FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

CHAPTER 19

Minister Lokagos stood as Emperor Charles Navarre entered his office and extended his paw to the wolf in a polite gesture. Although it was considered rude to offer one's paw to the emperor without being bidden, Emperor Charles shook it regardless, realizing the fox could not have known. He wasn't in the mood to be insulted anyway.

"Please have a seat, Emperor Charles. What was it you wanted to speak to me about?"

Charles passed a computer tablet to the fox. "This is for you, minister," he said. "It's a draft of my emancipation order that will officially free every slave in my empire. I thought you'd like to read over it before I make it official."

The fox looked up, his ears and brow raised curiously. He could sense reluctance, even bitterness in the wolf's voice. "I take it you're not altogether willing to go through with this," he asked. His tone was even; he didn't want to sound critical...not yet, at least.

Charles frowned, his tired eyes straying to the artful decorations the fox had displayed on his wall. "I'll be loosing a great deal of credibility when I release this order. I hope you can understand that. I'm a wolf of my word, minister. I vowed I would, and so I shall. But I'll be recorded in history as the emperor that lost the slaves."

"Hmm. What about the emperor that suppressed a rebellion? Formed an alliance between two great species? Did what was necessary for the good of his people? Are these not noble enough to be remembered by?"

Charles leaned forward in the small chair, his elbows resting on his knees. He let out a heavy breath. "Footnotes...at best. Criticisms tend to live longer than praise, these days. But I guess only time can judge that. I cannot release this order until the empire is stable. There's enough panic out there without adding several million freed slaves to the mix."

Lokagos looked down again at the tablet in his paw. He set the document aside and regarded the wolf. The oversized, grey-furred creature seemed almost comical sitting in his fox-sized office. He was obviously exhausted and Lokagos could sympathize. In a sense, the young emperor was fighting a war for both of them. Lokagos had been willing to assist him in any way he could-even going as far as to bend the strict limits the Bureau had outlined-with logistics, technology, and communications. But the wolves remained virtually alone in this matter.

"I know I speak for my race when I tell you how appreciative we are for this," Lokagos said, tapping the computer pad with a claw.

Charles only nodded slowly in response. "I need you to take them all away," he said evenly.

"Excuse me?"

"We can't have any freed foxes living in the empire without expecting violence or reprisal. Something like this is sure to generate fear and hate...from both sides. It's best to separate us entirely, I think."

"Not completely, I hope," ventured the fox. "My government is very interested in keeping diplomatic channels open, even establish trade agreements."

The wolf sat up, his expression brightening by a degree. "I am very willing to take that into consideration," said Emperor Charles. "But I'm surprised they'd be so willing, considering the nature of our troubled history together. Somehow I doubt it will be forgotten very easily."

Lokagos nodded solemnly. "They've already ordered the release of those personnel we abducted from your research station so many weeks ago. That's a step in the right direction. You need to give them reason to forget about the sins of the past."

Charles snorted cynically to himself, shaking his head. "You know, minister. If a fox had spoken to me like this only a short time ago, he would have been whipped to death. Now here I am: The guest of a fox in his own home. At his mercy even. That's a dramatic turn in itself, if ever there was one. But the average wolf will not be so quick to adapt."

The fox frowned at the sour comment. Leaders, including himself, were rarely known for their tact. But he understood him, all the same, and preferred not to let it upset him.

"When I first met Scott Banks," he said, "I saw someone I hated personally. I really didn't care whether he lived or died; was happy or not. I didn't want to believe he was anything other than a natural enemy because it was easy to think that at the time. I may have been professional about it, mind you, but in a way I was little different from Sozo. I was wrong, of course; about Scott and especially about Sozo. I suppose what I'm trying to say is that we're far more alike than you may think. As capable of hate and anger as the next sentient species. I'm sure we have a lot that we can give to each other, Emperor Charles."

Charles grinned to himself, feeling like a young fool that had just been lectured by an elder. "I certainly hope so, minister. I really do. Though I suppose it will take time."

Lokagos flicked an ear and nodded, a sincere smile on his narrow muzzle. "We're not planning on disappearing any time soon. Now, speaking of Scott Banks, I was given a warrant for his arrest, ordered by the Office of Investigations."

Charles' brow furrowed and he sat up straight in his seat. "What for, Lokagos," he asked angrily. "I will not permit my chief of operations to be taken from his station."

"Nor will he be, emperor. You see, when Scott killed Sozo-in self-defense, of course-several members of the Bureau of Defense were naturally concerned and pressed for a criminal investigation into the matter."

Charles narrowed his eyes dangerously. Lokagos only snickered.

"Unfortunately for the Bureau, emperor, that order didn't manage to make its way to my desk until after I signed the order to amend his prisoner of war status, thus releasing him from Vulpine jurisdiction. And no order from the Vulpine government can be applied to creatures that are not Vulpine subjects. So, there was naturally nothing I could do about it."

The wolf raised an eyebrow. There was a coy flick to the end of Lokagos' tail, a sly grin on his lips that suggested he was proud of something less than lawful.

"Well," the wolf said, a grin of his own playing across his face. "I guess things get delayed all the time. I suppose the important thing is that you acknowledge the mistake and make every effort to avoid such embarrassments in the future."

Lokagos chuckled. "Exactly, Emperor Charles. Exactly."

***

The shrill blare of sirens jolted Nudge awake from an already shallow slumber, as well as every other fox in his cage. The overhead lighting of the ship's cargo hold was turned down low, but a bright red strobe flashed in a quick pattern that bathed the room in a dizzying display. Some of the enslaved foxes jumped to their paws to press their noses against the glass wall in the hopes of seeing what was happening. Others moaned painfully against the high pitched wail of the siren, covering their ears with their paws. Nudge looked quickly around him, his wide eyes trying desperately to find somewhere to hide, or whatever danger it was that he should run from. The young fox was caged and cornered and he trembled fearfully from the noise and unseen threats.

"Attention all crew," came a deep, urgent voice from the intercom, prompting the foxes to look up toward the roof. "Enemy ship attempting to board at the third deck airlock. All available personnel to deck three to defend. This is not a drill. Repeat: This is not a drill!"

A pair of wolf guards ran past the cage, their rifles held tightly in their paws as their boots echoed loudly through the cargo hold, the loud thumping noise followed them around a corner and out of sight. The entire room shook suddenly and violently, and every fox that wasn't sitting was thrown roughly to the floor.

"What's happening," howled one of the younger foxes, the panic-stricken creature rocking back and forth on his haunches.

"Somethin's attackin' the ship," growled a bigger fox, his paws and nose pressed against the glass wall.

"Are they gonna save us?"

An angry growl, "They gonna kill us, more like!"

The younger fox moaned piteously, burying his muzzle against his knees.

The ship trembled again. The lighting and hateful siren went out suddenly, plunging the slaves into a silent darkness, broken only by the sounds of sobbing and whimpering. Nudge froze entirely, too afraid to move so much as a whisker. After an eternity the flood lighting came back on again, as unexpectedly as it had gone out, and the harsh explosion of the sirens made Nudge jump, his paws clutching at his sensitive ears as he whimpered pitifully, his eyes screwed shut. He missed his home with the Blanchet family. He missed it badly, where he had places he could go to if he needed to be alone. Not here. Here reminded him too much of his past home on the plantation...so full of fear and uncertainty. Nudge wished desperately that everything around him would disappear completely.

It didn't, of course. Nudge heard a loud explosion from the near distance-somewhere inside their ship. The siren continued to whine incessantly, but the young fox thought he could make out the rapid pop, pop, pop of weapons fire between the blares of the alarms.

"You hear that?"

"Yeah...an' they getting closer!"

Nudge looked up from the floor hesitantly and saw from the far end of the cargo bay the bright white flash of rifle fire. He clearly heard fevered shouting and, when it had slowed and stopped, the hard thump of boots against metal grating. And it was getting closer and closer. Dark figures came into view, their features obscured by body armor and dim lighting, charging in from the same direction the earlier guards had run to. Flashlights on the tops of their weapons bobbed back and forth as they jogged quickly forward.

"We're clear!" hollered one of them as he reached the far end of the cargo hold and they all seemed to relax.

A second later the siren stopped, the alert strobe replaced by the soft white of normal lighting. In this new-found clarity Nudge could see one of the dark strangers was close to their cage. It stepped up to the door and unbolted the lock. Nudge could see it was a burly wolf soldier, his face obscured by a tinted visor and helmet; his rifle grasped tightly in both paws and held at a relaxed, by ready, position. As he stepped into the cage the foxes nearest to him shrunk back fearfully, the enclosure uncomfortably silent. Slinging his weapon over one shoulder, the big creature unclasped and removed his helmet, letting his gaze roam over the fifty or so pairs of wavering eyes that stared anxiously back at him. His nose wrinkled a bit, clearly displeased with the sharp smell of dirty fox fur and bodily waste. They hadn't been given a latrine.

Shaking his head disgustedly the grey wolf ran a paw over his forehead and turned to step into the aisle. A second soldier walked up to his side and nodded before removing his own helmet. Through the glass Nudge watched them. The second wolf's fur was almost as black as the armor he wore. He imagined him as a terrible ghost in the darkness. They were speaking with each other, but Nudge couldn't hear over the whispers and whines of some of the foxes around him. Eventually the first wolf came back into the cage and the hushed silence returned.

"How long has it been since you've eaten," the wolf asked, his voice low and gruff.

Nervous glances were exchanged around, but nobody offered to say anything. Nudge's belly was cramped and aching, even after only a day without being fed. The fox had forgotten what it felt like to be hungry, having never been want of food as a servant to the Blanchet Family. Neither his master nor his wife had ever taken a meal from him, or even threatened to. Why couldn't they have left him there?

"Are you hungry," the wolf asked again, this time more expectantly, brows raised.

Several started nodding, but a grey fox close to the door was the first to speak. "Yes, sir," he said quietly. "We haven't eaten in more than a day."

The wolf turned to look at him, the grey fox shrinking a little at his intense gaze. He frowned and nodded, subtly wiping his nose with a paw.

"Okay. We'll see what we can do about that. In the meantime you all have to stay here. Understood?"

There were nods of acknowledgement shared around them.

"Good," the wolf said before he turned and left, closing the door behind him.

They waited for what felt like an eternity, quiet and calm, any and all desire for bickering and arguing over space or dominance somehow gone from the restless creatures. Most were afraid of what fate would next have in store for them. All were hopeful it would involve food. Several guards still paced the aisle up and down, their stances a little less threatening. They weren't the angry, brutish wolves from before that enjoyed scowling at them as they patrolled past their cages.

At one point a guard that Nudge recognized from before the fight was dragged roughly past their cage, two others holding him by the arms like a prisoner in escort. He growled and struggled with his captors, but the cuffs that bound his paws behind his back didn't afford him any leverage. It wasn't until after this that someone started opening the slave pens, beginning at the end of the row, letting the foxes out one cage at a time. Nudge even saw Nana Julia and was glad to know that she was okay.

A female wolf eventually came to Nudge's cell and stepped inside. She smiled gently, very non-threatening, at them before saying, "Listen up everyone. We're going to be transferring you to another ship, which will be much more comfortable for you all. You'll be given something to eat, but only after you've all had a chance to bathe and be seen by a medic. It's really important that everyone be cooperative. There's a lot of you here, and limited resources."

Ears perked and tongues licked at dry lips eagerly. She told them all to stand and move down the hallway toward the exit, a command which most of the slaves were eager to obey. Nudge didn't move at first, a trained sense of caution telling him to be careful. But as the cage was emptying the young fox warily extricated himself from the corner, his fear of being left there alone far outweighing his hesitation to trust the promise of a wolf.

***

"Transmission records taken from the Melville suggest that Admiral Royce's last confirmed location was with the Second Fleet," said Admiral Chris Hartford, pointing to a holographic projection in a conference hall aboard the Navarre that mapped out their sector of space. "The testimony we've gathered from several upper-level commanders from the Third Fleet seems to confirm this assumption."

Admiral Scott Banks, forward operations commander, sat quietly at the end of the table, surrounded by his senior staff and fleet commanders. Chris continued his intelligence briefing.

"This was six hours ago and unfortunately, finding the fleet is not going to be easy. The Second was located in sector seven-two-delta at the time of this transmission, but recon reports they left long ago, most likely right after receipt of Admiral Schneider's situation report shortly before engaging the Thirteenth Fleet."

Fleet Admiral Chase coughed. "He's playing games with us," he said. "He knows his head is the most wanted in the empire. Somehow I doubt he's going to risk open confrontation. If I were in his place I'd seek asylum somewhere beyond the empire. He may very well be on the other side of the galaxy by now."

"But you're assuming he's content to remain an exile," said Captain West, commander of a small expeditionary fleet, the ILS Avenger its flagship. "Admiral Royce had his chance for power and failed. Pride will not allow him to sit on that in a foreign province somewhere."

Scott sighed quietly, under his breath. Part of the reason he'd called this meeting was to determine what course of action to take against Royce and the Third Fleet, under the command of Admiral Philips, a wolf he once trusted when he was captain of the Mourning Son.

"So what you're saying, Captain West," Scott said, "is he'd prefer to attack before accepting defeat."

Captain West said nothing, but nodded.

"What do you think, Admiral Collins? You've served under him, haven't you?"

The brown wolf nodded. "For seven years," he said casually, calmly. Admiral Collins was a veteran of more engagements than any other in the room, and respected by all of them without question. He had a very plain, unassuming air about him, but when he spoke everyone listened. "To Samual Royce, retreat and surrender are not options. I don't believe he will wait for long, either."

Scott nodded, agreeing with Admiral Collins' assessment that Royce was likely to pop up again. It would have been ideal, considering Emperor Charles was not satisfied with letting the traitor escape with the entire Second Fleet.

"So the question is will he attack, and where?"

"Somewhere small and lightly defended," said Collins. "Somewhere he can do the most amount of damage with the least personal risk."

Captain West snorted. "What makes you believe he wouldn't launch an all-out assault?"

Admiral Collins leaned forward, his paws cupped on the table before him. "Royce is a very dangerous enemy, captain. He's too in love with his own legend to let it die, but too wise to risk it all in a direct attack against the Lupine Navy."

As much as Scott loved to listen to senior officers bicker and argue, he had other business that needed his attention. Standing, he dismissed the conference. "All units will remain on high alert, then. Sector commanders will patrol their sectors on a continual basis from now until further notice. Any suspicious actions will be reported."

The officers stood and left the conference room to return to their fleets and their commands. Scott passed through the hallway, only vaguely aware of where he was going as his operations staff briefed him on current situations and stats as they walked.

The ILS Tomcat was undergoing repairs and expected to be fully online in two weeks.

"Entirely too long," Scott said. "Get with Central Navy Requisitions and request a transfer, if available. What about the Corsica?"

"It's ugly, sir. Integrity is breached on five decks, the shield generators are irreparable. Why go on? It would be easier to melt her down and start over from scratch."

Scott growled. Such a terrible waist of Lupine lives and recourses. In total this engagement destroyed sixty seven small-wing craft, ten destroyers, three cruisers, and a dozen small support ships. On top of this, two carriers were beyond immediate repair, and two more were scarcely better. What was worse, over fifteen hundred wolves were dead, as many as four thousand wounded-many critically. How many more would soon be added to the fatalities list by the end of the week, the Gods only knew.

"Is there any good news," he asked, almost rhetorically, as he stopped at his office door.

The fleet's chief intelligence officer raised a data pad. "Actually sir, this is a report given us by the Seventh Marine Support Detachment. They made a delivery two hours ago: A transport craft full of foxes rescued from a rebel cargo ship."

Scott raised an eyebrow. "Rescued?"

"Yes, sir. They were intending to exterminate them, it seems. Some kind of intimidation ploy. I haven't read the full report yet."

"Gods damn these animals," Admiral Banks snarled angrily, extending his paw. "Give me the report. I'll read it in a little bit. Unless there's anything more, I'll be in my office."

The staff members took the subtle hint and dispersed, all of them swamped with their own work. Scott sat heavily into his office chair, finding his intelligence officer had followed him in.

"Was there anything more, Captain Locke?"

"Yes, sir. These foxes from the cargo ship, they of course needed food and new clothing. Baths..."

"Yes?" Scott was sure there was a point to this.

Captain Locke produced a folded piece of paper from his pocket and handed it to his superior, who cocked an eye at the pages quizzically.

"They found this on one of them. I thought you might want to see it."

The admiral unfolded the pages and glanced at them quickly. It was a profile, much like those abridged bios kept for military personnel or even slaves, albeit archaically printed on paper. Focusing more closely on the photo in the top corner, his eyes widened and he looked up in surprise.

"I don't know for sure if this profile is of the fox they took this from," said the captain. "They're working on identifying where all these slaves came from, but the consensus seems to be they were fraudulently taken from their owners. Someone found this pedigree on one of them and recognized the mother's owner. I thought you'd want to know."

"Yeah..." Scott nodded, staring down at the paper that bore his name under the title "owner." Scott straightened himself and pushed the sheet to the corner of his desk. "I'll have to look into it, captain," he said quickly, almost dismissively. "Thank you for bringing it to my attention."

Captain Locke nodded and saluted before leaving the admiral's office.

Tapping his desktop hesitantly, the wolf stared dumbly at the pages he'd put aside and considered marching straight to the transport ship. Instead Scott lifted the intelligence report the captain had given him and studied it carefully. The cargo ship's mission had been to transport a shipment of slaves to a secure facility where the martial government intended to use them and others as a loathsome display of supremacy over their Vulpine enemies. Strategic command was not willing to fight two wars; one against revolution, the other against an advanced alien force. Slaves were cheap and plentiful. What better display of power over the Vulpine invader than to systematically slaughter several thousand of them, with the promise of further brutality should they refuse to stand by?

Scott bristled, amazed that the desperate cruelty of intelligent creatures could be so boundless.

Their mission failed dramatically when they discovered the secure facility abandoned upon arrival...and an Imperial expeditionary task force nearby. The ship's manifest reported a total of two hundred and forty foxes. Only two hundred and thirteen had been recovered. There was no explanation found in the ship's log as to the deficiency. Any and all records of the foxes' origins were void from the database...conveniently.

Scott looked up from the report, his eyes shifting to the slave profile. Sarah was fifteen years younger, the picture taken shortly before the time of her mating to the paternal donor. Turning the page the wolf regarded the father of her cubs. He was young then too. Yes, the bio said he was only fourteen years old at the time; an industrial laborer. Scott briefly wondered what had happened to him. They created two cubs together, a male and a female.

Years after the birth of the cubs he'd received notice that Sarah had been placed on a breeding blacklist. Her daughter had died of an unknown illness at the age of three. Suspecting congenital disease, both the mother and father were forbidden from reproducing again. Scott had never told Sarah. He didn't have the heart to tell her that her daughter, who she hadn't seen since infancy, had died.

But her son, Aaron...he didn't know what had happened to him. That was strictly the privilege of the father's owners to know. Was it possible the fox that carried this pedigree was really her son? Scott quickly made up his mind. Checking the report for the person of contact for the rescue operation, he exchanged a few words with the unit commander, who was all too willing to accommodate the commander of the First Fleet.

That evening, after duty hours, Scott was aboard the transport ship, alone in a vacant crew quarters at his request. He had exchanged his deck uniform for a more casual one that didn't display his medals and commendations. He didn't want to appear intimidating...or draw any undo attention to himself. How would it look if the admiral was visiting foxes during his off hours?

He only had to wait a moment before an orderly walked in, guiding a small and very shy fox with a paw to his back. He walked-or rather shuffled-with his nose to his chest, his ears and bushy tail lowered in a very typical display of submission. Upon seeing Scott, the big wolf towering over him, he hesitated, an anxious gleam in his eyes. He promptly looked away, rubbing his black-gloved paws nervously. Scott pitied the poor youth immediately.

"This is him, sir," said the orderly, a chief petty officer by rank. She kept a comforting paw on the fox's back as she remarked, "He goes by 'Nudge.' I'm afraid he doesn't talk much."

Scott nodded slowly. "Thank you, chief. I'll need to speak with him alone."

Nudge glanced quickly to the female wolf, as if afraid of being left alone with the big male. The orderly patted his back reassuringly and nodded before leaving them alone, the swish of the hydraulic door hanging in the air for a long moment as neither creature said a thing. Finally, the wolf took a deep breath and started, his voice soft.

"Are you feeling alright, Nudge," he ventured. "Had enough to eat?"

The little red fox looked up to him carefully, timidly, and nodded. He didn't hold the eye contact for long before lowering it to his footpaws, which shuffled lightly on the floor. It would almost have been endearing if not for the fact that the creature was terrified of him. Scott didn't imagine himself to be a threatening figure. But then again, the small fox had very probably been mistreated by wolves like him for a good portion of his life. That idea alone angered Scott to no end.

Scott took a seat on a cushioned chair and asked Nudge if he wanted to do the same. When the fox glanced nervously at the open seat nearby, Scott sighed lightly.

"You don't have to if you don't want to. I know you're afraid, Nudge. You have good reason to be. I, um...I'm sure you haven't been treated very well by wolves like me."

Nudge didn't say anything, but the look he gave the wolf spoke for itself. The young fox was completely unsure of the situation and though he tried to hide it his eyes kept wandering to the corner of the room, to the door, the grey wolf, then back again. Probably the only thing keeping him from running was the knowledge that he wouldn't get very far if he tried.

Deciding Nudge wasn't going to be very responsive to small talk, Scott switched gears and reached into his pocket to pull out the pedigree. He unfolded it, holding it up for the fox to see from where he cowered. Nudge stared hard at the papers in a way that suggested he was very familiar with them.

"Is this yours, Nudge? Did somebody take this from you?" The small creature's lips moved briefly as if he wanted to say something, but was afraid to say it. "You're not in trouble, Nudge. I just need to know if you're the one who had it. You can have it back if you want."

Scott held the sheet out to the fox, trying to appear as friendly and non-threatening as possible. Nudge looked at the thing uncertainly, but crossed the distance between them to take it from the wolf's paw quickly, retreating back a step when it was securely in his paws. By the way he stared down at it, his eyes brightening by a good measure, Scott knew it was important to him.

"Nudge," he asked quietly, and the fox looked up. "Do you know who that is? The vixen on the first page?"

His gaze falling down again, Nudge nodded. "It's my mother," he said softly.

Scott smiled warmly. So he could speak. "Who told you that? The person that gave this to you?"

"My m-master did," he stammered. "He gave it to me before the soldiers took me away."

Scott nodded slowly. That was certainly unusual. "So your master was good to you?"

He nodded. He'd have to be to give his slave something like this...if that is indeed what happened. For some reason, Scott didn't get the impression this creature would be brave enough to lie so openly to him.

"My master...h-he said I wouldn't get hurt...He promised."

Scott was surprised, not just by the simple statement, but also by the way he looked at him pleadingly. The wolf sat up a little, easily recognizing in that timid-yet touching-gesture that Nudge was hoping he would treat him with the same kindness. Scott admittedly had little experience with slaves other than John and Sarah. This youth, vulnerable as he was, probably expected maltreatment...kindness was nothing more than a hope; a prayer to him. The thought saddened Scott deeply. Nobody should ever have to live their life with cruelty as the norm.

"Nudge, I ask you this because I know your mother. We're actually very good friends."

The little fox's head snapped up, ears forward and eyes wide. As the initial surprise wore off, Nudge looked down again, brow furrowed in confusion.

"You are?"

Scott smiled softly. "Yes, we are. Her name is Sarah. She used to, um...be owned by me, but she's free now. I'm afraid I've never seen your father before."

Nudge seemed to take all this in with a sense of wonder, but Scott could see distrust there as well. Why would his mother and a wolf be friends? He was sure that trying to explain their unique relationship would only complicate things.

"You're free now too, Nudge. Do you know what this means?"

Nudge's head tilted a little. "You mean I...I don't have a master anymore?" Scott nodded. "But who will I do chores for?"

Scott's smile faded. "Well, um...I suppose you don't have to if you don't want to. That's what it means to be free, just like wolves. You have a choice now."

Nudge was clearly troubled by this concept, seemingly so foreign and outlandish for a creature who's every waking moment was dedicated to laboring for someone else. And then Nudge's ears perked a little.

"Can I...will I see her," he asked hopefully. But as soon as he'd said it his ears turned back worriedly, as if afraid he shouldn't have been so bold.

But the wolf smiled, nodding. "Yes, of course you can. Your mom will be so happy to see you, too. She loved you very much and was very sad when she had to let you go. She's a very sweet person."

A little grin had found its way onto Nudge's muzzle, the fox's tail-tip starting to wag excitedly. Scott chuckled to himself. It was good to see the teenager's spirits lifting.

"It will take a little time, Nudge," he warned. "All good things do."

The fox nodded, perhaps a little disappointed but otherwise hopeful. Nudge seemed a little taller to Scott somehow, and the wolf realized the fox had been standing with a dip to his neck and a slouch in his shoulders. It had been very effective at making him appear small and submissive; a defense mechanism, of sorts. Now that he wasn't cowering so much, the wolf could see he was really a handsome young fellow, his soft fur a bright orange-red highlighted by creamy-white under his chin and chest. Scott could definitely see the resemblance to Sarah, especially in the black markings around his ears and nose. It could very definitely be her son, but only a DNA test could really confirm this.

"Nudge. Are you going to be okay here for a day or two?"

Nudge hesitated before nodding again. Carefully, slowly, the wolf rested his paw on Nudge's shoulder and comfortingly gripped him there. Nudge didn't shrink away from him and even managed to keep eye contact. Whether it was a matter of faith in the wolf, or simply a want of somebody, anybody, he could trust, Scott felt strangely flattered.

"Thank you," Nudge said shyly.

Scott left him with the orderly and returned to his quarters aboard the Navarre to shower-it felt great to use a water shower again-and prepare for bed. But before settling down he opened a comms channel with the emperor's office on the Excedra and requested a long-distance transfer. After several minutes of redirection he was connected to his target. His viewer screen flashed a standby message for a moment before an aging fox appeared. At seeing Scott his brow lifted in surprise and his lips creased in a grin.

"Commander Banks. This is a pleasant surprise. What can I do for you?" Ionious' words didn't match his mouth, a consequence of the phonics translation computer.

"Hello Ionious. I hope things are going well for you over there."

"Certainly busy."

The wolf nodded amiably. "Ionious, we have a ship of slaves we've recovered from the rebels. Several hundred of 'em."

The master frowned. "Really? I suppose that's a good thing. We have plenty of room for them."

"Yeah. Listen, I've taken a personal interest in one of them."

That stirred the fox's curiosity. "Is something wrong, Scott?"

"No...at least, I hope not. I have a favor to ask, though."

After the brief conversation was over the wolf laid himself down to sleep what few hours he could. In the dark silence his thoughts turned to Sarah as he imagined how happy this could make her. There was no worthier a creature of such joy as that vixen. His vixen. His love. He smiled at the thought. It had been so long since he'd felt this way about another, and know that another felt this way for him. There had been so much pain and bitterness since the death of his wife. Jessica. His once true love and life before...

If Sozo had managed to succeed in anything, even by accident, it was in showing him how much he cared for that beautiful vixen. Even now he longed to hold her close to himself. To share their bed and their love, hear her whisper his name softly and nuzzle at his chin, just as Jessica use to do.

He knew he should have found joy in that connection. But now his heart was painfully divided. Scott sighed dismally. Sarah was a fox. He was a wolf. No matter what they felt for each other that fact would always remain, and their different peoples would always see it that way. If only things were different.

If only...