any damage done to my property while it's under his direct care! Is that understood, ensign?"

Scott knew he had come off as being harsh to his liaison, and regretted that to some measure. But any abuse to his foxes was something he would never tolerate, and Scott was sure the young wolf would understand that, even if he didn't know Scott's exact intentions or sentiments.

Ensign William Yard saluted but hesitated when he looked to the vixen. He was about to say something before he thought better of it and took his leave. No sooner had the door slid shut than Sarah all but collapsed into the wolf's arms, sobbing loudly.

"Oh gods, Scott!" she cried. Tears were flowing freely down her cheeks now, and Scott's uniform soaked them up without difficulty. "I hate this ship! I hate everybody here!"

The wolf cradled the vixen, his paws rubbing comfortingly along the contours of her back. He could feel her relax so easily into his embrace.

"Shh," he soothed. "What happened, Sarah? Tell me everything."

She sniffed and looked up into his face, her cheeks colored with the stain of salty tears and her eyes red and puffy. Scott squinted down her, expecting an answer, and the vixen suddenly felt self-conscious and released her hold on the wolf. She told him exactly what was wrong, unable to hold anything back. From the slave's quarters to the incident in the hall she told him exactly what she hated about this ship, with Scott listening quietly. By the time she was done she had stopped crying, as if just being able to belt it all out was enough to make things better.

Scott didn't say anything, but kept a comforting arm around her slim shoulder. For several long moments they stayed like this until Scott said quietly, "Sarah? Why don't you have a hot shower then go to bed? I'm sure it'll make you feel a lot better."

Sarah nodded silently. There was a kind smile on his lips, but she felt uncomfortable with this plan. There was only one bed in the quarters, his bed, and it was certainly large enough to fit them both comfortably. But what bothered her the most was her curfew, and what breaking it would mean for her and her master. When she said as much to Scott, the wolf simply dismissed it as something he'd be sure to take care of himself. So, while Scott continued to work at his computer Sarah enjoyed the first real shower she'd had in four days in Scott's private lavatory. Rank obviously had its privileges on the Mourning Son.

As the warm water washed away the filth that clung to her fur and skin underneath, Sarah felt relaxed and safe. She even smirked when she imagined how jealous John would be of her right now. She unfortunately had to put on the uniform, a kind of overalls, she had come in with. But with her fur clean and soft once more it felt like a minor nuisance now.

She wished her master a good night and thanked him, but Scott was quick to dismiss it as no big deal. He was happy to help. As Sarah hesitantly laid herself down along the very edge of his bed she asked herself exactly why she felt so at ease in this place considering all that remained outside these quarters, despite all that had happened earlier. The bed was so soft and warming that sleep overcame her before she could formulate an answer.

Scott continued to skim through old documents and files left by Dr. Nigel Banks, Frontier Command, and the Ministry of Agriculture concerning the colonization of the planet Triticum. Most of it spoke of early successes and failures at establishing permanent farms across its entire surface, and of how the crop yields pleased the High Council more and more each season.

But something else was apparent as time passed. The relationship with the native foxes was quickly deteriorating as more and more land was claimed for the Lupine Empire. What had started as a live and let live policy toward the developing fox civilization became more heated, and even violent.

Dr. Banks had been appointed the Minister of Agriculture-the first Greywind to hold that title-by the High Council on the two year anniversary of the planet's discovery, and he moved his ministry to Triticum itself to be closer to the process. It was clear that the stress of the job was weighing heavily upon him. Scott found a private account of his dated more than one year after his appointment that described the events of a terrible outbreak of violence between the two races.

04 July 2285.

The meeting with the fox envoy to the provincial governor proved to be useless in ending the violence. He assured Governor Fabian today that the Stockend Rebellion was in no way funded or encouraged by the fox government and admitted there was little they could do to quell it on their own. The rebellion had left thirty seven wolves and over one hundred foxes dead on the outskirts of the Stockend community and wasn't broken until a task force of Lupine soldiers were called into the area. Governor Fabian was quick to offer his condolences to their race, but reminded the envoy that unless dramatic social changes could be made to the fox government's policies there was little he could do. We hadn't considered the consequences of curing these creatures of the terrible disease that had affected their young. Since its eradication their infant mortality plummeted and population increased by more than 15 percent in two years! Their mating behavior developed over centuries required them to birth as many cubs as possible to ensure several surviving to adulthood. Although the main cause of infant death has been eliminated, their mating practices have been much slower to evolve. While we've done our best to aid them in whatever way we can they have been unsatisfied with charity, demanded the lands back that belonged to their ancestors. I have concern that over the years, as their population increases as it has, the issue of land rights will only become more delicate.

It wasn't until Scott had caught himself reading the same paragraph for the third time that he resolved to call it good for the night. He quietly prepared for bed so as not to wake Sarah and cautiously slipped under the covers opposite the vixen as she slept soundly. In the still silence that enveloped the quarters the wolf thought of how long it had been since he'd slept with another. How long had it been? Three years, at least. Not since his wife had died in a vehicle accident.

And now, here he was on board a ship sharing his bed with this...slave of his. He turned so he could see her in the dimness, his eyes allowing him to see reasonably well in the dark. Sarah's back was turned to him, so slight compared to his large frame. He could smell her feminine scent clearly and hear her shallow breathing. It was eerie how much it reminded him of years past. Of the love he once shared with another creature so close to him.

His eyes began to moisten at the memory. Every so often he was reminded of what he had lost.

Scott lifted a trembling paw and slowly placed it on the vixen's warm shoulder, but all he felt upon his pawpads was her rough uniform. Carefully, slowly, he moved his paw to her neck and traced his pads over the soft fur there. Sarah's long ear twitched but the vixen didn't stir in her deep sleep.

Oh gods, her fur was so soft and warm to the touch, just like Jessica's had been. He'd revel in how it felt to run his fingers through her nape as they cuddled together. She'd scratch him behind the ears, just in the right spot until their heartbeats would become one...their world shrinking to the size of two loving wolves.

"Jessica..." he whispered. He longed to kiss his wife, to hold her to himself and not let go throughout the night. "Jessica, I miss you so-"

His paw touched something cold and solid, and the wolf was instantly awakened from his relapse. His leathery pads ran across the smooth medal of a restraint collar and Scott realized that this was not his wife. It was Sarah, his fox slave. Jessica was dead, he told himself, and Sarah is not her.

He rubbed at the collar for a long moment and regretted its meaning for her. This one was different than the one he would have provided for her since this one was from the ship's slave master. He couldn't remove it himself if he wanted to. What had all of this brought her, and so many others of her kind? Grief and misery; humiliation and rejection. A fox she may have been, but it was wrong for such a kind and lovely creature like her.

But what could he do about it?

Absolutely nothing.

Scott leaned over and very carefully planted a soft kiss on the top of Sarah's head. Her ears twitched as his breath wafted over her fur.

"I'm so sorry, Sarah. I just wish there was something I could do," he said quietly and rolled himself over to face the opposite direction.

Before closing his eyes to allow sleep to claim him the wolf brushed a tear away from the corner of his eye with the back of his paw.