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CHAPTER 14

Admiral Harford was at the breaking point; his patience gone, his indignation great, and his dignity offended. He had arrived at the Radon Frontier provincial administration complex to find the governor's office-his office-occupied by someone else, a member of the High Council Subcommittee on Civilian Affairs.

"What do you mean I've been re-assigned to the forward command office," he demanded none-too-politely of the unwelcome intruder. "Did it escape your attention that I'm still the governor of this province by the appointment of the emperor?"

The councilwolf, Vincent Caster by name, folded his paws on Chris' old desk and glared across its stylized expanse. "Not anymore, you're not. The martial government has agreed to lend administrative responsibility to the High Council directly under a new division of powers policy." The councilwolf, easily old enough to be the admiral's father, reached into his drawer and produced a tablet and handed it to Chris. "Here. This is the martial order obliging you to resign your seat, Admiral Hartford."

The admiral snarled. "Oblige me to resign! I will not be obliged to resign, councilwolf. Only the emperor can force me from this office and I don't see his signature on this order."

Councilwolf Caster leaned back in his chair, a very displeasing expression on his age-bleached muzzle. "Admiral Hartford," he said, raising his voice, "if you haven't noticed the empire is under a state of emergency, here especially. The government and military has undergone a massive rearrangement the last several days and every wolf must do his part and make concessions. I understand your anger, admiral. I didn't want to be sent to this Gods-forsaken quadrant of space either, but here I am. If you have issue with these orders, take them up with the Council. But leave my office now, or I'll have security escort you out."

Growling, Admiral Hartford made the short trek to the governor's manor that adjoined the frontier administration building. His belongings, though modest-owing to his bachelor lifestyle-had already been moved out and placed in a storage pod for transport to his new home with the Radon Frontier Defense Office on Port Bohr, an imperial naval station and regional headquarters constructed on the same planet. Chris found it insulting that his governorship should have been cast aside so quickly, even before his return from the Mourning Son, without any prior consultation. Mumbling curses under his breath he stepped up to the monitor on the storage pod and pressed his paw to the display screen to authorize its pickup.

"Delivery scheduled for today, 1600 hours," a mechanical voice said clearly.

Making his way to the administration building's conference center he told the signal technician there to connect him with the High Council.

"Good afternoon, Admiral Hartford," said a receptionist, a pleasant smile on her muzzle that he could recognize as forced even through the video connection. "How may I help you?"

Chris wasted no time with pleasantries. "Councilwolf Gilder, please," he said, his voice sour.

The pretty young wolf's face became downcast and she bit her lip. "I'm sorry, sir, you must not have heard. Councilwolf Gilder was killed in a vehicle accident several days ago."

Although Chris held little personal regard for the old wolf, the news came as a shock. Quinn Gilder had been so very much alive several days before. "That's certainly unfortunate news," he said with a disappointed sigh.

"Yes, he was a noble wolf," she said with a detached sort of regret.

"Who replaced him as committee chair?"

"Um..." The female looked down for a moment, presumably at her directory. "That would be Councilwolf Reginald Milton. Should I transfer you, sir?"

"Yes, please."

It proved fruitless, however. According to his secretary Councilwolf Milton was in meetings for the rest of the day and would need to be seen by appointment only. Annoyed, Chris went ahead and requested the next available slot, just in case. The secretary smiled professionally, assuring the admiral that she would contact him directly during the following afternoon after lunch.

"Damn it," he grumbled when the call was ended. Turning to the technician again he told him to connect him with the imperial palace. "I should have gone straight to the top to begin with."

But the technician shook his head. "Sir, I'm afraid you'll have no luck."

"Why not," he growled, frustrated.

"The imperial palace has not been taking calls for nearly two days now. The emperor's staff has been referring issues to the High Council's Office of Stewards."

"Why?"

The technician shrugged. "I don't know, sir, but I'd hazard a guess that they've stepped up security due to the threat."

"Patch me through anyway." Admiral Hartford was not ready to be dismissed so easily.

But, as with the Councilwolf, he reached nothing but dead ends. He got as far as speaking with the emperor's high chancellor, but the emperor's personal secretary and assistant refused to give the admiral an audience with the emperor.

"I must apologize, admiral, but His Highness cannot be disturbed for the time being with anything but the most urgent emergencies."

Chris couldn't believe the wolf's nerve, and his smug behavior was irking the officer to the point of casting his professionalism aside and lashing out at him. But he managed to remain more or less calm. "Lord Chancellor, I have been ousted from my office, the governorship of the Radon Frontier, without the direct consent of the emperor. That alone should be cause for His Excellency's attention," his voice escalating to a snarl.

Snorting disdainfully the chancellor narrowed his eyes angrily, baring his fangs in a silent warning. "You had best control your temper, admiral. From what I understand you are no longer governor and can no longer claim what authority was once due to you. Now, with all due respect the emperor has given his consent to the High Council and the Imperial Department of Defense under Admiral Royce to oversee defense and civil administration. I suggest taking your complaints up with them. Good day to you, admiral," the chancellor said, but Chris cut the transmission with a growl before giving that damned wolf the benefit.

Chris was beginning to feel stonewalled by some sort of conspiracy against him personally. Perhaps he should resign himself to the bureaucratic cycle and accept the duty position at the frontier command office.

The signal technician stepped up behind Chris, still seated at the wide conference table in front of the video communications equipment. The admiral was resting his head in his paws and didn't seem to take notice of the technician, so he tapped Chris on the shoulder politely.

"Excuse me, sir."

The voice surprised Chris slightly, who started and look up quickly. "What...oh, I'm finished for today if you need the link now."

The technician shook his head. "No sir, I don't. But this message arrived for you while you were speaking with the chancellor."

He passed a tablet to Chris, who took it curiously.

"Who's it from," he asked, wondering why it should be sent to the conference center and not to his electronic mail or personal data assistant he kept on his belt.

"I don't know," shrugged the tech. "It's encrypted. Have a good day, sir," he offered before giving the admiral some privacy.

"Thank you," Chris said distractedly, pressing a paw to the small screen's biometric sensor to identify himself as the rightful recipient.

The message was text only and bore no sender's digital address or signature. Intrigued, he started to read the letter over quickly, but then much more carefully as its message grew very urgent.

Admiral Hartford,

I'm a marine serving with the Imperial Guard at the emperor's palace. I heard your exchange with main reception and given your frustration I believe I can trust that you are not a government insider. Please excuse me for not identifying myself for my own protection. My superiors believe that my loyalties remain strongly with them, and I intend to keep them believing that.

Emperor Charles was arrested a little less than forty eight hours ago under the order of a selected group of the High Council, directed by Admiral Royce personally. All indication is that they plan to overthrow the imperial house and supplant it with their own. The Imperial Guard has been completely seeded with revolutionaries, as has the leadership of a number of the Naval fleets and Army divisions. The emperor is being held somewhere off the palace grounds. I don't know precisely where, but a memo passed through this office from the Admiralty earlier this morning that mentioned the possibility of staging an assassination that can be blamed on the Vulpine military within several days. I attached a copy of this memo to this message, hoping it will convince you that I am speaking the truth. I don't have to tell you how difficult it was to secretly copy it, nor do I have to stress to you that my life will be forfeit if anyone at this office discovers what I've done.

If you are loyal to the emperor, as I hope you are, I am asking for your help. There are several of us in the Guard that remain loyal to the emperor and are bound by our oaths to protect his life at all costs. I fear that without assistance we will fail. With your rank and title you may be able to gain more attention than I could from members of the government or military still loyal and convince them that the martial declaration is nothing but a front to commit treason. I'm afraid I cannot be certain of who exactly to trust, but DO NOT go to the media with this information. They're already under martial supervision.

I cannot be reached. I will message you again in 24 hours.

When Chris Hartford had reached the end he was ready to dismiss it as nothing more than a prank: a sickening-albeit very creative-hoax at his expense. He was about to delete the message entirely when the attachment button in the bottom corner caught his attention and he opened the file out of curiosity. There were several applications: One a text document; another, a schematic of some sort. What caught his attention, however, was a video application and he tapped the file to open it.

What he saw was shocking and unbelievable. Through the swift motions, the brief glimpses of other marines armed with rifles and armor, he could see it was a tactical video recording. The way the video bobbed and swayed with the motion of the recorder, Chris assumed it was from a marine's standard-issue environmental and bio-integration headgear. Small green letters in the corners read off environmental conditions, hit-times, or other information the soldier should find important.

They were running through a dark corridor, illuminated to the soldier by night vision scanners. The group came to a broad door, which they demolished with small detonators along its frame. Storming into the room a dark-furred wolf stood up from a bed and began screaming furiously, a wolf that Chris instantly recognized as his emperor. He grabbed for a weapon but jerked suddenly. In the dim lighting all Chris could see was the emperor raise a paw to his neck and collapse on the floor. A marine moved in to bind the emperor's paws while another jumped at the female that sat screaming in the bed. She was silenced by a sharp twisting back of the neck. The last image in the recording was of the emperor being carried unconscious from the bedchambers before the video ended abruptly.

"Good Gods," muttered Chris Hartford. "What the hell is happening?"

***

Lewis Blanchet was taking a break from his work before lunch to watch a telenet screen from his office desk. The exchange markets had been closed indefinitely several days before. The market value of treasury bills and municipal bonds were plummeting, and a good number of his clients' investment accounts had been frozen. His business line had been ringing off the hook continually. Assurances made to his clients that their money was safe had proven to be of little comfort to them. In the end, Lewis was forced to admit powerlessness.

Grim-faced and sick in the pit of his stomach, he watched the latest news reports on the crisis gripping the empire.

"The Army used water hoses and stun charges to disperse an unauthorized rally outside the emperor's palace compound today," said the reporter, the camera showing a chaotic scene from somewhere above. "This is the third time in as many days that force has been needed against groups outraged by the martial government's overtake of public utilities. As many as two hundred thousand slaves' rights activists gathered here earlier today to voice their outrage over the negative treatment foxes have been receiving from their masters throughout the empire over concerns of rebellion or alien invasion."

The scene shifted to a street level view of a crowd shouting, growling, howling, or chanting. "The military declared the gathering illegal and arrested at least fifty two for advocating slave's rights. The mob was quickly dispersed with water cannons and stun rifles."

There was a soft knock at the door to Lewis' office and he loudly asked, "Yes," to be heard over the telenet.

"Sorry ta' bother you, sir, but I have your lunch." It was Nudge in his soft, always nervous voice, no doubt straining to be heard through the door and over the telenet.

Lewis quickly turned the telenet off, not wanting the depressing conversation and subject matter to upset the young fox more than he already was. "Come in please, Nudge. It's alright."

The door opened and the fox shuffled in carrying a plate with a sandwich and a glass of ice water. Lewis held his paws out to take the meal and Nudge stepped up timidly, making a concerted effort to keep his gaze down to the floor.

"Thank you, Nudge. I really appreciate it."

The young fox nodded slowly while saying, "You're welcome, sir," quietly.

Nudge turned to leave and almost made it to the door before Lewis remembered something important he was supposed to do earlier and stopped him.

"Nudge, don't go yet."

Obediently the fox waited, but fidgeted nervously with the sleeve of his shirt. Lewis walked to a shelf and explained the situation delicately to the youth.

"Nudge, please don't be scared. You're not in trouble or anything, okay? But the labor ministry says you have to wear your collar now," said the wolf softly as he pulled down the metallic ring from the shelf and turned to the fox.

Nudge eyed the collar fearfully and dipped his head. His ears curled to the back of his head and his tail fell to the floor behind his legs in an instinctual attempt to make himself look smaller and more subservient. His eyes widened as if in terror for his life.

"Nudge..."

At the mention of his name the fox glanced up to the wolf, making eye contact for a moment before dropping it again to the fearful object. Lewis took a slow cautious step toward the fox, but Nudge made a quick whimpering squeak and seemed to shrink away from the wolf. Lewis stopped, instantly aware that something wasn't right with him. He had never acted so blatantly terrified like this before. Not since arriving at the Blanchet home, at least.

"Nudge, it's not going to hurt you."

If the fox was listening, he didn't show it. All he seemed capable of doing was trembling while he stared wide-eyed at the collar in the wolf's paw. The fox looked as though he was prepared to bolt for safety, but fear had frozen his limbs and sent him into a fit of soft whimpers and tremors. Lewis became torn between obeying the law and forgetting about it. The latest report from the slave registry said beginning that morning all slaves were required to wear their restraining collars without exception. But Lewis was afraid of what the fox might do if he tried to fit the thing around his neck, or what sort of panic it would create. The wolf settled for placing the collar on his desk and out of sight for the time being.

With the oppressive object now hidden from his eyesight, Nudge stopped whimpering as his eyes fell to the floor. He shuffled his paws in a sadly failing attempt to release his nervous energy, but it served only to increase his fidgeting. Lewis walked up to him slowly. Nudge wouldn't look at him, but the fox didn't shy away from him like before.

"You know I wouldn't hurt you, Nudge. None of us would."

Still looking way the fox nodded quietly, his ears and face burning hotly with embarrassment.

"It's just a collar. What's so bad about wearing it for a little while?"

Nudge looked over at the desk where the collar rested out of his view. "The shock hurts," he whispered.

"Oh Nudge," Lewis said, somewhat lightheartedly. "I said I wasn't going to hurt you, didn't I?" The wolf knelt on the floor, putting himself more level with the small, hunched-over fox. "Don't you trust me?"

The young fox looked up. A little bit of his original fear had left his features only to be replaced by shame and humiliation. Lewis realized somewhat regretfully that this was probably the most attention he'd ever paid to the poor creature during the time he had lived there. Nudge was obviously a sensitive creature, intelligent in his own way, and Lewis felt regret at having treated the young fox so indifferently before now.

The wolf lifted a paw to rest comfortably on the little fox's shoulder. At the simple motion, however, Nudge winced and shied away from him as if expecting to be struck across the face. In that quick reflex Lewis could see quite easily that Nudge didn't trust him at all. Having never given him a reason to fear him in the past, Lewis understood the fear to be more deeply rooted than the past several months.

"Nudge," he said seriously, leveling a soulful look directly at the young fox, making sure he had made eye contact with him. "I want you to know that you're safe here. I won't shock you. Neither will Meg. Do you believe me?"

Nudge looked down at his paws, then aside toward the open door. For a moment Lewis was afraid he'd try to run away. But the fox didn't. Looking back he swallowed hard and took a deep breath.

"M-my master...m-my old master," the red-orange furred fox stammered quietly, barely more than a whisper, "always promised he wouldn' s-shock me if I w-worked hard. But he always did anyways."

The wolf furrowed his brow and the fox looked away quickly, as if afraid he had said something he knew he should have kept secret.

"Your old master? You mean Martin Archer," asked Lewis, remembering the past client of his who had paid him with the two slaves. "Did he hurt you?" Mr. Archer, if Lewis remembered him correctly, didn't strike him as the abusive sort.

The fox flicked his tongue out to lick his small black nose nervously, shaking his head. "No...M-master Paul did. He worked for Master Archer."

Yes, Lewis remembered that the plantation owner had hired a slave master to manage the slaves that worked there. He had never met the wolf, but Lewis imagined it took a certain type to do such a job.

"I'm so sorry to hear that, Nudge. But there's nobody like Master Paul here. You do a good job taking care of my children and my house, and even if you didn't nobody's going to punish you. Do you understand that?"

"No whip," he asked almost curiously, his ears perking just a little at the praise his master had given him. "No shock?"

Lewis shook his head. "No, Nudge. None of that, I promise."

Nudge seemed to liven. "You don' think I'm broken?"

"Broken? What do you mean?"

"Master Paul use' to say I was broken an' useless an' a waste a' fur." His narrow muzzle fell to the floor again shamefully as he sniffled. "Sometimes he didn't let me eat because it was a waste a' food, too."

Lewis frowned sadly, the wolf unable to believe how anybody could be so cruel to an innocent, helpless creature. Squeezing the paw on the fox's shoulder reassuringly he smiled kindly when the fox looked up.

"Nudge, listen to me. You're not broken and you're not useless. You're a kind-hearted and helpful creature. I hope you realize that."

With those kind words, possibly the most he'd heard in a very long time from someone other than Julia, his tail wagged. Lunging forward he caught the wolf off-guard by wrapping his arms around his neck in a firm hug, which Lewis returned after the initial shock had wore off. As strange as it was to be given such affection by a fox, he felt honored in a way to be appreciated like this...and saddened that it should have taken this long for this young creature to hear something other than scorn or apathy from a wolf.

Smiling modestly he decided to let the collar remain unworn, at least until absolutely necessary. And if it ever came down to that he hoped Nudge would have accepted his sincerity.

***

"Sozo!" shouted Lokagos as he pounded a fist against the call pad on the silver fox's door. "Wake up, damn it! I know you can hear me." The door mechanisms of all quarters on the Excedra were not designed to be entirely sound-proof.

The ship's minister was about ready to use a security override on the door lock when the portal vanished, revealing a very groggy silver fox. Sozo's fur was matted and disheveled in places, and he stared through heavy-lidded eyes.

"What is it," he asked with a squeaky morning-voice, rubbing sleep from his eyes with a paw. "Oh, excuse me sir, would you please come in," he offered.

Ignoring the offer Lokagos launched immediately into the business at paw. "The situation has become much more complicated. The wolves have mobilized their military and put severe limitations on the slaves. From what we can determine from their communications their civilian government has been disbanded entirely and their military has assumed complete control."

Sozo stood up straight, realizing Lokagos would not be telling him this if it hadn't anything to do with him. "And their slaves? What's happening?"

"Their newest head of state appears to be an Admiral Royce and he's using them as leverage to get what he wants from us?"

"Which is?"

"Technology. Weaponry. Power."

The silver fox growled. "Pathetic cowards," he hissed. "Hiding behind the helpless."

Down the corridor Sarah listened to the conversation from her quarters, having been alerted to Lokagos' visit by the ruckus he'd made with his shouting and pounding at Sozo's door. From her vantage point she could see the minister standing outside Sozo's quarters, his back facing her and his tail lashing excitedly behind him.

"We intercepted an encrypted, high-level memorandum from their command levels to a lower martial government office," said Lokagos, giving Sozo a data pad with the information. "They're planning to execute up to three thousand slaves and ship their bodies to us as a warning if we refuse to concede."

Sozo looked up quickly, his face an image of genuine horror. "How long do we have?"

"They intend to bring this to us in two days, then give us five days to respond. The Bureau has already considered an agreement to give them something they'd find valuable to ensure this doesn't happen, at least for now."

"Out of the question," Sozo snarled angrily. "They'll do nothing but demand more while making nothing but idle promises in return."

"I'm inclined to agree with you, but it's not up to us." The red fox rubbed the bridge of his muzzle, suddenly reminded of how little sleep he'd received the past two days. Breathing deeply with a low groan he said, "Listen, Sozo. There's still very little we've heard from your wolf. Information about lines of communication, chains of command, defense patterns. I'll have someone prepare a brief for you in a little while. I want you to get as much from him as possible."

The silver fox grinned slyly, a glint in his eyes. "I'll need stronger means available this time, minister," he said demandingly. "It won't be easy to deal with him like he is now, sulky and depressed. Maybe even suicidal."

Sarah growled softly.

"Do whatever you think is necessary without inflicting permanent damage," said Lokagos with a deep sigh of resignation. "If you have to, probe him. But Sozo, do everything you can to prevent brain damage, and I mean that."

"I'll begin as soon as possible."

"NO!"

The frantic shout from behind made Lokagos spin around sharply to see the vixen bounding toward him, a mixed look of horror and venom on her soft features.

"You can't!" she yelled at the minister when she got close. "He's done nothing wrong to have you treat him like some kind of criminal!"

"Stay out of this, Sarah," barked Sozo. "You don't know what you're talking about. Have you forgotten how he attacked me a few days ago? He's a wild beast."

"Oh, don't I know," she mocked him hatefully. "I know how you pumped hormones into him to make him violent. He'd have never hurt anyone otherwise! Sir," she asked Lokagos, who turned to regard her with tired eyes. "Please, let me see him. He knows and trusts me. I'm sure I can get him to help without torturing him." She flashed Sozo a spiteful look that served only to infuriate him further.

"Lies!" The silver fox snarled dangerously at the vixen.

Lokagos looked to the silver fox and frowned. "Miss, why are you so quick to defend him? As I've been told he once owned you, like a piece of property."

"Minister, he may have owned me once-it's true. But if you know him at all you'd realized that I was never his slave." She looked down, suddenly very self-conscious as the red fox studied her incredulously. "And I know he'd do the same for me," she said, "if I were in his position."

Lokagos' brow furrowed as he considered her request and her conviction that the wolf was worthy of her protection. Professional logic and instinct both told him to say no; not just for safety reasons, but the scrutiny of the Bureau as well. And yet, an uncomfortably nagging illogic made him believe her. They're good creatures, minister. Isn't that what the wolf had said earlier? Will they be taken care of? Even after all he'd been through, the wolf had thought of their well-being.

Sighing heavily, his shoulders slumping, he said, "Alright, I'll give you no more than one hour with him."

The vixen's face brightened as she smiled broadly, her long bushy tail wagging happily. "Thank you, sir! Thank you so much!"

The minister put up a dismissive paw. "Don't thank me yet. Just don't disappoint me. The Bureau will have my tail for this."

Sozo huffed loudly, unable to believe his own ears. "Minister, I have to protest! I'll go straight to the Bureau for this-"

"Enough," yelled Lokagos. "Sozo, I'd have to say the same thing of you. Attempting to falsify the findings of a Bureau investigation is a felony."

Sozo looked insulted. "Minister, you can't possibly believe the story of a confused-"

"Don't believe for a minute that I don't know everything that happens on my ship," the minister said angrily, cutting him off. "I know how you pushed the wolf to the edge. I should've had you arrested then, but I let it go. I'm beginning to think that was a mistake."

The silver fox, to Sarah's satisfaction, looked much like he did in the hospital after she punched him in the jaw.

Minister Lokagos snapped his jaws audibly, lifting a claw to Sozo's nose. "One more word, Sozo! Just one more! It will give me the excuse I've been waiting for to confine you to the brig."

"Sir," snarled the silver fox, "the Bureau has ordered that I be made responsible for-"

"Bureau orders be damned! The Bureau made me responsible for this mission, not you, and I could have you detained for its remainder if I so choose."

Sozo made to speak again, but thought better of it and held his peace. Turning back to Sarah, Lokagos gave the vixen a small nod.

"Sarah, is it?" She nodded. "If he gives you any trouble you can let me know personally."

She smiled thankfully. "I appreciate this, sir."

"I'll be sending someone down with a situation report shortly. He'll get you up to date. One hour. Not a minute more. If you can do nothing, I will use whatever method I can to learn what he knows. That is final."

With that the minister turned and walked for the deck lift, not sparing either of the foxes a second glance.

"I hope you're proud of yourself," Sozo growled. "You had better make damn sure you know what you're doing."

Sarah snarled in reply. "What is your problem, Sozo?"

Turning his back on the vixen he pulled his loose nightshirt up over his head, exposing his bare back to Sarah. Up and down his torso his silver fur was broken by long jagged tracts of exposed flesh. Sarah had seen their like before: permanent scars made by the flat of a whip. Painful and debilitating, if they didn't heal properly-as was often the case.

"This is my problem, Sarah. Take a long, hard look! Twenty years of this, and worse because of his kind. And they're all the same, deep down." He put his shirt back on and turned, showing eyes haunted with a long history of pain.

"I'm sorry," she said flatly. "Truly I am. I know how cruel some can be, Sozo. Me and John have been so fortunate to escape what you couldn't. But you're wrong about them all, and you're wrong about Scott. And I'll prove it to you," she said flatly before walking back to her quarters.