Silverfox 03
#3 of Silverfox
Silverfox 03
There was someone in their apartment.
It was too late to stop the door from opening. Silverfox tensed slightly as it swung, preparing to draw and drop. She moved her hand. She relaxed; it was Cheshire.
The jaguar was facing the door, ears forward, her weight off her cane. Cheshire had spotted Silverfox before Silverfox noticed her. Suppose Cheshire had been someone else? The intruder would have the advantage. Silverfox frowned, just slightly irritated with herself. It was hard to out-stealth a cat, but excuses wouldn't cut it when a bullet was in your head.
"Good afternoon," Cheshire said. "How's Jerry?"
"He's fine, thanks for asking," Silverfox said. Silverfox had gone to Jerry's straight from the airport; one of the other foxes must have told Cheshire where she was.
"You went shooting?" Cheshire asked, probably smelling the gunpowder.
She smiled, remembering. "Yeah." Silverfox put the walnut box on a table, took off her jacket and hung it on her hook. She didn't have much time left. They had dawdled at the range -- the Shooting Star was a delight. It was almost like all she had to do was imagine a hole, and it appeared. If it had a magazine, she'd be getting a holster for it. "I have to get dressed -- can you fix me lunch fast?"
Cheshire looked at the walnut box curiously. It was obviously something expensive, and she probably smelled powder and oil even though Silverfox had cleaned it. "Packed lunch, or soup?" Cheshire asked, letting that slide.
"Soup would be great," Silverfox said. There was no denying that having Cheshire around was useful. "Is Andrew in town?"
"Yes. He met Firefox for lunch. Technofox is at the courthouse, and Shadowfox is touching base with some of her friends."
In that case, Silverfox had better not leave the case out where a guest would see it -- Andrew might happen by, and guns made him edgy.
"How is that resort thing working out?" Silverfox asked.
Cheshire turned on her cane and moved into the kitchen. She could get around without the stick, but it was painful and a bit awkward for her. She had broken a knee and a botched use of trauma drugs had made it heal wrong. Silverfox couldn't imagine being stuck with a cane -- the afternoon she had spent with one had been frustrating enough.
Cheshire opened a can and took a bun out of the bread drawer. They continued the conversation. Their ears were good enough to let them. "Fell through for me. Modesty's still talking to them."
"Think she'll take it if she gets it?" Silverfox asked. She took the walnut box to her room. Her suitcases were empty and stacked neatly in the closet, the clothes she had brought to Seattle freshly ironed and hanging in the closet. She felt a moment of guilt about that; she should have unpacked last night instead of leaving it to Cheshire. Her tactical armor was hanging in the smaller closet; she took it back to the living room so they wouldn't need to raise their voices. She carried the clothes she had been wearing and dumped them into the washer.
"Probably," Cheshire said briefly. "She wants to go to Canada."
"Ah." Silverfox nodded, started suiting up. Cheshire had thought they were kidding when they told her they had to keep enough room in the freezer for their armor. Their armor was custom-made, with gel packs to draw heat from her body and a skirt over the butt for the tail. In summer, they'd store armor in the deep freeze unit, and keep it wet if they could. Humans could sweat.
Canada was good news for Modesty, bad news for Cheshire; and a simple "ah" seemed the best way to address the situation. Modesty and Cheshire weren't a couple, but between the two of them they were able to make rent on a studio apartment. Cheshire alone couldn't afford it. Having Cheshire move in with Jerry seemed like the ideal solution, but Jerry didn't see it that way and she wasn't sure Cheshire would either.
Silverfox snapped the buckles closed on her black armor, and pulled on the fluorescent orange vest with SECURITY on the front and back. This particular outfit always made her feel like Captain Scarlet. No, she corrected herself, Captain Fluorescent Orange. She took the Hat of Rental Authority and went into the kitchen.
Cheshire had set a place for her, with a warm bun and a glass of orange juice and another of water. Cheshire put a steaming bowl of soup on the setting. Silverfox sat down in her armor. "Thanks," she said.
"It's what you pay me for," Cheshire said. "Mind if I sit down?"
"No, of course not," Silverfox replied. She started eating her soup. "Can you knock it off? You're not my maid." The moment she said it, she knew it was a mistake.
"Technically, that's not true," Cheshire said, taking the seat next to her.
"Uhm," Silverfox muttered. "Well, don't act like one."
Cheshire laughed. "Okay."
Silverfox snorted around a mouthful of soup. "Do you have plans? If Modesty moves?"
"Not really," Cheshire admitted.
Silverfox ripped her bun open and dunked it. Amazing how twenty seconds in a microwave made bread twice as good. "The live-in offer is still open. We can get a roll-away cot."
"Is your boss okay with that?" Cheshire asked.
"The guest room's reserved for visiting ICON agents," Silverfox said. "That makes this something like a hotel. And a hotel should have some housekeeping staff." There would be security issues, but they would be surmountable. Heck, they might even be able to make it official.
"I'm talking about Firefox." Cheshire said.
Silverfox pretended to swallow. "What about Firefox?" Silverfox asked, pretending the problem wasn't obvious.
Cheshire paused for an instant. "She hates my guts," Cheshire said, each word distinct, as though to a child or someone not particularly bright, a subtle reproach to Silverfox for saying something that inane.
Well, she deserved that, Silverfox thought ruefully. Her eyes dropped and she fiddled with her soup. "It's nothing personal," Silverfox said, lamely.
"Ah," Cheshire said, looking at Silverfox as though she had said something incredibly stupid. "So it's not that she dislikes me, it's just that she associates me with being tied up, beaten, and raped."
"That's it exactly," Silverfox said brightly, an instant before it occurred to her that saying that wasn't precisely helping matters. Cheshire looked at Silverfox silently for a moment. "I wouldn't have offered without clearing it with the others," Silverfox said, a little defensively.
"Are you done with your suitcase? I'll put it back in your room," Cheshire said.
"Thanks," Silverfox replied. She hesitated. She wished she was better at this sort of touchy-feely shit. "To tell you the truth," she lied, "I think Fire's more stressed about what happened in Seattle than your being here. She wants to send a field mission to Canada and she can't justify the expense since there's no formal contract. She's a funny girl. She can't just let go of crap."
"Canada?" Cheshire asked.
"In Seattle, we found a smuggling boat. We're pretty sure it came from Vancouver Island, but we can't prove it and Firefox can't take the next step without funding. And trails get cold." Silverfox finished the soup. "Thanks."
"I slaved for hours over it," Cheshire said, pointing at the red and white can. "What happened to your shirts?" Cheshire asked.
"My shirts?" Silverfox asked, blinking.
"I unpacked your luggage," the jaguar explained, "Your shirts were tied into knots." She wanted to say more, probably to gripe about having to untie and iron them, but she cut herself off, probably because she didn't want to look like she was complaining.
"Ah," Silverfox said with an understanding nod. "That was between me and Shadowfox. Sorry you got in the middle."
"No big deal," Cheshire said with a shrug. She got up and took her cane.
"Yes it is," Silverfox said firmly. "And I swear to you, on the grave of my mother, that this affront will be avenged."
"What mother?" Cheshire asked.
"Just go with it," Silverfox said. "Would you happen to have a good sound file of someone farting?"
"Of course," Cheshire said.
"Excellent," Silverfox chortled. "Email it to me and let the evil begin." She got up and went to Shadowfox's room.
"I don't want to know," Cheshire warned her.
Silverfox walked down the line of passengers, a guard at her elbow. She didn't like being followed so closely by an armed man she didn't know, but she didn't want their working relationship to get off to a bad start, so she didn't complain. Of course, that was sort of what she had told herself with Jansen, and that hadn't worked out well.
Still, standing just a touch too close to her wasn't in the same league as the vibes she got from Jansen. Why the hell hadn't she acted on them? She hated breaking in a new co-worker, and she was sure John Christopher felt the same way, but someone had run a computer analysis and decided rent-a-cops worked best in teams of two and where did that leave you? Standing a foot in front of a stranger with a gun.
He was watching her carefully, occasionally dropping his eyes down to her hand, to see if she was signaling. That was a backup to the digital connection he was reading from the HUD over one of his eyes. If he had a brain implant like Silverfox, he could have read from that instead; but if he had a brain implant, he'd be a chimera.
Everyone knew that dogs were great at sniffing out explosives and drugs. What most people didn't know was that the same dog couldn't sniff out explosives and drugs. The problem was communicating with the dog. Dogs weren't robots, and learning to speak Dog was a long and trying process, sometimes so much so that a canine team couldn't be split and assigned new partners.
A chimera cost more than a dog, but less than a canine team. And with a chimera there was no chance of confusing "This guy is wearing a cocaine vest" with "The bologna sandwich in his pocket smells real good." Chimerae had a better vocabulary.
Silverfox looked at each person in line; if they caught her eye she smiled pleasantly and nodded politely. Airport security was never fun to endure; the civilians never appreciated it, but there was no sense in making it more painful than it had to be. Otherwise she kept her expression blank and intent.
Some humans went their whole lives without ever meeting a chimera and most never talked to one. She might be the first chimera some of these people had ever seen. Sometimes she scared kids or fascinated them.
"Can I pet her?" a little pre-school girl asked Christopher.
Christopher and the kid's mom both blanched and flinched. Other passengers tittered. "Er -- " Christopher said, looking at Silverfox for help. "Well, you need to ask her, honey," he said, lamely.
Silverfox felt a moment of irritation because he was passing it onto her, but she then thought better of it -- because, he figured it was her decision. She decided she liked him, and the good feelings bubbled over. She grinned slightly and went down on one knee; the kid wanted to touch fur and the only place she had any exposed was her head. She took off her hat and leaned her head in her direction. The kid swatted her; she didn't quite have enough control in her arm yet, and Silverfox heard her mother mutter "gently" under her breath. The follow up pats were milder, although Silverfox noticed her hand was a little sticky and she didn't want to think of what exactly her fur might be adhering to.
She waved bye-bye before moving on. It was a calculated thing; she had lost a bit of authority, but it had been cute and the mood of the crowd had lightened a bit. Well, most of them. There was a bear chimera a few people down, one of the big Ursus 4s who probably worked as a living forklift. "Thanks for acting like a theme park character," he muttered, just low enough to pretend he wasn't saying it publically.
The Ursus 4s were generally assholes because they were massive enough to get away with it; typically they hated flying because planes were really too small for them. They had to buy two adjacent seats. "Thanks for telling me who gets to touch me," Silverfox said to him brightly, lifting her voice. He glared at her as people tittered in support. "Have a nice flight, sir," she said, beaming at him.
She kept the grin on for a few steps before reverting to "business mode." Let the civilians know you expect to be taken seriously, even if you take pats from kids. It was always a risk to use double entendres in this sort of situation, and she kicked herself mentally for doing that. She didn't want to deal with someone asking her for a date.
She felt eyes on her and looked up to meet them. Further down the line was a middle-aged guy in a Nylon jacket and a carry-on. His eyes flicked away, and he reached up with his off hand to wipe his forehead. She paused, and Christopher bumped into her, shoulder to shoulder. She stood her ground, ears flattening just a bit. She kept her eyes steady on Nylon Jacket Guy, who looked at her and looked sharply away.
She shifted her ears forward. His heartbeat was fast, but not suspiciously so. Space in the line opened up ahead of him; he didn't take advantage of it right away, pausing a long moment before reluctantly taking a step closer to her.
She sent the "Caution" signal, digitally and with her hand. That was a simple heads-up; she hoped Christopher wouldn't panic on getting it. So far, he seemed to know what he was doing, so she doubted he would. She looked at the last guy she had whiffed so she could come back to him, and eyes on Nylon Jacket Guy, walked firmly towards him. The corner of his mouth twitched, and he looked away from her.
"Sir," she said politely, "may I see your ticket?"
"E-tick--" he croaked. He coughed. "I have an E-Ticket," he said, his voice more level. He fumbled for his ID. Paul Bolling. He lived in Boston, so he wasn't on a returning flight, so it might be a one-way ticket.
He didn't look at her. Her nostrils flared. She scented nitrates. Just a trace. And that was the last thing any chimera on this detail wanted to smell. It could be a dirty diaper, or chemical fertilizer, or a bomb. It was a potential emergency and the only hint was prone to false alarms.
He looked forward, and away from her, and when his face twitched, a bead of sweat broke off his nose and flew away.
"Have you been on a farm, sir?" she asked.
"A farm?" he asked, baffled. For the first time, she wondered if she was misreading this. Anyone with a bomb would probably know why she had asked, and so would a lot of people without a bomb. At least ... if he knew he had a bomb. Maybe he thought he was smuggling?
It was time to pull him out of line. She sent a signal: ESCORT. "May I see your --" she began. He jerked his case up towards her. She jumped back, missing Christopher. Nylon Jacket Guy broke out of line, running for the cluster of people at the security checkpoint.
Silverfox heard a scream, then she heard another, and the voices of people rose in a hubbub. Christopher reached for his gun, Silverfox quivered and went after Nylon Jacket Guy. She jumped, caught him high, sent him over, landed hard, and felt his arm give. The case hit the ground, skidded, but she heard no fuse and she knew it was a clean takedown.
Silverfox sat in a conference room, her gun on the table in front of her, next to her hat. Firefox came in. She was wearing her business suit, which was bad. She put her laptop on the table without a word, and opened it.
"The room's clean," she said. "Probably."
"Good," Silverfox said. It seemed unlikely that anyone would risk giving them a bugged room. Silverfox was a bit mystified. Wasn't this a simple debrief?
"His name's Paul Bolling," Firefox said. "When he was three years old, he was badly mauled by the family dog--"
Silverfox collapsed onto the table. "Fuck, fuck, fuck!" she moaned, wishing the word gave her relief. "I've never met someone that scared of dogs before. So he stepped in dog shit?"
Firefox looked up, her face sad and worried. "And like you guessed, they found some dog feces on the sole of his shoe. Probably from the street."
"Oh, Christ," Silverfox moaned.
"Then he lifted his case for you to smell, you reacted to the sudden movement, and he --"
"Bolted. Shit. Sorry, you already said that." She laughed, Firefox didn't.
"So I'm here as your paralegal," Firefox said. "He probably will want to sue. The precedents are in our favor, but we're better off making sure we dot the i's, especially if the airport tries to shift blame onto us."
Silverfox felt anger well up. "Damn it," she said. "What do they want? Next time I see a nervous guy who smells like a bomb, I should just walk away?"
"Funny, that did come up," Firefox replied. She closed her eyes and leaned back. "Here's the serious proposal. Change to ROE. This happens again, and the civilian seems afraid of you instead of just generally edgy, you tag him as an explosives risk and keep walking. A Human guard will pull him out of line."
"That sounds good," Silverfox agreed. "But what are the odds it will happen again?"
"Close to one," Firefox said with a frown. "Thanks. It was the best I could come up with," Firefox said. "But like you said -- what are the odds that someone with that sort of phobia would also smell of fertilizer? It's police work. Stuff goes wrong. Everyone knows it." Firefox shrugged. "You should know that Christopher backed you all the way. He said that Bolling was so freaked he thought he had a bomb, too. You know, he could have thrown you to the sharks."
"John's okay," Silverfox said.
"I think so, yes," Firefox agreed. "He's not with ICON but his resume's on file with us, and I'll tag a nice note to it."
"Thanks." Firefox's nice notes had more weight than Silverfox's.
"We'll handle this as an unfortunate oversight in the SOP. We'll address it and move on." Firefox looked at her.
"I suppose I need to write Bolling a letter of apology," Silverfox said. Now she felt awful, so awful she felt sick. He had missed his flight, and his arm was in a sling. Just because standing there and talking to her was too much for the poor sap. He was actually so freaked out he panicked when she jumped. She couldn't imagine being that afraid.
She told herself.
"Shadow's on that," Firefox said, abstractly. "She fakes sincerity better than we do it for real."
"...True," Silverfox nodded.
"So that's it as far as the public's concerned," Firefox said. She looked at Silver. "But internally, as far as ICON is concerned, I made an error in judgment as your team commander."
"How is this your fault?" Silverfox asked, troubled.
Firefox kept her eyes on Silverfox. "You're on edge. You've had two weapons-fired incidents in the past week. And just because you seemed okay, I didn't give you any time off."
"Fire," Silverfox said, "I am okay." Why was she giving her such a hard time about this? It wasn't like her. "You don't believe I'm stressing."
"On the contrary." Firefox looked down at her laptop. "You're scheduled for a week's leave because I suspect you might be reaching a stress threshold."
"Bullshit." Silverfox frowned. This was starting to annoy her.
"I hear Victoria in British Columbia is lovely this time of year," Firefox said, poker-faced. "You saw those posters in Seattle, didn't you?"
"All that," Silverfox said, awed, "and the most amazing tits in the observable universe. It's not fair."
Firefox smiled and suppressed a chuckle.
"So we're going after these pelts, contract or not?" Silverfox asked.
"Yes, if we have to," Firefox said with a nod.
"Fine with me. What are my objectives?" Silver asked.
"We'll talk it over with Tech. This is private," Firefox repeated. "Private means Cheshire, and private means ICON."
"...Okay," Silverfox said. She fiddled with her hands. Firefox noticed and looked up.
"Problem?" Firefox asked.
"Modesty might be leaving the country," Silverfox said. "I told Cheshire we'd let her live in."
Something flickered across Firefox's face. "Fine," Firefox said. "We'll have to be careful around her, but we can deal with it."
"It won't be permanent," Silverfox said defensively. "And it's not like she's sponging off us. I think Cheshire's proven she wants a place of her own."
"I said it was fine," Firefox said, sounding a little impatient.
"You don't sound fine," Silverfox said.
"You want me to do the Happy Vixen Dance?" Firefox looked at her sourly. "I think most people would say I'm being remarkably decent to her, all things considered." She closed her laptop. Silverfox twitched. "You do understand we're not talking about her leaving the toilet seat up, don't you?" she asked. "We're talking about a Blue Diamond Tamer."
"Of course I know that," Silverfox said.
"Do you?" Firefox asked.
Silverfox was chained, facing the wall. Her clothes were ragged and thin, looking worn even though she had only been wearing them less than an hour. The stone wall was cold. She was pushing herself away from it to keep the chill off, although the angle was bad and she knew she'd exhaust herself that way. The muzzle bit into her snout, her jaw clamped shut on a dildo. She could breathe through it, but experiments proved that the only sounds she could force past it sounded like moans. She wanted to swear and all she could do was imitate a porn soundtrack.
The light, such as it was, was from flickering torches on the walls. She didn't smell smoke from them. Stage dressing. They were set up to shoot a porn video titled _Rape of the Vixen Prisoner_ and she was going to be the star. She was trying to make herself angry, but she kept feeling dread instead. She closed her eyes. She didn't want a man in her again. She didn't want a man in her again.
If she turned her head, she could see the two women in the dungeon cell with her. One was a jaguar with a cane, wearing chrome-studded black leather. The other was a puma in a bikini top and loincloth, a bit taller than Silverfox in size.
"I don't know the prop," the puma said, looking directly at her.
The jaguar looked at Silverfox. "Let me check," she said. She took out a handheld, incongruous, the only thing in the room that wasn't from a sword-and-sorcery flick. She wore black leather with chrome studs, but her attitude didn't match it. Tigre wore something similar as a second skin. The jaguar wore it like a costume, like an actress between shots. "Who is that?" the jaguar asked.
"0517 'Smoke'," came a voice out of the Jaguar's handheld. It was a link to a machine intelligence, Silverfox suspected. "She is to remain secured. Master directs you are not to allow the clients to enter her, as she is being conditioned and her contact with men is to take place under controlled conditions."
Silverfox felt relief flood over her. Relief and gratitude. 'She is being conditioned' didn't even register just then. She heard and understood there would be no rape today.
"Thank you," the jaguar said to the handheld. She tucked it away, and made eye contact with Silverfox. "Here's the scene," she said. "The clients are three adventurers who have wiped out the royal house, except for Tawny here. She's the last princess, heir to the throne."
"Lucky me," Tawny said.
"Smoke's her loyal handmaiden."
"And the gag keeps her from mouthing off out of character," Tawny said, nodding approvingly. "You've got to give it to Master -- he can tailor a job to the girl."
"I'm the sadistic queen of the dungeon," the jaguar said.
"Type casting," Tawny chuckled.
"Tawny's bound to the table," the jaguar said, pointing at a piece of furniture made of rough-hewn wood, with straps and buckles.
"Crotch on the edge?" Tawny asked.
"Right."
Tawny nodded. These women could look at a piece of bondage equipment, figure out how they would be accessed, and probably had favorite and less favorite positions.
"I beat Smoke until Tawny begs the adventurers to impregnate her."
Silverfox struggled wildly for a moment; they watched her, unconcerned, as though it were a mild seizure or a another temporary medical condition. Silverfox stared at her, numb. She was addressing Silverfox instead of saying 'you.' Was the jaguar expecting her to participate in this?
"What?" Tawny said, wrinkling her snout. "I take on all three?"
"That's the plan," the jaguar said.
"Three girls, three clients. Can't we share the work?" Tawny whined.
"Smoke's not tamed," the jaguar said.
"Fine. Have one or two of them rape her," Tawny suggested. Silverfox swallowed, anxiously. "It'll help get the prop over it. Then I nobly take the rest to spare her."
Cheshire looked at Tawny. "Smoke's limited," she said. "I'd offer to get one off but this is a rape fantasy and you're the one tied to the table."
Tawny looked at Silverfox angrily, as though it were her fault. "It's not fair. I do my share. Why do I carry her load on top of that?"
"Smoke's off limits. You heard." The jaguar's voice was just a touch less friendly and relaxed.
"I heard. And because she doesn't go along I'm the one getting gang-banged -- " Tawny started.
The jaguar snapped her fingers and pointed to the floor. "Show respect," she ordered.
Tawny stood for a moment, not quite believing it, and then she obvious realized she had gone too far and sick fear touched her face.
She showed respect like a Blue Diamond Girl. She opened her top, revealing heavy breasts, tan on the outside and white within. She went to her knees, touched her breasts to the floor, and licked the jaguar's foot. She then went back to her knees, eyes lowered, one hand on the ground, and waited to be released.
"Who decides Smoke's role?" the jaguar asked. "Master or Smoke?"
"Master decides that, ma'am," Tawny replied, voice submissive.
"Then stop talking nonsense," the jaguar said shortly.
"Yes, ma'am. I'm sorry, ma'am," Tawny said, her voice sincere and apologetic. She was one word, one gesture from a beating, and even Silverfox knew it.
The jaguar touched Tawny's ear, releasing her. The puma stood and put her hand up to redo her top. "Let's strap you down," the jaguar said.
"Yes, ma'am," Tawny said, eager to co-operate.
Compliantly, Tawny lay on the table, legs over the sides and spread wide, bringing her crotch close to the edge. The jaguar attached straps from the table legs to her ankles. Tawny lay down, her arms up, and the jaguar strapped her wrists down. And then she turned to Silverfox.
"You're a handmaiden," the jaguar said. "Three men killed her --" she pointed at Tawny -- "family. To stop what I'm doing to you, she begs them to fuck her. That's how bad it has to be for you. That's the scene, and that's what you and I will sell."
She let that float there. Silverfox's lower jaw started to tremble.
"It's not a hard role," the jaguar said gently. "All you have to get across is 'Ouch, that hurts, please make it stop.'" She brought up her cane, fast, almost clipping the end of Silverfox's nose. It cut the air with a hiss. Silverfox recoiled from it. "If you don't fake it you won't have to. Do you understand?"
It meant participating.
Silverfox thought of a white tiger, and she knew she had suffered enough. There was a long pause, and slowly, Silverfox nodded, just once. Smoke's first yes in Blue Diamond.
Silverfox looked into Firefox's eyes.
"I was there too," she said, finally.
Firefox looked away, suddenly ashamed. "I'm sorry," she said. "I ..."
Silverfox took Firefox's hand, kissed it, and pressed it to her cheek. Firefox rested her other hand on the side of Silverfox's head, leaned in, and kissed her, muzzle to muzzle.
"Cheshire was hard on you, I know," Silverfox whispered. "That was for Walton. But she ... wasn't as bad as she could be to me." She looked at Firefox helplessly. "I suppose it's all twisted," she said. "But in Blue Diamond, any little mercy, anything is so ... you're so hungry for it, you're even grateful to a tamer."
Firefox looked at her, as though wondering what she was trying to say.
"I guess you don't understand," Silverfox said, her voice breaking a little. How could Firefox understand it? She was pure steel inside.
"I know what you mean," Firefox said. She smiled. "And he's dead."
"He's dead," Silverfox repeated. She had hated Walton for Firefox's sake, more than she hated any other client. She had never said this because it would sound fake, but she hated Walton more than the man who raped her knowing she was a lesbian. Walton had defiled her first love. The other guy had merely hurt her.
Firefox smiled. "Yes," she said.
"That's how much coastline?" Silverfox asked.
"All in all, about sixty kilometers," Technofox said.
"That's a lot of ground to cover," Silverfox objected. She rubbed her neck. "Seven days, two for travel, it comes to twelve kilometers a day. More if the weather's bad and I have to stay inside."
Technofox sighed. "Bring your raincoat."
"That's not her point," Firefox interrupted. "On a good day, she's a tourist enjoying a stroll on the shoreline. In bad weather, what is she poking around for?"
"Oh, of course," Technofox said, chastened.
"...Yeah, that's what I meant," Silverfox muttered.
"It's ambitious, and I don't think you can cover it all," Firefox shrugged. "Of course, we're not asking for a microscopic examination, either."
"They're probably not going to stage from, say, Victoria's Inner Harbor. Too likely that a whale watch will collide with them," Technofox said.
"So look for something like the landing in Seattle," Firefox said thoughtfully. "Somewhere out of the way with simple facilities."
"That's it exactly. It probably won't be too hard to find," Technofox said. "They'll have a boathouse or something like that, if it's their base and not just their staging area. You'll probably find a dozen possible locations. Just photograph them with GPS data, and I can start searching through suspects myself."
"And if they start shooting at trespassers, I'll know I'm there," Silverfox joked.
"Speaking of shooting," Firefox said, "you won't have any guns."
"That's funny," Silverfox laughed. "For a second there, I thought you said I wouldn't have any guns."
Shadowfox stepped in. Technofox grinned hugely and looked away. Silverfox lifted an eyebrow.
"A curious thing happened today in the _Realms of High Fantasy_," Shadowfox said without preamble.
Firefox scrutinized Shadowfox curiously, baffled by this turn in the conversation.
"Did it?" Silverfox asked.
"Velvet Death, my twenty-fifth level Stalker, seems to have developed intestinal problems," Shadowfox said. "Every time she jumps, she is stricken with flatulence."
Technofox giggled helplessly.
"Could be the effort of the leap," Silverfox suggested.
"I assure you these juvenile antics amuse nobody," Shadowfox said solemnly.
"I'm sorry," Technofox laughed. "It's just we were attacked by a war band, so she kept having to jump again and again... I'm trying to cast my spells, and there's this ninja flying around the room, like she's being propelled by her own -- you had to be there. You just had to be there. It was great."
"The humiliation I had to endure for the good of the party," Shadowfox said.
"So you suspect someone unknown fiddled with your resource files?" Firefox asked.
"It would have to be one of us. It wasn't me. Technofox was laughing so hard I was afraid she'd bring up blood," Shadowfox said. "So it wasn't her. Firefox is an adult, so it wasn't her. Now who does that leave?"
"Actually, I never thought of it," Firefox said.
"Thank you for your support," Shadowfox said. "Silver, I am proposing we call this off before someone gets hurt," Shadowfox put out her left hand. "Fox Truce."
"Fox truce," Silverfox agreed. They sealed the Fox Truce in the traditional manner; shaking left hands while tugging their right ear, then turning to bump fannies.
"I backed up your sound file on my shared directory," Silverfox said.
"Thank you."
"I am profoundly moved by the fact you're willing to call this off before you got me back," Silverfox said.
Shadowfox looked confused for a moment, and then realization dawned. "You haven't been to your room yet."
"Are you going to spend all night poking around?" Shadowfox asked from Silverfox's bed.
Silverfox set her jaw. Nothing seemed to be amiss. She eyed her computer suspiciously. That would have a certain ironic justice... she paled.
"Not my porn," she pleaded. "You didn't touch my porn, did you?"
"No. And don't you have that backed up anyway?" Shadowfox asked.
"There isn't room on the server," Silverfox explained.
Shadowfox's lower jaw dropped. "Amazing," she said. "But no, I swear I didn't touch your porn. It would be like setting fire to the Library of Alexandria."
"Thank goodness," Silverfox said, relieved. "I've got some stuff there from Blue Diamond. It was taken down. As far as I know, these are the only copies left."
"You saved porn from Blue Diamond?" Shadowfox asked, ears forward.
"Like that Pepe le Pew thing," Silverfox said. "I worked hard on that."
Shadowfox considered. "It was funny," she admitted.
Silverfox smiled. "Yeah, considering that I talked them into making it so I'd have an excuse to scope out the grounds of Blue Diamond." She shrugged. "I'm sorry. That was one of the best pieces of intelligence work I've ever done. I'm proud of it."
"You should be," Shadowfox nodded.
"And my tits looked great."
"Yes. Now get in here or I'll start without you."
"Is that supposed to be a threat?" Silverfox asked. "Because that sounds fun to watch."
She had meant it as a joke, but Shadowfox cocked an eyebrow and sat up, pushing the sheet off her nude body. She shifted her weight onto one hip, gave Silverfox a look that was half expectant and half a challenge. Silverfox looked at her silently for a moment, her lips, softly rounded breasts, and the cleft between her legs, all asking to be kissed.
Shadowfox placed her hand lightly between her legs and closed her eyes. Her hand started to move, and Silverfox's eyes went to her face, at the pleasure written there. Silverfox liked looking at Shadow's face during sex; it was as fun, or even more fun, than looking at the rest of her.
"You're so beautiful," Silverfox said softly.
"You like to look at me?" Shadowfox asked, opening her eyes and smiling.
"Duh, yeah," Silverfox replied with a snort. And then, "Is that okay?"
"What do you mean?" Shadowfox asked, looking at her.
"Well, I guess you must hear that sort of thing a lot."
Shadowfox looked away. "Yes..." she admitted, like it was a confession.
Silverfox took off her clothes while Shadow touched herself, and when Silverfox was finished, she went into bed with her, pushed Shadowfox onto her back, and kissed her for a long time.
"Thanks for staying with me," Silverfox said.
Shadow smiled. "Sometimes I think you need a teddy bear." She looked troubled. "I know sometimes I do."
"Really?" Silverfox asked. "Why?"
Shadowfox hesitated. "Do you remember how we got to Blue Diamond?" she asked.
"Not really," Silverfox admitted. "I remember waking up there."
"Me too," Shadowfox said. She rolled over onto her back. "And when I try to remember before that... I can't. I keep wondering if I'll wake up there again."
"Doctor Clayton says it's a vulnerable part of our memories," Silverfox warned. "That if we keep thinking about it, we might damage the pathways even more."
"He did say that, didn't he?" Shadowfox said.
Silverfox rested the camera on her hand, looked through the viewfinder, and held her breath as she pressed the shutter release. She then looked at the display and noted the GPS fix had come through. She then touched the 'Hide' button, and scrolled through her pictures; satisfied to see the hidden picture didn't come up. It had been a while since she had used the camera, and she was glad she still remembered how to use the Hide feature.
She lifted her head, suddenly anxious. Her ears were twitching; she recognized that footfall. It was getting closer.
"Silverfox?" came a familiar voice.
Silverfox closed her eyes and breathed out slowly through her nose. She was optimized for combat, trained for escape and evasion since she could remember, and she couldn't avoid an ex-girlfriend in a town the size of Boston.
"Hello, Janet," Silverfox said, hoping that her lack of enthusiasm would register subconsciously.
If it did, Janet didn't show it. She was a little smaller than Silverfox, with a medium build, long dark hair, no makeup, and glasses. She looked older than she was, spinsterish, which was sort of misleading because she was actually quite good in bed. She wore a kerchief, and the fox recognized it as one she had bought her from Nevada.
"We have to go to the store," she said. "Right away." She seemed happy and pleased, not upset -- so it wasn't likely they were being harassed again. She almost reached out and tugged at Silverfox's arm.
"This is a bad day. I'm going to be travelling tomorrow," Silverfox immediately replied. "I have some errands to run."
"There's someone there you have to meet. I mean, you just have to." Janet was really excited about this.
Silverfox cocked her head. "Who?" she asked.
"Everyone will be there and it's been too long since you've been around." Janet was in a mysterious mood. "I can make coffee. It'll only be a few minutes."
Silverfox wanted to say no. If Janet hadn't been wearing the kerchief, she would have said no. It was absurd, but the kerchief around Janet's head made her feel guilty, as though she owed Janet something for the sake of the kerchief she had given her, so reluctantly, she went along.
The used bookstore's name was "Womynfyre." It smelled of old libraries and forgotten things; most booksellers had shifted online, and in fact the majority of Womynfyre's sales were through Amazon; Technofox had set that up as a favor to Silverfox.
Something was up at Womynfyre. Janet's crowd was here in force; amazingly, Cindy and Lucy were both there despite their vow of mutual annihilation; whatever was up had brought about a cease-fire in their tiresome battle of which was dykier than the other. Silverfox closed out the people and paused and savored the moment and place, despite Janet's obvious agitation -- or maybe because of it. Silverfox felt a perverse pleasure in provoking her impatience.
Silverfox wasn't nostalgic, nor was she particularly bookish, but there was still something magical about these shelves of bound paper, growing round at the corners because of age, that fell open naturally to the good parts. It made Silverfox feel that some important secret was hidden in the next bookcase over, some combination of words that would make everything make sense. It was funny that she now felt more strongly about the store than anyone associated with it.
She reached out and touched the sixth brick-sized volume of _Tribe of the Rock Lion._ She had quite enjoyed the first book, but the second had disappointed and the third was virtually unreadable, the series decaying as the author descended into lazy self-indulgence fuelled by the sales of her first book. And here it was, bound in leather, in a box, printed on acid-free paper that could, with reasonable care, last for centuries. Five hundred pages of utter banality enshrined as though it had some deep meaning, sold here not because it had literary merit, or because it was fun to read, but because the character who was annoyingly smarter than all the other characters in the book happened to be a woman.
"Dawnstar?" Cindy said, "Here's the friend we were telling you about."
That was so much like Cindy, Silverfox thought. She had probably been bragging about her chimera friend. Chimerae were worth Authenticity Points. At the same time, Silverfox registered the name. Dawnstar? Silverfox thought. How lame was that?
Silverfox turned her head and found herself looking into eyes she knew; white muzzle, tan face, black ears and hair. The cougar chimera looked back at her, momentarily speechless.
Silverfox was chained to a wall, her dress torn off her back and in tatters around her waist. Her back didn't hurt much; she had faked agony well enough that the jaguar hadn't beaten it out of her. Much. One of the guests was playing with her breast, but she had panties on, and he didn't try to slip a hand in or rip them off.
She was feeling something, something warm and welcome. Was she enjoying this? No. They had hacked her brain implant. They were making her feel good. Conditioning. Firmwear upgrade. No. It wouldn't work. Not now that she knew what they were doing.
Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Tawny on the table, her body shaking with every thrust. And not in pain. The puma was servicing Client #2, and Silverfox could smell the puma's excitement, unfeigned. Silverfox could see everything, the slick length he was pulling out, visible for an instant before he thrust it back into Tawny with a grunt, the position making it possible to see everything.
Silverfox had seen this sort of thing in porn before, and had once accidentally caught Firefox in bed with a man. She had fast-forwarded through those scenes, and slipped out before Firefox noticed her. There was something revolting in seeing Firefox with a guy.
But now Silverfox watched, fascinated. She told herself she wasn't turned on, that it was a current in her brain that was making her like it. And then she told herself that she was turned on by watching Tawny. She was a hot number, and even though she was with a guy, she was beautiful as she moved in pleasure. She looked like a fun lay.
Aside from that, there was something really neat about the way his dick moved into her. Silverfox wanted to look away, but it felt good to watch. And it wasn't as though Tawny was really all that put out by what they were doing to her. She might not like the idea of taking three men on, but she was shameless about enjoying it.
"Take it, bitch," he said, and thrust hard. Tawny cried out in animal delight, an instant later setting her jaw as though she hadn't meant it.
The puma was acting, but she wasn't faking pleasure, she was faking outrage. Her body strained against the chains, not to escape. His cock looked like it belonged there, which was a weird thought.
Silverfox watched, her eyes half closed. The scent of semen was heavy, it was a scent she had hated before. She knew that, but now it was exciting her. She was wet, watching.
It looked like fun...
And here was Tawny, in the flesh and fur. She wore a simple peasant's dress and no underwear, her nipples curving the fabric of her blouse in a way calculated to look uncalculated. She wore beads and feathers entwined in her braids; it had to have taken a lot of work and time to thread them in. Tawny had always been good with hair.
When they made eye contact, their neural implants transmitted a unique identification code to one another. Silverfox touched the mental switch that brought up a search agent and gave it Tawny's profile to chew on. Tawny was holding something. A mug of coffee, black.
"Silverfox," Cindy said, "this is Dawnstar Earthtreader."
Silverfox saw the poster for the first time: it was a lovely shot of Tawny looking all spiritual in front of a southwest desert mesa. Strangely, there was a trail through the desert made of slightly-differently colored sand, which had to be a geological miracle. A bunch of rocks stacked into a vaguely man-shaped pile was next to her; she was posed so she seemed to be interacting with the stack. Beneath were the words:
The Path
- by -
Dawnstar Earthtreader,
She-Shamyn
Any lingering suspicion that Tawny had gone through a genuine spiritual experience vanished with the term "She-Shamyn." Libertine women might repent and become nuns; holy men lose faith in their God and become atheists; many strange things might happen on the road to Damascus, but there was no possible way that "She-Shamyn" could be coined by a sincere heart. "She-Shamyn" was a raised middle finger and an asterix to fine type that read, "if you are dumb enough to believe this, you deserve to be scammed."
Silverfox wasn't amused; she was angry for her friends and ashamed they had fallen for it so easily. She inhaled, and she smelled Tawny's coffee. Her eyes dropped to the mug, half filled with black coffee.
The non-dairy creamer at Blue Diamond had been so bad that none of the Blue Diamond Girls used it. Nobody but a Blue Diamond Girl would notice that Blue Diamond Girls drank their coffee without cream. Master could make you do anything, but they couldn't make you take cream in your coffee. It had been a tiny act of rebellion that had bound them all together. Silverfox looked down at the coffee. Before Blue Diamond, she had always liked café au lait, the more lait the better. Coffee with moo juice had not passed her lips since they had burned Blue Diamond to the ground.
Tawny still drank her coffee black too.
"Nice to meet you, Dawnstar," Silverfox said, keeping her face straight and putting out her hand.
The relief in Tawny's eyes was unmistakable. She did this thing where she crossed her arms over her chest, closed her eyes, and tilted the top of her body in Silverfox's direction.
"Dawnstar was telling us how she taps into her cougar side for spiritual enlightenment," Cindy prattled on. "Do you ever hear your fox side talk to you?"
"Foxes don't talk," Silverfox replied. It backfired when Cindy took her at face value. Cindy glanced at Tawny, Tawny looked back. Cindy looked just a little amused; Tawny cocked an eyebrow as though telling Cindy she shouldn't be amused by one behind her on the path to enlightenment.
"Besides," Silverfox continued. "Foxes don't do all that much apart from killing and screwing. Well, they raise little foxes too, but that's obviously out of the picture for me. I suppose cougars might be more spiritual."
"That's what some people want you to believe," Tawny said. "The truth is that you and I are blessed. We're closer to the earth."
"Closer to the earth means further from what?" Silverfox asked.
"Aren't your senses better than mine?" Cindy asked.
"Yes," Silverfox agreed immediately. "But a pair of night vision goggles don't make you smarter."
"Night vision goggles just boost the light to levels humans can detect," Tawny said. "It's not the same as seeing in the dark. And on top of that, we see infrared and magnetic fields and our fur detects subsonic pressure waves. Is it really hard to believe there might be something else we're more attuned to?"
"Like heatstroke?" Silverfox asked. She looked at the poster again. "What's with the letter 'y'?" she asked. "Why does everyone think changing the other vowels to 'y' makes a word more feminine? It's the most masculine letter there is. The chromosome, of course. And then there's the way it looks." She pointed. "See? The slanty bits are the hips, and between them dangles the tumescent organ of oppression."
Tawny actually flashed a grin at that; Janet frowned and Cindy, dip that she was, almost seemed to be considering it seriously.
"You're very clever," Tawny said. "I'd like to talk to you some time, somewhere you ... feel more comfortable."
Somewhere you won't need to show off in front of your friends, Silverfox thought. She realized she had been outmaneuvered. Anything she said now would be taken as spite. Or, more likely, a stubborn refusal to open her soul to the light.
Silverfox left before the coffee was ready. She felt tired and a little disgusted with everything, and she wasn't sure why. Tawny had come up with a new scam; one that didn't involve selling herself. Good for her. But like it or not, Silverfox still felt something for Janet and her circle, even Cindy. And it hurt to watch someone make fools of them. Well, as long as Tawny was just getting crash space and meals and selling a few copies of her book, no harm done.
"So I can hook this up to my camera and my phone and send a whole directory in batch mode?" Silverfox asked.
"Well, if his mailbox is big enough," the pimply-faced salesclerk said. "But yes, as long as you've got a USB connection, it'll parse the directory contents into chunks small enough to mail."
Silverfox decided she liked him. He wasn't talking down or showing off. "It's streaming down to a server," Silverfox assured him. She considered the gadget. It was cheap enough to expense without bothering Firefox for a signoff. She wished Technofox could give her opinion, but she didn't think she had time to consult --
"Oh, hey, Silver!" Jerry said brightly, coming up behind her. He pointed. "You know, there's a program for an EPOC handheld that does the same that does for one tenth the cost."
What the hell? Did she have a tracking beacon attached? "Really?" she asked.
"If you get the configuration right," the pimply-faced salesclerk said. "And this has automated error handling. It can recognize mailbox full errors and resume automatically."
"Really?" Jerry asked. "He's right -- the error trapping in the software's sort of hard to configure."
"Ah," Silverfox said. "I really need this running tomorrow, and I can expense it."
"Then it's a good choice," Jerry said.
"Paper or plastic?" the salesclerk asked.
"Plastic," Silverfox said. "Can you send me a receipt by email?"
"Not a problem," the salesclerk assured her.
"If you haven't had lunch yet," Jerry said, "I know a place nearby with Kobe beef hamburgers and fries that will make you weep."
"I really can't," Silverfox said. "I've got some errands to run."
"Kobe... beef... hamburgers..." Jerry repeated.
She bit into her burger, eyes closed in pleasure.
"I was just talking to Janet," she said.
"The one with the bookstore?" he asked.
"That's her."
"How is she?" he asked politely.
Silverfox rolled her eyes.
"Is she still boldly challenging the paradigms of white male domination?" he asked. "Tell her I said that at the last meeting of the Anglo Male Domination Committee, they were all fretting about our challenged paradigms. That'll make her feel better."
Silverfox chuckled. "Y'know, I like her, but she's so ... I dunno." She shook her head.
"You've bent my ear about her more than once," he said.
"Sorry."
He shook his head. "Didn't mean to sound like I was complaining. There must be something very special about her. You're not casual with her, and despite everything you always seem to go back. But I don't know what it is. From what I've heard, she doesn't even know what you do for a living. Is that because she'd take it badly?"
Silverfox pretended to chew so she had an excuse to stay quiet. He was right, wasn't he? She swallowed. And grinned. "Maybe I tolerate her because I can rely on you to be male and insensitive," Silverfox said. "Say something crass."
"Call me 'Master' from now on," Jerry replied.
Silverfox froze, and was silent for a moment. "You picked exactly the wrong thing to say," she heard from herself.
He looked up, maybe worried about something he caught in her voice. "Sorry about that. Want to talk about it?"
"...Maybe later," she said. She put her burger down. "I'm sorry. I dared you."
"So you're going somewhere?" Jerry asked, trying to change the subject.
She dreaded this moment. Jerry knew she was an ICON operative and she could just say she was working, and he wouldn't push her for information. But then he'd know she was on an op. Which officially, she wasn't.
"Yeah," she said. "I'm taking some leave in Victoria. One week."
"Victoria? Where's that?" he asked.
"Vancouver Island."
"You're not going to Nevada?" he asked, puzzled. "Isn't Ex-Caliber being held there this year?"
Silverfox bit her lip.
"Ex-Caliber starts this weekend," he reminded her.
She had forgotten about that. She couldn't say that she couldn't afford to go, because he'd probably offer to take her, and then she'd have to explain why she wanted to go to Victoria instead. "I went last year," she said truthfully. "I picked up a totally sweet little six round 9mm autoloader."
"Right, I remember your showing that to me," he said, nodding.
"Are you going this year?" she asked. "If you are, I'd like your opinion on the Metalstorm Peace Officer. The sixteen round cloverleaf."
He considered briefly, and made a decision. "No ... you say you're going to Victoria? That's an incredible coincidence," he said, as Silverfox's heart sank. "I was just going there too. Want to share a hotel room?" She had forgotten that he had enough free time and money to blow off Ex-Caliber tickets and zip across the continent on a whim.
"Why are you going to Victoria?" Silverfox asked, pretending to believe him.
"To see the ... you know, the thing Victoria's famous for," he said.
"Mmm?" she asked, chewing and cocking her eyebrow inquiringly.
"Sure. You know, I'm just blanking on the name. The world famous ... Victoria thing. I hear it's the best of its kind in the world," he said.
She swallowed. "Name me one thing in Victoria, British Columbia, worth going across the continent for," she said.
"Well, you're there." He glanced away, suddenly uncomfortable, as though he had accidentally been too honest.
She looked down at the table, embarrassed, wishing she knew what to say.
"Is it work?" he asked.
"No," she replied immediately. Secret means ICON, secret means Cheshire; Firefox would hit the ceiling if Silverfox told an outsider Foxforce was abusing ICON's mental health budget so she could search for a smuggler's boathouse. "Uhm, I have plans. Sorry."
"Oh, meeting a guy?" he asked.
"Not exactly --" she hedged.
"A girl? Is she broadminded? Can I watch?" he asked eagerly.
For about a tenth of a second, she actually took him seriously. Then part of her burger tried to leave through her nose. Silverfox had to turn away and blow Kobe beef out of her sinus into her napkin.
"That's an appalling waste of Kobe beef," she said sternly. "Do you know how many Kobes gave their lives for this?" she asked, waving her napkin accusingly.
"So why Victoria?" he asked.
"I've got a friend named Victoria, and I thought she'd get a laugh if I sent her something from it," she said. Hey, that wasn't a bad idea, actually. But it wasn't enough to explain a trip.
She knew Victoria was a popular vacation spot, but she really had no idea what people did there. Desperately, she tried to think of something she had seen on the posters around Seattle. "Butchart Gardens," she replied immediately, hoping she was pronouncing it right.
Silverfox used her neural implant to bring up a web browser, using her phone for access. Using the neural implant was like working a computer using only the mouse and no keyboard; and she knew she didn't have any Victoria tourist sites bookmarked. She could bring up a virtual keyboard and use that, but Jerry would notice she was distracted. Technofox could carry on a conversation while doing her taxes on a real keyboard and downloading new cheats for her games with her neural implant. Silverfox could track one target for each hand but that was about it.
"Name two roses," he challenged her.
She couldn't. So she pretended to miss the question by talking. "Or maybe go on a whale watch. See some killer whales, harbor seals, sea lions ... and there's ... Miniature World, and Madame Tussard's."
"Miniature World," he repeated, skeptically.
"Sure! They've got these great dioramas of .... stuff." Oh, shit, she thought. Even I don't buy it. "In miniature." she said hopefully. His brow wrinkled, as though he were getting ready to ask if she meant any of that seriously. "And Madame Tussard's waxworks." She had already said that, hadn't she? Well, one of the advantages of her relationship with Jerry was that she could pass off anything stupid she said as a failed joke.
"Miniatures and waxworks?" he asked. "I'm surprised you're into that."
"Why?" she asked.
"I understand that chimerae in general rely less on vision than humans do. Waxworks and Miniature World are sort of visual. That's why I don't usually take you to movies, plays, or art museums," he said.
He had been tailoring their date activities to stuff he thought she'd enjoy, and she had never noticed. No wonder she liked hanging out with him. "And that's why I want to go to the gardens," she suddenly improvised. "I want to smell all the flowers."
"Oh," he said, nodding, and Silverfox felt a moment of great relief now that she had come up with something good.
Which still didn't explain why she didn't want to travel with him. She knew what he had to be thinking; she needed a little distance. Maybe he had scared her off with the present. It made her feel sad and uncomfortable. She was used to lying to people, but typically they didn't matter to her. Now she was keeping a secret and it was hurting a friend.
She got a flash; she had just received a Medium priority email. She opened her inbox; deleted some spam, and noticed that the search agent on Tawny had yielded results. That could wait; she opened the Medium Priority message.
Her flight tomorrow was displacing the weekly teleconference with Doctor Clayton. Typically, they'd just cancel the meeting and let the agenda slide till next week; but this time, Clayton had proposed bringing it forward, one hour from now. Silverfox chewed the inside of her mouth. The unexpected made her a little edgy.
"I've got an appointment," she said, and as she said it, realized it sounded like the lamest brush-off in history.
"Oh," Jerry said. "Scoot then. I'll take care of the check."
She didn't want to leave it like this. "I'll write you," she said, helplessly. "See you."
"See you," he replied automatically, subdued.
Should she say she wasn't brushing him off? That might convince him she was brushing him off. She reached out and patted his arm.
"Can I see you tonight?" she asked. "My plane doesn't leave till ten tomorrow morning."
"Afraid not," he gritted his teeth. "I've got to be in New York, tomorrow morning."
"That's too bad," she said. "Goodbye," she said, and got up.
"Goodbye," he said.
She hesitated, and turned around. She went close to him so he could hear her without her raising her voice. "Look, I'm sorry, I'm not really sure what I should be saying here," she said in a rush. "But I like what we have and I want to keep seeing you. Maybe I'll change my mind some day, but right now I can't live with you. I know it sounds like I'm trying to brush you off, but I'm not." She leaned forward and kissed him lightly, even though public display of affection in a mixed couple wasn't always understood.
He smiled back, uncertainly.
"Can I feel it?" Firefox asked, fascinated.
"If you'll be gentle," Silverfox replied.
"Of course I'll be gentle," Firefox said.
She put her hand around the gun butt, and her fingers closed.
"It's like my hand is complete," Firefox said in a small voice.
"Check out the gun camera," Silverfox encouraged.
Firefox checked the open breech to make sure there was nothing loaded, and half-pulled the trigger. She closed her eyes. "I'm seeing colors I've never seen before," she said, voice trembling. "I feel like I could shoot a fly off Hitler's tomb. From here."
"It was sized for my hand," Silverfox said. "So it probably doesn't feel as nice to you."
Firefox shook her head. "Do you think he'd buy me a gun if I had enough sex with him?"
Technofox looked up. "No gun can be worth that."
"This one is," Firefox insisted. "Just feel it."
She handed the pistol to Technofox, who squeaked when she held it. "You're right," she said, amazed. "It feels like the Hammer of Thor!"
"Lucky," Shadowfox said, enviously. "I just get jewelry and dresses. Never anything that cool."
"It has to do with the quality of man you prostitute yourself with," Silverfox said seriously.
"You got that motorcycle," Technofox said.
"Yeah, the motorcycle's cool," Shadowfox agreed with a nod.
"You two get all sorts of cool stuff," Technofox said, faking disappointment. "I wish I were wildly promiscuous so I got cool stuff too."
"That's a common misconception," Shadowfox said. "You have to be promiscuous with the right people." She tossed her head in Firefox's direction. "Some people sleep with guys whose idea of a present is a collection of preserves."
"My boyfriend got me out of Blue Diamond," Firefox said archly, and stuck her tongue out.
"Fire wins," Technofox said immediately. Silverfox conceded the point with a nod.
Technofox ducked under the table and pushed the two back-to-back flat screens up through the slot, turning the kitchen table into a conference table. "Why do you think he's pushing this forward?" Technofox asked. "It's a little weird for him."
"Yes. If we had cancelled last week's teleconference I'd understand," Shadowfox said.
"I'd do the same, in his position," Firefox said, her arms folded. "Silverfox is taking stress leave. That probably rings some bells." She stretched. "He's probably just being cautious."
"It's ringing some bells," Shadowfox nodded. "The news is shaking up the pool,"
"Pool?" Firefox asked, quizzically
"The guys in ICON are running a pool to see which of us becomes the first psychological casualty," Shadowfox explained. "I was leading until this week. When you put in the form for Silverfox she edged ahead."
"Are you pulling my leg?" Firefox asked incredulously.
"I'm pulling your leg," Shadowfox said with a firm nod.
"Well, okay then," Firefox said. "I want a go, no-go."
"Support go," Technofox said. She put the gun away and closed the lid on the case.
"Tactical go," Silverfox said.
"Intelligence go."
"Command makes it four for four," Firefox said, sitting down. Firefox nodded to Technofox.
They were about eight minutes ahead of schedule, but they were within tolerance and they knew Clayton would be online and ready for them. He always was. His megaframe could handle up to six conversations at once in real time, flipping between sound file buffers. His avatar was a human form traced out in restful green lines, with barely enough of a face to register expressions. Some machine intelligences were androgynous; Doctor Clayton did not choose to be. It was curious that he used an avatar designed to interact more with humans than with chimerae.
"Good evening, Foxforce," he said. "Thank you for being available at such short notice."
"Not a problem," Firefox replied. "We don't have anything formal prepared, of course."
"Of course," he agreed.
"And I'm not completely up to date with everyone, so let's keep this on an individual report level," Firefox said. She popped her laptop open. "Inspector Nishinobu tells me that seven of the pelts have been tested, and five of them were chimerae."
"Five of seven?" Silverfox asked, appalled. "There's two hundred pelts in all so, that's-- what? One hundred fifty?"
"We can't extrapolate. The proportion will probably drop, because they started with the ones most obviously chimerae," Firefox said.
"Cripes, I hope so," Silverfox said.
"They match, genetically, with about two hundred and fifty registered chimerae. Of those, there are sixteen whose whereabouts are unknown, or who died with no body recovered."
"I thought there were seventeen," Doctor Clayton said immediately.
"One of those seventeen is a runaway chimera I know of personally," Firefox replied. "Obviously, she is not dead."
"Don't tell me who," Doctor Clayton said. "That information may be subject to subpoena."
"Unless it comes up in the context of psychiatric privilege," Firefox said. "Speaking of which, doctor, I should tell you about a source of personal stress to me. In Atlanta, we met a chimera named Cheshire. We knew her from Blue Diamond. Coincidentally, after we left Atlanta, she ran away from her legal owners and coincidentally is living nearby. As a private law enforcement operative I am personally troubled by this."
"That information has been filed as confidential patient data and is protected by privacy statutes," Doctor Clayton answered.
Silverfox swallowed. Firefox had completely skirted around how she really felt about Cheshire -- that was bad, because it implied Firefox was very upset about that indeed. Silverfox wished she could do something about that.
"Why do you think Inspector Nishinobu is keeping you informed?" Doctor Clayton asked.
"I assume he anticipates a contract in the near future," Firefox replied. "I feel confident ICON will land this one."
"Why?"
She shrugged. "The case involves chimerae. We've already eliminated one investigative target without even being on the case. Foxforce can approach this from an angle he can't. I think he's bright enough to value that."
"Interesting," Doctor Clayton said. "Would you mind if I shared that observation?"
"Not at all."
"Do you feel personally invested in this case?" Doctor Clayton asked.
"Naturally," Firefox replied. She looked at her laptop. "I'm going to be taking Silverfox's airport detail next week, I was just screwing around with some administrivia anyway, so this will give me a chance to use some of those idle cycles. Guys, are you keeping your schedules up to date in the software? It's really important you do that." She looked pointedly at Silverfox, and pointed to the screen. Silverfox's travel was in there, but her "vacation" wasn't.
"Sorry," Silverfox said. "I thought you were sending me the vacation as a meeting, since you're mandating it."
"I got it," Technofox said, typing furiously. The vacation appeared, blocking off Silverfox's time.
"Do you feel you're being forced to go on vacation?" Doctor Clayton asked.
"Not at all," Silverfox gushed. "I'm really looking forward to it. Butchart Gardens has all these flowers, and it'll be a lot of fun to smell them. And maybe I'll get close enough to an orca to smell its breath. There were posters all over Seattle about Victoria."
Technofox's expression barely flickered. She was obviously impressed about smelling flowers at Butchart Gardens. It sounded wonderfully plausible. "Wish I could go with you."
"I'm glad to hear that," Doctor Clayton said. "As this trip is an assignment, I'm authorizing you a daily board budget of one hundred dollars."
"Wow, thanks," Silverfox said, genuinely surprised. It was double the usual travel allotment. She could have some fun with that. It would only set ICON back another $350 but it was nice to have.
"Da nada. Technofox?" Doctor Clayton asked.
"You know that Shadowfox is investigating Martin Connor, right?" Technofox said.
"Investigating" was a euphemism, Silverfox thought. The Connors were the biggest crime family in Boston, and Shadowfox was ingratiating herself with Martin.
"Martin's the second son of George Connor, and Shadow's been giving me Martin's communications logs. I think there's a real chance he's going to do something boneheaded and end up on the lam."
"Not right away, and maybe not ever, but I get the same feeling," Shadowfox said. "He's got a new plan he's being all mysterious about and since he's about as smart as two slices of buttered toast I don't see it ending well for him."
"So he's either going into the Charles River or vanishing under his own power," Technofox finished. "Someday."
"Right," Shadowfox agreed. "Now, what I propose is that we manage his flight. If he decides to run, there's a very good chance he'll run to me."
"And then you send him to friends out of town. At that point, he's pretty much ours. We could hand him over to the police, or even turn him," Firefox said.
"Exactly," Shadowfox said with a nod.
"To pull that off, we need assets out of town," Firefox said. "It's a big jump in the scope of the operation, but I like it."
"I'm inclined to agree," said Clayton. "I'll take it as an action item to find someone."
"The Pride would be perfect," Firefox said. "They're in Las Vegas and Shadowfox could have met Shadowcat on a tour."
A scroll appeared before Clayton's avatar and he made a note on it. "I'll get a list together for our next meeting," he said.
"One problem, though," Shadowfox said. "I need an address of my own to give Martin. A four bedroom is way too nice for Ebony to live in. And if I tell him I live with three heavily armed guard dogs..." she gestured helplessly. "He'll realize I'm an op."
"I see the problem," Silverfox admitted.
"Ebony doesn't live here. Ebony needs to live in a modest but clean studio apartment with a chimera roommate," Shadowfox finished.
The other three foxes looked at Shadowfox with blank amazement. Silverfox found herself wishing that Shadow had mentioned this in advance; the reaction of the other three foxes to this amazing scam was bound to be a giveaway.
"Why a roommate?" Clayton asked.
"I've already told Martin that I have a roommate to explain why we always go to his place for privacy. Besides, she'll keep it lived-in. I don't want to move out of here," Shadowfox said promptly.
"I assume you have someone in mind," Clayton said.
"Yes," Shadowfox agreed. "However, I think we need to maintain deniability, so I intend to keep her identity confidential from you. All in all, I think it will run about five hundred a month."
"I'm all for it," Firefox said. "Ebony's needed a good mailing address for a while."
"There might be some risk to the roommate," Clayton said.
"I'm okay with that," Firefox said. "I mean, we can mitigate that."
"Wow," Silverfox said in awe. "Just wow. I mean ... " she searched for the word. "Wow," she said, finally.
Shadowfox looked up quizzically. She was chopping an onion, to garnish the hamburgers Silverfox had asked for her goodbye dinner. "Since I'm fully dressed, and you're not holding a gun, I'm not sure what you're talking about," she said.
"What you just pulled off there," Silverfox said. "Cheshire keeps her apartment, she's out of Firefox's ass, a hole in your cover as Ebony is sealed, and ICON pays for it."
"It's what I do," Shadowfox said, focusing on her onion. She smiled suddenly "Some times are easier than others."
"Whatever. It's neat."
Shadowfox looked over at her. "Andrew's coming over for dinner tonight," she said.
"That's nice," Silverfox said.
Shadowfox looked away and lowered her voice. "Would you mind sleeping with him tonight?"
"Of course not," Silverfox blinked. "But he usually sleeps with Firefox."
"Yes," Silverfox agreed. "But I think Tech might be getting a little jealous." She turned to face Silver and held her thumb and forefinger slightly apart, which apparently indicated the amount of Technofox's jealousy. "It would be nice if Firefox had a chance to sleep with Andrew but slept with Tech instead."
"Oh, sure," Silverfox said. "I'll come up with something."
She noticed that there was an unopened email in her inbox. It was the report from the search agent she had set on Tawny's trail. Curiously, she opened it.
The report stated that Dawnstar was an agricultural worker who had run away from a farm in Alabama four years ago. There was no mention of Blue Diamond.
Had she mistaken someone else for Tawny?
Silverfox felt a little afraid.
Silverfox walked quickly through the apartment to make sure the guns were put away, then she positioned herself near the front door so she could be the one to answer it. She opened it before Andrew had a chance to knock; it always amused her to see the expressions humans got when she did that. He was holding a bottle of wine in his not-knocking hand; he had a dresser drawer in Firefox's room, so he didn't have an overnighter.
"Hi, Andrew," she said.
"Hello, Silverfox," he said with a smile. He leaned forward and aimed a kiss for her cheek; she turned her head at the last moment and got him on the lips. He opened his eyes with surprise; she wagged her tail and grinned impishly.
"Dibs," she announced, closing the door.
"Dibs?" he replied, surprised. He looked at Firefox uncertainly.
"You got him yesterday," Silverfox complained.
"Yeah," Technofox said. "Share the wealth, Fire."
"I'm going away for a week," Silverfox explained to him.
Firefox looked between Silver and Technofox. "She has a point. Andrew?" she asked.
"Well," he said uncertainly, "we hadn't made any specific plans."
He was sleeping peacefully, on his side, one arm against her waist, the other right below her breasts. She was on her back, her hands up over her head, her legs slightly open when she awoke. She was shaking, ever so slightly. She was remembering, not dreaming. She knew it wasn't real.
After the scene with Cheshire and Tawny, Silverfox was turned over to Tigre again.
She was tied to a chair, facing the back. Tigre was standing over her, with a whip.
Hours later, she didn't know how many times she had been hit. It didn't seem like she could count that high. Her throat burned with thirst.
"Again," Tigre said.
Silverfox stared down at a small puddle of drool on the linoleum.
Tigre grabbed her hair, forced her head up to face her. Silverfox screwed her eyes shut, so she wouldn't have to see Tigre's face.
"Again," Tigre repeated.
"There is no rape in Blue Diamond," Silverfox repeated. "There are only disobedient slaves."
"Good girl," Tigre said. "What is your name?"
The word "Good" meant she would not be hit until the next question. "My name is Smoke."
"Good. Again."
"My name is Smoke."
"Good. A Blue Diamond Girl is..?"
"Respectful and obedient and..." she couldn't remember. She started shaking.
"Good. That was two of four. Try again. It starts with 'sh.' A Blue Diamond Girl is..?"
"Shameless and enthusiastic."
"Very Good. Let's go to bed now."
Silverfox had to bite her lip to keep from screaming and begging. She didn't want to beg, not because she was ashamed, but because she knew it would give Tigre an excuse to hit her again. Blue Diamond Girls were enthusiastic.
The door opened and both women turned to look. He was tall, his red hair long. Tigre turned to face him, opened her top. She knelt, touched her breasts to the floor, licked his foot, and rested on her knuckles, head bowed. He reached down and touched her ear. She came smoothly to her feet.
There was nothing in Tigre's face but desire as she stood in front of him, her breasts exposed. He looked at them and smiled fleetingly. He took a bottle of water off a table, tore off the cap, and held it while Silverfox gulped it down.
"Let her choose," he said curtly.
"Yes, Master," Tigre said happily. Tigre nudged Silverfox's snout with an elbow. "You're having sex tonight. That's been decided. But we'll let you choose," she said. "Me, or him. No decision means three guards."
Silverfox looked at her, looked at him, imagined three guards. It was no decision, not really.
Tigre bound her, unresisting, to a bed with a beautiful walnut frame, silk sheets. It was like she was a part of the expensive décor. She was trying hard not to hyperventilate when Master came in.
He took off his suit, revealing a wonderfully toned and ripped body. His dick came out, and she stared at it and gulped. It was fascinating, just like earlier when she had watched Tawny being balled. If she weren't a lesbian, she could imagine wanting it.
He slid in next to her, and he touched her face.
"It's okay," he said softly. "Just go to sleep. You don't have to do anything for me tonight. Just try to get some rest." He then closed his eyes, his arm over her, warming her, and she knew that as long as he was in bed with her, Tigre would not be.
Silverfox smiled, relieved.
Silverfox looked down, over Andrew's arm. His flaccid penis was out and resting across her hip; she stared at it, and imagined him sliding it into her again. She touched the tip of her tongue to her lip. Her head shifted, and she became aware of something on his arm. No, inside his arm. There was a prosthetic tag there, a coded sequence of magnetic bands that informed security equipment that Andrew had metal implants. The magnetic sensor in Silverfox's forehead wasn't sensitive enough to detect them directly, so they were probably titanium strips reinforcing the humerus. She focused her eyes on his upper arm; his skin was dark, but there were patches where the texture wasn't quite right, running out parallel to the bone. To Silverfox, it looked like he had caught a burst of automatic fire, right across the arm, where armor usually didn't protect.
Silverfox slowly rested her head back down. Andrew had been a cop. And some people, she knew, didn't like to talk about their scars.
The next day, she made her flight and when she was on the plane to Victoria, she started to consider her schedule. The flight was direct and would take eight and a half hours. She'd gain three hours because of the time difference, so she'd land about 1530. Which would be more than enough time to find someone to keep the tiger away.