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After The Saint's Rapier had landed into the hangar of GFS Triumphant, Schaefer had laid down a strict order in which things would be done. First of all everyone was to go through the med-bay and get themselves checked, followed by gear maintenance -including replacing lost or damaged items- after which was mandatory showering. Once those three things were done, everyone -at their own pace- would officially be off-duty until further notice.

Rey and David were working overtime in the med-bay, ignoring the fatigue as best thy could as they stitched, patched and sutured tirelessly. Those who were in bad enough shape -Dan and Martin amongst them- were put into the biomed-gel tanks to recover.

Still, despite all their efforts, two more Marines, neither of them Hounds, died of their wounds soon after being brought into the med-bay.

Schaefer, only ever slightly refreshed by the brief nap he'd taken, walked out of the med-bay with water-proof bandaging on his paw where the human Inquisitor Rodigus' sword had struck and around his chest to support his bruised ribs.

He saw Rose, a slap-patch covering a cut on the scarred wolf's snout, walking out right behind him. Schaefer thought for a short moment and then called out to the wolf. "How you holding up, Demolisher?"

Rose lifted his gaze wearily from the ground and threw a half-assed salute that would've made even the sloppiest drill sergeant chew his ass six times over, but Schaefer didn't care right now. They were all tired and the Colonel knew it.

"I'm okay, Colonel... Just a bit tired and, y'know, trying to get over the fact some of us didn't make it. Deadeye especially seems to be feeling under the weather, what with Buzzsaw dead. I heard they had some plans for what to do after their contract ran out." Rose replied, leaning his back against the wall.

Schaefer nodded "It's all quite understandable, Private. Sade was a hell the like of which I'd rather not put you through again anytime soon. I'll have a chat with Deadeye later on, but for now I have a request for you."

"Let me guess... You want me to do the gear maintenance for you, eh, Colonel?" Rose said, managing a little smile.

"Normally I'd do it myself and you know it, but I've got a hunch there'll be a shitstorm coming downhill from my superiors and I'd rather get some rest before that. Besides, you're the only other Hound in the unit trained in the use and maintenance of plasma weaponry." Schaefer had to resist the urge to rub his eyes as he spoke, feeling just about ready to collapse. He had to give off a strong, firm image no matter the circumstances; one of the first rules of a proper officer.

"Sure thing, Colonel. I'll pick your gear up from your room in, say, ten minutes?" Rose said, getting a nod from the German Shepherd and, with that, the wolf was off.

Schaefer slouched into his quarters and shed his jacket, gear belt, cargos and boots off, folding and arranging them neatly by the doorside for Rose to pick up. Finally he unstrapped the portable computer on his wrist, making a note to requisition another spare chip for it.

It wasn't the most comfortable thing to hide the small, flat chip -wrapped in a thin sheet of plastic foil- in his sheath, but that was the one place no one ever thought to look from.

The colonel adjusted the lighting in his room to a nice, shady twilight, walking then over to the intercom and opening a channel to Fletcher's room. For a moment the screen was black with just the blue text "please hold" on it before the face of the white-black Great Dane appeared on it.

"Lieutenant, are you busy with anything right now?" Schaefer asked.

Fletcher tossed a towel to the side on-screen and then shook his head "No, Sir, I'm not. PFC Watkins insisted on taking care of my gear, said something about it being a thank you for a job-well-done, so I just hit the shower."

"Good, be here in ten minutes, okay Brad? I could use the company. Just sleeping, nothing more. We need to be ready to endure the oncoming storm." Schaefer said, dropping the formalities now that he knew Fletcher was alone.

The Great Dane smiled softly "Sure thing, Sir, I'll be there in ten. Fletcher out."

No sooner had Schaefer ended the call when the intercom buzzed, the text on-screen telling it was coming from Captain Derringer. Sighing deep Schaefer hit the accept button and the face of the white wolf, clad in his pristine black navy captain's uniform, popped up.

"Sorry to interrupt you, Colonel, but the High Admiral has just received word that your groundside team has returned and he's, ahh... Rather persistently insisting that you report to him this instant." Derringer said, his tone telling Schaefer the captain wasn't happy at all with the High Admiral.

"Mihail... I'm practically dead on my feet, so you can tell the High Admiral that, as per clause eighty five, sub-clause C, regarding officers returning from a live engagement, I'm entitled to a minimum of six hours of uninterrupted, consecutive rest before having to make a report of any kind." Schaefer said with narrowed eyes. For all he cared the High Admiral could go ahead and shove it for the time being. He just wanted to get a nice hot shower and then sleep.

The captain flashed Schaefer a mischievous little grin "I'll break out the red tape; make a nice, tight package for you. Get some rest Edward. From what I've understood you've more than earned it. Derringer out."

A rare smile crept onto Schaefer's muzzle as he made his way to the private shower he had in his quarters, letting the warm water flush away the dirt and grime clinging onto him and relaxing his aching muscles.

He was glad to have friends like Brad and Mihail who were always ready to support him if he needed it. Mihail was very much like a big brother to Schaefer, always ready to jump in the way and deal with higher-ranking officers when Schaefer was unable to do so.

Schaefer's train of thought got derailed as he heard the buzzer on his door. The Colonel reached out to the secondary control panel beside the shower stall and pressed a button, letting the door slide open.

"It's me, Sir. I came to pick up your stuff." The voice of Rose called out of the adjoining room.

"It's right there beside the door. Take good care of it, alright? Dismissed!" Schaefer shouted, getting an affirmation from the wolf and hearing then the door sliding shut once more.

The Colonel finished up showering and toweled himself down as best he could, spending a moment with a fur dryer to get most of the water out.

Just as he walked out of the small bathroom, wearing a fresh pair of boxers, the door buzzer rang again and Schaefer went to open it.

Fletcher, wearing a fresh set of clothing, stepped inside with a smile on his face and wrapped his arms around the smaller dog, carefully avoiding squeezing too hard due to Schaefer's injuries.

Despite what had happened some time ago, with Schaefer almost blowing Fletcher's head off for suspected involvement in the rape-incident of Vincent Raikov, the Colonel still had a certain soft spot -because of which he hadn't actually killed the Great Dane then and there- for the Lieutenant. Schaefer was, however, an officer first and foremost, placing his duty above any personal feelings he had and had told as much to Fletcher previously; a fact which Fletcher had acknowledged and accepted.

Schaefer was all too happy to return the embrace, though he didn't really show it. Sure, he was a tough, gritty old bastard, but every now and then he, too, needed to feel the closeness of another person. The colonel rested his head on the chiseled chest of the Great Dane, letting out a deep, deep sigh after which he mumbled "What a day..."

Fletcher's smile broadened just a touch "Tell me about it. Sade is a place I'd like to forget sooner rather than later."

"Agreed..." The Colonel mumbled as he slipped free of Fletcher's embrace after a while, pulled off the covers on his bed and collapsed onto it.

Fletcher shed off all of his clothes barring his underwear and slipped onto the bed next to Schaefer, turning his back to the other dog and pulling the covers over them. Schaefer put an arm around Fletcher's muscular frame and wriggled up against his back, the Colonel's cheek coming to rest against the Great Dane's shoulder.

"G'night Sir." Fletcher whispered.

"Thanks for coming over, Brad. G'night." Schaefer replied, already feeling his consciousness fading as the exhaustion finally took it's toll.

---

Vincent stepped in front of the desk of Master Armorer Niedan, a black bear in his mid-forties with a permanent frown and a pair of thick spectacles on his face, his navy-blue uniform adorned with a golden cogwheel on top of a pair of crossed trenching tools on the sleeve.

"Twenty one sets of armor, twelve helmets, six C-18 Pulse Assault Rifles and various other armaments as well as clothing... I'm going to be filling restock forms until I'm fifty at this rate..." Niedan grumbled in deep, alcohol-coarsened voice as he loaded up a fresh set of greaves, arm-guards, chestplate and a helmet onto Vincent's arms.

"Uhhh..." Was all Vincent managed, barely able to see beneath the pile of gear.

"Not to mention the replacement tanks for that blasted flamer of yours, Corporal. How by Machala's left arse-cheek can you careless slops leave behind three whole tanks!" Niedan rambled on unhappily, slapping finally the recquisition form onto the desk for Vincent to sign.

Vincent struggled to hold all the stuff on one arm whilst hastily scribbling his name onto the dotted line, struggling then out of the armory and into the hallway where he was greeted by Jim; also loaded up with fresh gear.

"Hey, Vinny. I see you survived the encounter with Niedan." The Dalmatian said, a bright smile on his face despite the fatigue.

Vincent managed a humorless chuckle. Both he and Jim had made it through the infirmary in no time flat, having only had a couple of slap-patches smacked onto them for the few cuts and bruises they'd suffered.

Surprisingly, the electrocution they'd suffered hadn't left any permanent damage despite hurting like all hell.

"Yeah... What crawled up his ass and died? Sheesh..." Vincent growled, casting a venomous glare at the doors of the armory.

"We... Don't really know. Our best guess is he's unhappy with his military career, seeing how Master Armorer is the culmination of two decades of service. I guess he was aiming far higher than that..." Jim said at length, nodding then down the corridor "We should get going. I want to get the gear maintenance done with and then sleep for about a month."

"Don't forget the shower..." Vincent said with a little grin on his face as he gave the Dalmatian a wink.

Jim giggled softly, reaching then out with one paw to lightly slap Vincent on the shoulder "I never thought I'd be one to say this but... You hornball!"

"I'm kidding, I'm kidding! Honestly!" Vincent defended himself between fits of chuckling "But yeah, I have to admit... I too feel like sleeping for a month or so."

"Want to bunk with me or do you have someone else in mind?" Jim asked in a casual tone, starting to pad down the corridor towards their gear locker.

"Nah, don't have anyone else in mind. As long as I get to sleep, that is." Vincent replied. It was quite true he had no one else in mind for a bunk-pal, especially with Dan playing a pickle in the biomed-gel tank and Rey being busy tending everyone's wounds.

Jim turned to look over his shoulder and stuck his tongue out at Vincent "Nyyyeh! Just because they call me Boytoy doesn't mean I think sex twenty four-seven. Just twenty three-seven... I leave one hour free in case I need to do something important."

"Like plan how to get into the pants of hot guys?" Now it was Vincent's turn to stick his tongue out playfuly at Jim.

"Touche..." Was all Jim could reply, both of them bursting into a laughter that died in a few moments as did their conversation.

The locker room, a roughly square room lined with ugly grey, metallic lock-cabinets on all walls as well as in several rows in the middle, was mostly empty with an erratic tricle of Hounds marching in and out as they got their maintenance done.

Quietly Jim and Vincent stashed their gear into named lockers, spending then a good half an hour cleaning their guns in one of the corners before stashing them, too, away.

Vincent got a venomous glance from Jericho who was doing his own bit of work in another corner as he and Jim were on their way out. The hyena responded to the glare with one of his own, but they were both far too tired to take their mutual animosity any further than that... This time.

Jim was the first one to break the silence as they took a left turn in the narrow metal corridor, their boots clamping hollowly on the steel grating "That... That piece of rock cost us quite heavily. I heard Doc mention seven Hounds and all but six of the Sarcosta Eighth Helldivers fell. Well... Eight Hounds lost if you count Preacher. Doc said he might be permanently blind."

"We're seriously undermanned, then." Vincent replied heavily, a deep, weary sigh passing the Hyena's lips.

"You don't say... Schaefer probably has to find us some reinforcements before we can enter active duty again. We'd also better make sure we got our parade uniforms in order; there'll be a funeral soon no doubt." Jim stopped in front of the Hounds' dorm room door and turned to give Vincent a faint little smile "But life has to go on. We've all learned that during our time in the unit."

Vincent had started to see how the bond of love and friendship the Hounds shared with each other was a double-edged sword. They fought hard for each other, even harder to avenge those who fell, but afterwards they were left with nothing but sorrow and memories of those who had passed.

Jim pressed the panel next to the door, causing it to slide out of the way and the two of them stepped in.

Inside the lights had been dimmed down into night-cycle levels, a couple of the bunks occupied by blanket-covered figures fast asleep. From the back the muted sound of a single showerhead splashing water onto the tiles could be heard.

Vincent got rid of his clothing and grabbed the towel from his footlocker, marching in nothing but his fur to the showers, joined by the similarly naked Jim.

The only other person in the shower room was Roy, who was leaning his forehead to the tiled wall, water slushing down the tawny pelt of the Dingo.

Vincent and Jim both stopped as they realized who the person was and Jim cleared his throat audibly to get the Dingo's attention "Sorry, Hitman, didn't realize it was your turn in... We'll come back a little later."

The Dingo turned his head slowly, a neutral expression on his rugged face. Equally slowly he gave a little shake. "Nah... 'S cool. Fuckall if I care right now whether y'two are starin' at my ass or not, s'long as y'all leave it alone."

"Well... If it's okay with you." Jim said quietly and padded over to the showerhead on the other side of the room whilst Hitman leaned his forehead onto the cool tiles once more.

Vincent let his eyes linger on the back of the dingo's head for a few more seconds before he walked to the showerhead next to Jim. If his memory served, someone had mentioned to him that the Dingo was not only the unit's only straight guy, but also an ex-Black Berret Commando; a step above even Smokey who had been an "ordinary" commando before his transfer to the Hounds.

The warm water gushing onto him felt like a piece of heaven and Vincent let out an involuntary little gasp. He could see the water falling off of him was tinted slightly brownish-black with the dust, soot, dirt and all other accumulated grime of Sade. He made sure to rinse as much of the crap off of him as he could.

What surprised the hyena a little bit was that Jim was being awfully quiet. He shook the water from his eyes and turned his head a little to the side to look at the dalmatian. Jim seemed to be in his own thoughts, just going through the motions of scrubbing himself down.

A moment later Jim noticed Vincent was staring at him and the dog gave him a cute little smile as he asked "Something on your mind after all, Vinny?"

Vincent just shook his head and turned the water off, proceeding then to towel himself off as best he could before deciding against pulling on some underwear; it felt like too much of an effort. The hyena crashed onto his bunk, rolling on his side with a long, drawn-out sigh; the kind one lets out after a long, hard day.

Jim followed not far behind him, taking a little less time in drying off thanks to his shorter fur. He slid up snug against Vincent's back, draping an arm over the slightly larger male's chest.

By the sound of it Vincent was already fast asleep, his breathing heavy and deep. Jim placed his chin behind Vincent's neck, the soft musk of wet hyena heavy in his nostrils sending him soon into deep, exhausted sleep. He'd have his little chat about Vincent's behavior planetside later...

---

The low whine of a hand-held drill was the first thing Fletcher heard as he woke up. The great dane rubbed the sleep from his eyes, noticing the Colonel was sitting hunched over the small desk across the room, a small lamp on the desk the only illumination in the room.

"How long was I out?" Fletcher mumbled groggily as he threw his legs over the side of the bed, still working his paws over his face to chase away the last vestiges of sleep. "And more importantly, how long have you been up?"

Schaefer put down the drill and swung the chair around. He was already clad in a fresh pair of olive-drab cargos, a matching T-shirt and freshly-polished black boots. "You were out for almost six hours. As for myself, I've been up for about half an hour. Doc had sent a package from sick bay, so I thought I'd get to work as soon as possible."

Now that he was a little less groggy, Fletcher took notice of the active screen of Schaefer's table computer, long lines of bright-green text filling the black screen; a draft for a letter.

The Colonel had a habit of writing an individual, personal letter to the relatives of those men who fell under his service. Fletcher knew the Colonel had a distaste for any kind of premade copypaste letter, thinking it would be disrespectful for both the fallen Hound as well as their family.

"Sir, should I join you for the meeting with High Admiral Taaran?" The Great Dane asked as he was zipping up his jacket.

Schaefer shook his head and let out a sigh "I'll deal with him. You stay here and keep the boys in check and arrange me an appropriate entourage. An orderly who looks representable; I need to play this one by the book and showing up with a mummy in tow would give off a bad impression."

"What could he possibly try to pin on you, Sir? We pulled the nigh-impossible gig off within acceptable limits set by the Tactical Division."

"I read the preliminary report, Brad. Over ten thousand dead, twice as many injured or missing, groundside chain of command blown -literally- to pieces by subterranean explosives and Taaran probably wants to blame it on someone; most likely me." Schaefer said, his expression harder than granite, the German Shepherd's eyes fixed onto the floor.

Fletcher didn't know what to say or do except stand there dumbstruck with his jaw slightly ajar.

"Since we took so long to complete our mission, even if it was inside acceptable limits as you said, he might insist that our delay gave the humans the time they needed to set up the trap, that had we been faster all those lives might've been saved."

"That's bullshit and you know it, Sir!" Fletcher blurted out in flustered shock.

A grim, mildly amused grin curled onto the other dog's muzzle as he looked Fletcher into the eyes. "I know that, yes... But I'll have my work cut out for me if I want to avoid the High Admiral using me as a scapegoat anyway, because shit hit the proverbial fan and someone must take the blame."

"And if you fail..."

"Court martial for gross dereliction of duty, dishonorable discharge and fifteen to twenty years in prison if I'm lucky. Dishonorable discharge and a firing squad if I'm unlucky." Schaefer's tone was completely devoid of emotion as he uttered those words, his brown eyes still fixed on the Lieutenant's.

Fletcher had to look away, withering under the piercing stare of the Colonel, unable to say anything other than "Such bullshit..."

"All the more reason for me to try and dodge this bullet. Dismissed, Lieutenant." Schaefer said and turned around, picking up the small electric drill again to continue his work with the fangs of those who hadn't made it out alive from Sade.

The Lieutenant snapped a brisk salute and walked out of the room, his mouth dry and his head swimming.

"Bullshit..." He mumbled under his breath one last time before setting down the hallway in search of a Hound who hadn't gotten themselves all shot up.

---

Things had been more than a little hectic in the med-bay even after the healthier Marines had gone through Rey's expert paws, but everything was slowly winding down. Doc had spent almost every second after disembarking from The Saint's Rapier performing his medical duties.

The german shepherd's brow was furrowed in concentration as he operated the control panel for the biomed-gel tank housing Dan, remotely guiding the robotic surgical implements whilst his eyes were fixed on a holographic projection of the big wolf.

Already he had pulled several slivers of metal and stone from various cuts in the Sergeant's body and was in the process of exctracting the last of several bullets from Dan's torso. How the wolf was still alive, not to mention had been capable of walking to the med-bay on his own, caused a combination of awe, confusion and respect in the doctor.

With a sigh of relief he managed to extract the final piece of metal. It had impacted onto Dan's left shoulderblade and got stuck in the muscle. The bone itself had only ever suffered some hairline fractures which -according to the tank's readouts- were already in the process of rapid healing.

The robotic tweezers deposited the piece of metal into a disposal slot, which in turn let out a muffled thump as it emptied its contents into the larger waste disposal system.

David rubbed his face furiously with his paws, a soft, satisfied sigh passing his lips. Dan had been the last one. Six hours of solid work but at last he was done.

"You are tougher than a pair of old leather boots, Longfang..." Doc mumbled, running his fingers over the cool glass surface of the tank. Dan couldn't hear him, of course, due to the heavy dose of sedatives.

"I'm not disturbing you, am I, doctor?" A deep voice from behind called, giving the German Shepherd a slight startle.

Doc turned around to see one of the surviving Sarcosta 8th Helldivers standing in the doorway separating the med-bay proper and the back area for the biomed tanks. The Helldiver, a massive yellow-eyed Rottweiler -over six feet tall with a bodybuilder-like frame- whose right ear was half missing, was leaning against the doorframe in nothing but a pair of boxers and a T-shirt that looked a number too small, showing his sculpted upper body perfectly.

Doc smiled, unable to help but think the other dog -despite being a member of a unit that had obvious contempt for the Hounds- looked like quite a stud.

"Shouldn't you be in bed Corporal... Garov, wasn't it?" Doc asked, nodding then towards the Rottweiler's left arm "How's the arm? Any ghost pains?"

The bigger dog let out a small sigh and turned his gaze to the stump of his left arm, wrapped in bandages at the elbow. He had lost it during the fight at the market plaza when the human tanks had opened fire. "Yeah, Corporal Luke Garov is the name and no doc, there's no pain. I'm still comfortably juiced with painkillers. Can't wait to get a robotic replacement for it, though. I know I should be in bed, but ehh... Couldn't sleep."

"I can give you something to help you sleep if that's what you want."

The Rottweiler shook his head again and leaned against the doorframe, taking a quick look over his shoulder to check if anyone was nearby before speaking again, not meeting eyes with the German Shepherd "Me and the others have been acting all dickish towards you guys during the mission and I wanted to apologize for it."

Doc rolled his eyes and crossed his arms across his chest "No need to apologize. We're a bunch of big, bad, evil butt-humpers and quite open about it and we know that doesn't sit too well with a whole lot of other folks. Trust me, we've gotten used to it."

Luke still kept his eyes averted, his deep voice low and quiet as he spoke "I admire you guys... You aren't afraid to be who and what you are. Makes me wish I had that kind of freedom."

One of Doc's eyebrows slowly hiked upwards "Bloody hell... Are you telling me..?"

"That I too am a 'big, bad, evil butt-humper'? Yeah..." the Rottweiler finally turned to look at David, his expression unreadable "Do you have any idea how hard it is to keep something like that a secret in a ridiculously homophobic unit? You'd think at this age and day tolerance for... For our kinds of people would be higher."

David was so surprised by what he heard that he was unable to speak, just staring at the one-armed Rottweiler in front of him.

"I know you lost a few good men during the mission and I know your unit recruits people from here and there, so I was wondering if... If you could, you know, nudge the Colonel to give me some thought?" Luke continued, the interiors of his ears turning into a shade of red.

"I... Uhh, yeah, sure. I guess I could mention that to the Colonel, no problem." Doc was finally able to say, cursing himself for being too tired to come up with a suitable flirt; the Rottie was just too good-looking to pass.

He scolded himself mentally almost immediately, reminding himself he was dealing with an injured patient who -despite putting up a brave face- should be asleep and not enjoying the carnal side of life right now.

"Thanks, doc. I think I'll try and get some sleep now." The big Rottweiler said, saluted and left.

Doc caught himself staring at the other dog's pert rear, thinking how the tight boxers and docked tail accentuated the Corporal's ass nicely, and had to scold himself again. He rubbed his face vigorously once more with both paws and mumbled "That does it... I need some sleep."

---

The interior of The Saint's Rapier was filled with the steady, low humm and vibration of the engines as the small gunship made it's way across the void from Triumphant to Taaran's flagship, the Exterminator-class battleship GFS End of Days.

According to Master Sergeant Rowalski, the trip would take about twenty to thirty minutes, depending on sudden changes in the fleet's flight plans.

Inside the passenger compartment, the still-croggy Sam was drinking extra strong coffee to wake himself properly up, shivering lightly and wrinkling his muzzle at the bitter taste of the drink.

The Doberman cast a sidelong glance at the other occupant of the compartment. Colonel Schaefer was standing in front of one of the round viewports, paws clasped behind the back, unmoving like a statue in his finest dress uniform, his chest pinned full of medals and honours as required by the directive.

Sam, too, was dressed in his finest, still not quite happy with the way Lieutenant Fletcher had practically torn him from the bed and given him ten minutes to make himself representable and present in the hangar to act as an orderly for the Colonel on an official mission and to make damn sure he was on his best behavior at all times.

The dress uniform felt stiff and alien on the Doberman, the pressed collared shirt constricting him in an unpleasant way and he had to force himself not to fidget with the darn thing.

It was obvious the Colonel was tense as a violin's cord from his stiff posture and the grim expression faintly reflecting from the surface of the viewport.

Sam, invigorated by the strong coffee, hesitated for a long while before clearing his throat to catch Schaefer's attention "Sir? Permission to speak freely, Sir?"

"Granted." The Colonel grunted back, not shifting his gaze from the viewport.

"Sir..." Sam began, getting onto his feet and taking a couple of steps towards the German Shepherd "You are far too tense, Sir. I do not believe it is in your interests to present yourself in such a strung-up mood. If I may be so bold as to suggest, and this with all due respect... I am more than willing to help you relax, Sir."

His heart was racing in his chest and his mouth felt dry as he let the words out of his muzzle. He knew he was way out of line with his proposal, but at the same time he felt it was his responsibility to look after his commanding officer as best he could. If a quick muzzle-job was what it took...

Schaefer turned his head slowly, looking over his shoulder at Sam who shivered slightly as if the temperature in the cabin had suddenly dropped. The Colonel's expression was still as grim and humorless, and his eyes narrowed just a touch; a warning sign if Sam had ever seen one.

"Private First Class, this most certainly isn't the proper time or place. Now sit your ass down, control your hormones and let me concentrate; the stakes in this meeting are higher than you know or indeed need to know. All that is expected of you is to stand around and look professional. Is that clear?"

The Colonel's voice was cold and hard as permafrost and Sam turned to look away, ears pinned flat to his skull as he mumbled "Yes, Sir. Sorry for being out of line, Sir." before returning to his seat to finish his now lukewarm beverage. If anything, that made the drink even worse.

The rest of the trip crawled on by in silence as they approached the titanic battleship. Almost three kilometres in length and little less than one kilometre in width with dozens of decks and scores of weapon batteries, End of Days was truly a force to be reckoned with. Only four other ships of similar size existed in the entire Federation.

Rowalski landed the Rapier into one of the many hangars of the battleship. Hydraulics hissed loudly as the back hatch of the gunship lowered and Schaefer strode out with Sam in tow. A procession of armed guards in matt-black navy stormtrooper armor with opaque visored helmets were waiting for them, their pulse carbines -specifically designed to be compact and suitable for fighting in confined places- held parade-ground-perfect against their chests.

A grizzled sergeant, the Tiger's helmet clasped onto his belt, saluted Schaefer and said simply "Follow me, Sir."

The troops led Schaefer to the bridge, a trip which took a good ten minutes through winding metal corridors where people were passing back and forth in a hurry.

The troops stayed outside as Schaefer and Sam entered the bridge, a massive, vaulted room with dozens of computer ports, view screens and, at the back of it all, a throne-like seat on a raised platform for the ship's master.

High Admiral Taaran was sitting on the throne, consulting a computer installed to the seat. The expression on the wolverine's face was that of sheer ire. The admiral turned slowly to look at Schaefer, his eyes narrowing as the Colonel saluted.

"Colonel Schaefer reporting as ordered, Sir." Schaefer said briskly.

"Into my ready room, Colonel... Your aide will wait here. Captain Dolon, you have the bridge!" Taaran said, pointing his last words to a middle-aged Blue Heeler, who saluted and took a seat on the command throne.

The High Admiral led Schaefer off to a door at the back of the bridge, which hissed open to reveal a spacious, lavishly decorated office with a massive wooden desk, various trophies and curios lining the walls, a large computer unit sitting on one side of the desk.

Taaran took a seat behind his desk, but made no effort to tell the Colonel to take a seat as well, the German Shepherd staring at the wall with his paws clasped behind his back.

"Now..." Taaran began, tapping a few commands on the computer's touch screen "How about you explain to me, Colonel, what by Machala's left arsecheek happened down there? Over ten thousand dead, twice as many injured or missing, chain of command shot to hell and the forward elements surrounded and about to be annihilated... And all that because you and your ragged bunch of misfits took your sweet time sightseeing instead of doing your damn job!"

Schaefer didn't flinch, though he turned to look the Wolverine square into the eyes, forcing himself to remain as calm and cool as an iceberg as he replied "With all due respect, Sir, me and my unit completed the mission well within the time constraints set by the Tactical Division, despite the minor setbacks. I would also like to point out our mission was a full success; the shield generator has been rendered inoperable and, quite likely, unrepairable."

"Yet because you weren't fast enough, the human filth had time to prepare and spring a trap with subterranean explosives. Not only that, but your distress signal led to Triumphant breaking the cordon which in turn allowed a ship full of humans to escape." The High Admiral growled.

As Schaefer wasn't able to reply instantly, the Wolverine went on "You may claim you did everything by the book, but there's more to this situation than you may fathom... The humans managed to pull a fast one over us, bloodied our nose, slapped us to the face and managed to run away to top it all off... That's going to be bad for the morale, Colonel. Unless, of course, it all happened because of the gross incompetence of someone involved in the mission..."

It took all the strength of will Schaefer had to not explode at the High Admiral right then and there. The bastard was planning on throwing Schaefer and his unit to the figurative wolves for the sake of morale and propaganda?

"Sir, I refuse to take the blame for this. I will not have the reputation of my unit soiled just because we got outsmarted by the enemy once. Not to mention... The twelfth Marine Company is above your jurisdiction anyway, Sir. I'm sure Captain Derringer has already shown you the special missive pertaining to the Raging Hounds?"

Taaran leaned back in his chair and waved a dismissive paw at the computer screen "I'm well aware you have friends in high places, Colonel... However, I've consulted multiple pages of Federate Military Law and, despite your special missive, you are still not above punishment for gross incompetence. I suggest you just admit your guilt and we can avoid the unpleasant business of a firing squad..."

"I don't think so..." A whisper-like, slightly mechanical voice said from the corner of the room, a figure stepping seemingly out of nowhere as they deactivated their cloaking device.

Schaefer recognized Ghost almost immediately and thus didn't react. He did take note of the extra bulk -like a sleek, featureless backpack- attached to Ghost's armor that hadn't been there previously. An extra power unit, perhaps?

"Security breach! Intruder alert!" Taaran roared as he hit the intercom button. Almost immediately one of the armsmen, his pistol drawn, lunged into the room only to be met with a stiff kick to the midriff -which sent the Kangaroo tumbling right out of the door- from the black-clad, armored intruder.

"Call off your lapdogs, Admiral... I'm here on official SpecOps business and I'd hate to have to kill loyal servants of the Federation." Ghost said as the stormtrooper detachment rushed to the doorway, their guns pointing at the Shade.

Taaran took a moment to realize who he was dealing with before waving the soldiers away "Dismissed, troopers. False alarm."

As the door slid shut once more, Ghost turned to face the High Admiral, his entire figure oozing threat as he spoke "I've been ordered here to deliver a message to you, Admiral... Do not forget you owe your current position to our Order. You are to drop all accusations towards the twelfth Marine Company, lest we let slip your... little incident five years ago."

The Wolverine was pale as a blanket, evidenced by the insides of his fuzzy ears, and he was gripping the armrests of his chair so hard the leather upholstery was cracking. All the High Admiral managed to do was nod feebly.

Schaefer was confused, his brow furrowing ever so slightly. The High Admiral was absolutely terrified of Ghost and, clearly, being blackmailed to compliance. Federate politics... Schaefer had no tolerance for them. That was why he had already refused promotion once before. Things were usually far simpler on the field.

"Now... The humans escaping was an unfortunate turn of events, but I'm sure you will do your everything to catch them, Admiral. Also, I'm sure you will commit all reserves for a massed drop assault on the planet to flush out the remaining humans." Ghost carried on.

"Yes, yes of course... Without hesitation." Taaran mumbled in return "I believe this is all... Dismissed, Colonel. Get the hell out of my ship and, preferrably, out of this Machala-forsaken star system too!"

"Federation prevails." Schaefer and Ghost said in unison before turning around and marching out.

---

On their way back to The Saint's Rapier Schaefer finally confronted Ghost whilst Sam followed, puzzled but quiet, two steps behind the Colonel.

"I do appreciate the timely intervention, Ghost, but what the hell was that all about?" Schaefer snarled.

"My masters deem your unit valuable enough to keep it operational, and they predicted the High Admiral might try to pull some trick out of his sleeve to save his own face. I was sent to remind him of his place. It is also well known he despises your unit because, in his opinion, the Hounds are immoral, unfit to be soldiers and weaken the very foundations of the Federation with their... liberal conduct towards the same gender." Ghost replied calmly.

"And what was that about some incident five years ago?"

"Classified..."

Schaefer snorted at this and went through the back hatch to take a seat on board The Rapier, feeling secretly relieved that he had managed to dodge the bullet there thanks, for the most part, to Ghost's timely appearance.

"Won't you be riding with us, Ghost?" Schaefer asked as he noticed the Shade wasn't following him and Sam any more.

"No, Colonel, I've still got some things to do here. I'll find my own way back on board the Triumphant before you break orbit. Federation prevails, Colonel." Ghost said, placing his right fist onto his chest in a brief salute.

"Yeah... Federation prevails." Schaefer replied before the hatch started to shut itself with a loud hydraulic hiss.

Ghost watched the hatch shut before turning about on his heels, heading back into the depths of the massive ship.

He didn't feel too comfortable with the extra power unit, even though it was sleek and fairly light-weight as well as handy for extending the time he could stay cloaked. The pack seemed to throw off the fine balance and mobility provided by the stealth suit.

Still, he was glad he'd had the opportunity to pick up and test the new piece of gear that had been deposited into his quarters on board the Triumphant.

He remembered the "incident" five years ago all too well. Afterall, it had been he who had ensured the High Admiral -deemed "potentially troublesome" by his masters- would do as he was told. The High Admiral had been on a vacation, enjoying hefty doses of alcohol and some party narcotics as well as the services of a prostitute to celebrate the ending of a three-year military campaign.

It had been a simple enough job to slip into the room after Taaran and the hooker had passed out and stab her to death, staging the entire thing to look like Taaran -in his drunken, drug-addled haze- had killed the girl.

After that it had been just a matter of pulling some strings to hush the whole thing up, leaving Taaran bound like a puppet to the strings of Ghost's masters...

---

A few hours after the night-cycle aboard the Triumphant had ended an uneven trickle of Hounds had made their way to the mess hall. Vincent looked about the mess hall with a laden tray in his paws, still feeling tired despite several hours' worth of sleep.

Jim had already left when Vincent woke up, and the Hyena made a guess that the dog would be just as hungry as he was. He was quite right in his assumption as he saw the Dalmatian sitting with Rey who, by the looks of it, hadn't caught much sleep at all.

The two of them waved casually at Vincent as he took a seat and started to shovel the rather uninspiring breakfast down his throat.

"Nice of you to show up, sleepy-head, we were actually talking about something involving you just now." Jim said cheerily.

"Oh?" Came Vincent's unenthusiastic answer. Where by Machala's grace did the Dalmatian get all his energy?

"Yeah... We're off-duty for now, so Jim and I thought we three could hang out, spend some time together and relax a little." Rey said, taking a long sip of replica coffee, visibly cringing at the bitter taste.

"Sure, why not. I've got nothing else to do anyway." The hyena replied between mouthfulls of protein slop.

"Grand! So it's settled, then." Jim's tail was wagging as he spoke, leaning his cheek onto his paw whilst stirring the contents of his coffee mug with the other.

Suddenly the intercom crackled to life and the sound of Colonel Schaefer could be heard in the mess hall "Corporal Raikov, report to my office ASAP."

Vincent swallowed the last of the tasteless slop, wiped his muzzle and sighed "Now what?"

"I don't know, but you'd best hurry, gorgeous. The Colonel hates having to wait. I'll get rid of your tray, no worries." Jim said with his typical perky smile and swatted Vincent on the butt as the Hyena stood up. "Now hustle up, soldier!"

Vincent gave the dogs a little grin and then jogged out of the mess hall.

---

Vincent felt nervous as he stood outside the Colonel's office and pressed the buzzer. What could the Colonel possibly want with him? Had he somehow messed up during the mission? Or was he going to get a medal or something? Vincent had no clue.

"Enter." Came the simple order a second after Vincent had hit the buzzer and the door slid open with a hiss.

Vincent marched in, snapped a brisk attention and spoke "Reporting as ordered, Sir!"

"At ease, Corporal. Take a seat." The Colonel said, his gaze fixed onto the screen of his computer as he typed something in.

As Vincent took a seat on one of the stiff-backed, spartan chairs the Colonel unpowered the display screen and swung his chair about to face the Hyena, Schaefer's paws coming to rest on the desktop with fingers interlaced.

"I can tell from your face you're curious to find out why you're here. You're not in trouble if that's what you're thinking. This is just something I like to do with all new recruits; have a little chat with them once they've spent some time in the unit."

Vincent breathed a sigh of relief inside. "So, ummm... Would you like to know something specific, Sir?"

"First of all, how have you adjusted to life in the unit? I know you had a rather rough start, but it is my understanding most accept you now and some have even taken a real shine at you." Schaefer's tone was softer than usual, but it still retained every ounce of authority it normally had, the brown eyes of the German Shepherd fixed at Vincent.

"Permission to speak freely, Sir?" Vincent asked and got an approving nod from Schaefer "Calling my start in the unit rough is a gross understatement, Sir. I... I've had to struggle uphill all the way through and getting used to all aspects of the unit has taken some time. I am, however, now as much a part of the Pack as any other Hound, I believe."

Schaefer nodded "Good. Now, I hate to bring this up and you don't have to answer if you don't want to. You had a rather... Violent encounter some time ago with certain members of the unit, but it doesn't seem to have hindered your ability to work with them. It is commendable, and I'd like to know how you've managed to deal with such a heavy burden."

Vincent stared at his lap, fidgeting with his hands as he tried to come up with some kind of an answer. After a moment he started speaking again "It wasn't easy, Sir. They... What they did was something I never want to experience again, but I've forgiven most of them. I believe most of them got persuaded into doing it, a rush of the moment if you will, but I'm adult enough to forgive and forget their... lapse in judgment."

Vincent had his stern but kind mother to thank for that capability to forgive, forget and move on; or at the very least bite his tongue and get along. Since he'd been young his mother had practically preached to him how it was important to "turn the other cheek in order to prevent a destructive cycle of vengeance, lest we turn into the monsters we are in war with" as she had put it.

"You say most of them... So there is still one you bear a grudge towards? Jericho, if I'm not mistaken?"

"He's nothing I'm unable to handle, Sir. He gives me lip, he causes some trouble, but I'm not letting him get under my skin."

Schaefer nodded "Good. The last thing I want is infighting. Now then, while we're at it, if you have any questions, feel free to ask them."

Vincent had to think for a while. Did he have anything he really wanted to know? In the end he just shook his head a little "No, Sir. Can't come up with anything from the top of my head."

"In that case we're done here, corporal." Schaefer said, leaning back in his chair and adding almost as an afterthought "Dismissed."

Vincent stood up, saluted and made his way out of the room, letting out a long sigh of relief as the door hissed shut behind him. Somehow it was always unnerving having to be alone in the same room with the Colonel.

Soon after Vincent had left the room, the screen of Schaefer's computer blinked a notification about an incoming, secure transmission.

Schaefer clicked the answer button and the face of a gruff, old black Schnauzer in a stiff, starched light-grey uniform greeted him.

The Colonel instinctively straightened his back a little and threw a crisp salute upon seeing Lord-general Isac Murkov, the supreme commander of all military in the Galactic Federation.

"Sir! How may I be of assistance and what gives me this rare honour?"

The Schnauzer waved a dismissive paw "At ease, Colonel. Word has just reached me that your mission was a success and I wanted to congratulate the man responsible for bringing down yet another bolthole of the arch enemy."

"You flatter me, Sir. Me and my men only did our sworn duty to the Federation." Schaefer replied, relaxing just a fraction.

"Ever the modest man... Did that hot-headed oaf Taaran give you any trouble? I also heard things got a little hairy down planetside. Initial reports tell of massive casualties."

"He tried to, Sir, but Shade operative Ghost arrived on the scene and put him down with some... Questionable methods."

The Lord-general once again gave a dismissive flick of his paw "Worry yourself not with that, Colonel. The Shadowlord and I both agreed we should send Ghost there to remind the High Admiral of his place lest he gets any funny ideas that might interfere with our little project."

Schaefer was surprised to hear that the person in charge of the SpecOps -known only by his alias of Shadowlord- was also involved in the project. Then again, that also partially explained Ghost's continued presence in the unit...

The Schnauzer leaned in closer to the screen, his elbows on the desk and his chin resting on his interlaced fingers "How is the project coming along, Colonel?"

"Project Brotherhood is providing excellent results, Sir. Most of it you will be able to read from my next status report, but it is all looking very promising. The men are working really well as a unified whole, though the impact of every casualty is significantly greater due to their closer bond. I've been lucky one of the men has been acting as a makeshift chaplain, but I'm afraid his time in the unit might come to an end, thus leaving me very little in the way of psychological counseling on board the GFS Triumphant." Schaefer explained.

"What seems to be the issue with this... self-appointed chaplain of yours, Colonel?"

"He got severely injured during the mission, Sir. He may well be permanently blind."

"Is that all, Colonel?" The Lord-general said, a touch of amusement in his voice as he reached at something outside the screen and seemed to type in something for a few seconds before turning back to the Colonel "All done. Whether or not this man of yours gets his sight back, I've arranged for him to be officially appointed a chaplain -provided he takes the appropriate courses and tests, of course- and so can continue to see to the spiritual and psychological needs of your unit."

"Thank you, Sir."

Murkov leaned onto his interlaced fingers once more "Word has also reached me there was an incident some time ago; a sexual assault if I recall. Has this been dealt with appropriately and, more importantly, did you and doctor Hicks test out the new subliminal conditioning program?"

"Yes, Sir, I dealt with it. We... We also indeed used the new program to ease up the victim's recovery and speed up his return to the unit. Thus far it seems to have worked well, though I believe his strong personal beliefs are an important part of him forgiving them and moving on. I'll be sure to include all relevant information in my report." Schaefer replied, holding a small pause before adding "Permission to speak freely, Sir?"

"Granted, Colonel. What is it?" Murkov said, raising one of his brows slightly.

"With all due respect, Sir, I'm not sure tampering with their minds is the proper thing to do to our troopers, even if it is done with good intentions. It has too much potential for abuse." Schaefer said at length, hesitant to speak up his mind but none the less compelled to express his opinion.

"Duly noted, Colonel, and trust me I agree with you there. Technology like this has to be used carefully to prevent abuse, but I am glad it has shown results. I'll eagerly await for your full report and please feel free to add your concerns to that as well."

"Thank you, Sir, I shall do just that." Schaefer paused for a second before adding "There's something else you probably should be aware of, Sir."

Murkov raised one bushy eyebrow and then gestured for the Colonel to continue.

"Just before we made our extraction from the planet, me and a few other members of the unit encountered an enemy bearing a rather... Unusual weapon. The woman fired some sort of an electric discharge from her palms which stunned us badly enough to allow her and her entourage to escape."

Murkov leaned in closer, ears perked attentively "Did you get any visual data on this new weapon? What do you believe it was, Colonel?"

Schaefer hesitated. What kind of weapon was it, indeed?

"Sir, I believe it may have been some form of technological device, though I did not see a generator of any sort on her. Unfortunately we had no video recording devices with us at that time, so the best I can do is to try and describe it in as much detail as I can in my report."

"Colonel... Do you believe there's even a fraction of a chance this might not have been a technological weapon at all?"

"I'm not sure what else kind of weapon it could have been, Sir, unless we dip into the realms of fantasy and fiction."

"Very well, very well. Now then, Colonel... What will your unit be doing next?"

Schaefer took a second to consider the options before making his statement "Frankly, Sir, I believe the boys could well do with a little rest. I was thinking maybe some garrison duty in some remote place might be in order to see how they fare in those conditions."

Lord-general Murkov nodded in approval "Ah yes, sounds good. I do believe that garrison duty and its effects on your... special unit was one of the things we wanted to test in Project Brotherhood. I believe research station Extenza on the frontier world of Kholgenna would do well. Yes... Yes I'll make all the necessary arrangements and inform Captain Derringer. Make a stop at the closest supply station, load up and head for Kholgenna. One shift there seems to be..." Murkov once more checked something off-screen "Six months. It's a frontier place, but it's fairly quiet, occasional pirate raiders aside, so should indeed be perfect."

"Sir, yes Sir. Federation prevails!"

"Federation prevails indeed, Colonel. Murkov out." And with that the conversation was terminated, a message stating all records pertaining to the call had been erased flashing once on the screen before the communications program shut itself down.

Schaefer accessed the planetary database on the Federation's military network and drew up all the information he could find on Kholgenna and research station Extenza. Apparently Kholgenna was a frost world, a planet stuck in a permanent ice age, but with enough of an atmosphere to make breathing possible.

Original explorers had discovered traces of some kind of a new substance in the ice -hard as diamond but malleable like metal- which in turn had prompted the military to set up a research station there to further study the properties of this new metal, as well as minor mining operations into the permafrost in search of more of the stuff. Five researchers and half a dozen miners made up the main crew of the station with a rotating shift of soldiers guarding them from any wayvard raiders.

"I hope the puppies like to play in the snow..." Schaefer muttered to himself as he closed the data file.

---

A few hours later Schaefer left his office, deeming it high time to take a break from paperwork and go visit the medical bay to see how things were going there.

The hustle and bustle had long since died out, the patients resting -for the most part- quietly in their beds; some sleeping, some reading and all glad to be alive. Some of them threw salutes to Schaefer as he passed through the main ward, the Colonel's eyes scanning for the familiar sight of white labcoats.

Eventually he spotted Hicks, the fellow German Shepherd coming from the back room housing the biomed gel tanks, the doctor looking like he hadn't gotten much sleep at all.

Doc threw a casual salute which the Colonel returned with his typical sharpness.

"Good to see you, Sir. I hope you received the package I sent?" Doc said, stiffling a yawn.

"Indeed I did, Doc, thank you. You look like you haven't gotten much sleep at all..." There was a hint of disapproval in Schaefer's tone during the last sentence.

"I did catch a few winks, maybe an hour or so, Sir, but then the stitches in the Sarcostan PFC Nunda's gut ruptured and I had to perform an emergency operation which, I'm glad to report, was successful. After that I just found I couldn't sleep, so I've been monitoring everyone ever since." Doc reported, running a paw over his face as if to swipe the weariness away.

Schaefer just nodded "And how's Longfang doing? You still keeping him in the tube?"

"Yes, Sir. I dragged quite a load of metal, rock slivers and splinters of wood out of his body and decided to keep him unconscious while he heals up. You know how he is quite bad at getting rest and his insomnia doesn't help one bit."

"You are the medical expert here, Doc, I trust in your judgment." Schaefer looked around and then added "Where's PFC Wiezbrozky?"

"Oh, he left a long time ago to get some sleep. Haven't seen him since, but it's quite alright. He did do a good job patching up all the minor cuts and bruises, so he's earned some R-n-R." Doc held a small pause and then snapped his fingers "Oh yeah! A certain trooper from the Sarcosta Helldivers approached me and asked me to put in a good word for him to you, Sir. He wants to join the unit. The name's Luke Garov, a corporal by rank and Rottweiler by breed."

Schaefer nodded curtly again "I'll review his file and take it into consideration. We do need some fresh blood after Sade. Say... You wouldn't happen to know where Deadeye is? I'd like to have a word with him."

"Last I heard he was in the common room. If he ain't there, then I'd try the dorm, Sir."

"Thank you. That'll be all, Doc. Oh, and do try and get some more rest. That's an order." Schaefer said, not waiting for an answer before turning around and walking briskly out of the medical bay.

Doc rubbed the bridge of his snout lightly as he made his way to his office. The office certainly wasn't anything to write home about and it primarily existed in case a patient had a problem they didn't want to discuss publicly at the reception desk. A desk with a computer, a chair, a few cabinets for supplies and a standard issue examination bed in the middle were the only things in the room.

The German Shepherd had barely had enough time to take a seat before the door buzzer rang. Automatically Doc pressed the green "enter" button and swung his chair about to see who it was.

"Out of bed again, corporal? This is becoming a bad habit of yours..." Doc said with a little smile on his face as he saw the big Rottweiler, Luke, enter. He made a conscious effort to stare the big marine right in the face, not wanting to get caught blatantly staring.

"Uuuhh... Yeah, sorry, Sir, but I really had to take a leak. I was coming back when I overheard you talking to the Colonel and... and I just wanted to come and thank you for that." Luke replied as the door slid automatically shut behind him, the big dog rubbing his neck lightly.

Doc made a dismisive gesture with his paw "Think nothing of it. You seem like a decent enough fellow and I got the perfect opportunity to grant your wish so I did. However..." Doc trailed off as he stood up and crossed his arms resolutely over his chest "You really need to get back to bed, corporal. That's an order."

"I wouldn't even dream of disobeying that order, Sir, but uhhh... I do also have a problem I'd like to talk about." The Helldiver was clearly finding it hard to speak up; that much was obvious from the way he was shifting his weight uneasily from one foot to the other.

Doc let his arms fall to his sides, a warm smile appearing onto his muzzle in an attempt to make the Rottweiler feel more at ease. "Go on ahead. I don't think I need to remind you anything you discuss with me is fully confidential."

"Well..." Luke began, taking a deep breath before resolving to speak his mind "I know this is a bit much to ask, but... I haven't been, y'know, with another male in a damn long while and haven't really even gotten a proper jerkoff done lately. I... I know blue balls isn't really a medical condition, but... I don't know when I'll next even have a chance to be with someone." and with that the Helldiver trailed off, not looking at David, clearly blushing under his fur.

In the next few heartbeats David went though quite an internal struggle. On one hand here was a handsome stud asking for a chance to be intimate with him. On the other hand, however, that same dog was his patient and that caused the professional, oath-sworn doctor in him to rail and roar in protest.

Doc took a deep breath and let it out slowly, his mind made up. "Alright... I can agree to helping you get your rocks off, but I can't have outright sex with you; my personal ethics as a doctor prevent me. I hope prostate stimulation and a helping paw will suffice."

It was clear from his expression that it wasn't quite as much as he'd hoped for, but none the less Luke gave a nod "It's cool, doc. Thanks."

David gestured towards the examination bed with one paw whilst pressing another button on the table with the other, locking the door and lighting up the red "do not disturb" light on the outside. "Please, lay down on the bed whichever way you feel is most comfortable."

The Rottweiler hopped onto the bed and lay down on his back, fumbling badly whilst trying to get his tight boxers down with one paw. Doc guessed it was because the dog was so giddy with anticipation.

The German Shepherd placed a paw gently on the Helldiver's chest "Just lie there and relax. I'll take care of everything."

Luke just nodded and put his arm underneath his head, squirming a little to get into a more comfortable position on the bed designed to be just barely not uncomfortable.

Doc rummaged through the cabinets for a short while, digging out a pair of rubber gloves and a pump bottle of lube. After placing the items within easy reach Doc gave the Helldiver another warm smile before grabbing the elastic of the Rottweiler's boxers, saying "Lift your butt." and then smoothly slipping the undergarment off, secretly admiring the physique of the other male. Already the glans of the Helldiver's maleness was peeking out of his sheath, the sight of which caused a little shiver to run down the doctor's spine, his pants feeling suddenly a little tight.

The Rottweiler shuffled closer to the edge of the bed, knees bent to give Doc an easy access to his strategic locations. Luke noted with a brief grin that there was a fairly visible tent in the doctor's pants.

David pulled on the rubber gloves with practised ease, pumping some lube onto the other one and smearing it onto his fingers and palms before returning to his patient. He cleared his throat a little before speaking "Alright. May I begin?"

"By all means, sir..." Luke replied softly, spreading his legs a little further apart as an invitation.

Doc tilted his head a little, suppressing the urge to lick his lips as he took a good look at the other male's tight, pink tailhole. He placed a lubed-up middle finger onto the Helldiver's entrance, rubbing and smearing the lubricant slowly onto it whilst simultaneously wrapping his other paw around the Rottie's sheath and emerging shaft.

The Rottweiler let out a deep, content sigh, allowing his eyes to drift shut. He was rock-hard in not time flat under the skilled coaxing of the German Shepherd. "Oh man, doc... You're good at this."

"I damn well should be with the amount of practise I get." Doc joked, getting a little chuckle out of the Helldiver. "Okay, I'm going in now." And with that said he started to push the slick digit past the other male's entrance, managing to slide all the way in with no problem at all.

Soon enough Doc was able to slip in another finger, seeking out the other male's prostate and proceeding to go to town on it, his fingers sliding casually back and forth as he stimulated that sensitive spot, the Rottweiler moaning and whimpering in delight all the while. To add to that, David was also working his magic on the Helldiver's shaft, pumping his paw up and down and around the length of it like an artist.

"He really must be pent-up..." Doc thought to himself as he soon started to spot the telltale signs of impending orgasm on the other male.

"F-f-fuck, doc... I'm getting c-close." Luke managed to stutter through partially clenched teeth, the bid dog writhing and squirming in delight under the expert care of the Raging Hounds' resident doctor.

Doc started to look around for a tissue, only to curse inside his head as he noticed he'd forgotten to get a box of them whilst gathering the other stuff. The Rottweiler was close, real close, and would cum any second now. David didn't want to have to deal with the mess, especially since his patient wouldn't be allowed in the showers for a few more days, so he had to make a split-second decision.

The German Shepherd ducked his head between the Helldiver's muscular legs and wrapped his muzzle firmly around the thick, hard shaft of the other male, stimulating the underside of it with his tongue, feeling every vein on it.

Just then Luke went crashing over the edge, the Rottweiler letting out an audible moan as his seed erupted into the doctor's muzzle.

Dutifully the doctor swallowed every bit of spunk the hunky Rottie had to offer, his eyes closed as he downed every last drop of the warm, slick, white fluid. Once the Helldiver's orgasm subsided, Doc slipped his muzzle off the other dog's shaft and, just for good measure, licked the rest of the fluids off it.

Whilst Luke was gathering his wits, basking in the afterglow of his much-needed release, Doc pulled the rubber gloves off and threw them in the trash disposal chute.

Man... You wouldn't believe how much I needed that." Luke finally managed to say as he rolled onto his side and threw his legs over the edge of the bed. He shook his head lightly -a satisfied smile on his face- before hopping onto his feet.

"I see you enjoyed yourself as well. I could help you deal with that." The bigger dog commented with a nod towards the still very visible bulge on David's pants, the Rottweiler pulling on his boxers with some difficulty.

Doc turned to look at the happy Rottweiler, a smile on the German Shepherd's face "Thanks for the offer, but I've already stretched my personal ethics to their limits and a little beyond."

"Oh come on, Sir. I'd hate to leave a guy standing, especially one as handsome as you. Besides, didn't you already cross your own borders there with that quick muzzlework?"

"You flatter me, Luke, but I'm afraid I really can't go any further than this. I'd feel like a bad doctor if I did, as much as I'd like to. As for the finisher... I didn't have any tissues handy and I didn't want to make a mess in my office, so consider that a little secret bonus." David replied, winking in a conspiratorial manner to the Rottweiler.

"Well... If you're sure, doc."

David nodded, starting then to usher the big dog out of his office "I'm quite sure, yes. Now back to your bunk, soldier. Remember, in matters concerning health a doctor is second only to Lord Machala in authority."

Luke snapped a brisk salute "Yes, Sir. I know that, Sir. Thank you."

"I'll come and make sure you're in bed after I'm finished with... business. And so help you Machala if you are not under the covers in an appropriate resting position when I do." Doc left his light-hearted threat hang in the air, getting a chuckle out of the big Helldiver, before closing and locking the door behind him.

"Business indeed..." He muttered as he tore his pants open, sucking in a quivering breath as he wrapped his paw around his erection, starting to masturbate furiously.

---

Jim, Vincent and Rey stood in front of the doors leading to cargo bay one. Rey had with him a satchel full of "just stuff" as he had put it, the Husky giving Vincent a sly wink as he had inquired about it.

Vincent felt uneasy as Jim opened the door and stepped in. Bad memories about the place made Vincent reluctant to enter, though all the details of what had transpired seemed so very, very vague and blurry... Almost like it had all been in another lifetime.

A paw landing onto his shoulder, giving it a soft squeeze, made Vincent jump slightly.

"It's okay, Vincent." Rey said, smiling at the Hyena almost like he knew what was going through Vincent's head.

"I just... Why are we here again?" Vincent asked as he stepped inside, seeing the dimly-lit, massive cargo bay again for the first time since the incident.

"Amid those cargo containers is a nice, private area for hanging out and... Perhaps a little more." Rey replied, putting an arm casually around Vincent's shoulders to drive the point across, a little smile still adorning the Husky's face.

Vincent just nodded, still feeling a little uneasy. But Jim and Rey were with him and he trusted the two of them.

"Yeah! It's a fun place to hang out, Vinny. Trust us, we know." Jim chipped in to the conversation, the cheery Dalmatian turning around and walking backwards to give Rey a wink, getting a grin from the Husky medic in return.

True enough, as they circled around to the side of the crate stack, there was a convenient gap for them to slip in, leading into a moderately sized open space covered in mattresses taken -most likely without permission- from the gym and blankets of various types. Here and there on the blankets Vincent could see unmistakable white stains, leaving no shadow of a doubt about what kind of fun usually took place in that secluded area.

Rey hopped onto a smaller crate -also covered with a mattress and a blanket- and leaned his back against the crate behind, starting to rummage through the satchel for something.

Jim and Vincent took a seat on the floor, also leaning against a large crate, the Dalmatian putting an arm around Vincent's lower back and laying his head onto the Hyena's shoulder. Vincent couldn't help but admit that, in its own way, the secluded nook was starting to feel kind of cozy.

Rey fished out a bottle filled with amber liquid in it. He screwed the cap off, took a careful whiff and a little sip, giving a content little sigh after swallowing. The firm taste and the pleasant heat going towards his stomach made him close his eyes for a moment to better savor the drink. "Good stuff..."

Vincent raised a brow "Booze? Where'd you get that?"

Rey tossed the bottle to Vincent, who caught it in both paws. "We've got our ways. Besides... Schaefer usually doesn't care as long as we're sober and ready when duty calls and we don't cause any trouble. Go on, have a taste. It's really good; top shelf stuff."

Vincent took a sniff of the potent stuff as well, noting the pleasant, strong aroma of it before bringing the bottle to his lips and chugging down a mouthful, passing then the bottle on to Jim, who took a drink as well.

The heat of the alcoholic beverage caused a soft little sigh to escape from the Hyena's lips. The booze was good, just as Rey had said.

Jim tossed the bottle back to Rey, who in turn set it aside; for the time being, at least.

"Vinny... Before we get too comfortable, I'd like to ask you something." Jim said, leaning away from Vincent and looking the Hyena square in the face.

"Sure..." Vincent replied, a little unsure of what was in the Dalmatian's mind "Ask away, ask away."

Jim bit his lower lip slightly in a way both Rey and Vincent found rather cute, the Dalmatian trying to figure out the best way to say what he wanted to say. Direct approach seemed like the best solution, so he went with that.

"Back down there during the mission... When the Colonel told you to incinerate those people. You looked almost ecstatic and... I mean I know they are the Archenemy and everything, but... You just didn't seem like you when doing it." Jim stammered on.

Vincent was silent for a moment, staring at his feet in silence before replying "Worried I'm some kind of raving anti-human lunatic who gets his kicks from killing civilians?"

"I... I don't mean to insult you, Vinny. I'm just, you know, worried." Jim said, his ears splayed flat against his skull.

Rey was just silent. He hadn't been there when it had happened, so he couldn't offer any insights. Instead he just chugged down some more of the booze.

Vincent continued to stare at his feet "It's okay. To be honest I don't give two halves of a fuck about our so-called 'Archenemy'. I just follow orders like a good soldier should. As for my apparent enjoyment of killing those people... I barely even noticed them. I was more thrilled at the sight of the dancing flames, the backwash of heat, the crackle of fire. It gives me a rush and makes my skin crawl whenever I squeeze the trigger and unleash the inferno." Vincent gave a little amused snort "Hell... ever since I was little I've been fascinated by fire, the way it dances, the raw, primordial power within it."

"A mild form of pyromania, then. I say mild, because I haven't seen you setting things on fire at your leisure." Rey finally said, shaking his head lightly as he started to feel the effects of the alcohol.

Vincent nodded "I... Yeah, I guess so. I don't feel any irresistible urge to deliberately set shit on fire at my leisure, but when I'm operating Gehenna's Tongue... It's a wild rush, like I said."

Rey tossed the bottle again to Vincent, who in turn took another sip, screwing his eyes shut and giving his head a little shake at the taste of the potent stuff. He offered the bottle to Jim, but the Dalmatian just shook his head lightly.

"No thanks, cutie. Don't want to get too boozed up. Oh... You've got something on your muzzle." Jim said, leaning then in to lick away an imaginary stray drop of booze from Vincent's lips, followed by another, slower lick across his chin. Then another one, and another one... Soon enough dropping all pretense and simply pressing his lips against the Hyena's, the dog's paws starting to roam all over Vincent's body.

Vincent, starting to feel the effects of the alcohol as well, just giggled softly and went along with Jim's shameless advances. He put his arms around the Dalmatian's shoulders and pulled him close whilst meshing their lips firmly together in a lusty, passionate kiss.

It didn't come as any surprise to Vincent when he felt Jim undoing his belt and pants, the cute Dalmatian slipping a paw underneath Vincent's undergarments to fondle his sheath with just the very tips of his talented fingers.

Rey gave a low little whistle of approval at the scene unfolding in front of him, rubbing the crotch of his pants lazily with a little, amused smile in the corner of his muzzle. The booze was working well in helping Vincent relax. Just as intended. Reluctantly the Husky turned his gaze away from the action to reach into his satchel once more, digging out a bottle of lube and -quite nonchalantly- dropping it close to Jim and Vincent.

Jim disentangled himself from Vincent's muzzle, wiping the stray saliva casually into the back of his paw, his other one still working over Vincent's rapidly hardening cock, slowly caressing the hardening flesh until it was nice and rigid.

"Lets get rid of these, eh?" The playful Dalmatian suggested, not waiting for an answer before attacking Vincent's boots and pants, tossing the pieces of clothing over his shoulder as fast as he could get them off the Hyena.

"Well shit... You're enthusiastic today!" Vincent giggled, doing his part by getting rid of his shirt, leaving him wearing nothing but his fur and dogtags. Vincent couldn't help but smile.

Jim practically tore his own boots and shirt off before replying "Would you honestly prefer me any other way?"

"Fuck no! I think it's adorable, really." Vincent's words trailed off into an incoherent moan as Jim lay down onto the mattress between the Hyena's legs and deliver a sensual, teasing lick to Vincent's maleness.

The Dalmatian twirled his tongue slowly around the glans of Vincent's penis, the dog's eyes held casually shut, before slowly lowering his muzzle. Little by little -deliberately so- Jim took Vincent into his muzzle, feeling a pleasant shiver shoot down his spine as the Hyena let out a deep, satisfied moan.

Rey let out a soft grunt, licking his lips slowly as he watched Jim bobbing his head slowly up and down along the Hyena's shaft and the way the Dalmatian's tail was slowly wagging. He had to resist the urge to start jerking off, wanting to save his energy for something else they'd planned with Jim.

Vincent wasn't sure which way around to be as Jim pleasure him orally; it just felt so damn good! The way the dog's tongue was sliding over the underside and even a little bit around his shaft was a little bit of heaven, made all the better by the wet warmth of Jim's muzzle. All the tension and stress of the planetside events were melting away at a rapid pace.

Jim moaned softly, his voice muffled by the length of rock-hard Hyena flesh buried in his muzzle, as he tasted the first little bits of Vincent's precum, lapping it all up almost greedily. This was, without a doubt, one of his favorite ways of unwinding after a rough gig!

Under the skilled oral ministrations of Jim, it didn't take long for Vincent to reach his limit. He grunted out "F-Fuck... Gonna blow." just as a heads-up for Jim, who simply gave a couple of faster wags of his tail and pulled halfway off Vincent's shaft, licking the underside of the Hyena's glans vigorously for added stimulation.

Vincent let out a drawn-out moan as he came, thick ropes of seed uncoiling into Jim's muzzle, the Dalmatian dutifully swallowing down every last drop of the viscous, white fluid whilst trying to ignore his own erection that was tenting his pants almost painfully. The evening was still young, afterall...

Whilst the Hyena was still gathering his wits and enjoying the afterglow, Rey finally got rid of his clothing, leaving himself clad just like Vincent was: birth outfit plus dogtags. The Husky knelt down next to Vincent, rubbing the spottypelt's shoulders tenderly whilst pressing a soft kiss onto his cheek.

"The fun is just starting." Rey murred softly, the statement getting a smile from both Vincent and Jim, the latter of which was working hard on getting his remaining clothes off.

Jim stood up and backed towards the crate Rey had been sitting on, making as seductive a face as he could ever possibly do whilst beckoning Vincent to follow, the spotted dog leaning back against the blanket-covered crate that reached just above his butt.

Vincent gave a little giggle and stood up, padding over to the Dalmatian, wrapping his arms around the dog's hips, Jim mirroring the action by putting his arms gently around Vincent's neck. The two of them shared another deep, passionate kiss; Vincent's paws roaming over the Dalmatian's rump, enjoying the way it had just the right amount of give whilst still being delightfully round.

With Vincent's attention elsewhere, Jim gave Rey a little wink to which the Husky replied with a lopsided smile and a nod. Rey picked up the bottle of lube and popped open the cap, squeezing then a hefty dose of the slick stuff onto his rigid maleness. Carefully he lathered the lube onto his shaft, making sure it was well and truly coated. He knew their plan might very well fail if Vincent wasn't feeling like doing it, but they wanted to help him get over his little... issue.

Rey walked over to the two other males, the two of them still locked in a passionate kiss, fondling each other's crotch whilst they were at it. Rey noted the Hyena was starting to get hard again under Jim's caress; that was good. He put his arms around the Hyena's waist and nuzzled gently into his neck, nipping and kissing at the supple skin underneath the slightly coarse fur.

Vincent broke away from the kiss slowly, turning to look at the smiling Husky, a quizzical look on the Hyena's face.

"I was just thinking... If you don't mind, that is, that we'd take round two of what we were going to do in the restroom of that nightclub." The Husky suggested, giving the back of Vincent's ear a slow, soft lick, his erection poking lightly against Vincent's backside.

"I..." Vincent began, starting to feel the unpleasantly familiar tightness in his chest and throat; feelings which he shook angrily away "I guess we can try, right?"

He wanted to give it a shot, he really did, but something was still feeling wrong and unpleasant. Still... How could he deny the Husky? Rey had been nothing but nice and sweet to him and he knew the medic wouldn't intentionally hurt him, so why was he feeling so uneasy?

Jim started to caress Vincent's head and mane gently "Just say if it feels too bad, 'kay?"

Vincent just nodded, planting his hands firmly onto the edge of the crate and forcing himself to bend over, fighting the tightness in his chest every step of the way, his breathing growing rapid and short. He trembled slightly as he felt Rey's paws caressing slowly over his rump and shifting his tail aside.

Ever so slowly and lovingly Rey slipped his lube-coated paw between Vincent's buns, smearing the lube onto the Hyena's entrance. He could feel Vincent trembling under his touch and that gave him a slight pause, but a reassurring nod from Jim made him carry on.

"If it feels too bad, just let me know and I'll stop right away." Rey said, getting only a muffled grunt and a nod in response. He took a step forward, bringing the tip of his pointy dog-cock onto Vincent's entrance, rubbing slowly against it for a short moment before starting to push in.

Vincent screwed his eyes shut and clenched his teeth, sucking in short, rapid gasps of air whilst fighting the urge to run away or scream in terror.

Jim gave a low whine as he saw Vincent starting to hyperventilate. He wrapped his arms around Vincent and pressed their foreheads together "No, no, no... Vincent, hon, look at me. Look at me!"

As Vincent opened his eyes Jim continued "It's okay, baby... We're your friends, we're here for you. No need to force yourself into anything."

By then Rey had stopped trying to do the penetration, pulling slightly back and stepping to the side to simply run his paws over the Hyena's back. "Yeah... Lets just take it easy, okay?"

Vincent simply screwed his eyes shut again, this time fighting away tears of shame and anger as he clung onto the lithe Dalmatian, muttering "How fucking pathetic I am?"

Jim hugged Vincent softly against himself, petting the Hyena's mane once more "Shhhh... You went through some bad shit and it left a mark. We can try to help you over it, and we think the best way to do it is by facing your fears."

The Hyena took several deep breaths before straightening his back, fiery determination in his eyes "Yeah. Facing my fears?" he nodded slowly as if convincing himself "Alright, yeah, you have a point. I... I want to get over this stupid phobia or trauma or whatever the fuck it is. You're the medical expert here, Rey, so if you think this is the best way to do it... Then lets do it."

Rey nodded "If you say so. Maybe it's best if you lie down on your back? That way you can at least see my ugly mug, which might help."

"Yeah... Sounds like a plan." Vincent said, laying then slowly onto the ground. The mattresses and blankets felt actually fairly comfy underneath him and Vincent soon found a comfortable position to lay in, taking a deep breath before giving a nod to the two dogs.

Smiling softly Rey lay down onto Vincent, kissing the Hyena softly onto the lips whilst Vincent wrapped his legs around Rey's hips and his arms around the dog's neck, the tip of the Husky's penis pressing softly once more against Vincent's tailhole.

Jim lay down on his side next to Vincent, caressing the Hyena's headfur gently with one paw whilst idly toying with himself with the other.

"Same things still apply, cutie... Tell me to stop if it feels too uncomfortable and so on and so forth." Rey said after breaking the kiss. Vincent nodded and smiled somewhat nervously, so Rey continued, his electric blue eyes locked with the emerald green ones of Vincent "Just relax and try to enjoy yourself, hon. Here goes..."

Vincent tried to keep his breathing steady, focusing on just about everything but what was going on at his tail-end. He felt the pinch as Rey pushed himself inside, the terror threatening to take him over once more, but he kept focusing on Rey, the beautiful blue eyes, the cute white crescent moon patches of fur on the tips of his ears, the soft, tender smile, the handsome face...

Suddenly Vincent felt Rey starting to move back and forth, the sensation of the Husky's tapered cock sliding almost effortlessly back and forth inside him coming back in a rush, but... It didn't feel too bad, actually. He was fealing a little queasy still, sure, but nothing like the abject terror he'd felt previously. He was actually starting to get hard again, starting to enjoy himself!

Jim giggled softly as the first little moan erupted from Vincent's muzzle, causing both his and Rey's tail to start wagging lazily. Even more so as Jim noticed Vincent getting slowly hard again from just Rey making love to him. The Dalmatian felt almost, almost jealous of Vincent at that point, but more so he was happy for his friend. He bit his lower lip slightly whilst working his paw over his shaft in time with Rey's thrusts, watching how the Husky's shaft plunged deep into the Hyena's tailhole time and again.

Rey felt happy for Vincent as well. Their little "treatment" was working fairly well, apparently, and that gave the Husky new gusto, thrusting his hips back and forth at a steady pace like a steam engine, precum already dribbling slowly into Vincent's passage, lubing it up further.

Vincent moaned again, louder this time, as he felt Rey brushing against his prostate repeatedly. He turned his head to look at Jim, a soft grin appearing onto the Hyena's muzzle as he reached a paw out to grab the Dalmatian by his dick. "H-Hey now... No jerking on the sidelines."

Jim was surprised at first, his mind and attention having been quite elsewhere, but he returned Vincent's grin with a smile "I'm usually not one for the top-stuff, hon. If you feel like mounting me after Rey's done with you, though..."

"I just might hold you to that, Jimmy." Vincent replied, pulling then Rey down on himself to lock the Husky into another sweet, passionate kiss, both of them moaning quietly into it as Rey continued to make love to Vincent in such an enjoyable way.

Rey could already feel his knot swelling, but having heard the exchange between Jim and Vincent, he didn't want to go for the tie. Just before he started to feel the tingly numbness spreadig from his balls all the way up his shaft he broke the kiss to whisper "I'm cumming, baby..."

"G-Go on ahead, stud." Vincent replied, closing his eyes and just laying on his back, waiting. He didn't have to wait for long, though, before Rey threw his head back and let rip with a loud moan, crying out Vincent's name as his seed erupted into the Hyena's tailhole. Vincent moaned as well, though more softly, as he felt the warm Husky-spunk spilling into him.

Rey lowered himself a little shakily onto Vincent, nuzzling into the other male's chest whilst relishing the heat of his post-orgasm afterglow, just listening to the fairly rapid heartbeat of Vincent.

"I hope you enjoyed it, cutie." Rey muttered happily as he slipped his maleness out of Vincent's tailhole.

Vincent nodded and gave the Husky a kiss on the forehead "It was... It was enjoyable. I liked it." He was being as honest as he could. Sure, it had felt good, but he'd still felt a little uneasy. All he could hope that those bad feelings would go away in time. Afterall... Rey was one hell of a top and Vincent knew he wanted more.

The smiling face of Jim appeared hovering over Vincent "My turn now? I'm all lubed up and ready to go, stud and I've waited more than patiently."

Vincent rolled the quite docile Husky off of him and rose onto his knees, a smile on his muzzle as he saw Jim bending over on all fours for him, giving him a pleasant view of the Dalmatian's lubricated tailhole.

"Good boys deserve a treat..." The Hyena growled lustily as he reached for the bottle of lube...

The three of them stayed in that cozy nook in cargo bay one for the rest of the day-cycle, simply enjoying the company and bodies of each other in every way they could before finally passing out and laying in an exhausted but thoroughly content pile.

---

Schaefer entered the common room a few hours after leaving the med-bay, having had a bite to eat and typing out a few more letters before deciding to search out the sniper Dingo. The room was mostly empty with just a couple Hounds watching TV, Rose surfing the Fed-net and Sam reading a book whilst idly chewing on a jaw trainer; a device created specifically for the predatory races to keep their jaw muscles in shape.

Corporal White, better known as "Deadeye", was there as well, sitting on a recliner in a corner, listening to music with his eyes closed.

Rose was the first one to notice Schaefer and he shouted "Officer on deck!" whilst snapping to attention, followed soonafter by all the other Hounds except Deadeye, who apparently had the volume of his headphones cranked way up.

"At ease, as you were." Schaefer replied automatically whilst continuing at a brisk pace through the room and everyone else returned to their previous activities.

Schaefer stopped in front of the Dingo, observing him for a brief moment. Jerry had his head buried in his paws, the slow, sad music blasting loud enough for even Schaefer to hear it. As the Dingo didn't seem to even notice him, the Colonel reached over to the music player and turned it off.

Jerry raised his head slowly, his angry expression melting into one of poorly hidden annoyance as he stood up, dropped his headphones and saluted "Sir!"

"At ease, Deadeye. I'd like to have a few words with you, so come with me." Schaefer said, trying his best to not sound as business-like as he usually was.

"With all due respect, Sir... I'd rather be left alone right now." Jerry said at length.

Schaefer, having already turned on his heels looked over his shoulder, his tone hardening just a touch to get the point across "That wasn't a request, corporal..."

Swallowing hard Jerry just nodded, ears pinned flat against his skull, and followed the Colonel out of the common room.

It didn't take long for Deadeye to realize they weren't heading for Schaefer's office. "Sir? Where are we going?"

"My quarters. I've still got some work to do and I believe the more informal atmosphere there is more suitable for our conversation." Schaefer replied in a tone that suggested the conversation was, for now at least, well and truly over.

In silence the two of them made the treck through the ship to Schaefer's quarters, the sound of boots clomping against metal grating the only noise in the air aside from the occasional humm of air recyclers or other pieces of machinery.

Schaefer unlocked the door and gestured for Jerry to enter, following right behind the Dingo and locking the door behind him.

The Colonel took his seat by the desk and swung it around to face Jerry, gesturing towards the bed "Have a seat, Deadeye."

Jerry obeyed the Colonel's request and took seat, sitting hunched and staring at the floor, asking "What did you want to talk about, Sir?"

"Even a blind guy can see with his arsehole that you're not well, Deadeye... and I think I know why it is. You and Buzzsaw... Christopher... Were fairly close, by my understanding." Schaefer's tone was soft and friendly, almost fatherly, as he spoke.

"I'd... I'd really rather not talk about it, Sir." Jerry replied slowly, giving a little shake of his head.

The Colonel sighed inwardly. This wasn't going to be easy...

"I understand this is a delicate subject to you, Deadeye, but I'm afraid I have to pressure you here to talk about it. Not only because you're the best damn sniper in the unit and I, as a commanding officer, need you to be on your A-game, but because you've been given to my care and I hate to see my boys suffer."

Jerry screwed his eyes shut hard and shook his head lightly, fighting back the hot tears that burned his eyes. The Colonel apparently wasn't going to relent, so Jerry figured he might just as well spill the beans "Yes, we were close. Well... We'd just kind of gotten close, really, but we'd already figured we'd tour the Federation for a while once our commissions ended, maybe even go see the senate building on Eden Prime. Then we figured we'd settle down somewhere, I'd apply for engineering school and he'd pick up a job as an automechanic or something."

"He certainly was a fine combat engineer and a real miracle worker with machinery; no denying that."

The Dingo buried his head firmly into his paws, choking down the sobs that threatened to gush forth.

Schaefer hesitated for a moment before standing up and walking across the room, taking a seat next to the distraught sniper "Just let it out, corporal..." He said softly, fingers interlaced on his lap.

"I... No, Sir. A good sniper feels nothing but the recoil of his rifle and I'm a damn fine sn-sniper... Best motherfuckin', Machala-forsaken sniper in the u-unit..."

"That's a pile of textbook propaganda bullshit and you know it, Deadeye. There's no shame in admitting you feel bad for losing someone you cared about. Just don't bottle it all inside..."

Deadeye let out a noise that sounded like someone was choking him, his shoulders twitching a couple of times before he burst into sobbing "I just... I shouldn't..." He stammered, tears rolling down his face despite his best efforts to hold them back.

Schaefer put an arm onto the sniper's shoulders, petting his head softly with the other paw "It's going to be alright, Deadeye..." The Colonel whispered, cradling the Dingo softly against himself. There were times when he had to be the CO, the Alpha dog, the Leader of the Pack... but sometimes he had to also be a mentor and, dare he even think about it, a father figure. These were his boys, his Pack, entrusted to his care by the Hi-Com and he'd be damned if he wasn't going to take care of them like they were the family a career soldier like he had never had.

Exhaustion must've taken its toll on the Dingo, as Schaefer soon realized Deadeye was out cold like a light, curled into a ball with his head on the Colonel's lap. Gently the Colonel squirmed his way away from the Dingo, letting the exhausted marine sleep it out on his bed.

"I have some more work to do anyway... Sleep well, Deadeye." Schaefer thought idly to himself as he took a seat by his desk computer again, getting back to work.

---

Jake was walking slowly through the winding corridors, the lithe Fox's tail swishing happily from side to side and his paws deep in his pockets. There was still a pleasant heat under his tail from his romp with Iceman in one of the lavatories, the fresh memories of the Collie's strong body pumping against him making the Fox's lips curl up in a smile.

His smile faded, however, as he spotted an unpleasantly familiar sight of Ghost -in full body armour as usual- walking towards him along the corridor, the Shade's footsteps making barely any noise on the metal grating.

The Fox turned his gaze to the side and quickened his step to get away from the creepy guy as fast as possible. Ghost had always given him the chills and who could blame him? Everything about the rodent just oozed menace and bloodlust.

All of a sudden, just as Jake was passing by Ghost, the Shade grabbed him by the chest of his shirt and smacked him roughly against the cold steel wall. Jake yelped in surprise, but was too winded to struggle much.

Ghost turned his head slowly to look Jake in the eye and, for a good few seconds, the Shade operative just stood there as if thinking something. Then the most unexpected thing happened...

Ghost reached up to unlock his helmet and it opened slowly with a soft hiss. The Mouse removed his helmet with one hand, revealing his cold but handsome features, a determined scowl on his face.

Jake blinked in surprise, finding himself trembling in a mixture of anxiety and fear. What the hell was going on?

Suddenly Ghost moved forward and Jake closed his eyes, only to feel the lips of the mouse pressing roughly and quite crudely against his! In shock the Fox opened his eyes, but was too thunderstruck to react in any other way.

Ghost held his lips against Jake's for a while, a deep frown on his face, before breaking away roughly and dropping the Fox down onto the floor. Ghost placed his helmet back onto his head, muttering "What's the point of this action?"

With his helmet locked back in place, Ghost turned to look at Jake again, the Fox withering under the menacing presence of the Shade.

"Speak of this to anyone and I'll gut you like a fish..." Ghost said before striding off, the mechanical warping in his voice making Jake shiver in terror.

For a good few minutes the Fox just sat there, going the event over in his head again and again, trying to make sense of it.

*****

In the snaking tunnels underneath the colony the humans had put up a valiant defense for already a week at one of their designated strongpoints. A large chamber at the end of a long, straight corridor barely wide enough to let two fully armoured Templar warriors to walk side by side had served it's purpose.

The enemy was forced to run down the bottleneck corridor with no cover whilst the defenders pumped bullets into them from behind positions built of sandbags and steel plates. A couple of times the sheer number of enemies had carried them all the way down the corridor, but they had been met with a merciless wall of fire from dedicated flamer units.

Inquisitor superior Antonius was pleased with their progress. They'd had to abandon the command centre, but the strongpoint was holding. The enemy had only two options if they wanted to get past the defensive position and into the deeper caverns containing all the non-combatants: to run the gauntlet, or dig their way through solid rock that had been booby trapped with dozens of mole charges; a task that would take at the very least a month.

Now, however, everything was quiet. The abominations had ceased to throw wave after wave of soldiers through the corridor, forced to deploy fire and plasma occasionally to clean a path through the piling corpses.

But now it was quiet... Too quiet, in fact. No sounds of officers shouting orders, no boots thumping on metal plating, no nothing.

Antonius rotated the torso of his suit to look at the Templar warrior in a highly ornate silvered power armour next to him. Marshal Jeremiah Begundi was the most highly decorated and renowned member of his order in the entire Terran Imperium, a veteran of a hundred battles. The marshal gave a reassurring nod at the Inquisitor superior; a gesture which Antonius returned by making a slight bow with his suit.

Suddenly the lights in the charnelhouse corridor went out with an electric pop and fizzle, the lamps embedded into the walls dying in showers of sparks, the systems in Antonius' combat harness going haywire for a second before returning to normal.

A murmur of unease, like ripples in water, went through the defenders at the peculiar phenomenon.

"A localised EMP?" Antonius muttered to himself, swapping his suits vision to night sight, but the corridor was empty.

Marshall Begundi planted one of his armoured boots onto the sandbag wall and raised his massive two-handed sword above his head to draw everyone's attention, clearly intent on giving a speech to boost the morale and dispell the mens' unease.

Not a single word passed the Marshall's lips, however, as there was a muffled "thwip" followed by the Marshall's head snapping back, a smoking hole in the left lens of his helmet; a masterful shot. The Marshal's body toppled backwards as if in slow motion, the servos in his armour whirring and groaning as they struggled to keep him upright.

Antonius' expression was one of shock, but he recovered fast, scanning the corridor which still seemed empty. He switched rapidly through various filters on his sensors; thermal, ultraviolet and, finally, electric emissions. His eyes widened in shock as the filter just barely outlined several shapes in the corridor. Two were running down the corridor, whilst two were kneeling at the end of it with what appeared to be sniper rifles.

The second that it took for Antonius' brains to process the information and tell his body to squeeze the trigger of his laser catlings was a second he didn't have. Two bullets smashed cleanly though the hull of his combat suit. Two nigh-impossible shots, one smashing into the reactor of his suit, causing it to perform an immediate emergency shutdown, the other one passing through Antonius' abdomen and into the spare powercell of the suit, leaving him completely and utterly helpless, practically entombed inside the crippled machine.

Slowly, his suit fell backwards and, since the impact dampers were not functioning, the resultant crash shook the wounded Inquisitor superior badly, causing him to hit his head and black out. The last thing he heard before losing consciousness was the muffled sounds of screaming, shouting and shooting...

---

The sound of tearing metal brought Antonius slowly back to. A long, slightly curved blade -sharpened on both sides and humming quietly, Antonius observed- had been stabbed through his suit, the tip of it hovering just an inch from his face. A second blade identical to the first one tore into the suit next to the first,followed by the two blades slicing down along the body of the armour, tearing massive gashes into it.

"So they want me alive?" Antonius thought croggily, his head pounding and his vision slightly blurry from the pain.

As more metal was bodily torn from the hull of his suit leaving a hole big enough for a man to be dragged through, Antonius popped open a hidden compartment in the suit and grabbed a grenade from it, holding the grenade hidden against his body by faking to be nursing the wound in his stomach as an arm covered in matt-black armour reached inside and dragged him out of the suit.

His captor was definitely bigger than Antonius, dangling the Inquisitor superior by the chest of his clothes. On the assailant's forearms were two sleek devices from which the tips of curved blades protruded, the enemy covered from head to toe in slender black armour. Something about the size and physique of the foe reminded Antonius of a bear.

Antonius chanced a glance about himself. The lights were flickering in the room, the stench of blood heavy in the air. All about him the broken bodies of the defenders littered the blood-drenched floor, bringing a moan of fury and pain from the Inquisitor.

Three more figures in black armour similar to the one holding Antonius appeared. They were all considerably smaller than the brute, two of them holding massive sniper rifles in their hands, whilst the third one was armed with some kind of an SMG and a sword.

"Mission complete. Casualties?" The brute holding Antonius asked, his voice made all the more chilling by the warping, mechanical echo given to it by the suit's speakers.

"One hundred percent enemy casualties. Zero friendlies. Wraith, secure the target for transport. Marksman, Hawkeye, provide cover and make sure nothing sneaks up on us." The one with a sword said. The two snipers and the brute nodded, the snipers spinning about and dropping on one knee, scanning the room with their guns for any signs of movement.

The brute curled his free hand into a fist, about to knock Antonius out, but the Inquisitor superior had no intention of letting that happen. He flung his arms outwards, the pin of the fusion grenade in one hand, the grenade in the other.

"You won't get me, filth!" Antonius snarled. The grenade was on a three second timer, not enough for the enemy to react.

Sudden, sharp pain exploded in Antonius' wrist, accompanied by the sounds of metal slicing metal and flesh, the world seeming to slow down for a few seconds as the man turned his head to look at the hand holding the grenade.

The top third of the grenade, containing the fuse, had been cut off, as had the Inquisitor's hand. In mute shock Antonius watched at the blood dripping from his wrist, unable to believe what had just happened.

The top of the grenade let out a bang as the fuse burned out, but the grenade, meant to kill everyone within several metres, had been neutered in one fell swoop.

A light electric halo outlined a fifth assassin who had just deactivated his invisibility, the swordsman standing in a calm pose with a pair of shortened vibro katanas in hands, his black armour enhanced with extra plates of segmented armour on the shoulders and hips, reminding Antonius -distantly- of a picture he had seen in a history book once, though he couldn't quite figure out which book and where.

"Oni, about time you showed up. Good to see you, brother." The brute, Wraith, grunted.

"The perimeter is secure, I chased down the last few enemies who made a run for it." the newcomer said, his voice just as chilling as the others'. The newcomer turned to look at the one with a single sword and an SMG, disapproval obvious in his voice "You got careless, Spectre, and the same applies to all of you. You failed to check if the target had any hidden weapons, almost resulting in a catastrophic failure of the mission."

Spectre bowed his head slightly "I agree. I will see to it that we go through appropriate penance once the mission is complete."

"Good... Now, secure the target. We'll be leaving in less than one minute." Oni snarled whilst sheathing his swords onto his side.

Wraith turned to look at the shocked Inquisitor superior, the brute's hand curling once more into a fist. This time there was nothing Antonius could do to stop the fist from colliding with his face, knocking him out for the second time.

The fate awaiting Antonius was to be one worse than death after the five Shade operatives vanished with their prey. No official explanation was ever given why, at that moment, all units of the regular military had been ordered to withdraw until further notice.

Once the regular troopers returned, they were greeted with nothing but utter carnage in the previously impenetrable defenses, giving birth to rumours and wild stories of ghosts and other spiritual beings striking down their enemies.

With Antonius gone and Marshal Begundi dead, the back of the defenders' morale had been snapped and the rest of the colony fell in less than a week, everyone slaughtered with no quarter given.

To the furries the Sade campaign was a glorious -if costly- victory. To the ragged remains of the human Imperium it was a painful loss, one from which they would be hard-pressed to recover, but none the less it served to further steel their resolve.

Several light years away from the Sade system, on board the prototype stealth ship Lance of Longinus, the now one-armed Inquisitor Rodigus swore silent, bloody revenge upon the Raging Hounds and especially against the leader of the Pack; Colonel Edward J. Schaefer.

The war was far from over...

*****

+++++

From: codename "Ghost"

To: <>

Subject: Subject 14487

My Masters, observations provide a 96% probability subject 14487 has reached full maturity (see mission log ref. h-144/b.56 and post-mission medical log 0055674b.). Terminate and harvest?

+++++

+++++

From: <>

To: codename "Ghost"

Subject: re:Subject 14487

Negative. This is a rare opportunity to observe a successful, mature Dragonrager in actual live missions. Continue observing the subject, gather data and report regularly. Also maintain observation of the 12th Marine Company "Raging Hounds" as normal. Project Brotherhood is, after all, indirectly related to subject 14487. Federation prevails.

+++++

*****

Phew... It took a long-ass while to get all this done, but I really hope you all have enjoyed the story of The Raging Hounds thus far! As the description says, this story marks the end of the first "book" in their saga and there's definitely more material planned.

However, due to certain real-life issues, I don't dare to make any guesstimations on how long it'll take for the next installment to be finished. I might even try and have that one published in actual book form!

~Rhaz