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FOX Academy:

Book I - The New Breed

Book II - The Werewolf of Odessa

The Werewolf of Odessa - Chapter 8 - Meet the Stalker

Silver couldn't take his eyes off the glasses that lay before him in the rubble. He was aware of activity around him. A pair of black shoes, dust on highly polished toecaps, appeared near his snout. Looking up he saw one of the security staff leaning over him, his mouth was moving but no sound issued. Silver realized that the world had gone silent.

He shook his head and pressed a paw against one ear. A buzzing sound grew as the clamour of the outside world began to penetrate, sirens, shouting, the crackle of flames. He did the same for the other ear and now the chaos came to him in stereo. He made out that the guard was asking if he was okay and he nodded as he let himself be helped up.

He didn't touch the glasses; the Bomb Squad would want them in situ to help analyze the blast. He got the guard's attention and pointed to the glasses. The guard nodded in understanding. Silver picked his way carefully through the hole where the front doors had been.

Outside was a scene from a war zone. The security detail had produced body armour and assault weapons and had established a perimeter around the building. Other guards were taking up positions farther away to keep the tourists and other unauthorized personnel away from the area. A burning hulk that had once been some of Detroit's finest stood by the curb a hundred feet away, the lawn between it and the headquarters blackened and smouldering. Chunks of twisted steel and burning rubber littered the area.

There was a body at the base of the stairs. It lay on its back, toes and snout pointed skyward, smoke rising from fur singed brown. The left arm lay on the ground parallel to the body, but the right was sticking up from the elbow, something clutched in its paw. It took Silver a moment to recognize Algorath without his white fur and glasses.

Silver approached the body, careful not to disturb any evidence. Kneeling beside it, he automatically went through the emergency first aid sequence that all the agents took refresher training in each year. He checked the airway; it looked clear. He checked for breathing; there was none. He pressed in the carotid artery to check for circulation; ten seconds, nothing, twenty seconds, nothing, thirty seconds ... wait. Was that a faint pulse?

Silver forced himself to remain calm and block out the interference from the outside world and waited. There it was again! The young fox was still alive!

"Get me a medic over here!" Silver shouted to the nearest guard then he positioned Kain's head and gave him two quick breaths, watching for the chest to rise and fall. Seeing that the air was getting in, he continued to breath for him, his snout locked on Algorath's, two digits of the left paw plugging the nostrils so the air didn't escape. After fifteen breaths, he leaned back and checked the artery again. The pulse was more regular, no need for CPR then, he thought, and continued to apply artificial respiration.

The sound of running feet behind him. Someone dropped to the ground beside him, a Ferret in a firefighter's uniform. The Ferret had a breathing bag and was attaching a facemask suitable for foxes. As soon as he had it together, Silver backed away and let him take over. He told the Ferret about the pulse but the Ferret already had a paw on the artery and was counting the beats. Another firefighter joined them and the two began calling out Algorath's statistics for the doctors on the other end of the radio they held.

Silver looked around. How had Algorath's body ended up here, he wondered. He should have been blown straight up through the canvass roof and be a lot crispier than he was if the bomb went off when he started the car. Even if it was rigged to blow when the door was opened the explosion should have crushed him and set him on fire.

One of the firefighters pressed the elevated paw down to the ground. Silver looked at it, expecting to see the keys to his Firebird in its grasp. The Ferret pried the paw open and revealed a rectangle of green circuit board. He put it aside, more concerned with checking the paw for wounds. Silver picked it up and examined it.

The piece of board was about 10 centimetres long and two wide. One side was covered with wires and components, the other with lines of solder connecting them together. At one end there were two rocker switches. Someone, Algorath he assumed for now, had written 'On/Off' beside one and 'Up/Down' beside the other with a fine black marker.

Silver remembered Kain's offer to build him a remote starter for the Firebird. He claimed he could start the car and put the roof up or down from three hundred feet away. Well, he was a little closer than that, Silver noted, but the distance between the curb and the building had probably saved his life, for now.

"How is he?" Silver asked the Ferret. "Is he going to make it?"

"Too soon to tell." The firefighter replied. "Burns aren't too bad but there's a lot of glass and chrome stuck in him. Doesn't seem to have pierced anything vital but the docs will have to remove it slowly in case it goes a gusher. The real problem is internal injuries. His abdomen is hard and he's in shock so he's likely bleeding internally. The reassure from the blast could have damaged his organs; no way to tell which ones until they open him up." The Ferret looked at Silver and assessed his ability to handle the truth. "I'd give him a twenty percent chance."

The other firefighters had the car out now and an ambulance was approaching. Silver stood up and backed away from Algorath as they prepared him for the gurney. He looked around, at the burnt-out hulk, the crowds gathering in the distance, the guards stringing security tape 300 meters away. A white van with a satellite dish pulled up to the tape, the colourful logo on the side identifying it as one of the national networks. Silver headed back inside before they could get a camera with a telephoto lens out. Better send out an alert and call the Chief of Staff, he thought, aware that Tanner's job of convincing the Minister to let FOX handle this affair itself had just gotten considerably more difficult.

* * * * * * * *

Vikki and Marcel had taken the fastest route possible back from the Ukraine and arrived back in Ottawa in the early evening. Vikki had left her car in the long-term parking lot and they took the shuttle there to pick it up. They drove back to the Academy in silence, wondering who had been killed; the alert they had received as they were leaving Odessa had only referred to multiple deaths and they had not had an update since then.

Seeing the TV vans gathered at the main entrance to the Central Experimental Farm, the facility that also served to house the Foreign Operations eXecutive headquarters, Vikki circled around to a side gate that was closed to the public. It opened in response to the transponder the techs had installed in her car. She drove around the long way to keep out of the sight of the media and parked behind the headquarters building. Leaving their luggage in the trunk for now they jogged around the building to the front entrance.

Someone had erected screens across the road, blocking the view from the farm's blocked entrance so personnel could come and go without fear of showing up on the eleven o'clock news. The front of the building was likewise shrouded in canvas and construction noises came from behind it. Some workers were scrubbing the street in front of the building and others were laying new turf on the lawn. By morning, Vikki estimated, all traces of whatever had happened here would be gone. A number of workers stood about on the periphery, mostly large canines; a security detail Vikki realized, but they were strangers, not Academy personnel.

She and Marcel were directed to a side door. Inside they showed their passes again and were directed to the Operations Centre. At least the security inside is still our people, she thought, we haven't been taken over completely yet.

Inside the Ops Centre their former classmate Bill 'Professor' Hanlan, Silver and the Chief of Staff greeted them. Both looked fresh and well rested, more so than her, she noted; she always had trouble sleeping on airplanes. She didn't know that they had both only managed a few hours after almost thirty-six hours of intense activity.

"Welcome back," Silver said, "to our newly renovated facilities, courtesy of the Perfect Stalker"

They brought Vikki and Marcel up to date. The Professor told them of the assignation of Hirt and the discovery of the still-active listening device. He finished with his analysis of the recording from the bug and the material that Marcel had managed to photograph from the Werewolf's safe.

"We're looking for a radar installation on an island. Some place with parabolic, phased array and doppler antennae." He handed them a list of specifications. "It must be in the northern hemisphere, preferably in the arctic if it is to be of any use as an interceptor for American and Russian missiles. Unfortunately none of the material contained a map or the island's coordinates, so it could be anywhere from Shanghai to Sweden. The only other clues we have are these." He threw two enlargements from Marcel's photos on the table and they began passing them around.

The first showed some text in Ukrainian. One English word 'Footloose' stood out. An inked translation of the phrase it was in indicated that it was the name of the radar installation.

The second image was of a document written in Chinese characters. Two characters were circled and the translation noted that this was the name of the operation, 'Resolute'.

"I thought that their operation was called 'Project 191'." Marcel said. "Could Aleksy have translated incorrectly?"

Silver picked up the photo and studied the characters. "This document mentions both 'Project 191' as the Chinese name and the island operation as being called 'Resolute'. The character 'Jue' means determined and 'Xin' means heart or mind. Together as 'Juexin' they mean resolute, determined or resolution." Silver put the photo down and thought for a minute. "I keep thinking that there must be some Canadian connection, besides the money laundering, otherwise why go to so much trouble to eliminate all the FOX agents? Isn't there a town in the Arctic called Resolute?"

Hanlan answered, "Yes, on Cornwallis Island in Nunavut territory. It's also called Resolute Bay, but the only radar on the island is single weather radar. It doesn't match the description at all. Besides, the army has a new installation up there, they would have picked up the emissions of any new radars in the vicinity."

"What about 'Footloose'?" Gold asked.

"There was a musical movie from 1984 starring Kevin Bacon called Footloose, and the Kenny Loggins hit song of the same name from it, but no Canadians were involved with either." The Professor said. "Then there's a Footloose travel Agency that specializes in walking tours of the West Coast and Alaska but it seems unconnected. I also found a Dutch band called Footloose that has a recording of the Golden Erring hit 'Radar Love' posted on Youtube; doesn't seem like the Werewolf's kind of music. Nothing in Resolute Bay has any connection to any of them."

"That's too bad." Silver intoned. "This description sure sounds like one of the old DEW line Radar bases and I was hoping that we'd find one active near there."

"Do-line?" Marcel asked.

"The Defence Early Warning Line." It was Gold that answered this time. "There were three different lines of air defence constructed in Canada during the Cold War. The DEW Line was the primary line of air defence warning of an over the pole invasion of the North American continent. It was built along the 70th parallel, in the high arctic. South of it along the 55th parallel was the Mid Canada Line, also known as the McGill Fence. Its purpose was to detect enemy aircraft that had penetrated south of the DEW Line into the heart of North America. The third layer was the Pine Tree Line. It was built along the 50th parallel and was the first to become operational, the last to be shut down. There was one just a couple of hours drive north of here, in Foymount." Gold looked around at the group staring at him. "I, uh, served as an Air Cadet in Montreal and we had to learn that stuff." He looked slightly embarrassed.

"Hmm." Hanlan looked thoughtful. "Let me check something out. I'll be back." He wandered over to one of the research workstations.

"What about the Academy?" Vikki enquired. "I noticed a lot of unfamiliar faces outside."

"RCMP." Gold said flatly. "Until the situation with the Stalker is resolved they are in charge of exterior security and all personnel screening. They believe that the stalker may have infiltrated the Academy; so do we." Gold went over the facts, as they knew them to that point. "The Duty officer reported Algorath as dead initially. He's still not out of the woods yet I'm afraid. With Hirt being shot, the near-death of Algorath and the discovery of the Beaver's body our list of suspects is growing shorter."

"Where there any clues from the explosion or the body?" She asked.

"The car was rigged with C4, military plastic explosive; probably black market stuff from Iraq or Afghanistan. It was a professional job, but the Stalker couldn't anticipate Algorath adding a remote. The full autopsy on the Beaver won't be back for a least a week, everything has to go through the RCMP now and they are not putting a priority on it. The preliminary exam on site indicated that the claws were sharp and curved, probably not canine, could be feline; unfortunately, we didn't recover any foreign hairs from the wounds. From the length of the cuts and the spread they came from a creature with powerful arms and wide paws." Gold looked pointedly at Silver "Like one of the big cats, Leopard maybe."

"Yeah, well, we have to talk about that." Silver said

Bill Hanlan came back from the other workstation with some papers in his hand. He placed them on the centre of the table where they all could see that he had printed a selection of maps and satellite images from the Internet. The first image was of a barren rocky island shaped like a guitar pick. The second image was a close-up of one of its peninsulas that rose straight up from the surrounding sea. Vikki could see several small dots on the plateau above the sheer cliff and some lines on the ground. The third image showed that the dots were a series of buildings and structures, the lines were roads carved into the living rock. Vikki reached over and turned the photo so that the structures looked upright and their shadows fell away from her point of view; now she could identify the structures as radar towers, arrays and dishes. She compared then with the list Bill had given them earlier and they seemed to be a match. The last page was a simple Google map of the island, with its name printed on it.

"Bingo."

* * * * * * * *

In her room, Ophelia was preparing herself for the mission she had come here to fulfil. Bottles and vials of ingredients that she had purchased from hobby shops and pharmacies over a few weeks time stood on her desk. A can of deodorant that she had brought with her, kept carefully aside in the years since her husband's death, lay nearby; its bottom unscrewed to reveal the secret compartment inside. It had held the last of the vital ingredient, the one she couldn't purchase legally unless she was representing an accredited toxicology lab.

She had used the last of her supply, but if all went well she wouldn't need any more after tonight. She carefully poured the sticky compound she had created into a bowl and placed a sponge beside it. On the other side, she placed the syringe with the antitoxin, enough for one dose, twelve hours of protection. If she couldn't get Silver alone before the dose wore off, she would have to figure out another way of killing him.

She looked at her watch. Silver usually went to his room or the lounge to watch the news at eleven o'clock. If she hurried, she could be in position to intercept him. She Picked up the syringe and flexed her arm to make the veins pop. With practised ease, she injected the antitoxin. Next, she dipped the sponge in the bowl where it soaked up most of the potion.

She pulled on latex gloves and picked up the sponge. Pursing her lips, she applied the gooey substance like lip-gloss, remembering how her husband had commented on the sweet taste that last night. Ophelia replaced the sponge, soaking up the remainder. She opened her robe and stood, putting one foot on the chair. Hunching over she spread her vulva with one hand and picked up the sponge with the other. The potion would last longer and be more potent inside where the air and light couldn't get at it, she knew. She saw that she still had a little left in the sponge so she wiped around her tailhole too; best to cover all bases, she thought, there's no telling what the old prick would be up for.

She dressed in clothes that she had selected earlier; a yellow thong, short-shorts, tight tube top and sandals with heels. She threw a wool coat over it all, ready to reveal when the time was right, and headed out of the dorm.

She waited in the shadows at the junction of the trails leading from the headquarters to the senior agents' quarters and the lounge. Two foxes left the building and headed her way, a tall female and a short male, both dragging wheeled suitcases. She melted into the bushes until they had passed. A few minutes later the door opened again and the tall Silver fox appeared. He too headed her way.

This time she stayed on the trail, where he was sure to see her. A slight change in his pace and the way he held his arms indicated that he had spotted her. He casually undid the buttons on his jacket as he approached. Ophelia pulled her paws from her pockets and let her arms dangle at her sides to show that she was not holding a weapon; with all the ruckus around her in the last twenty-four hours she wouldn't blame him for shooting at anything suspicious. He stopped three meters away, one paw behind his back, the other cupped as if holding something.

"What do you want Sommer?"

"Is there somewhere warm where we go? We need to talk, privately."

Silver nodded as if he had been expecting that answer. "The instructor's lounge at the school." He indicated that she should go ahead of him. They walked to the school in silence. Once there she used her pass to open the outer doors. Silver used his to open the door to the instructor's wing where students were not allowed. He pointed to the first door on the right and she entered the room to find it full of comfortable chairs and couches; perfect.

Silver stood just inside the door. Ophelia turned to him and dropped her coat to the floor, revealing the tempting outfit she wore. She walked straight up to him and pressed her body against his, rubbed her head on the underside of his muzzle, lifted a leg and wrapped it around one of his. She began to purr, not the fake purr that felines could produce at will when they are after something, but a genuine deep-throated 'prrumm'; she was thinking about how easy this would be.

Silver didn't move. "You can stop that right now." He said flatly. "I came here to talk and only to talk."

"I have nothing that I need to talk about." She pressed against him harder, slid one paw down between his legs. "I want you. I've been obsessed with you since that day on the range, and since you saved me on the tower I haven't stopped imagining you and me, together." She stood on her toes and went to kiss him.

Silver turned his head before she could connect. "Oh bullshit. Wait until the seduction training is complete before you try something like this okay? It's embarrassing and it isn't the way to get the answers you want."

Ophelia stepped back and tried to hold her rising anger in check. "You don't understand; I don't need answers, I need you. I need you now." She rolled the tube top up around her neck, revealing her large, firm breasts. She raised both paws to them and rubbed the nipples erect, slowly. Seeing no reaction from the fox she began to unbutton her shorts.

"Stop it, just stop it will you." Silver looked away and held up one paw as if to ward her off. He sounded old and tired suddenly. "You don't know what you are doing."

She stopped, leaving the shorts open to show the bright yellow thong and the mound of her sex beneath it. She approached again. Silver didn't resist, but he didn't take her in his arms either. She tried to nip his neck, but his chin blocked her. She tried to undo his shirt but he pushed her paw away. In desperation she plunged, one paw into his pants to fondle what she was sure would be a rapidly inflating member, only to find a limp noodle. She looked up; the expression of wounded patience on his face was enough to convince her that she had failed.

"What the hell is wrong with me?" She demanded as she stepped away. "What the hell is wrong with you? Aren't you supposed to be the playboy of the western spy agencies? The lady killer, the cruise missile of love?" Ophelia was almost in tears now. "Why won't you at least kiss me?"

"You don't understand, Sommer. There's two reasons why I can't do this, let me explain."

"Forget it. I should have known better." The anger was rolling back full force now. "You fucked my Father over real good but you won't touch me! How you must hate us all." And with that she grabbed her coat and ran around him to the door.

"Sommer! Ophelia! Wait!" But it was too late; she had already fled the instructors wing.

Ophelia turned down the hall toward the classroom; still half undressed she was not ready to face the chill and she did not want Silver catching up to her in the lobby. Tears of anger and frustration, and a little bit of shame, flowed down her cheeks. How dare he? Two reasons? He hated felines and he hated felines. They all hated her, even Algorath just wanted to fuck her before they kicked her off the course. She burst into their classroom.

"Whatta fuck?"

Nelson Knight, the biggest pain in the ass since hemorrhoids were invented, was going through her desk.

He didn't even bother looking guilty; he just closed the desk and stood behind it frowning. "What are you doing here Sommer?" Then he noticed the exposed breasts, the open shorts; his maw dropped open and his eyes bulged. Maybe the evening wouldn't be a total waste, she thought. She leaned seductively back against the door.

"Why I'm looking for a real male, Knight. Seen any around?"

Knight grinned; this was more like what he was used too. In High school and college females had acted like this when he broke school, province and national records in the pool. Even in the RCMP, a few had come looking for the new fox that was built like a wolf. He came around the desk with a grin, reaching for her.

Ophelia didn't retreat. She dropped her coat and met him with open arms, pressing her mouth to his as his paws sought her breasts. She felt his tongue exploring inside her and she drew back to suck on it squeezing it with her lips until most of the gloss was transferred, then she clamped her maw on his again to spread the love, and the potion, around.

Unfamiliar with foreplay from lack of necessity, Nelson was already pulling at her shorts and thong. She glanced down and saw that he had dropped his track pants to his knees revealing a respectable erection, red and throbbing in eager anticipation. He even had a condom clenched in one paw! Talk about always being prepared, he must keep some tucked in his underwear for emergencies like this, she thought. If he had his way he would be wrapped and in and done without absorbing any more of the toxic lotion, and she just wasn't sure that he had a large enough dose yet; he was pretty big.

"Hold on there Tiger." She put a paw on his head and pressed down. "You have to earn it first. Pressing harder, she thrust her pelvis at him as his snout drew level with her crotch. Knight's eyes brightened when he finally got the idea.

"Oh, yeah. Sure." He licked his lips.

Nelson peeled her shorts off her but left the thong, just pulled it away and off to one side. He licked at the short soft fuzz around her slit, saw the bare glistening flesh inside and ran his tongue along it.

"Uhmm." He moaned. "Tastes sweet. Did you put this on just for me baby?" His tongue lapped at the widening crevice, teasing the inner lips into blooming. He let the tip explore all of the creases, greedily sucking up the sweet nectar. Ophelia helped by spreading herself with her paws, letting his tongue get in deeper, licking her insides clean.

Her clitoris began to swell. Knight was licking busily around it, flicking it occasional with the tip of his tongue. Despite her hatred for him, she found herself becoming aroused. Her hips began to gyrate, forcing his snout into her, forcing his tongue to dive deeper. He seemed to be enjoying this, she observed, let's see how far we can push him.

She grabbed his ears and pulled his head back and away. His eyes were crossed and his tongue was still lapping in mid-air.

"Nelson. Nelll-ssson, hello. Earth calling Nelson." His eyes slowly uncrossed and he swallowed, retracting his tongue.

Ophelia turned, keeping her yes on the large fox least he try to become the aggressor, and gripped the knob of the classroom door, lowering her torso until her head was level with her ass. She watched him, kneeling between her legs, as her long, long tail wrapped itself around his neck. The tip of her tail poked his snout up a bit and over until it was aimed at the hole at its base. The tip tapped the tailhole, tapped at Nelson's snout and then waved back and forth between the two, like a spectator at a ping-pong match. Nelson's smile began to fade, he was growing nervous.

"Lick me Nelson." She purred, flexing her buttocks to make the hole wink at him. Lick me allll over and claim your reward." Nelson's grin returned. He gave a tentative lick between the two holes.

"Ah, ah, ah." She scolded.

Nelson licked a little higher, closer to the hole. He smacked his chops and smiled again. "Sweet, it's sweet too." He ran his tongue around the rim, on the edge of the most sensitive skin and liked what he tasted. Spreading her cheeks with both paws, he pressed in closer, his nose and chin against her crack, his tongue forcing its way into her anus. One thumb found her clit and began rubbing it in circles.

Ophelia let herself drift, only keeping part of her mind on what she was doing with the fox, the rest imagining how he would die. Paralysis would strike first, leaving him unable to move or talk but fully aware. Incredible pain would come next, survivors of this toxin, derived from the spines of poisonous fish, described it as having every bone in your body slowly crushed. Finally, the heart would quit, partly from the toxin, partly from the stress, unless the antitoxin was administered. Ophelia knew that the nearest antitoxin was six thousand miles away, as was the nearest diagnostician that would recognize the symptoms.

The thought of Knight frozen in agony gave her as much satisfaction as having him licking her tailhole to absorb more of the poison did and she moaned with pleasure.

"Yeah baby," he paused to speak, "I may be new at this but the Knightster is good at everything he sets out to do." His snout dove in again and soon his tongue was twirling inside her again. She let him continue until she was sure all the lotion was gone them used her tail to pull his head back again.

"Pick a hole Nelson. You've earned your reward."

The fox yipped in delight and jumped up. He ripped open the foil around the condom and fumbled to get it on, missing each time in his excitement.

"Give it to me." She demanded, reaching back with one paw. Nelson handed it over. Ophelia put it to her lips and blew, inflating the condom. Pinching the end so that the air couldn't escape she extended one claw ... and popped it. Flinging the tattered sheath to the floor she snarled, "Get on with it."

Nelson looked shocked. Then Nelson looked down at her undulating ass and glistening holes. Then he saw a third, guiltless eye, looking back up at him from between his legs. He decided.

"Call me a traditionalist." He said and thrust the full length of his vibrating cock into her cunt.

Ophelia gasped, but not with pain; the lotion she had spread served as a lubricant. She gasped because this meant that Nelson would get a full dose, and then some, sealing his fate. Now she relaxed and enjoyed the sensation of his cock sliding in and out of her, the ridge underneath rubbing against her swollen clit, the tip pushing on the sensitive spot inside her with each drive.

She held on tight to the door as his hips moved faster and faster, feeling his balls bounce against her just off the beat. He was rising up on his toes now, lifting her onto hers as he strove to drive deeper.

"Oh, baby. I'm comin' baby, I'm almost there." He gasped, and Ophelia laughed, thinking, no Nelson, you're not coming, you're going, you just don't know it yet. The joy of revenge, coupled with the contraction of the muscles when she laughed made her insides squeeze his sliding member hard against her G spot and that brought her to orgasm just before he did. The spreading fire drew a thin scream of triumph from her as Nelson shuddered and jerked behind her, his cock pulsing each time the spunk shot through it to paint her insides.

Panting, saliva dripping from his jaw onto her back, Nelson took a minute to recuperate, but no more than that. His pulse and breathing back to normal, he pulled his deflated member from her and stepped back to pull up his track pants.

"So, what do say we meet here again after supper tomorrow night?" He proposed as he examined his teeth for stray hairs in the chrome of a desk lamp. "Or maybe we could get a motel room and some wine, take our time eh?"

"Forget it Nelson," she said as she looked around for some paper towels or a cloth to wipe herself with, "that was a one-time deal."

"Oh come on Sommer, you know you loved it. I can tell. You'll be back looking for more of the Knight's lance before the week is out."

"Don't bet on it, and believe me when I tell you, you'll never have sex that good ever again." Not unless you get it within about forty-eight hours, she added to herself.

Ophelia abandoned her search for towels and threw her heavy wool coat over her nakedness. She left Knight snickering at her audacity.

* * * * * * * *

Back in her suite Vikki was unpacking, placing each item back where it belonged if it was clean and serviceable, put it aside for the laundry or replenishment if it wasn't. I really should get duplicates of all this stuff, she thought, it would save a lot of time on each end of the trips.

As she moved from cupboard to cabinet, she tried to think about where her relationship, if one could call it that, with Silver was going. In the Headquarters, he had been all business, greeting her and treating her the same as he did Marcel or Hanlan. She had expected him to show up here at her room, he said that he was going to take a break from the planning session the Professor's discovery had started. She had waited half an hour before unpacking, putting on some music, checking to see that she had a bottle of dry white wine in the fridge, lighting a scented candle, combing her fur, but her had not showed.

Now her mind worked on two levels, one itemizing toiletries as she pulled them from her bag, the other analyzing her love life. Toothpaste is getting low, buy more. Did he care for her or was she just convenient? Deodorant is fine. Maybe he thinks of this as therapy, 'screw 'em out of their depression' a dissertation by Dr. Silver. Mouthwash empty, get the whitening kind this time. Marcel seemed to be always hanging around her lately; maybe he was lonely. Tampon box still full, put it away till next month. Could Marcel have a crush on her? He was so young. Tampon box still full? She pulled it back off the shelf to verify that it was. Why doesn't that compute?

Then she remembered. She was overdue when she had packed it four days ago. Not only had she not needed any she was showing no sign of needing them anytime soon. God, I hope it isn't going to be one of those surprise periods, she mused. Her friend from Police College, Sandy, used to get them after her first pregnancy and ... wait a minute. No. It couldn't be. Could it?

Vikki dropped the box, ran to her computer and connected to the Internet. She opened the browser and googled her symptoms again separately, then all together. The word 'stress' showed up in several times, as did 'change of exercise intensity' and 'change of diet', but one word kept appearing more often than any other. But I had a period only a month ago, maybe, a small one at least. She added 'spotting' to the list of keywords and the word she dreaded game up in eight of the top ten sites found.

Vikki grabbed her coat and purse, forgetting about Silver, Marcel and scented candles for now. There was a twenty-four hour pharmacy on Carling Avenue near Island Park that she could get to in ten minutes if she followed the speed limit and caught all the lights.

She made it there in five and was back in fifteen. By the time thirty minutes had passed she was in the bathroom of her suite looking despondently at three different home pregnancy tests. One read 'yes', one had a plus sign and the last had a blue dot in the result window; all three meant positive ... as in I am positively screwed, she thought, the biggest mission in twenty years is about to go down and I'll be sidelined when the doctor reports this; or should that be 'if' the doctor reports this?

Vikki put the used tests and their packaging back in the store's bag and left to find a public trash container far from FOX Academy.

* * * * * * * *

Silver didn't bother chasing after Sommer; she was too upset to talk and he needed to mull over what she had said at the end. Didn't need any answers? Fucked her Father over? Who had she been talking to?

Instead, he walked over to the Academy hospital, where he had been headed before she waylaid him. The Academy maintained a small but fully equipped surgical suite to deal with training accidents, damaged agents and the occasional involuntary defector. The head of the facility, Doctor Jones, was waiting by the reception desk, frowning. He was an albino Wallaby from Sydney who had come to Canada to work for the Academy in the Sixties and had never gone back, and while he was used to the sort of work one was often called upon to do in the name of national security he did not approve of what Silver was about to attempt.

Silver made no attempt at politeness or diplomacy; he and the surgeon had not gotten along since the day he held a gun to the doctor and forced him to sew back on the head of someone widely believed to be a double agent.

"Is he awake?" Silver asked.

"No." the doctor replied. "I have not given him the shot yet. I think that this is a mistake. Waking him up in his state will kill him."

"There are things that we have to know, things only he can tell us."

"May, things he may be able to tell you; if his heart doesn't burst immediately."

"The Chief of staff called; otherwise you wouldn't be waiting here for me." Silver said.

"I'm doing this under protest." Jones was sure that the nurse on duty overheard.

"Aren't we all?"

They moved down the hall to the intensive care room. Kain was the only patient there. He was propped up in the hospital bed; in a drug-induced coma Silver had been told. His face and ears were swathed in bandages. His arms were shaved and coated with a gel to prevent infection. A sheet tucked under his arms covered the evidence of a marathon struggle by Dr. Jones to repair the internal damage. Tubes and wires coming from under the sheet connected him to a half-dozen machines.

"What are his chances?"

"Fifty-fifty on the organs holding together long enough to heal. Sixty percent chance of infection from the perforated bowel; twenty percent chance that the infection will be resistant to antibiotics. Three to two that the shock and loss of fluids from the burns will kill him. The lung we pulled the chrome door handle out of should re-inflate no problem and the broken ribs will heal. He has a chance, not a great chance but a chance. That's assuming that you change your mind and leave him alone, otherwise he's doomed."

"Give him the drug."

"This isn't some enemy agent you've hauled in here after the two of you filled each other with lead like during the Cold War Silver; this is one of ours, a student at that."

"Give him the drug."

"Jesus, you're a cold bastard Silver." Dr. Jones took a syringe already prepared from his pocket and uncapped it. He hesitated as he looked at Algorath. "Don't pull you gun on me, Silver," he growled, "I'm just trying to figure out where to inject it. It's been twenty years since I've used this stuff." He choose one of the clear tubes dripping fluid into Kain's arm and slowly emptied the syringe into it.

"You can leave us now."

"I should stay; the chances of an adverse reaction very high."

"I'll call you if any of the machines beeps or whistles." Silver said impatiently.

"You won't have to," the surgeon turned away in frustration, "but if this boy dies during your 'interrogation' Silver I'll see you out of FOX Academy once and for all."

Silver nodded absently, his eyes never leaving the patient, as the doctor left the room. The drug took only a minute to have an effect, but one that would only last for a few minutes. Silver knew that the doctor would refuse to administer a second dose so he had to work fast. Kain suddenly shook and snorted, like someone coming out of a deep sleep. His eyes fluttered but could not remain open.

"Algorath. Algorath. Can you hear me? It's Silver Algorath."

"Hmmm."

"Algorath. Kain. I need you to tell me something Kain. Something about electronics."

"Electrumphwas"

"Right, electronics. The remote starter on the Firebird, Kain; when did you build it?"

"Last nigh. Got my bag back from Joe ... Joel."

"When did you put it in the car?"

"Morning. Saw it in front on my way to breakfrost ... fast. When back to room to get it and put her in. Not the roof control. Need more time for the roof control, more parts, relays. Starter works though."

"Yes, you did a good job on the starter. Did you try it out before you came inside the headquarters?"

"No, no time. Thass why I rushed out before you, to test it. Something ...something went wrong ...didn't it?" Algorath was getting agitated; a sign that the drug was having an adverse effect.

"Not with the starter. It wasn't your fault. Somebody else sabotaged the car." Silver tried to speak quicker but keep the message clear and simple. "This is important Kain; did you see anything different, anything unusual in the car when you were putting the starter in?"

"Fish ..."

"Fish?"

"Fish ...scales."

"Fish scales? Like from the skin of a fish?"

"Beautiful .... goldfish .... scales." Algorath struggled to get the words out, leaning forward in the bed. "Flakes of ... black and ... gold. Shiny... in the engine compartment." The last words came in a rush and he collapsed back. Two of the machines started to emit high-pitched tones; they were soon followed by a third. Algorath's teeth were clenched and his body spasmed as the drug drove him into a seizure.

Silver stood back as the surgeon and his staff rushed into the room. The lines of light on the monitors had stopped spiking and were flat. Someone shouted "Clear!" and they spiked as Kain's body jerked on the bed, and then they flattened again.

Silver left them to their work. He wandered to reception and out the door, headed back to the headquarters building deep in thought. His gaze was unfocused and one paw absently rubbed his chin.

Shiny flakes of black and gold.

* * * * * * * *

Back in the Ops Centre Bill Hanlan and the planning staff were gathered in front of a large satellite image of the Island. Silver found the Chief of Staff processing paperwork on a workstation nearby, as his office was still not ready to be re-occupied. Tancred Williams looked up as he approached.

"I just got a call from Dr. Jones. They managed to pull Algorath through this one but he still wants your ass. Please tell me you got something worthwhile."

"I think so," Silver replied, "but there are a couple of things that I have to clear up first. What did you talk about with Hirt the day he was shot?"

"Let's see. We talked about the staff and the student profiles and divided up the work between him and our people. We took all the foreign contacts and he took all the domestic ones for the RCMP. He was going to do the locals himself. We reviewed the security system here for the three alert conditions and went over a map of the facility, looking for ambush sites and dead zones."

"Did you mention the old mica mine?"

"I pointed out your garden, yes. He said that it was too isolated and should be avoided; I told him that you were unlikely to listen to that advice. I mentioned that you went there some nights to watch the sunset and that you worked the garden to unwind. You are the only one who goes there, most of the staff has been told to stay away from it."

"Really? I didn't know that."

"I issued that directive years ago to ensure your privacy. The outside staff is shown the trail leading to it and told that it's off limits."

"Did we ever finish clearing the outside staff?"

"Our new Stationary Engineer checks out. She spent the last four years at our embassy in Myanmar, where her movements were well documented. Prints, pictures and even DNA samples taken five years ago all match. The ground keeper from the equity hiring program doesn't live in the group home anymore, he moved back in with his older brother. The brother identified him from the pictures we had. He also said that his little brother wouldn't be coming back to work for us, he was too scared by all the questioning and the explosions."

"Who checked them out?"

"Our people in Myanmar and the RCMP for the turtle. That leaves the two students." Williams paused to study Silver before continuing. "I think that we can safely cross Algorath of the list now. Sommer is another matter. Since the death of her husband and her mother, there is no one who can positively identify her. There are school records and immigration documents but we both know how easy it is to fake or substitute them. She hasn't had steady employment since coming to Canada."

Silver leaned in closer so that he wouldn't be overheard by others in the room. "I think that I know who the Stalker is and where the next attempt will come. Let me tell you why and want I want to do."

They talked in low but urgent tones for several minutes. The Chief of staff took turns looking thoughtful, incredulous and doubtful. Silver finished by saying, "I've studied this killer more than anyone. The Stalker always has a back-up plan and everything points to this."

"You are taking a hell of a risk." Gold replied. "If you are wrong about whom the Stalker is or where the next attack will come then you are dead meat. Even if you are right, there is still a risk that he'll get you first. Why don't we just let the RCMP pick the Stalker up?"

"Because if I am right they've been fooled once already and I doubt that they would find the Stalker surrounded by enough evidence to get an indictment. We need to lure the Stalker out into the open with the only bait we have available ... me. Do I have your approval?"

"You have my approval, but if you are wrong, you are going to make Dr. Jones very happy by giving him the opportunity to pronounce you dead."

* * * * * * * *

Ophelia was crashing, coming off the manic state that she had worked herself into. Although she wasn't bi-polar, the resultant low gave everything a sombre tinge. She was worried, worried for herself and for Kain. She had assumed that he was still inside the Headquarters assisting Silver but the word was going around that he was in the hospital, injured in the explosion that morning. Now she felt guilty for thinking that he was just out to lay her. She wondered how badly Kain was injured and if she would be able to see him.

As for herself, she worried that she may have been caught. One of the security detail had come by her room and ordered her to accompany him to the student's classroom, only waiting long enough for her to dress. Questioning him had only revealed that she was to wait inside for Silver. He let her into the building and saw her to the door of the classroom. She wasn't certain if he was still on guard outside or not, but was afraid to check as it might be seen as suspicious; so she sat at her desk by the widow, watching the door.

The clock over the door showed that it was five minutes short of midnight. What other business could Silver have with her at this time of night other than to confront her? She looked around the room for something that she could use as a weapon but saw nothing that would give her a decisive advantage; the door was positioned so that anyone entering could see the whole room and Silver was rumoured to be as good at unarmed combat as he was with a gun. She decided to wait and try to bluff it out.

Just as the minute hand touched midnight she saw Silver though the glass panel of the door. He surveyed the room before entering and she noticed that one paw was underneath his jacket. Once he saw that she was alone with both her paws on the desktop he relaxed and entered the room. He walked over and stopped two meters in front of her.

"You know quite a bit about chemistry, don't you Sommer?"

Here it comes, she thought, the accusation, Nelson must have suspected something and reported her, before the toxin was complete absorbed into his brain where it would be unreachable. Well, no sense denying it, they have her transcripts and probably know about her husband.

"Yes. I took Biochemistry as a minor."

"In that case," Silver reached up under his jacket and Ophelia tensed, "what can you tell me about this material?"

Instead of a gun, he held a sheet of paper in his paw. Ophelia took the paper and studied it. It looked like the raw contents of a data file, and two words had been circled.

* * * * * * * *

For two days the RCMP patrolled the perimeter of the Academy on an unpredictable schedule. They swept the area daily with metal detectors, explosive sensors and emission detectors, but other than twenty-seven dollars and fifty cents in loose change and four disposable lighters they found nothing. They physically checked every nook and poked every bush. Academy staff came and went in armoured buses and the screens blocking the public view stayed up. At the end of the second day, the security was reduced to just above normal levels.

The Stalker watched it all from observation points far from the actual grounds. He had set them up on the roofs of several buildings beforehand. There were duplicate keys for each roof and door wedges to prevent surprises. As a final touch, the Stalker wore an Ottawa Police Tactical Squad uniform, or at least one that looked like theirs. Should some unwary building superintendent interrupt his surveillance the uniform would get him close enough to remove the threat, permanently.

The hides were much too far away for a sniper shot, even with a solid-mount .50 calibre, but the Stalker was equipped with the best in electro-optical imaging and recording devices and could observe both day and night. His laptop was connected via the satellite link and he could monitor a network of devices. As expected, they had found some of those around their Academy and suppressed others, but not all of them. The Stalker wasn't surprised either when the silent alarm on the residence went off. So, they suspected enough to check it out, but they probably were not yet certain. It was of little consequence, all traces had been removed after the failed car bomb and evidence had been left indicating that the occupants were away on a trip.

Also expected was the reduction in security. It was the cue the killer had been waiting for, they would expect suspicion and extensive reconnaissance before approaching, and so he would move in immediately by a pre-prepared route and get behind their security.

Using dead ground, low terrain hidden from observation, that his ground sensors showed as undisturbed, the Stalker moved to where he had stashed the equipment three days ago for this scenario. Stripping down to nothing the assassin donned the wet suit and rebreather. With the weapon of choice strapped to one leg, all that was left to do was to get to the site.

The Stalker approached the crest of land separating him from the site cautiously. The devices had not detected any electronic monitors installed in this area but there was always the chance that they had used the low-tech solution of trip wires and booby-traps. At the crest, the Stalker listed for a full ten minutes before raising up high enough to look into the depression on the other side. The only sound was the trickle of water and the chirping of the late-season crickets.

The Stalker slid down the far side and stopped behind the pile of bags holding soil and compost and listened again. Satisfied, he crawled around them, careful not to disturb a pile of empty sacks, and slipped into the pond.

Once in the water the Stalker found a suitable place to sit with only his head exposed. When dawn approached it would be time to submerge and use the rebreather, one specially modified for the Navy SEAL program that did not release bubbles. If used frugally it would last twenty-four hours, and with the shorter late-autumn days that meant that the Stalker could stay in position for two full days, emerging enough to breathe after dark, before the gas supply was used up. After that, he would have to abandon this plan and recalculate.

Dawn was coming, and the Stalker submerged as soon as the silhouette of the gazebo could be seen plainly. Breathing slowly and infrequently, the assassin extended a tube periscope and settled in to wait. The Periscope had a fish-eye lens that would look like a bubble on the surface of the water. Though it he saw the sky lighten and turn blue, it was going to be a beautiful day.

Several hours after dawn the Stalker saw movement near the gazebo. It was impossible to recognize individuals with this lens so he slowly withdrew the periscope and switched to a regular lens. Raising it until it was just clear of the surface, he scanned the area. There he was! The silver-haired fox was on the trail in front of the gazebo, jacket off, rolling up his shirtsleeves.

The Stalker kept him in his field of view as the fox moved down the trail beside the pond and fetched the wheelbarrow. Now was the critical time. Move too soon and you spook the prey, and when the prey was as dangerous as Silver the consequences could be fatal. He wanted to let the fox settle in and get comfortable, complacent even, before he struck. He decided to wait for a full hour, and to study the fox while he worked.

Silver filled the wheelbarrow with rocks and circled the pond to the area he had left off at and spent about thirty minutes fitting them into the wall with his back to the pond. Then he pushed the wheelbarrow over to the pile of bags and filled it with soil and compost, mixed it and returned to the wall to fill the new section. The Stalker noted that he had slung his gun from the handle of the wheelbarrow, where he could reach it quickly during that most vulnerable time when both paws were occupied; but that left it just out of reach when he was placing the rocks.

The fox went for another load of rocks. Back at the wall, he turned his back to the pond again. The Stalker let him work for another five minutes then decided that he had waited long enough.

The Perfect Stalker removed the twenty-four inch pneumatic spear gun from the clips on his leg. The gun worked like a pressurized shock absorber, it recycled the energy and did not have to be recharged, pumped up or refilled between shots, and therefore he could reload and re-fire much quicker than with a conventional rubber-band spear gun. He checked it over; pressure good, safety off, spear seated properly, spare spears handy. Finally, he removed the protective caps from the razor tipped spears, being careful not to touch the blue stain where the poison was smeared. Although the spear gun was not as accurate as a firearm, two days immersion in the pond would not affect it in any way and with the poisoned barbs even a scratch would seal Silver's fate.

He checked the periscope, Silver was still fitting rocks, still had his back to the pond. He gripped the spear gun and rose slowly to the surface, moving back for solid footing as he raised the spear gun to his eye. The sound of water falling off his head and back was covered by the sound of the gurgling spring that fed the pond. When his torso was fully exposed, he stopped, set his feet on the bottom and took aim.

The bolt flew from the gun with a soft 'phutt' and struck the fox below the left shoulder, almost a perfect shot. Silver fell onto the half-completed wall, the butt end of the spear pointing skywards. The Stalker reloaded automatically as he watched for the spasms that would indicate that the poison was working; and saw the body twitch once, twice, and suddenly stand up.

Silver turned to face the Stalker. He raised his paws and gripped the lapels of his shirt then tore it open and off. Underneath he wore a ballistic vest that covered all but his forearms and head. Reaching up behind, he searched for the spear and pulled it out. Seeing the blue dye on the tip, he raised one digit as if to touch it, then stopped and smiled. He threw the spear into the hole he had been working on.

"Well, Mister Dubois, you've decided to stick your neck out of your shell I see."

The Perfect Stalker chuckled, so rare to have a target with this kind of spirit. He ran one hand over the green leathery skin of his bald head, but kept the spear gun aimed at the fox.

"I'm not the only one in a shell today. It must be very hot and uncomfortable. Why don't you take it off Silver?" All traces of innocence and ignorance were gone. The hesitant manner and the monotone delivery had disappeared. The strong jaw below the sharp beak, the large black claws used for tearing flesh in prehistoric times, the ridges running down the vestiges of the amphibian's shell, all served to remind one that Snapping Turtles were carnivores and predators also. The ballistic vest that he too wore, to supplement his shell, left only his head exposed.

The Stalker realized that he had a problem. While he could hit Silver at this distance, it would do no good if he struck the vest again. He had to aim for the head and he was too far away to guarantee a clean shot. The fox would have to dive for his pistol and try for head shot also, but he would not need to reload between each shot. If he missed with his next shot, the Stalker would submerge, reload and explode from the water for his last shot. Maybe he would be successful, maybe not; but if he was still alive after that, he intended to charge the fox and rip his silvery head off with his bare hands. He began to cross the pond, keeping the spear gun aimed at Silver's face.

The fox didn't dive for his gun; he just stepped around the wheelbarrow and stood by the edge of the pond. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a piece of green circuit board and pressed a button on it. The area fell silent. Confused, the Stalker looked around and realized that the sound of trickling water had stopped. In the daylight he could see that the spring near where the fox stood had been plugged with a pipe, and that a hose wound its way from there around the pond to feed the stream at the other end. The noise of falling water and crickets had been a recorded loop. No fresh water was entering the pond, and none was leaving.

Cautiously he moved into deeper water, edging ever closer to the fox; five more meters, patience, four more, three.

He saw Silver drop the crude remote control and reach into his other pocket. He prepared to fire and dive but curiosity held him back.

"Do you know what this is?" Silver held up what looked like a case for eyeglasses and removed a clear bag of liquid from it. "It's a re-usable paw warmer." Silver informed him. "The chemical inside, Sodium Acetate, is in a supersaturated solution until it's activated, usually by bending this little metal button here." Silver held the bag up and pointed. "It's called a nucleation agent, don't ask me why, but when you do that it crystallizes, turning into a solid block eventually. It also gives off heat in the process in what I'm told is an exothermic reaction. Do I have that right, exothermic? I can never remember which is which. Anyway, it gets really hot."

The Stalker was beginning to get worried, where was the fox going with this? He continued to inch closer. "That's very interesting Silver, but warm paws or not you are still going to die."

Silver ignored him and continued. "What's really interesting are all the things that you can do with this Sodium Acetate stuff. Its edible, they use it to make salt and vinegar chips. They use it in the tanning process. You can use it to stabilize the Ph of a swimming pool." Silver swept his arm across the pond. "And the really amazing thing is that you can heat this stuff up, mix it with water and let it cool again, and it stays liquid! A supersaturated solution just like in this paw warmer." He squished the bag to demonstrate.

The Stalker was treading water near the pond's centre now. Silver brought his other paw up and squeezed the metal disc inside the pouch. "Of course, to start the reaction you need a nucleation agent," the click of the disc was loud in the stillness, "or a seed crystal." As the liquid in the bag began to go cloudy, he slit it lengthwise with the tip of one claw and pulled back the plastic to let the now solid block fall into the water, where it sank out of sight.

"Do you know how much Sodium Acetate you need to fill a pond this size?" Silver asked, and then pointed to the pile of empty sacks where the bags of soil were piled. Each of which, the Stalker could see from this angle, had the black label 'CH3COONa - 25 Kg' printed on them. There must have been a hundred empty bags there. "A hell of a lot." Silver answered himself.

A wave of heat came up from the depths of the pond. The Stalker looked down and saw something white and cloudy approaching as the temperature rose. Steam was coming off the surface now. With nowhere to go but up, the accumulated thermal energy set the water being forced out of the solution to boiling. The Stalker fired and flung the spear gun to one side, the bolt whizzed between Silver's ears. He attempted to swim to the edge but his legs were already encased in an ever-hardening block of fiery ice.

His last thought as he cooked inside his shell was how this was going to affect his reputation.

* * * * * * * *

Silver watched impassively until the screams died and the steam cleared. The Stalker had made it halfway back to the edge before the being trapped; one arm and the back of his head were still visible on the surface of the cooling water. Silver walked over to the spring and tugged on the pipe until it came free. Now the fresh flow of water would dilute the solution and they would be able to free the corpse. Maybe they would find a clue as to who he really was and how he had come to be the Perfect Stalker.

He caught movement from the corner of his eye, up behind the crest north of the notch that hid the garden and pond. A creature of grass and burlap was rising up, cradling a high-powered rifle that was also swathed in sacking and the local vegetation. The creature lifted one paw and pulled the netting covering its face aside. Vikki stared down at the scene from Chinese hell. Despite what the smell was doing to her stomach, she slung the rifle over her shoulder and descended into the notch.

"Why didn't you give me the signal to shoot him?" She asked when she was beside Silver. "I could have taken him out easily and avoided all this mess."

"He was an artist, it was fitting that he went with a little flair; besides, look at the destruction he caused."

Vikki thought about Hirt, shot in the face, and McPhee, ripped open and left to bleed to death jammed in the chassis of W's Rolls. Then there was Algorath, who had finally woken from his coma, but was not out of the woods yet.

"I suppose a little revenge is justified." She sighed and fought back a tear, wondering if the additional hormones from her condition were affecting her.

"Damn right it's justified." Silver growled. "That was my favourite car that he blew up! I'm never going to find another one like that."

Mister sensitive, she thought, and pondered how he would take the news of her pregnancy when it eventually came out. Time enough for that later.

"How did you know it was him, and that he would strike here?" She asked instead.

"He was the only one besides Sommer who we didn't get a positive ID on. Hirt was shot because he was going to check with the group home, then the next thing we know the 'Mister Dubois' has moved in with a brother we never heard of before. The Turtle the police interviewed was probably the Stalker himself; he was a talented actor. When they went to the house, they simply assumed that the person who answered the door was the owner. I'm sure that they'll find the real owner is either away on extended business or buried in the back yard. As for this," Silver indicated the pond and surrounding garden, "seeing him here three days ago, the flakes of black and gold that Algorath saw in the engine compartment, and the biblical reference to the confrontation in the Garden of Eden." He shrugged. "It's where I'd strike, the only place he had a chance of getting me alone."

He looked around the garden and estimated how long it would take before the water loosened the turtle from the pond's grasp. "We'd better call in the clean up crew. I have to change clothes and get over to Headquarters to get the briefing ready for the next phase of the operation. Could you wait and direct them please?"

* * * * * * * *

Algorath lay back in his hospital bed, drifting on the wings of the painkillers they were pumping into him at regular intervals. Tomorrow, the nurse had promised, they would start cutting back on the dosage and try to get him moving around a bit, but for today, he was still confined to bed and the indignities of the bedpan.

"Hey, Algorath. How's it going?"

Kain opened his eyes and was fairly certain that he was hallucinating, because it looked like Nelson Knight had come to visit. When he considered all of the people in the Academy who might be capable of a friendly gesture Knight's name didn't come to mind. Yet here he was, standing at the end of the bed smiling down on him.

The large Fox coughed, raising his paw to block his mouth with some difficulty. "I'm just waiting to see the Doc, got some kind of bug. Every bone in my body aches and I'm stiffer than a Priest's pecker. Say, speaking of stiff peckers, wait 'til I tell you what happened to me the other night."