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He stood at the window, staring absently into the void like so much wallpaper. An age ago, he'd almost shed a tear at the unflinching beauty of it, seeing the endless pull of space from corner to corner of the room. Now it just served to hide his irritation as he tried to think of an answer, staring at his half-reflection in the thick, multi-layered shield from space for a moment.

"This isn't about getting us down there, it's the politics. Whatever your reports say, they're not stupid enough to rally around a dead man. They know this is coming."

"And you think they'll just step out of the way? The insurrectionists, the hardliners that're with them?" The bulky panther shifted angry at the table, dominating it with his presence and the fact that his voice carried loudly across the room. "This isn't just the diehards rallying round him, he could find friends and refuge in any city on that planet. It's a wholesale rejection of our, our..."

"Our multispecies republic that we're apparently trying to build." This got a glare from the panther across the table to the other, older wolf, who was serenely relighting his cigar with a small gas torch. "It's the old line that we'll go soft that way. Soft against what, is my question, it's not like we're fighting each other any more." He waved his lit cigar in the air vaguely. "Except over crap like this."

Lance turned around, forcing himself to look the panther in the eye with a measured and even expression. "There was nearly a civil war over the rebels wanting the same thing as half their government. Some control back for themselves, and less of all the ethical policing we'd been imposing on them. They want tolerance, on both sides. They also want stability. They have homes and families too. Slater just wants to tear it apart and rebuild from the ashes." He paused there; remembered images of burning buildings and grassland on fire were flicking behind his eyes, hiding the thread of his thinking from him. "They know he's become a problem. A threat, to everyone."

"And you show me a lion within thirty klicks of him that wouldn't shoot you if they saw you acting on our orders, another meddler from the sky above. We've become a problem too, it's not like they don't know we're up here." This was said with a hint of smugness, the panther adjusting the fit of his uniform imperceptibly. The docking station in orbit around the planet was officially called Myneer Docking/Habitation M/CT 017, but was generally better known as Newstar because of its ability to be seen at night from the surface of any habitable planet it visited.

"So we need him...removed. Not killed, not blown out of the air mid-transport, or he'll become a martyr." The panther looked at him. "Without touching off a firefight. That's supposed to be your area of expertise."

Lance gave him a look, sitting down again. "I'm not a poison in the sherry glass kind of diplomat, and you know it. We have...me, two fire teams and whatever resources you're kind enough to lend us. What we don't have is some kind of super-assassin that could 'remove' him like that." He trailed off, staring into space again. The panther and the older wolf exchanged looks, then Enfield coughed.

"He's known for being violent and aggressive even to his own men. He's having to mix in with a lot of lions he doesn't trust at the moment, so..." Cigar smoke wafted through the air again as he drew out the plan in his mind. "Perhaps a lion meets him, a fanatic, eager to join up with the legend. Then maybe they disagree on something, or he advocates suicidal attacks...something beyond even Slater's sanity. He gets upset, challenges him, knowing Slater won't refuse..." The cigar stabbed forward, spilling a little ash onto the table. "Except our guy has something quick and lethal up his sleeve. End result, Slater's dead, his allies can't be trusted, and he was killed by his own arrogance. Sends out exactly the kind of message we need."

Silence greeted this for a long moment, but it was thoughtful silence. Then Lance spoke again, softly.

"So where do we find a lion with that much of a death wish?"

(A busy night, talk and preparation...)

The digital clock was faint, but in the pitch black, it lit up the quiet room in ghostly green outline, reminding him of the stars outside, ones that he couldn't see now. He lay on his side, listening to the gentle breathing of the canine tucked up underneath his chin, staring sleeplessly at the numbers flickering one at a time. The german shepherd had smelled like her, somehow, and when he saw Lance looking at him, he'd flicked an ear back and given a shy smile as he looked away. He'd had some job in hydroponics, and as Lance had panted over his ears and nipped into the scruff of his neck, making the dog whine needfully, he'd smelled...earth. A good, clean smell, but it wasn't her.

(Some hours later, the taste of coffee strong against his tongue)

"Slater was reported here, and here, during his escape. Given that he was travelling north, we can assume that either he's in the northern capital, or close enough to it that a plant could find him eventually. As for the lion that'll take us in there..." The panther's usually loud voice faltered a little. "It was depressingly easily to find someone...perfect for the job. We found him awaiting trial for murder in the only other port city, somewhere there's still multispecies support and order." The holographic map of the planet's surface was replaced by a fact sheet, a photo hovering just above. It was enough to cause a murmur among the two assembled teams, the lion's face apparently having been burned half-off. One side of his face was a grizzled mess of scar tissue and tufted fur, the other strangely young and handsome by comparison. His age was given as twenty three.

"Victorious Gaius Estan, or Victor, was born and raised among the embassy and port station's support staff of the city, and as a result is unusually cosmopolitan for a member of his species. He was involved as the victim two months ago in a deliberate attack on the residential zone, a large scale incendiary attack aimed specifically at scaring off the vital workforce needed to maintain our presence here. It took his parents and two sisters, and a couple of hundred other souls, most of which he would have known and grown up with. He was in hospital recovering when a therapist mentioned the daughter of a family of white mice living next to him." Again, the panther paused, staring back at the crowd of mostly canine faces as if daring them to make anything of it. "He killed her instantly, along with two nurses and an injured technician who tried to stop him. He is undeniably unstable, prone to extreme reaction due to his mental inability to cope with the tragedy, and would have ideally spent years in rehabilitation if he wasn't almost guaranteed to be put to death for what he did. He's an ideal missile to be guided towards Slater, provided we can control him enough to get him there."

Silence reigned again, either because the furs listening were waiting for him to carry on, or were still digesting what he'd said. Lance was staring at the lion's face, his expression obvious - he'd already worked out who was to be taming this broken thing.

(He'd briefed the others, told them there was nothing they could do unless he could really use their secret weapon, then...)

"...He's being kept in a cleared-out supply room. We can't use the brigs because he's not supposed to be here, and we're not supposed to have taken him." The panther's voice was, for once, lowered. They were walking side by side down this unusually quiet corridor, even the all-pervading hum of the engines muted here. "He's restrained, but...well, you'll see."

"I'm selling this to him. That means I need to be someone he can trust, I need to look in control. I need better than 'We'll see' from you."

The panther rounded on him, the snarl at his lips fading as he saw the wolf's intent but serious look. No defiance, no sneering resentment of his position he was used to seeing behind the faces of some of his staff, just...that look. His hackles settled.

"He's shackled to the table, but by the size of him, he could lift the whole thing off the floor and throw it at you. He's no Slater, but he's about as stable."

"Thanks." They'd reached a door flanked by two of the special fire team members, and now there was a wry tone in Lance's voice. "I'll try not to get killed by the table, then." He opened the metal door with a tug of the handle, the design heavy and industrial. Inside was a small room that smelled of bleach, lit by dull but pervasive strips on both side walls, drab and metallic. The lion sat slumped at the far end of it, his back against the wall.

"Victor." He eyed the lion, who was staring dully at the table, and sat down, easing the chair back enough that he might be able to get up in time. There was no response. "Victor. Have they told you why you're here?"

He got a stare for that, a slow, intent gaze that seemed to be looking at a spot somewhere behind his head. When the lion spoke, it was deep, slow, and slurred. He must have been drugged to some extent, something else he hadn't been told.

"They take me from my cell. Tell me nothing. Then I feel gravity pushing down on me, tied down in a metal box for hours, no light. Then no weight. I feel weight again, they march me in here, sit me down, tell me I can have revenge. Then you come in." He hadn't blinked yet, and a stray fleck of drool was sliding down his shaggy chin, glinting in the light from outside the room. "What revenge? What could I do?" The frowning gaze deepened, pulling the mass of grisly scar tissue on one side of his face out of shape. His ear was half-gone too, a ragged flap with only the tip still showing fur.

Lance leaned back, keeping his eyes on the lion's.

"You know who did this?"

He was half-ready for the roar of anger, full of pain, and was throwing himself back as the lion lunged at him over the table.

"YOU! YOU! YOOUUUUUU!!!!"

He landed hard, jarring his elbow and the back of his head on the floor, and then the guards outside the door were over him, one dragging him out of the way while the other shot a point-blank stun blast into Victor's face. He'd be blind for a few hours, even after he woke up, but he'd survive. Lance watched him carefully as he slumped to floor with a thump, panting from the sudden adrenaline shot, and thought about uses.

*****