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FOX Academy:

Book I - The New Breed

Book II - The Werewolf of Odessa

The Werewolf of Odessa - Chapter 9 - A Hunting We Will Go

Silver stood hunched over the planning table in the FOX Operations Centre studying the scenario the grey fox, Bill Hanlan, and his team had produced. Silver would have to translate this plan into action and needed to be comfortable with all of the details.

"When is the next test of the Anti-Missile Defence Shield?" He asked.

"Three days from now." The Professor answered. "The Americans have to conduct a successful test soon if they hope to keep the new members of NATO in the pact. Some of their advisers are convinced that the threat was eliminated when they destroyed the Werewolf's installation. They don't trust the intelligence that Vikki and Marcel collected, not enough to delay the test."

"Can we expect any assistance from them?"

"No. Our interagency agreement prohibits them from operating in Canadian territory without our permission, and the Minister isn't about to grant it. We are not her favourite agency at the moment. Our Director can, however, authorize this mission using FOX resources alone."

"Resources aren't our long suit at the moment." Silver replied. "So, to sum up, if we're correct and we go for it we'll have to send in a small team against an overwhelming force, where the odds are one to a thousand of success, but virtually certain that we will all die, successful or not, right?"

"Yep, that about sums it up."

"Sounds pretty routine then. I'll go see Gold and get the go-ahead." Silver left the Ops Centre and headed for the Chief of Staff's office.

Tancred 'Tanner' Williams greeted Silver and led him to one of the antique oak and leather armchairs that matched the massive desk. The office had been meticulously restored after the assassination of Constable Hirt the week before. Silver settled in and explained the situation.

"So my real problem is personnel. The mission will be physically demanding and it's a harsh environment. With the missile test coming so soon there's no time to bring anybody back from overseas. I'd like permission to use a couple of the students."

"Who did you have in mind?" Tanner asked.

"Sommer and Knight. I know that they don't get along but she's the next best thing to a Navy SEAL and he's SWAT trained. Nobody else here has that type of assault training."

"There's a problem with Knight, he's got some kind of flu. Doc Jones gave him a week of light duty, no physical stuff."

"Damn," Silver cursed, then he shrugged, "Then I'll have to make do. What about getting in and out? There's a 500-metre airstrip, but it's visible from the base so we can't use it going in. If things get hot we won't be able to use it going out either. What we need is a submarine from the Navy."

"They are grounded, or docked rather; technical problems again." Gold leaned back in his chair and put a paw to his lip in thought. "There is someone who owes me a favour that may be able to help. Let me make a few calls."

After almost an hour of greetings, questions, pleas and outright threats in several different languages, Gold hung up the phone and turned to Silver. "You have a ride. My friend is sending the details direct to Hanlan to incorporate into the plan. Get your team together and get them briefed. You head out tomorrow night."

* * * * * * * *

Ophelia hesitated outside the surgical wing entrance. The nurse in charge, a tough-looking old otter, had told her that Kain was allowed visitors now and that he would appreciate a visit from another classmate. She was shocked to learn that the other visitor had been Nelson Knight. The only reason she could see for him to visit would be to brag about the episode in the classroom three nights ago.

"Get yourself together girl." She whispered to herself. Her nerves were starting to fray from the stress of acting normal.

She dreaded the thought of turning a corner and coming face-to-face with Silver. Even when she saw him at a distance, she had to concentrate not to stare or look deliberately away. Did he suspect what she up to? The Virginia authorities never figured out how she administered the poison to her husband, the poison they couldn't find. It was another reason for not going to trial. She had spent the last two days slowly and carefully discarding any trace of the potion, expecting security to grab her in the act at any moment.

The worst part was waiting for Nelson to die. Why did I do it, she wondered, why did I fuck him? Frustration? Anger? Rejection rebound? Who knows? It had only taken her husband two days to succumb to the poison she transferred to him in that last seduction, but Nelson was just starting to show symptoms today. True, Knight was larger and in much better shape than her husband had been at the end, the slob. The main ingredient was also five years older, not as potent as it once was, so it will probably take longer to affect him. I just wish the prick would get on with dying and end the suspense.

Her only consolation was that by the time he was dead all traces of the poison would be gone from his system. First, the toxins would leave his blood and collect in his brain. There they would work away, destroying vital and irreplaceable chunks of grey matter, until they were used up, converted to harmless organic compounds easily absorbed back into his tissues. Death would soon follow, and an autopsy would reveal nothing unusual.

Would they suspect her? Maybe ... probably ... if Nelson had bragged to everyone about the incident in the classroom. Nelson wasn't shy, he was sure to repeat the story when the doctors asked him with whom he had been in contact with in case it was contagious. But with no evidence, and no way of collecting any until the toxins had dissipated, she should be able to bluff it out again. She just had to hold it together until she could get another opportunity to kill Silver.

Ophelia gathered her courage and headed for Algorath's room.

"Hey Kain." She said, smiling brightly as she entered his room.

Kain looked up. At first, his face lit up with a smile but it faded before it was fully formed. Oh-Oh, she thought, I was right about Nelson.

"Oh, Hey Cass." Kain looked down and fiddled with his sheets. Ophelia took the opportunity to study him. He didn't look too bad, for someone who had been blown up. He was missing a lot of fur from his face and paws and there were a number of stitches around his eyes but there didn't seem to be any major damage.

"How are you doing Kain?" She asked as she sat on the edge of his bed. "I'm told that they might let you out soon."

"Okay I guess." He waved a paw over his face and head. "This stuff will heal pretty quick and the fur will grow back, especially as winter approaches and more of the white comes in. I got some more impressive scars under the robe where they removed the door handle and part of the driver's side mirror. Looks like everything is holding together in there though. The nurse tells me that I had some kind of seizure on the first day and almost died but they don't know what caused it."

"Let's see those scars." Ophelia said playfully and pretended to grab for his robe. Kain shied away from her touch and she sat back, sighing inwardly. Better get this over with, she decided.

"I hear that Nelson was by to see you earlier."

"Yeah, he was by." Kain was looking down again.

"Have much to say?"

"Not much, just wanted to say hi."

"That's all huh?"

"Cass ... the night before I got hurt ... when we were in my room, what was that all about?"

It was Ophelia's turn to look down and play with the sheets. "I don't know what it was Kain, but there was something ... I think."

"I thought so too, but Nelson said some stuff today. Was he ... he was lying, Cass ... wasn't he?" Kain looked at her pleadingly, begging for her to look him in the eyes and say 'yes, Kain, he was lying'; but Ophelia could not look him in the eyes and she did not answer. Kain slumped back in the bed.

Ophelia put a paw on his arm; he didn't resist or react. "Kain, it wasn't like that, whatever he said. I was upset and angry at someone else and just ran into him in the school and it all transferred to him and it just happened."

"You were mad at him so you rode him like a Harley." Kain said without emotion. "Can you explain the logic behind that for me?"

"I can't explain it. It's ... it's complicated. Believe me, I think worse of myself than you do of me."

Kain looked out the window, away from her. "You can't explain ... or you won't explain?"

Ophelia didn't know what to say in response. She stared at her paws on her lap. Footsteps at the door made her look up; the old otter was there, looking concerned.

"Visiting time is up." The nurse told her. "Kain has to rest if he wants to get out of here today. You two can get together in the lounge later if you want and talk some more."

The old otter studied Ophelia as she left hurriedly, without a word. Then she looked down at Kain, not surprised to see that he had an expression similar to the one the leopard had left wearing. After 40 years of nursing, she could spot a pair of broken hearts a mile away.

* * * * * * * *

Vikki Beausoleil picked up the toaster with both paws, the real and the artificial, and lifted it over her head. She leaned back as far as she could then whipped forward, releasing the hapless toaster in mid-arc, which sent it unerringly into the stainless steel door of the refrigerator. It shattered on impact, leaving a sizable dent in the fridge. Vikki stomped on the larger pieces, barely feeling the sharp edges of the broken plastic through the soles of her house-slippers.

"God damn, sonnofabitch piece of shit burn my bagel will ya!" Foam started to form around her lips. When there were no more pieces large enough to be worth destroying, she stood panting in the middle of the kitchen, looking around for any other appliance that dare offend her.

"Is this a bad time?"

Vikki spun to face the suite's entrance, where the voice had come from, ready to fight or flee as appropriate. Even though she moved with the speed of a cobra, she had already processed the audio input and recognized the voice by the time she faced Silver. He was standing at the open door to her suite, the key she had given him in one paw, a look of concern on his face.

"You!" She snarled, "What are YOU doing here?"

Silver looked down at the key in he held and back up at her again but said nothing. Suddenly the anger poured out of her. What had come over her? One minute she was waiting for her bagel to toast, pickles and cream cheese ready to be applied to it, and the next minute she had gone feral. She had been going over different scenarios for telling Silver about her pregnancy in her head, anticipating his reactions, countering his arguments, composing calm retorts to what would surely be chauvinistic judgements from the walking sperm bank that knocked her up when the cheap piece-of-shit toaster that the stingy pricks at the Academy, males all of 'em, had ruined her lunch the same way that this was going to ruin her career and ... breathe, girl, breathe. Calm down. Using techniques Silver had taught her, she forced her respiration to deepen, her arteries to relax and expand, her heart rate to slow.

"Won't you come in?" She turned back to the kitchen, surveyed the mess and faced him again. "Bagel? Plain only I'm afraid, toaster's not working."

Silver slid into the easy chair opposite the couch and gestured for her to sit. "So I see. Would you mind telling me what it did to piss you off, so I can avoid doing the same thing?"

The anger gone for now, embarrassment flooded in. With it came such a feeling of helplessness that Vikki burst into tears. She hid her face with her good paw as she sat sobbing on the couch. Silver rushed over and knelt before her.

"Hey, hey. It's okay. Don't worry about it. We all get a little wild after a big operation like taking down the Stalker. You just need to unwind. It's a body chemistry thing, all that pent up adrenaline or whatever looking for a place to go." He held her paw and lifted her head until she had to look into his blue-grey eyes. "Better now?"

She nodded and wiped her eyes. Silver stood up and looked at her, then returned to the chair. Why didn't he come sit beside her on couch?

"What did you come for Silver? I thought that you were getting ready to brief us on the island mission?"

"I wanted to talk to you about the mission alone, before the briefing. I want to explain your role in this and why it has to be that way." He looked too serious, she thought; something is wrong.

"Silver, I don't understand."

"You won't be going to the island Vikki. You will be monitoring the mission from the Operations Centre."

She sat straight up on the edge of the couch. "What! Why! Is it my Paw? I've been cleared for the field with my mechanical paw. I was on your rescue mission, remember?" She gave him a pleading look.

Silver sighed and shook his head. "It's not the same. Where we're going the conditions are much harsher, harder on the hardware and on the body alike. There's a lot of climbing involved also, and your mechanical paw isn't dexterous enough to handle some of the advanced equipment we'll be using. Even if you had better control over the robotic one, there's still the insurance issue."

Vikki looked puzzled. "Insurance issue? What insurance issue?"

"The Academy's liability insurance. It's very high already, what with the inherent danger of the work we do. We have a hard time getting coverage for the bullet wounds and torture damage, and the underwriters flatly refuse to allow any pregnant females to go into a hostile situation ..."

Vikki came off the couch like a rocket and crossed the room in two strides. She grabbed Silver by the jacket with her artificial paw and lifted him until his eyes were level with her green orbs, the flecks of gold in them now a fiery copper.

"How did you know that I was pregnant?" She demanded, glaring at him.

Silver didn't answer. He may have been trying to, but the collar of his jacket, twisted tight around his throat in the iron grip of her bionic paw, seemed to be interfering with his ability to breathe. He was gripping her forearm with both of his paws, trying to support his weight with them as his feet could barely touch the floor now that she had hauled him up to her level. It wasn't working, and in her rage, she didn't seem to notice his predicament.

In desperation, Silver shot a paw up her sleeve and clawed at the snap that held the prosthetic tight to her elbow. With a 'ping' the snap gave way and the paw separated from the arm, going slack and releasing him at the same time. He stood clutching his throat, sucking in air until he could control his breathing again.

"We ...we'll have to get that ... that snap ... put out of the way so nobody can do that again."

Her anger fled again. She felt like she was on a roller coaster, and she doubted that the adrenaline aftershock was totally to blame. Well, that was once scenario she hadn't considered. She led him to the couch and they sat together this time.

"Sorry about that. I haven't been myself lately." Silver helped her strap her paw back on.

"That's just the hormone onslaught." Silver informed her. "After the twelfth week it should taper off."

"How the hell do you know these things?" She asked incredulously. "Like those lemons. I found that on the babycentre Internet site as cure for morning sickness. Oh my God! You knew back then that I was pregnant? Why didn't you say anything?"

"I didn't say anything because you didn't say anything. I thought that you were waiting for the right moment to bring the subject up. As for how I knew; I had a case once involving a pregnant defector and I studied up on the subject. It's not something we cover in the basic Academy training. I guess I retained a lot of it."

"What are we going to do Silver?"

"You mean about the baby?"

"Yes. I'm not ready to have a baby; I don't think ... I don't know. I want to know how you feel about it though."

"I don't want to put any undue influence on you. The final decision is your right. My feelings don't count for much."

"This is your child also." Vikki said, perhaps a little too harshly. "I know that you can't have any others now and I can't decide until I know what you think," her expression softened, "what you really think."

"Alright." Silver looked into her eyes and held his paws together as he spoke. "I have never believed in abortion, for a number of reasons, but I believe that it is the sole right of the mother to have the final say in the matter. I would love you to have this Kit, and I will be the best father that I can be if you do, if you want me to, but I don't think that we should get married."

He held up a paw as she opened her mouth to protest. "Let me explain. I feel comfortable with you Vikki, and I feel like I'm at home when I'm with you, but I am twenty-three years older than you. You deserve someone you can grow old with, not someone you will watch grow old before you. You and I are in a dangerous line of work, in a small organization, and if we marry, one of us will have to give that up. I know that I'm not ready for that and I don't think that you are either."

"You would let me continue as a field agent with a child?"

"It's up to you." Silver spread his paws. "Canadian mothers are serving and dying in Afghanistan; American mothers in Iraq. At least they had a choice to volunteer, not like the women who live there and get caught in the crossfire. The point is, you remind me of me, and at your age, the only thing I wanted was to be an intelligence agent. I would have traded my soul for it."

"I wouldn't go that far."

"But you wouldn't give it up to marry me either, would you?"

Vikki had to admit that he was right. "So where do we go from here?"

"We go forward."

* * * * * * * *

"Ladies and Gentlemen," Silver addressed the group assembled in the Operations Centre, "this is Resolution."

On the screen a satellite image of an island roughly the shape of a guitar pick appeared. In the centre was the text 'Resolution Island'. Even from space, it looked like a rough and inhospitable place. Silver zoomed into the tip of the guitar pick, which resolved itself into two large rocky peninsulas with a bay between them. The image centred on the south-eastern spur and continued to enlarge. They could see that it was a solid mass of bare rock, rising straight up from the sea. When they could make out a cluster of buildings and a network of roads Silver stopped the image.

"This," he said, pointing to the buildings, "is the Pine Tree radar station on Cape Warwick, call-sign FOOTLOOSE. It sits atop a three hundred and sixty-two metre cliff. This level area here," he moved to a spot west of the station, "was long enough to convert into an airstrip and this body of water south of it is a fresh water lake. These features made it uniquely suitable for a permanently manned station, and its geographic location off the northern tip of Labrador gives it unobstructed views of the northern air corridors, as well as that of the satellite constellation that controls the Anti-Missile Defence Shield." Silver zoomed in on the rocky outcrop that the buildings sat upon. "Bill?"

The screen jumped as the buildings expanded to fill it. The Professor took over from Silver, pointing to the features that the group could only make out because the shadows were so dark and sharp. "There are two large fixed phase array radars facing south-east, in case the Soviets tried to loop around Greenland. Behind them are two large fixed parabolic radars facing northwest to cover the opposite side. Imagery analysis has determined that the bearing and azimuth of these has been changed from the original setting. We'll get back to that. These three 'golf ball' structures," he pointed to two large round white balls on the ground, the size of some of the smaller buildings, and one a third their size mounted on a lattice tower, "were rotating parabolic and doppler radars. Electronic intelligence now indicates that the smallest of the three has been replaced with a communications dish. We don't know what is inside the other two. The last feature is this tower with flanking fixed doppler radars pointing north at the top of the cliff. They are believed to be inactive." He stepped back from the screen.

Silver moved forward again. "These buildings are the old barracks and operations centre for the station. The island was unoccupied before the military came. The base was closed in 1994 and the island was empty again, except for an environmental clean-up project sponsored by the federal government from 1997 to 2002. The base, the whole island actually, sat empty until last year, when a new tenant took over." The screen changed to show a stylized wolf's head with the letters 'AAC' written across it.

"This is the logo of Arctic Atlantic Communications. It is a new backbone service provider that specializes in satellite communications. According to their business plan, they are trying to draw off some of the wireless crowd by providing inexpensive, mobile satellite modems that work virtually anywhere. They already have a number of customers in the oil and gas exploration sector, where no other forms of communications exist. They bought this site off the Canadian government for one dollar. It is supposed to be one of their main ground stations. The government thought that their presence would bring jobs and prosperity to the north, breathe new life into it. Funny thing, when we checked with the local Canadian Forces Ranger patrol they said that the island has gotten a bad reputation lately. They said that it's haunted now, and that to approach it means death." Silver drew back and Bill stepped forward again.

"It appears to be their only ground station. It should be bouncing a fair amount of data off leased communications satellites, but it only has enough capacity for the few customers that they have now, and they are not seeking more business. Their literature shows the two large parabolic dishes as over-the-pole links in their communication chain, but our analysts say that that is not the case. The satellites closest to their new track are the main northern communication satellite for the Anti-Missile Defence Shield, and a Chinese weather satellite." Marcel and Vikki looked at each other at the mention of the Chinese satellite, both remembering Mr. Zhang from the night at the Werewolf's casino.

Silver spoke again. "One more interesting bit of information. This company is one hundred percent Canadian owned and operated. The founder is a mysterious figure, half Inuit Arctic Wolf, half European Grey Wolf; an orphan raised in the government residential schools. His bio states that he left Canada as a young wolf before World War Two to make his fortune in Europe, but has recently longed to return to his native land. There is no record of him in Canada before he established this company, but northern records were poorly kept in those days. Citizenship was granted based on testimony that, in hindsight, could have been planted or paid for. His name is Adlet Amaguq. According to Inuit myth, the Adlet were blood drinking half-breeds and the Amaguq is the trickster Wolf God."

Marcel interrupted. "Vasyl Vovkulak, Adlet Amaguq, it all spells Werewolf to me. Let's go hit him."

"The problem is, this is all circumstantial evidence." Bill injected. "They do legitimate business, even the government uses their service for communications with the Arctic Survey teams. It's private property, and no judge is going to issue a warrant so a police raid is out off the question. Even if we could get one, they would see the planes coming and be prepared long before we arrived. This place was designed to withstand a military raid by the Soviet Special Forces; the frontal approach doesn't stand a chance."

"What if we used a bogus excuse?" Vikki asked. "Request an emergency landing and medical assistance, then pull the guns on them?"

Silver shook his head. "We don't know what changes they've made inside. If we aren't in the heart of the operation when we do it, they could wipe their data and destroy the equipment, a tragic fire, caused by the overbearing government agents perhaps. Then we would never be allowed within a thousand kilometres of the place again."

Ophelia, sitting behind the real agents, knew that this group had not been gathered to debate the merits of various scenarios. "Just what do you intend to do?" she said.

Silver smiled at her directness. "As you can see, the base is surrounded on three sides by sheer cliffs. There is a small dock here south of the base and a switchback road that leads up to the lake. The approaches from the lake and the airstrip are narrow, open and easily defensible. In fact, the only dead ground anywhere near the base is behind the tower and an inactive pair of radars pointing north, in line with the steepest section of the cliff, which also sits above the roughest section of the coastline. It's virtual suicide to attempt an approach that way ... so that's the route we'll take."

He taped the control pad and the screen returned to the satellite image, centring on the tower and radars. They sat on a ridge, so the cliff side was invisible from the main camp. Covered walkways joined the three structures, and another walkway led back to the main camp. They could see how easily one could get into the camp, provided one could navigate the crushing ice floes and scale a thousand foot vertical wall in near-arctic winter conditions.

Marcel whistled when the scene expanded to show the shadowy cliff face. "What crazy fucks are you going to recruit to climb that?" He asked, glad that he had not taken the mountain assault course yet.

Silver looked back at him expressionless. "Frankly Marcel, I always thought that you were a little nuts."

* * * * * * * *

Marcel huddled in a corner; cold, tired miserable and wet again, but what he wouldn't give to be back in Bern (or Berne) in the otter's private water park. Instead, he was crouched inside a rock chimney, trying to keep out of a chilly early-November rain, while he waited for a crazy old fox and a crazier cloud leopard to haul his ass another thirty meters up the Gatineau cliffs. He had heard that Gold, the chief of Staff, kept a chalet in these hills, but he found little to commend them from where he sat.

After the briefing, he had spent four hours in the gym on the climbing wall under the supervision of Rusty, the Doberman combat instructor. Rusty had given him a crash course in climbing gear and how to use it: pitons, hooks and cams; dry ropes, swivels and nuts; belays and ascenders; carabineers, binders and draws. They hadn't spent too much time on them; Silver and Ophelia would be handling all of the hardware. Rusty had concentrated on getting Marcel moving up the rock, teaching him the commands for slack or tension and when to use them. Before they were done Rusty spent some time on the wall while Marcel belayed from below; creating situations for Marcel to react to.

He rejoined Silver for supper in the Academy cafeteria.

"Just why are you bringing me along on this mission?" he asked the senior agent. "To embarrass me? You're going to end up hauling my ass all the way up that cliff and then what?" One of his knives appeared for an instant in his paw and he poked the air with it before it disappeared again. "You want me to stab 'em?" Marcel's words were hard, but a slight change in his tone told Silver that he was nervous, not angry.

"You are right about not being able to master the art of mountaineering in time. It takes years of experience to tackle a face like that. Experience that Ophelia and I have. We can get a third member to the top, never fear, but once we're up there the real work begins. You are coming because you have proved that you can think on your feet, that you can innovate and that you can kill without hesitation. If three of us are going to take out a heavily guarded military compound, we'll need all three of those skills," and, Silver had added to himself, you are damn lucky, and we need that most of all.

After dark, they had moved across the Ottawa River to the cliffs of Gatineau Park. Over fifty kilometres long and twenty kilometres across, the park contained Canada's first Geodetic Benchmark, the estate of a former Prime Minister, Gold's Chalet and some of the best practice cliffs in eastern Canada. Normally out of bounds, especially after dark, the Academy had access under the guise of a Mountain Rescue training course. So Marcel squatted, rope and belay device held in shivering paws, waiting for the signal to start up again.

The signal came, three tugs on the rope at two-second intervals. Marcel hooked onto the rope and gave the signal that he was starting up. This was their third time up this section of cliff and Silver wanted it done in total silence if possible. Marcel gripped the rock with bare digits, no gloves allowed, just chalk for traction, and pulled himself up. Finding a grip with first one toe then the other, he pushed up some more. Moving only one limb at a time, keeping his centre of gravity in close to the rock like Rusty had taught him, he inched his way up the chimney.

A small shift while his right leg was halfway to the next position and the lip of rock his right paw was jammed into broke away. Off balance, his left paw slipped and he fell backwards. If he had remembered that the chimney was narrower than he was tall and spread his arms he would have stopped the plunge right there, but he didn't, and he tried to grasp the rock again instead. Bending double to do so put his centre of gravity behind him, and he was dragged down, bouncing from one side of the chimney to the other. Having forgotten to signal for tension at regular intervals his fall brought him back to where he had started.

The swearing brought Silver down the rope in a rush.

"What happened?" Silver demanded, as he ran his paws over Marcel, checking for broken bones.

"I forgot to call for tension, okay?"

"No. It's not okay. The cliff on Resolute is going to be three times higher, twice as steep and covered in ice. If you fall you will pull one or both of us off the face with you. Even if you don't, when you hit the water you will freeze before we can get back to help you. So decide," Silver grabbed Marcel by the neck and lifted him off the ground. He extended his arm so that the young fox was hanging fifty meters above the next horizontal ground, "you want to die or you want to pay attention?"

Holding Silver's wrist with both paws, Marcel contemplated going for one of his knives, but realized that the there was nothing he could do to improve the situation that way. Instead, he gave Silver the 'thumbs up' signal of agreement. Silver pulled him back into the chimney and released him.

"Understand this Marcel. Although you have proved to be a royal pain in the ass, you have also proved yourself to be one of our most capable operatives. But luck and talent will only get you so far. One day, you are going to be tested, not by me, by the conditions, by circumstances, the way Vikki was tested." Silver leaned down until his muzzle was beside Marcel's, their eyes only centimetres apart. "What are you going to do when that time comes?"

Silver pulled a black leather pouch out of his jacket. From inside it he produced a syringe. He held it up and flicked it to make sure that there were no air bubbles, glanced at Marcel and ejected one third of the solution. Then he plunged it into Marcel's thigh and injected the remaining liquid.

Marcel sat back, expecting a rush of energy and stamina from the drug. Instead, he felt a pain growing in his right leg.

"You have just pulled both your partners off the cliff and sent them to their doom into the frigid seas below. You have landed on this shelf and suffered a broken leg." The pain he was feeling seemed to match that scenario, at least. "Now you have to get to the top of this chimney by yourself." Silver produced a buck knife and cut the rope that linked them. "See you later, maybe." Silver disappeared up the chute.

Marcel was stunned. No help, no assistance, no first aid for the scrapes and bruises from his fall down the chute. Plus, whatever the bastard had injected into his leg that made it agony to move. He looked at the short end of the rope. He looked up the chimney. He reviewed the charitable nature of Silver; it took less than a second. He weighed the chances of Silver letting him die of exposure here versus going on a mission one short. He didn't like the odds.

Marcel ignored the pain in his leg and stood up. He positioned his paws and then selected his footholds, never lifting the last pad from the ground until he had tested his full weight on each hold. With no help from above, and no one to stop him from tumbling straight back to the base, he pulled his way up a foot at a time.

After an eternity, he felt the top of the chimney. Using even more caution, he set his feet and explored with his paws. A crack in the ground offered purchase and he wedged his digits into it. Pushing with his good leg, pulling with his arms, and gripping with his stomach and whatever other muscles were available, he hauled himself up onto the shelf at the top of the cliff.

Ophelia sat silently watching him. Silver tapped two digits against the pad of the other paw in mock salute.

"Good." Silver said. "Let's do it again, without the drama this time."

* * * * * * * *

The doctors had made their morning rounds and pronounced him fit to leave. Kain stripped off the backless hospital robe and reached for his own clothes, which had been brought over from his room; of course, the nurse decided to show up just at that time.

"How are we doing young Algorath?" The old otter quipped as she strode into the room. Kain made a feeble attempt to cover himself. Looking him up and down like a steer on the auction block, she clucked a bit at his thinness. "Not nearly enough in you to last a day." She looked seriously into his eyes. "Promise me that you'll eat well tonight. You need to replace the weight you've lost." Then she poked him playfully in the stomach, "and if you want to get it up, you got to put it down." Laughing, she left him to finish dressing.

Kain went back to his room and checked his stuff. All the electronics had been returned now that they were certain that the Stalker had been dealt with, but it was all over the place. He spent a couple of hours straightening it out before a rumbling down below made him check his watch. It was after six, and he was hungry for the first time in days.

After eating, he returned to his room. While at the cafeteria some of the other students had come over to say 'hi', 'glad you're back'. They filled him in on the latest news. Classes were cancelled still. Nelson was sick and Ophelia was training with the real agents. Would wonders never cease, he thought dryly.

Back in his room, Kain eased himself back into his bed, mindful of the stitches, especially the internal ones. He wondered if it had been a mistake to apply here in the first place. He dozed off while pondering his future.

He had not closed his door all the way, and when someone knocked on it, it swung open a few inches. The knock sounded familiar, and he found that he was holding his breath. He couldn't speak. He waited, eyes fixed on the partially opened door.

After an eternity, more likely a few seconds, the door began to open as someone pushed from the other side. At first, as it swung open, all Kain could see was the dim corridor. Once the door was fully open, however, Ophelia stepped into the room.

Kain had never seen her like this. She was dirty and tired, obviously exhausted, but still driven by some inner force. Her purple eyes flashed and her muzzle twitched as she looked at him. Every muscle in her body seemed to be tensed, bunched, sculpted. Her tail was up behind her, the tip whipping back and forth madly. Kain caught a scent of something as she closed the door. His whiskers twitched, as did another part of him, as the sexual signals wafted across the room.

"Ophelia, I ..." he struggled with the words, still not sure whether to trust his senses or the information he had gathered earlier.

"Shut up." Ophelia had made up her mind at least. "Either kick me out or shut the fuck up." Seeing his mouth close in wonder, she continued. "I'm in charge now."

Ophelia stood beside his bed. Her jaw clenched and her nosed twitching. She reached out and pushed Kain down onto the bed. Stroking his chest with one paw, she pulled at her shirt with the other.

"What did the doctors say?" She asked. "Are you all better or do you have avoid ...certain exercises?"

Kain looked back, eager but cautious. "They said to take it easy. No strain on the abdomen and no excitement."

Ophelia pulled the sheet that covered him off, leaving him exposed and naked to the chilly autumn air. She ran her right paw along his chest and down his left thigh to below the knee. Noting the movement at his groin, she reversed her track and trailed her digits up his inner thigh. Things were definitely shaping up in that area.

Ophelia was wearing the standard grey t-shirt and red shorts the Academy issued to its students. Keeping one paw circling around his groin, she reached back and grabbed the collar of the t-shirt with the other paw and pulled it up and over her head. Reaching behind her, she slipped the clasp of her bra, and it hung loose in front of her.

Kain couldn't help but react to her ministrations, no matter what he thought of her. Her paw made smaller and smaller circles until it was on his member. She began to stroke it as it lengthened. As it grew fully erect, she slipped the bra off, her nipples were already rock-hard.

He couldn't take his eyes off hers, couldn't speak, it might break the spell. He inhaled sharply as she stoked him, his expression begging for release. She wasn't about to give it to him though.

She stopped massaging his shaft and pulled down the shorts. She wore nothing underneath. She stood naked by his bed, an uncertain Venus. Kain saw the indecision in her eyes.

"The doctor said not to lift anything, not to carry any loads. To stay in bed and keep the weight off my feet and back." He said.

Ophelia made her decision.

Leaning down, she opened her mouth enough to allow the tip of Kain's penis to enter. Stopping there, she wrapped her tongue around the tip, slowly, like she was sampling a new treat. Her eyes were closed, her expression sublime. After a few licks she raised her head. Keeping her eyes shut, she seemed to be experiencing the rapture, if one could do that while their paw stoked up and down along the shaft of a submissive male.

She lowered her head again without opening her eyes. She dropped her open maw onto his stiffened penis without looking, and she began lifting and lowering her head with her mouth firmly sealed around him. He wondered if the tension building in his groin would affect his injuries. Before they reached critical stage, however, she stopped, lifting her head from him.

Without a word, she stood and swung one leg over him. Now she saddled him. Putting her paws carefully on his hips, feet planted on both sides, she squatted so that her pelvis was hovering over his groin. Taking his inflated penis in one paw, she guided it into her already moist slit. Sinking down until his full length was inside her, she opened her eyes again and looked at Kain.

"Tell me if it hurts." She breathed.

"It hurt before you arrived." He replied, not referring to his injuries.

She knew what he was talking about. "I'm going to make that pain go away."

Her tail had wrapped itself around one of his feet and was caressing the pad. Using her legs and keeping her balance with her arms, Ophelia raised her hips until just the tip of his shaft remained inside. Then she slid herself down along it, letting it rub against her clit all the way in. She stopped just as he felt her ass touch his balls, before any of her weight transferred to him. Thighs and calves straining, she lifted up again until the tip of him brushed her clit. She repeated the process, slowly.

The more she did it the better it felt. Mindful of his injuries, she kept her paws on the bones of his hips, her breasts squeezed between her forearms. With her knees spread, Kain could look down along his torso and see his cock disappearing and reappearing, and that served to heighten his excitement.

Up and down she went. Drawing on his member like it was a fine cigar; but cigars get used up and discarded, he remembered. Looking up, he searched her face for signs of vulnerability, of need, but he only found desire. For her part, Ophelia looked down for acceptance, for compassion; but she only saw longing. Desperate for release, she sped up.

Now his paws were on her arms, gripping desperately, pulling her forward with each thrust. Her eyes were locked on his, her mouth open, tongue hanging out. She squeezed him with the muscles inside her as she pulled away, gobbled him down with them as she settled back.

She seemed to sense his need for closeness as he neared climax. She lowered herself until she was lying along him, her weight on her knees and elbows. By flexing her thighs, she slid up until her breasts were in his face, and just the tip of his cock remained inside her. Relaxing her legs and pushing back against her arms, she slid back until her clit came up against the base of his cock. His hips rose to meet her thrusts but a sharp pain in his abdomen reminded him that he had to remain a passive participant. He forced himself to relax.

The sweat produced by their efforts had made them slick and she slithered back and forth. Her nipples traced parallel lines in the damp fur of his chest, when they came close enough, he licked them. The thrusts were getting shorter but coming faster now, soon only her hips were moving, polishing her clit with his cock. Her breath came in short gasps.

Ophelia felt the lightning gather inside her, the sparks flying off her clit as she ground it into him. Each time she pressed it against his shaft an electric charge was transferred, increasing until she could hold no more. With a cry, she threw her head back and sat straight up above him, pulled back until she could feel him about to pop out, and slid down one last time. When her swollen sex was sealed around the base of his cock and the diamond at its apex touched him again, the storm broke and the deluge came. She shuddered uncontrollably as the lightning was released.

Fighting to keep his muscles relaxed to prevent his stitches from popping had kept his mind off other parts that now demanded attention. A pressure had built up between his balls and his prick and it felt like something would burst if he held back any longer, but when the flood of warmth from inside her hit him the dam broke. His eyes widened and he sucked air in through his open mouth as he drained. It felt like he was transferring some part of his soul into her.

They stayed that way for an age; long enough for glaciers to form and melt he was sure. Although not so hard now he still filled her, and when she moved to release him the sensation made him sigh with pleasure.

Ophelia stood beside his bed, caressing him with one paw again, like before. Had it really happened? Yes, he could see glistening pink between her legs, it had happened. Why it had happened he didn't know, so he asked.

"Can you wait an answer to that question?" She asked in return.

"For how long?"

"A few days. I have to go away." Sadness filled her voice. "The Academy needs me on a mission and there is something I have to do also." She was looking away again, avoiding his eyes. Kain felt a growing sense of doom.

"Don't go Ophelia." He grabbed her arm. "Stay here. Tell them that you're not ready. Tell them that you've changed your mind and we'll leave the Academy together," he begged.

She gently pulled his paw off her arm. Sadly, she realized that he had not called her 'Cass' once since she arrived. "I have to do this." She sounded like a condemned prisoner. She looked at him again. "Will you be here when I get back? If I get back? I'll explain everything then and you can decide if you still want me."

"I'll be here."

She leaned over and kissed him once, long and tenderly, before gathering up her clothes and, after a quick peek to see if anyone else was about, slipping out naked into the corridor.

The door clicked shut behind her, leaving Kain alone and confused in the dark.

* * * * * * * *

Ophelia didn't sleep after leaving Kain so she was red-eyed and irritable when she joined Silver and Marcel in the supply warehouse after breakfast. One look at them and she could tell that neither had slept either. Marcel told her that Silver had spent the night in the Ops Centre, working on the details of the plan. Marcel had stayed up to practice with some of the other equipment that they would be using.

Inside the warehouse the logistics manager lead them along the aisles, between shelves stacked high with every conceivable device and implement, and a few that weren't conceivable. They each had a cart and they were soon piled high with explosives, timers, remote detonators, harnesses and bags. In the clothing section, he measured them and issued felt-lined climbing boots, extreme cold suits, arctic sunglasses and thermal underwear.

"Where's the fly?" Marcel asked, examining the bottoms of the thermal underwear.

"There is none, they're unisex. Canadian Forces issue." The manager answered.

"Wouldn't they still be unisex with a fly?" The manager ignored him and they moved to the armoury.

Silver kept his Glock; it had a simple design that worked well in cold conditions. With its extra-large trigger guard and no safety to manipulate, it was well suited for gloved paws. Ophelia and Marcel were issued Glocks also. The holsters and ammo pouches all had glove-friendly Velcro flaps that sealed tight to prevent loss on the slippery ice and kept the snow and ice from getting inside.

Back in the warehouse, they tried on their personal gear and packed the rest. Silver had brought his own arctic clothing, cut wider than normal to give his shoulders room to move and longer to fit his torso. Ophelia was a standard size and the manager complimented her on what it did for her figure; not everybody could look sexy in goose-down padding. Marcel was one of those who didn't. All that the manager could find for someone of his diminutive stature was a one-piece suit designed for a kidnap scheme involving the leader of North Korea that was never carried out. Designed to keep a comatose and immobile body warm it was thicker and puffier than the others.

"I look like a teletubby." Marcel snarled when he saw himself in the full-length mirror. Ophelia tried unsuccessfully not to giggle. Silver looked him up and down and shook his head sadly.

"It will have to do, but remind me to get you fitted for a proper set when we get back." He walked around Marcel, pulling here and poking there to make sure that the young fox had enough room to move freely. "You are going to be spending a lot of time waiting at the end of the rope, so this will keep you warm. Once we get on top and get moving you can open the zippers under the arms and in the crotch to let the excess heat out. What's really disturbing," he said as he came back in front and stood looking down on Marcel, "is that you actually know what a teletubby looks like. Aren't you a little old for that show?"

"I bought a television for my room while you were gone." Marcel said defensively. "I just sort of caught the show when I was channel cruising one afternoon. I didn't watch the whole thing." Growing up poor and living on the streets for so many years, Marcel had had a lot of catching up to do in the cultural department. Although he wouldn't admit it, he spent an inordinate amount of time cruising the kids' shows.

"How do you know about teletubbies Silver?" He asked maliciously.

"I was lecturing at the British Intelligence School during the great 'Tinky-Winky' scandal of July1997. It was the lead story in all the media."

Gear packed and arranged they headed back to the Gatineau hills to rehearse the climb again, fully equipped this time. Within an hour Marcel was wishing that he was a teletubby; they lived in a land of perpetual summer with gentle rolling hills and probably never found themselves hanging upside-down tangled in a belay rope being buffeted by a cold November wind with a sharp outcrop of granite and quartz jammed into their ass.

* * * * * * * *

Silver ate supper with Vikki that evening in her room, take-out barbecue chicken; neither of them had felt like cooking. They talked of the upcoming mission, avoiding the subject that they really needed to talk about.

"When do you head out?" Vikki asked, wondering if they should get an apartment in the city once the Kit was born.

"Ten o'clock, from the military terminal at the Ottawa Airport." He replied, wondering when she would start to show, and when she would get that glow that, all pregnant females are blessed with.

"Military flight?" She toyed with her fork, pondering whether she would prefer a male or a female. What would Silver prefer? Did he want to know the sex after the first ultrasound? Did she?

"Charter. We're going to fly straight to Goose Bay in Labrador." Would she wear maternity dresses or those pants with the elastic panels in them? Did they sell those at Wal-Mart or would it be better to take her to a speciality store?

"How are you getting to the Island?" If it were female, she would name it after her mother and grandmother, Victoria Louise Beausoleil. Shouldn't Silver have a say in the naming? What if she had a male? Who would he like to name it after? Himself? Silver Beausoleil? Wait a second ...

"We're going to take a boat that Tanner arranged from Terrington Basin. There's a road that connects it to the airport so we can go straight there and avoid being seen around Goose Bay." Did the Ottawa Senators have a chance at the Stanley Cup this year? Only if the Detroit Redwings team bus has an accident, the pricks.

"Silver?"

"Uh-hum?"

"What is your name?"

"Sorry? My name?"

"Yes, your name." She said impatiently. "Your real name. We have been lovers and are about to become parents and I don't even know your cover identity, let alone your real one. If we have a male I was thinking of naming him after you."

"Funny, I was just thinking the same thing." He stopped eating and put his fork down, he looked serious. "I've used Silver ever since they gave me the codename. Even when I travel I use some variation of silver; Sterling Argent, Louis Change, Prata Quarters, Stribro Bullion."

"But what is your real name?" Vikki's brows drew together.

"I've been Silver for so long that it really is my real name now, I think."

"What name did your parents give you when you were born?" The gold flecks amongst the green in her eyes turned fiery.

"What's a name, really? Just a handle to hang something on."

"You want to end up like the toaster?" She rose up on her fists and leaned over him. "What ' is - your ' name?

Silver told her.

Vikki's brows separated, and then divorced. The fire went out of her eyes as they widened. He lip twitched once, twice, and then she fell back into her chair laughing uncontrollably.

"Oh God. I'm sorry." She continued laughing. "How could your parents do that to you? Didn't they speak English?"

"My mother was Armenian. My father was French." Silver replied coldly, sitting back now with his arms crossed. "She named me after her father. My Father's name means 'of the green' or 'from the green land' in French. It's a very old name. And no, they didn't speak much English."

Vikki tried to control herself, covering her mouth to stop the laughter, but just looking at the seasoned assassin with the pornographic joke for a name made her snort through her paw.

"And your last name is pronounced like the word 'Over'."

"No. It's pronounced 'Oh' - 'vere', two syllables." Now Silver was losing his patience.

Vikki picked up on his mood and realized that it was still a sensitive issue for him. "I really am sorry Di... I mean Silver. You said that you grew up in Toronto. You must have gone through hell in school."

"I was expelled before graduating for putting another student in the school trophy case for making fun of my name."

"That seems rather harsh."

"I failed to open it first." He admitted. "The cost of the glass alone was more than my parents could afford, then there was the medical bills and the law suit. I ran away to join the army. They always address you by your last name there."

Vikki tried various combinations of military ranks with his last name. Not nearly so bad as when it was combined with his first name. Then a thought struck her. She fought to suppress it, but the hormones took over and worked her mouth without her permission.

"Silver, when you were in the reconnaissance unit, they would call you up on the radio?" He nodded affirmative, suspiciously. "When you answered, did you say 'this is Over, over' and later 'Over, over and out'?" She started laughing again and buried her face in her arms.

Silver stood up and brushed the crumb from their supper off his jacket. "I have to go get ready. I'll leave you to amuse yourself."

Vikki sat up, a stricken look on her face. "Wait, please. Forgive me, it's just with being pregnant and all the stress ..."

His face softened a little. "Don't sweat it. It's a hell of a moniker to spring on someone unexpectedly like that. I really do have to go now though. Will you be coming to the airport with us?"

"No, we have to get the Ops Centre set up for the mission, but wait right there." Vikki disappeared into her bedroom. A moment later, she reappeared, holding a small blue box, like a jeweller's box, tied up with a silver ribbon. She handed him the box. "Don't open it until you get airborne, okay?"

"What is it?" he asked, puzzled.

"It's sort of like a good luck charm, to make sure you come back this time. You'll know what to do with it." She bent down and planted a kiss on the corner of his mouth. "Come back in one piece okay?"

"Two at the most."

* * * * * * * *

At the airport, the three FOX members unloaded their gear from the van and then sent the driver back to the Academy. They put their equipment on a trolley and wheeled it to the front of the Military terminal, dark and quiet at this hour. Parked in front was an ancient propeller craft fitted with skis over the wheels for snow landings, hopefully an unnecessary precaution. Leaning against the landing gear was a Squirrel in a leather bomber jacket. The Squirrel straightened as they approached.

"Silver?" He enquired sociably. "Party of three?" When they acknowledged him, he led them to the rear where a cargo door stood open. "I'm your pilot, 'Wings' Burnside. You load your own gear. My job is just to fly and keep quiet."

Marcel noticed that the squirrel was wearing a specially cut shirt and trousers under his jacket. "You're a Flying Squirrel, aren't you?" He asked.

The squirrel spread his arms and legs, and the skin that connected his wrists to his ankles made the shirt and trousers spread too. "Yep, what about it?"

"You're a flying squirrel and a Flying Squirrel."

"Well, I wanted to be a preacher but every time I raised my arms in praise the wind would fill my sails and blow me off the pulpit. Just get on the damn plane, okay?" The squirrel climbed on board and moved forward mumbling about out of work comedians.

They tied down their gear and moved into the passenger compartment, where they found ample seating, even if it wasn't very clean. They strapped themselves in, each in a different row so they could stretch out once they were airborne. Exhausted after two and a half days of activity they would sleep most of the trip.

Thirty minutes later, they were at altitude and free to relax. Silver heard the snores coming from Marcel's row immediately afterwards. He undid his seatbelt and folded his parka into a pillow, jamming it against the bulkhead under the small round window. Before lying down, he remembered the box that Vikki had given him and he pulled it out. Examining the outside provided no clues. Shaking it produced a dull thud against the side; it could be anything. What if it was some sort of engagement ring? Did females give males those these days? Who knew? He undid the ribbon apprehensively.

Inside, nestled on some cotton fluff, sat a single bullet; nine-millimetre parabellum, the kind his Glock took. It was fully jacketed, but not in copper, as the NATO-issue rounds he was used to were. Lifting it from the box, he examined it closely. The casing and the projectile both appeared to be made of solid silver.

Inside the box he found a folded square of paper with a note from Rusty. It confirmed that the bullet was indeed made of silver alloy, and that it was safe to fire. He held it in his paw for a minute, feeling the coolness of the metal against his skin. What better gift could there be for someone going Werewolf hunting, he wondered? He pulled his Glock out and emptied it. Placing the silver bullet in the chamber, he closed the slide and replaced the clip.

Silver settled down in his seat, feeling better than he had for years. He always planned to come back from his missions, but now he had something to come back for. He reached up and turned out the light above his row, the last one still burning.

Just before he drifted off, he opened his eyes for a moment. Across the aisle, two ice-purple slits shone back at him. He dismissed them as reflections from the navigation lights and fell asleep.