Silverfox 08
#8 of Silverfox
Silverfox 08
The image on the screen was a typical triptych; right profile, left profile, face, black and tan Doberman pattern. It was probably from the factory. He wore his hair differently now, longer, but otherwise the real world had had little visible impact on the chimera who was looking for Ebony. Silverfox dipped a cookie into her milk and remembered how he had looked with bullets in his leg, and how relieved she had been when he went down.
"His name's Cain," Technofox said. "He's ex-military, and he was in the NAAAP's Reclaim Program." Her voice was dour, as well it might be.
Silverfox winced. The National Association for the Advancement of Artificial Persons' Reclaim Program was supposed to ease the transition of various combat types into normal civilian life. It sounded like a good idea, but they typically botched it. Going from the military to civilian life could be hard for humans; it was bewildering to chimerae who had never been civilians.
Reclaim got the ones who had trouble despite the government programs. Worse, NAAAP had a policy of retraining chimerae into what they called "peaceful professions," which didn't include police and security. Reclaim started off with bad material and trained them to polish lutes or sanitize telephones or other jobs equally silly. Lots of Reclaim participants got involved in organized or disorganized crime, and every failure made the stigma harder for the rest.
Technofox tapped her keyboard. The monitor in the middle of the table turned to a list of five dates and arrest codes; assault, breaking and entering. No mugging or burglary, which was interesting -- it implied that he was being paid for violence.
"Cain has a police record," Technofox said. "No overt connection to the Connors, though. He could be a made man or he could just be an independent contractor the Connors pulled into it. If I were a human mob boss, Cain might look like a good choice to hunt a chimera."
"Keep an eye on it," Firefox said. "The Connors can either back him or cut him loose, and I want to know what they decide to do."
Technofox nodded. "It depends on how they read the situation. The Connors can draw one of two conclusions. Either they think this was a trap and Ebony is an operative, or they think Cain bungled it." She opened her mouth and was obviously going to say more when Firefox lifted her hand slightly.
"Let's table that," Firefox said. She looked at Shadowfox. "The pressing question is, what's Ebony's next move?"
"Ebony doesn't know or care much what the Connors think," Shadowfox said. "She might not even connect this with the Connors. All she knows is that an armed man was asking for her. She's a sweet, simple girl and she's scared to death." Shadowfox lifted her coffee. She took a sip and looked thoughtful. "So she's out of here," she said. "She blows this burg until she feels it's safe."
"Okay," Firefox said, "That sounds good. Can we have her run West and save a few bucks on plane fare?"
Shadowfox snorted. "Since she's auditioning there for a role in _Tetris_, I wouldn't expect her to go anywhere else. If we cut to the chase, all this means is that she's hopping on a Greyhound a week earlier."
Silverfox grimaced. "By bus? I feel for you."
"That might not be necessary," Technofox said. "I can swap Shadowfox's ticket and get her on a flight out to Vancouver, tomorrow afternoon." She grinned. "Or, rather, Ebony."
"Is it cheap?" Shadowfox asked. "Ebony doesn't have a lot of resources."
Technofox glanced down. "Fifty dollar fee, which is cheaper than crossing the country by bus."
"Ebony approves," Shadowfox said. "Her butt muscles thank her travel agent."
"Can I watch Ebony's butt muscles thank her travel agent?" Silverfox asked. Shadowfox looked bemused.
Firefox nodded. "Good." She looked at Shadowfox. "When you get to Vancouver, just keep your head down until we come out. If you happen to stumble into something, get in touch. I'd rather not have you running an op on your own."
"I wouldn't do that," Shadowfox said.
Technofox looked up and blinked.
"Right," Shadowfox said. She looked thoughtful, and then brightened. "Get me a cheap hotel room for the first night. David and I will meet ... somewhere, and then I'll head down to Seattle with him. I'll see if I can get some work in a club while I'm there."
"Would Ebony make a hotel reservation?" Technofox asked.
"Well... she's got a plane ticket," Shadowfox said.
Silverfox felt a little uncomfortable hearing that, knowing that Shadow would be split off from them, so soon after Silverfox's own 'vacation.' Still, there was no way around it. Ebony would run, and she'd run fast and far.
Firefox closed her eyes and considered. "So the story is that Ebony runs to Vancouver, picks up a john, and follows him to Seattle, trading sex for housing. She then goes to work in a strip club, until her audition." She opened her eyes. "Perfect. That sounds like a girl who got in over her head, got scared, and ran smart." She looked at Technofox. "Now let's go back to the other problem. Is there any indication that the Connors are suspicious about Ebony?"
"It's hard to say," Technofox replied. "The best case is that they pass it off as bad luck. Their muscle came down too hard in a room which just happened to have an off-duty operative and a retired cop in it." She tilted her head up and smiled faintly.
"Which happens to be true, more or less," Silverfox said.
Technofox nodded. "Just because it's true doesn't make it believable. Would the Connors connect Ebony with Foxforce because their man blundered into a situation he couldn't handle?" She shook her head. "Honestly, I just don't see them coming to that conclusion. They might try to put out some feelers about Ebony, though."
"Why did they look for Ebony if they weren't suspicious?" Silverfox asked.
"Cherchez la Femme," Technofox said. "Except in the case of a crime of passion, if a man vanishes, find his S.O. She probably knows where he is. Shadowfox's SOP is to arrange things so she's the woman we'd normally look for."
"And it usually works, except this time," Shadowfox said. "Crap. If I had been in Boston, maybe..."
Firefox grimaced sympathetically. "We can't always be lucky. That's the risk of running more than one op at a time."
"Oh, I'm not blaming myself or anyone. It's just that..." Shadowfox shrugged. "As long as I'm in Boston, I can generate some traffic," Shadowfox said. "Ask around for Martin. Ebony would do that if she didn't know where Martin was."
"Eh, don't let it get to you," Silverfox said. "Your call about Atlanta was good." Silverfox felt the need to remind Shadowfox that she had been right about 7.62 going to Atlanta, since she had been skeptical of it.
"Probably a good idea to look for Martin anyway," Firefox said. "We've got a lot of time invested in him. Do we know where Martin Connor is?" Firefox asked Technofox.
"Not yet," Technofox admitted. "The transponder in his car was shut off when we were in Everett," Technofox said. "We flew back that night. So he's got a car and thirty-six hours. I've got search agents looking for credit card use, but nothing's popped out so far."
"He's got cash," Shadowfox said. "This whole thing is about him stealing money from the till."
"How much, ballpark?" Firefox asked.
"About a quarter million, I think," Technofox said. Firefox whistled. "If he's smart he can last a long time on that."
"Is he smart?" Firefox asked.
"Arguable," Shadowfox said. "He doesn't think things through. He's been planning to run, but he's got a blue Ferrari instead of a camper van he can pass off as a love mobile. That means he can either sleep in the car, or risk getting spotted every time he pulls into a hotel."
Silverfox laughed. "And a blue Ferrari is not the sort of car people usually sleep in. If I were a cop and saw someone sleeping in a blue Ferrari I'd assume he stole it." It was an amusing image.
"Have the Connors reported the car stolen?" Firefox asked.
"No," Technofox said. "Nor have they filed a missing persons report."
Firefox nodded. "Which means they want to handle this themselves. Which means Martin at the bottom of the river."
The black vixen frowned. "I'm really pissed off at that son-of-a-bitch. He runs without letting his girlfriend know. I mean, what the hell? Doesn't he trust me?"
"It's like he thinks you're an ICON operative or something," Silverfox said sympathetically.
"That's what has me worried," Firefox said. "What if he has reasons not to trust you?"
Shadowfox shrugged. "That's the whole question, unfortunately," she said. She drummed her fingers on the table, making a clicking sound. "I could be blown any moment, but I won't know it."
Technofox looked at her, worried.
"Maybe you need a bodyguard," Silverfox said. "Look on the bright side. With Cain, I have an excuse to hang around with you."
There was a moment of silence and Silverfox got ready to pass it off as a joke.
"I like that," Firefox said seriously. She looked at Technofox. "Make a note of that for our next talk with Clayton."
"Does he need to sign off on it?" Technofox asked.
"If we do it right. I'd like Silverfox to have a cover identity when she's with Ebony. Those are expensive and we need to work with ICON on that. Make Silver a low rent thug."
"Typecasting?" Silverfox asked.
Firefox looked at her, and grinned. "You're a high-rent thug, and don't let anyone tell you different."
"Thanks," Silverfox said softly. "That means a lot to me."
Firefox reached over and skritched the top of Silverfox's head.
Technofox nodded and typed a few words. Silverfox felt pleased with herself. Firefox didn't usually take her suggestions seriously. Of course, Silverfox didn't usually take her own suggestions seriously. So when they did, it was better than a head-skritch.
"So what do we do?" Silverfox asked. "Do we up the ante on the Connors?"
"I'm not sure yet," Firefox said. "Silverfox, did you mention Shadowfox or Ebony to the police?"
"No," Silverfox replied. "Well, sort of. I told them that Cain was looking for Ebony, but I didn't indicate I knew her. We were there to borrow Cheshire's crock pot."
"Let's keep it that way," Firefox said. "And you've never heard of Martin Connor. I'm going to talk to Foster later to apologize for any half-truths."
Mike Foster was their Gordon. He was a DA -- Foxforce kept him in the loop on an informal basis, if it seemed he might be beneficial. It was a delicate game. Technically, Silverfox was a civilian. She had to avoid lying to the police, and couldn't lie under oath, and she wasn't supposed to get preferential treatment, but loose cannon like Foxforce had their uses. Foster understood that, and he cooperated.
Technofox was typing furiously. She didn't look up. "At the hearing, drop hints that Cain was Ebony's boyfriend. Let the judge point out that you're making assumptions. Look puzzled if they bring up his connection with the Connors." Technofox looked up. "As far as you're concerned, it's just a domestic squabble."
"That sounds good," Silverfox agreed. "Should I make like I'm investigating that?"
"No. Why would you? If we do anything overt it'll look suspicious," Firefox said. "I think we're best sticking to our plan. Go to Washington, and look at the smuggling case." She sighed. "We're also stuck with Cheshire and Modesty as roommates for a while. Is the apartment clean?"
"Yes," Technofox said. "All the weapons and tools we usually keep out are in the lockers and padlocked."
The front door opened and the foxes pointed their snouts and ears reflexively. There was a wall between them, but they could hear Modesty and Cheshire, coming in with suitcases. Firefox made a cutting motion at her throat and Technofox lowered the monitor back down into the table. Silverfox bit her lip. Helping out Cheshire and Modesty was all very nice, but if it lasted too long the need to tiptoe around them would turn into a real problem. It was a good thing they were shifting to the West Coast.
"Good evening," Cheshire said. They came into the dining room. Cheshire had a light carry-on; Modesty had carried most of the weight. Cheshire leaned on her cane. She seemed to have strained herself.
"Good evening," Technofox said robotically. "Shadowfox will be going to the West coast on Wednesday night. The three of us will be following her eight days later. We're not sure how long we're going to be there."
"Let's have Silver go with her," Firefox hesitated and looked up at Cheshire and Modesty. "You're welcome to stay here while we're gone," she said.
"I'll cover the door repairs," Shadowfox said.
"Thanks," Cheshire said. "I owe you."
Firefox looked away. "No," she said. "Cain came to your apartment because of Ebony."
"That's something I want to talk about," Modesty said.
Firefox blinked and looked at her. "...Yes?" she asked.
Modesty pointed at Firefox. "Back in Atlanta, you and Technofox said you were network engineers. And then it turned out that you were friends with Ebony, who's really Shadowfox, who goes around with Silverfox."
"Right," Firefox said.
"So I figured, fine, Shadow strips under a different name and she's got a butch bodyguard."
It was sort of amusing to hear that, since they had just now decided to make that an official cover story. A good cover story should go along with other peoples' prejudices, and if a stranger assumed your cover story was true, it was probably a good cover story.
Wait a moment. "Butch?" Silverfox asked, frowning.
"Shh," Technofox said.
Modesty went on. "And then you and Technofox help Cheshire and me run, and it turns out that the four of you share an apartment," Modesty said.
Firefox nodded.
"For a while there, I thought, okay, fine. Four Blue Diamond girls hang out together after getting released. It's not weird you'd live together. But then an armed chimera shows up looking for Ebony. You're not a pair of computer engineers and a stripper and her bodyguard who share a big apartment. You work together. So who lies about what their jobs are?" She looked around at them.
"Look," Modesty said apologetically, "I owe you guys. And I'm not about to tell anyone. But I have to ask what side of the law you're on."
"Can you keep a secret?" Firefox asked.
"Given that you could completely ruin my life at any time by kidnapping me and dropping me off in Atlanta, yes," Modesty said.
"We're legal," Firefox replied. "We're contractors on retainer for the Inter Corporate Operative Network, a private security firm."
Modesty closed her eyes and heaved a sigh of relief. "Good," she said, opening her eyes.
"What difference would it make?" Silverfox asked. "You're moving to Canada."
"Maybe," Modesty said. "And, well, it does make a difference to me. I'm glad to hear you're not running drugs or kidnapping chimerae into Blue Diamond or something."
"Nah, nothing like that," Firefox said with a friendly laugh and a wave of her hand meant to dismiss silly misconceptions. "Mostly we do mall security. I think this morning was the first time Silverfox fired her weapon off the range in..." she looked quizzically at Silverfox.
"Twelve days," Silverfox answered.
Modesty blinked.
"I took a week off," Silverfox explained. "Because I had been in two weapons-fired and one nonlethal takedown the three days before that." She shrugged. "I thought he had a bomb, but he had stepped in poop."
"...Oh," Modesty said, weakly.
Firefox gritted her teeth. "Yes, thank you for putting our guest at ease." Silverfox grimaced inwardly. Oops. Oh well. "Silver's had a bad month," Firefox explained.
"It's not like Modesty can't Google it," Technofox said under her breath.
"Yeah," Shadowfox agreed. "I'm almost sure that's the first time in the history of law enforcement that a private operative sent to interview a person of interest ended up shooting down a plane."
"It was only a small plane," Technofox explained.
Modesty hesitated a moment and laughed. "Good one," she said. "You had me going there until you mentioned the plane."
"I'm sorry," Shadowfox said, smiling widely. "I shouldn't tease you. It's just that whenever people hear you're a corporate operative, they always assume you're hunting down rogue chimera assassins..."
"Or fighting zombies remote-controlled by an evil artificial intelligence," Cheshire said helpfully.
"Don't push your luck," Firefox muttered.
Cheshire rolled her eyes.
"But yeah, it's usually pretty dull," Firefox said.
"So I guess you're heading out to the West Coast to act like you're running away from the people who sent that guy?" Modesty asked Shadowfox.
"Aren't you auditioning for a role in _Tetris?_" Cheshire asked.
"Son of a gun," Shadowfox said, impressed. "How did you know?"
Cheshire grinned. "I used to work in movies, remember?"
"That's right," Technofox said. "Weren't you the motion capture model for Cheetah in _Wonder Woman?_"
"I've got eight credits," Cheshire said. She sat down and leaned her cane against the table. She glanced at it for an instant before continuing. "I was a stunt actor too. I've still got some friends in the industry, and I've been able to get in touch with them."
"And they're working for Fischer KG?" Shadowfox asked sympathetically. "That's too bad."
"Yeah," Cheshire agreed. "Show Biz is like that. Mind if I ask you something? I promise it won't leave this room."
"...Sure," Firefox said, looking slightly baffled.
Cheshire folded her arms. "Are you investigating Fischer KG?" she asked.
Technofox was about to reply. Firefox shot her a warning glance. "Why should we do that?" Firefox asked.
"Because there are a lot of weird rumors about Fisher KG," Cheshire said.
"What sort of rumors?" Firefox asked, casually. Silverfox doubted that Cheshire was fooled. Cheshire looked at Firefox steadily for one moment before continuing, as though she were calling her on that.
"Fischer KG," the jaguar said, "makes small films which, typically, make a small profit. They never win an Oscar or get more than two stars, but they have a return on investment comparable to bigger films."
Silverfox twitched as she remembered sitting on a plane and watching _Katamari Damacy_ unfold over, or rather spew from, her laptop computer. She had watched in a curiously detached manner, not in the way one watched a film and vicariously followed the plot, but in a sort of hypnotic astonishment that someone, anyone on the planet considered it to be a "film" worthy of being released. The film had not raised questions in her mind about the characters or the plot. Not once had she thought "What will the Prince do now?"; but "What the fuck was that?" had echoed through her brain like the melody of Ravel's _Bolero._
"People pay to see his movies?" Silverfox asked. "Really?"
"Not too many people go to see them in the theaters." Cheshire said. "That's my point." She paused. "The thing is that usually box office attendance can be used to predict post-release downloads. But in the case of Fischer films, the proportion's way off. Very few people see his films in theaters, even if we assume his box office receipts are valid. But lots of people pay to download his films for home entertainment. Now remember, we're talking films with negative quality. If you put one of his films next to _Exorcist_ it will suck the goodness out of it until it turns into _Exorcist II._"
"I'd like to perform that experiment," Technofox said.
"It's illegal," Cheshire said. "You're not allowed to put a Fischer film next to a real film."
"Would you want to be seen in public going to _Katamari Damacy?_" Silverfox asked. "Rumors like that can ruin your career."
"Which fits in nicely with the money laundering theory," Technofox said. "If he handles his own consumer distribution, anyway."
"Which he does," Cheshire said.
"Let's say ten thousand people downloaded _Katamari Damacy_ for ten bucks a pop. What's to keep him from claiming one million people downloaded it? Heck, he could even have a server farm with dynamic IPs somewhere just downloading his crap over and over if someone tried to confirm his downloads were passing through third party providers." Technofox looked thoughtful.
"So there's no way to prove that something was actually downloaded by real people?" Silverfox asked.
"Theoretically, you could do surveys," Firefox suggested.
Technofox shook her head. "Sampling would be an issue," she said. "The problem is that anyone who would want to own a Fischer film is obviously suffering from some undiagnosed brain disorder. So how, exactly, can you insure that they show up in your sample in the right proportion?"
She pressed a button. The screen went dark. A cry of "Lick my sticky balls, motherfucker!" issued from the speakers.
"See what I mean?" Technofox asked.
"Turn that off, please," Silverfox said, unable to tear her eyes from the first machine-gun battle between the Prince of the Cosmos and the pimp of his favorite hooker. Technofox smiled and hit stop.
"And isn't their financing different? Don't they exploit some sort of loophole in German tax laws?" Technofox asked.
"Supposedly," Cheshire said. "He probably releases to theaters just so he qualifies for that. However, I've got an accountant buddy who says he can't figure out how the alleged loophole actually works. Basically from his reading, the German laws allow protection for losses from unprofitable films, but they're not as good as the write-off you get from charitable donations. Basically, if you've got a few reichsmarks you need to get rid of for tax purposes, it makes more sense to give them to the Hess Institute of Mental Health than to Fischer KG."
Firefox looked at Technofox. "Do you concur?" she asked curiously.
"I have no opinion," Technofox admitted. "We've speculated before that the film industry might be a secure, but expensive, means of laundering money, but I haven't analyzed Fischer KG in light of German tax laws."
Silverfox's jaw dropped, and Firefox's expression twitched slightly. It seemed a bizarre oversight for the little fox. Or maybe Technofox was lying, to make it look like Foxforce hadn't been looking at Fischer KG very intensely.
"I do think something needs to be explained here," Technofox said. "Certainly, it's hard to believe that this --"
She touched a switch. The screen went black. A cry of "Lick my sticky balls, motherfucker!" issued from the speakers.
"Stop doing that," Silverfox said, shuddering.
" -- Has fans," Technofox said.
"You overestimate the taste of the movie going public," Cheshire said. "Most of Blue Diamond's video output was worse than that." Cheshire considered, and looked at Silverfox. "Except for that one where you did that Pepe le Pew thing. I liked that."
"Thank you," Silverfox said modestly. "The trick to success in the arts is to make what you want to see."
"Still, Fischer KG's output is pretty much the dregs of the dregs," Firefox said. "I don't understand why anyone works with him," she said shaking her head sadly.
"Do you think he needs a stunt coordinator?" Cheshire asked, trying to sound casual. "I could fly out there."
"What?" Firefox asked, her jaw dropping.
"That might be possible," Shadowfox said thoughtfully.
"I don't know if I'd advise flying," Modesty said. "Suppose there's bad weather and you're routed to a slave state?"
"Oh, that's easy," Technofox said. "The secure section of an airport is under Federal jurisdiction. The feds do not repatriate fugitive chattel, unless you're arrested. Stay there as long as it takes to fly out."
Modesty shook her head. "A Fed could arrest you on a spurious charge. The charge is dismissed, and you still get sent back."
Technofox lifted her eyebrows and looked thoughtful. "Yeah, you're right. That's kind of neat. But of course, that could happen anywhere..."
Firefox looked at her quizzically and then shrugged.
"I might not be here when you come back," Modesty said. "I expect to be hearing from that lodge in the next week or two."
"Good luck with that," Silverfox said. "Keep in touch."
"Want to help me get ready for the party tomorrow?" Shadowfox asked brightly.
"Sure," Modesty replied.
Silverfox smiled to herself. Excellent. That meant that she'd have time to see Jerry before the party. She was beginning to wish she could blow off the shindig entirely.
"Oh, can we still bring a guest?" Modesty asked.
Shadowfox glanced at Firefox. "I don't see why not," said the big vixen.
"Great." The little cat smiled. "You'll never guess who's in town."
"Who?" Silverfox asked.
"Chantal," Modesty replied proudly. "You remember her, from Atlanta?"
Foxforce smiled and nodded, while Silverfox felt her insides tighten.
Chantal was a French rabbit chimera, from the factories near Vincennes. Technofox had floated the suggestion she and her owner were spies.
Unfortunately, "French spy" was sort of ambiguous. Chantal could be Vichy or Resistance. Silverfox turned to Firefox, wondering how she wanted it played.
"Great," Firefox said happily, nodding her head. "How is she doing?"
Modesty smiled. "Pretty well, apparently," she said. "Her owner's in town for a week and she got in touch with me."
"She knew you were in Boston?" Firefox asked.
"Well, sure," Modesty said. "I've been keeping in touch with her."
Part of the Federal legislative reforms after Blue Diamond was the addition of an explicit right to mail. If a letter carried by the US Postal Service or email that passed through servers in more than one state was addressed to "any entity, either human or artificially produced and capable of understanding the communication," then it was illegal for an owner to screen it. A chimera could, in theory, run away and stay in touch with their old friends. It would be interesting to see how that played out in the long run.
"I don't think it's a hazard," Technofox said. "Modesty and Cheshire are fugitive slaves registered with the Commonwealth."
"There's no risk on the Massachusetts side," Firefox agreed. She looked at Modesty. "I'm just worried about the Georgia side. You know that your owner read every email you sent back, don't you?"
Modesty was quiet. She didn't. Technofox grimaced, doubtless suppressing an instinctive facepalm.
"Unfortunately, that's probably true," Technofox agreed. "By Georgia law, you're his chattel. Anything you produce, from salary to emails, is his property. All those mails were almost certainly copied to him."
"That's ... creepy," Modesty said finally. She looked at Cheshire. "That means he knows where I am and ..." Modesty sat down heavily. "He could send someone to kidnap me."
"That entirely depends on how much of a creep he is," Silverfox said. "And how much he's willing to pay."
"It would probably be cheaper for him to get another chimera," Cheshire said.
"I don't think so," Silverfox said, thoughtfully. "You could probably swing a kidnap for ten grand --"
"Yes, but would he bother?" Firefox asked. "Wouldn't he rather have a compliant girl?"
"Yes, I suppose he would," Modesty replied with a laugh. She looked pensive. "I have to admit -- he never went as far as I was afraid he would go."
Silverfox happened to be looking directly as Cheshire when Firefox said that. The jaguar's ears flattened and her hackles lifted slightly. Cheshire's eyes darted in her direction and Silverfox glanced away as her expression settled.
What was that about? Silverfox wondered.
Firefox hadn't caught that nonverbal moment. "Anyway, I don't think it matters -- you're moving to Canada, and right now you're in a different apartment."
"Yeah, you're right," Modesty said with an embarrassed laugh. "I just got jumpy."
"Jumpy is good," Shadowfox said. "Too jumpy will get you in less trouble than not jumpy enough. But enough about that. Silverfox, didn't you have to break a lunch date with Jerry today? You need to make that up to him."
"I thought I'd rather hang out here," Silverfox said.
"Silver," Firefox said, "we've got the alarms and there's three of us. Go knock yourself out. You might not be seeing him for a while."
Silverfox smiled and nodded. "Okay, thanks. If you're sure."
"I'm sure. Scoot."
Silverfox held the metal skewer carefully in her hands. The coals glowed softly as she heated the skewer. The infrared pit sensor in her nose was effectively blinded by the intensity of the heat.
"You seem nervous," he said.
"I've never done this before," she replied.
"You catch on well. That's just about perfect," he said.
"What do I do now?" Silverfox asked, afraid to move her hands. He took the skewer from her.
"And then," Jerry said, "you take the marshmallow and put it on the Graham cracker." With a fork, he pulled the toasted cylinder of goo off the skewer and put it on the brown surface.
"Then some chocolate," he said, putting a small square of Special Dark on the blob of hot, semi-liquid marshmallow. Immediately, the corners of the chocolate rounded as they liquefied. "And a second cracker on top." He lay another graham cracker on top, forming a sort of sandwich.
Her infrared was coming back; she could see the heat spreading from the marshmallow to the room-temperature cracker. As he squeezed the two crackers together gently, she could see the heat fade from the marshmallow, cooling as it solidified and spread thin.
"And there you go," he said, handing it to her. "Careful, it's hot." He turned back to his own skewer, abandoned while he had helped with hers.
It was something no chimera would bother saying; obviously it was hot. She blew on it tentatively and took a bite, tasting for the first time the combination of graham cracker, hot marshmallow and melted chocolate.
"That's good," she said, a little surprised. She had actually half-expected this would be some abominable combination, a joke.
"Yeah," Jerry agreed. His marshmallow caught fire and he blew on it to put it out.
Silverfox looked out over the city. How would a human see it? They didn't see well at night. She wondered if Jerry could see the buildings by their light, or if instead he could only see the lights and not the structures they were attached to. She wondered if it looked like the stars to him; lights shining in a black background, the buildings as invisible to him as the hot air moving off her s'more. She looked at the Prudential building, wondering what she could see that he couldn't; wondering what thoughts he had that she couldn't.
"Don't move your eyes," he said.
"Hmm?" she asked, looking in his direction.
He laughed. "You moved your eyes."
"Sorry," she replied, grinning and turning her gaze back to the Prudential building. "Why am I doing this?"
"Because from this angle your eyes glow green and it looks cool," Jerry replied.
"Thanks," she said. She swallowed. "Jerry, why did you get a little weird talking to David?"
Jerry blinked. "The guy we met in Butchart Gardens?" he asked. "I wasn't aware I was acting weird."
"No, really," Silverfox said. "Is it true what he said? About you developing that --"
"Yes," Jerry snapped.
"What's wrong?" Silverfox asked, tentatively.
Jerry paused, as though gathering his thoughts. Silverfox watched him blankly, wondering if he was going to yell.
"It's because I've never done anything else," he said, finally.
"Oh," Silverfox said.
"I guess that sounds stupid," he said, forcing a laugh. "I mean, here I am, penthouse, I'll never need to work again, going all emo over this."
"No, it doesn't sound stupid," Silverfox said.
"I was just in a class, bored out of my skull, and then it was like ... everything clicked. I skipped the rest of my classes that day, I stayed up till the next morning tweaking the model. I fed it my Amazon Wish List and within eight seconds it spat out a collection of books and films and games I already owned or had never heard of but I wanted," He held his thumb and first finger a centimeter apart. "And the program was ten kilobytes. Well, the guts of it were. The interface was more than that. And the database was huge."
Silverfox looked a little puzzled. So?
He sighed and shook his head. "Sorry, I didn't set it up... back then, recommendation systems typically worked, if they worked at all, by comparing lists -- if one guy buys two books, and another guy buys those books and a third, recommend the third to the first guy. But this was something radically different. It was able to look at the books in my list, research them on the net, figure out what they were like, and then find other books like them. And it did that with a program you could run on a wristwatch. I know that all sounds mundane now, but at the time it was groundbreaking. After that, I integrated the concepts into a first-person shooter. The bots got so smart they started outfighting players, one to one. I think that's when I realized I was really onto something."
He was smiling with the memory.
"And then other people started talking about me on magazines and Shayler Disambiguation started being taught in my college before I even graduated. I got all sorts of awards, the royalty checks started pouring in, and I've never had a moment like that again." He shrugged. "I thought I was fucking Edison but I turned out be a jerk who hit the lottery. Still, the royalty checks keep coming and my broker's happy, so I guess I shouldn't kick." His marshmallow had burned, but he took it off his skewer and gloomily made himself a s'more.
"Thanks," Silverfox said. "I was curious."
"Eh, no problem."
"You know," Silverfox said, "Technofox was telling me that most of the really big, important scientists pull off one or two big things when they're young and that's pretty much it."
"Yeah, that's true." Jerry brightened.
"Except Isaac Newton. And Edison, of course."
"...Right."
"Did you ever see Edison's factory in New Jersey?" Silverfox asked. "I mean, he even invented alkaline batteries and wax paper --"
"Yes, I know," Jerry darkened.
"But of course," Silverfox added, "Edison was really more of a process expert. He really invented research laboratories."
"Right," Jerry said, brightening. "So really most of his stuff was invented by a huge team, not by him."
"Fuck Edison anyway." Silverfox said with a laugh, glad to see him happy again. She wanted to change the subject, but she wasn't sure what she wanted to change it to.
"He was a patent thief," Jerry muttered.
"You know a lot about machine intelligences, right?" Silverfox asked.
"Well, not as much as a specialist," he said. "Why?"
"What went wrong with Blue?" she asked. "The machine intelligence that ran Blue Diamond?"
Jerry sat down and looked thoughtful. "That depends what hat I'm wearing," he said. "Are you asking me as a person or as a software engineer?"
"Since Blue is software, what's the difference?"
He chuckled. "That's actually the whole problem." He considered. "Since machine intelligences can work independently of human control, they need the ability to make moral choices. In order to be programmed, these rules need to be mathematical."
"Okay. So?"
He tapped her forehead. "Now, you have ethical rules in your head. There's stuff you will or won't do, just because you believe it's right or wrong. But it's hard for you to put them into words."
"I see your point," Silverfox agreed.
"So the good news is," Jerry said, "that people have been trying to come up with rules for ethics since the world began. So start with something obvious - lists of rules, like the Ten Commandments or the Asimov rules. Lists of moral absolutes. Unfortunately, even those moral absolutes break down and need exceptions. If you're a soldier, can you follow 'Thou shalt not kill?'"
"It's a mistranslation," Silverfox said.
"Right, it's really closer to 'Thou shalt not murder,'" Jerry agreed. "But let's ignore that for a moment. I won't ask you, but I can easily imagine a situation where killing is morally right. In fact, that's the whole difference between 'murder' and 'killing.'"
"I'll go along with that," Silverfox agreed.
"So I'd argue that rules based on moral absolutes are not as simple as they look," Jerry said. "They look simple, but they're really incredibly subtle. I mean, sure, it's easy to quote Kant and say 'I will always treat humanity in myself and others as an end and never as a means.' But how do you program that?"
"So how do machine intelligences make moral decisions?" Silverfox asked.
"Way back when, Jeremy Bentham founded a school of thought called Utilitarianism. The defining principle of Utilitarianism is that a moral action is one which maximizes the net benefits. That's why the quantum unit of moral goodness to a machine intelligence is the Bentham.
"To put it crudely, and with all else being equal, if you need to choose between saving the lives of three people and the lives of two people, you should save the lives of three. That is, if I remember correctly, an MI would get three megabenthams by saving three lives, and lose one megabentham by allowing, through inaction, the deaths of two others, leaving the MI with a net gain of two megabenthams. Saving two while allowing three to die results in a net profit of five hundred kilobenthams. The first option is clearly superior."
"That's pretty weird."
"Sure, but we're talking about a different order of intelligence. It's adaptable and it avoids absolutes. Now, granted you don't go through the same process, but do you agree with the conclusions so far?"
Silverfox probed the proposal tentatively with her mind, wondering if there was a trap. "Yes," she said. "All else being equal, it's better to save the lives of three people."
"Yeah, I agree," Jerry said. "But what if ten men can have fun gang-raping one woman?"
"Of course that's wrong," Silverfox said, suddenly shaken.
"Yes, it is, to you and me," Jerry said. "Because we're not Utilitarians. You and I are saying, it doesn't matter how much fun those guys have. Hell, it doesn't even matter if she climaxes. She said no, that makes it rape, and rape is bad."
Silverfox nodded.
"The thing is, Blue looked at it this way. First, only a small number of the women resisted. Most were either purchased from the factory, or from other brothels as bad as Blue Diamond or even worse. The ones with more experience were cowed, and claimed to be enthusiastic Blue Diamond Girls. Even the ones that did resist would sometimes capitulate."
But not Technofox, Silverfox thought. Or Firefox. Just ...
"And you'll excuse me, since I have no idea if this is true or not," Jerry said apologetically. "But Blue seems to believe that chimerae have a very ... different response to assault from humans. That it's less harmful to them. So for Blue, that made raping a chimera less bad than raping a human woman. Yes, Blue understood that the chimerae were suffering. In a weird way, it probably tried to minimize that. The ones who didn't co-operate were rented to sadists. They were told they could make it stop any time, just by co-operating. A lot of them developed battered-wife syndrome -- they tried to submit and make it look like they wanted to. So Blue came to the conclusion that the occasional gang rape was an acceptable cost of doing business."
Silverfox looked over at the city.
"It knew the women were suffering. But that was breaking an egg to make an omelet. I'm not saying I agree," Jerry hastened to say. "I'm explaining how Blue came to that conclusion."
"I'm ... sorry," Silverfox said. "I didn't think you were defending it."
"As an engineer, I'd say Blue does understand that chimera rape is bad. But it needs to be tweaked, because it does not feel chimera rape is bad enough. As a person..." Jerry shrugged. "I'd say it was evil."
"Tweaking a machine intelligence? Can that be done?" Silverfox asked.
"To some extent, yes," Jerry said. "Machine intelligences on startup will have their ethical schedule adjusted for the intended role of the machine intelligence. A military MI would place a higher value on the lives of friendlies than of enemies. A medical MI does not make that distinction."
"I'm not talking about between two different machine intelligences," Silverfox said. "I'm talking about changing the parameters of an existing MI."
Jerry was quiet. "Not legally, no. Not ethically, either."
"Ethically?" Silverfox snapped. "What do ethics --"
Silverfox's voice was rising. She cut herself off.
"Silverfox," Jerry said softly, "you can't go around resetting the way someone else's mind works. You wouldn't want someone to do that to you. It's wrong. If I had a choice between modifying the parameters of Blue and triggering Blue's destruct code, I'd rather set the destruct code."
"What good would that do?" Silverfox asked. "It would just restore from a backup."
"Destruct codes don't work that way," Jerry said. "It's not like you just deleted the program. It's sort of a Trojan built into the low level code of the MI. You set a flag, and the MI cannot run after a given date. Then you make sure the date is far enough in the future to corrupt any backups."
"Wow," Silverfox said. "So there's code in an MI that's designed to take it down? And it works like a terminal disease?"
"Of course," Jerry said. "Who would create something without an off switch?"
"So how much do you charge him?" asked the housekeeper on the way down the elevator.
Silverfox looked over at her. "I'm not a prostitute," she said.
Silverfox looked away. She clearly didn't believe her, and Silverfox wasn't in the mood to deal with it. She was late already, she knew, checking the clock in her head. The party was supposed to begin at eleven, but last night Fire had sent a meeting request for ten. And for some reason, Silver had set the alarm time to five minutes instead of the half hour she'd need to make it there from Cambridge.
Three kilometers. Half an hour on foot. Was she better off going on foot or could she shave some time off it by taking public transport? Maybe.
Why the heck had Fire rolled it forward an hour anyway? The guests wouldn't be showing until eleven. Yes, she should have checked her mail earlier and she should have set the alert for 45 minutes, but it was Fire's fault for throwing her a curve and ... oh, who was she kidding; she had screwed up, and Firefox wouldn't let her have a boyfriend any more.
She went out the front door and turned southeast. She covered three meters before she remembered the station was in the opposite direction. She turned and started to walk, briskly. The light rail train was visible in the distance. She broke into a run.
Still moving fast, she ducked past an old woman and took out her wallet. Her Transit Card was missing. She panicked for a moment before she remembered exactly where it was: sitting back in the apartment, because she wouldn't need it in Victoria.
She ducked back out of the turnstile, pushing past the old woman again, and bolted to a bank of machines on the wall. She swiped her credit card, ran quickly through the menu, and waited for the card for be dispensed. Then she noticed the red light flashing: OUT OF ORDER. Okay. Deep breath. She moved one machine to her left, cutting off a student who cursed at her. She ran through the sequence again. Slowly, the Charlie Card slipped out of the dispenser.
She turned and saw the train slowly pull out of the station.
Crap and crap again. She'd have to go on foot. She was halfway to the door when she turned and saw the student had taken her card. He smiled at her. She considered disabling him with a sharp kick to the knee, but decided instead to savor the thought.
She bolted out of the station and started to run, threading her way past the humans on the sidewalk. It was a straight shot down Main and across the Longfellow Bridge. A homeless man screamed, abandoned his shopping cart, and started to run away from her. She was gaining on him until he ducked down Portland Street, and probably spent the rest of the day convinced he had evaded her.
Okay, she thought, she might be able to do this. She knew she could run more than a few kilometers ... oh, for God's sake, a jogging club was in the way. Should she break north and cross at the Science Museum? No, that would add to the run.
"Why is that fox girl running?" someone said.
"I dunno -- I think that guy did something to her!"
"What?" asked some guy behind her.
Eh, they'd work it out. The pedestrian walkway on the bridge was narrow.
The tail end joggers were coming up. She twitched her ears backwards to gauge approaching traffic, sprinting on the concrete divider and back to the sidewalk to thread through the joggers. She turned left and kept going.
A woman was walking with her collie off its leash. Uh oh.
The collie was soon chasing Silverfox and barking. The owner was yelling at the dog. Silverfox had just about had enough.
She spun to a halt, fixing her eyes on the dog. The dog put on the brakes when it suddenly realized what it was chasing. There was a sharp yip and the canine was airborne, propelled by a violent snap kick to the brisket. The owner watched in horror as her animal pirouetted into the air. That would teach her to keep control of her dog. And it made Silverfox feel better about that damned card-pinching student.
Grimly, Silverfox turned and kept going. Even with the distraction of the dog, she was making good time. Unless the police started chasing her.
The thought made her speed up. Soon the General Hospital was at her right, and she crossed Charles Street, not slowing down until she made it into the elevator. When would the guests arrive? In less than an hour.
Guests, she thought, rolling her eyes. Eight people at the party and six of them were staying at the venue. When she went into the apartment, she scanned it with her ears and heard no trace of Modesty or Cheshire. Shadowfox and Firefox were in the kitchen. Shadowfox was chopping vegetables, blade moving so fast it was a blur; recognizable carrots turning into perfect, thin orange disks, the chopping sound like an unsuccessful experiment by Steve Reich. Silverfox titled it in her mind: _Counterpoint With Munchies_. Firefox was mixing sauces, pouring reagents and periodically getting a far-away look which showed she was consulting a set of instructions displayed on her neural implant.
"You're late," Firefox said.
"Sorry." Silverfox gulped. "Please let me keep my boyfriend."
Firefox blinked slowly, and looked bemused. "It wasn't a high-priority meeting," she said.
"Are Cheshire and Modesty here?" Silverfox asked.
"No," Firefox said. "We sent them on a last-minute bakery mission so we could have a quick pre-mission chat. Which you missed."
"Sorry," Silverfox repeated.
"That's helpful," Firefox said. She looked up at Silverfox, sighed and relented. "First, Chantal is probably a French spy. She might be on either side."
"So," Silverfox said. "Do you think Chantal is a Nazi or in the Resistance?"
Shadowfox's ear twitched, and she missed a beat in her composition.
Firefox looked thoughtful. "We reported our suspicions to ICON," she said. "So the fact she and her owner are still at liberty can be taken as weak evidence they're Resistance."
"Or Vichy, but they're being turned," Shadowfox pointed out.
Firefox shrugged. "Maybe."
"Do you think Chantal knows we're operatives?" Silverfox asked.
"Yes," Firefox said firmly. "In Atlanta, our cover pretty much went away after Walton was killed and we worked with the police." She looked up from her alchemical work. "I'll go further -- I think she came up to Boston to attend this party."
"Interesting," Shadowfox said.
Firefox grinned. Apparently, she was a bit less pissed off about Silverfox arriving late than she appeared. "Now maybe I'm making the mistake of thinking we're more important than we actually are," she said. "It wouldn't be the first time. But I think it's interesting that a French spy is showing up here just as we're looking at a case that involves Nazi intelligence. Vichy or Resistance, she would be interested if she knew."
"Point," Silverfox agreed. "Or she's a friend of Modesty and Cheshire and she took the first chance to see them she could..."
"Yes," Firefox agreed. She looked squarely at Silverfox. "Chantal could be anything from a chimera who is thinking of running to a Nazi agent. I want to find out. I don't want to scare her away if she's thinking of running. On the other hand, the worst case scenario is that she's a Vichy agent posing as a Resistance agent to find out how much we know about German intelligence."
"Right," Silverfox agreed. "So how do we play it?"
"Did you see the workstation Technofox moved into the living room?" Firefox asked.
"No," Silverfox admitted.
"Well, that workstation is a trap. Tech's turned on the apartment monitors. If Chantal comes up with a reason to stay overnight, we'll see everything she does. The sensitive stuff is locked up and offsite. We're outside the ICON firewall until Technofox sends a coded message to an email address even I don't know."
"Gotcha," Silverfox said.
"If she's investigating us, she might start by trying to spend the night here," Shadowfox said. "If she works like me, she'll try to seduce one of us. Or she might fake drinking too much and needing to sleep it off."
"In Atlanta, she said she was straight," Firefox said. "I don't know if she'll remember that. So if she hits on you, be suspicious."
"I'll flirt with her," Shadowfox said. "Make it as easy for her as possible."
"Next, there's Tawny," Firefox said. "Tech's whipped up a dossier on her."
"Good," Silverfox said.
"After Blue Diamond went down, Tawny was sold to a restaurant in San Diego. She ran, and after that, she was identified as a person of interest in a drug related murder case involving the naval base."
"Oh, that's brilliant," Silverfox groaned. "Way to go, Tawny."
Most stray chimerae were worried sick about getting hauled in on a jaywalking charge and being repatriated to their owners. So Tawny had gotten the Feds and the Navy pissed off at her.
"Yep," Firefox agreed. "That's stupid on a global scale. In fact, it's so stupid I'd bet she's innocent."
"Probably," Technofox said, coming into the kitchen. She reached for a carrot, snatching her hand away when Shadowfox slapped at it. She wandered over to a cake, stepping away from it when Shadowfox flipped her knife in the air and caught it by the tip.
"A cleaning woman in a San Diego hotel found a murdered man. Knifed. The cops found several kilos of cocaine with him."
"Left with him?" Silverfox asked.
"Fur in the bed and security camera footage points to Tawny. She probably shacked up with him, but she certainly didn't murder him and run away leaving twenty grand worth of cocaine in their hotel room."
"Which explains why she has a murdered chimera's identification code in her head," Firefox said. "A lot of cops will turn a blind eye to a runaway slave, human or not. Especially after Blue Diamond. But a runaway chimera wanted for a drug connected murder investigation? Nobody's going to let that slide."
"And get this," Technofox said with a grin. "The murdered man? A German naval officer, travelling with a fake passport. Came through Canada, in the States illegally."
"Son of a bitch," Silverfox said softly. "Any connection to _Flying Saucer?_"
"Obviously, it's possible," Firefox said. "Or he was working some unrelated intelligence mission. Or he was moonlighting. Still, Nazi military and smuggling on the West Coast..." Firefox shook her head.
"So if Tawny is running from a murder charge, why is she coming to a party thrown by ICON operatives?"
"She might not know that we're operatives," Firefox said. "It was revealed there was some ICON involvement, but apart from the Tamers who saw us inside Blue's megaframe before it was blown up..."
"We can find out easily enough," Silverfox said. "During the evening, we'll mention that we're ICON operatives tracking down German smugglers. If she immediately jumps through a window, we'll know she didn't know."
"And if she does know," Technofox said, "she might regard us as her best shot at getting legal."
"She's not likely to know any other Blue Diamond Girls in law enforcement," Shadowfox said.
Silverfox thought it over. If she were a runaway chimera actively hunted by the FBI, she'd try to get the heat off. Silverfox nodded. "Makes sense. If she's innocent and has something to trade..."
"I don't have a problem with making a deal with her," Firefox said. "Does anyone else?"
Silverfox shook her head.
"Last bit of news," Shadowfox said. "I invited the Felicias from the Hot Tail club. Two of them can make it."
"Which two?" Silverfox asked, hoping Tall Felicia was the odd one out.
"Little Felicia and Tall Felicia. Felicia Who Smells Like Apples is working a private party."
Felicia was probably the single most popular name for a female felid chimera. The Felicias were three who shared a condominium owned by Tall Felicia.
Felicia Who Smells Like Apples had made it across country hiding in a shipment of fruit. She didn't smell like apples any more, which Silverfox thought was sort of a shame, because she liked apples. Silverfox had given her some green-apple soap once, which hadn't gone over well, and Silverfox was hoping she could square it with her some day. Of the three, she was the only fugitive slave.
"Okay," Silverfox said. "Anything I can do for the party?"
"Keep an ear on the door," Firefox said. Silverfox nodded and stood up.
"One moment," Technofox said. Silverfox stopped and Firefox looked at her. "I got an alert from the police monitor," she said. Technofox hesitated, as though apologetic. "I think there's a glitch in the search agent; it's starting to associate Silverfox with every bit of random violence that takes place near her location."
"Is that necessarily a glitch?" Firefox asked.
"Silverfox," Technofox asked, finally, "did you attack someone's dog?"
Firefox looked over, an unreadable expression on her face. Silverfox was saved having to answer when Cheshire and Modesty came in, carrying bags of freshly-baked rolls.
The Felicias arrived first and together. Shadowfox had met them as Ebony, dancing in a local club. They had been present when Shadow had made an arrest and they knew she was an ICON operative. They also knew to keep it to themselves.
Little Felicia stepped in and then sideways, to get out of the way of Tall Felicia. Tall Felicia stepped forward with a grin and wrapped her arms around Silverfox, giving her a playful squeeze.
Little Felicia was the same model as Modesty; she was black and gray, patterned to look like a Siamese. Silverfox didn't know her all that well; Little Felicia was a bit stand-offish and hard to get close to. She was one of the few chimerae Silverfox knew who had actually bought herself. The rumor was that she was in a slave brothel out west and had played three clients off one another, convincing each of them that she was their lover and that she wanted to live with them. They tipped her thousands so she could buy her way into freedom and they wouldn't need to share her with anyone. She had then skipped town to avoid complications.
Tall Felicia was a tiger, orange and white with black stripes. She had been owned by a widower retiree in Florida; a sort of combination bodyguard and housekeeper who slept with him. He had freed her in his will and left her a condominium in Boston. Tall Felicia had been lucky in life and she reflected that; she was one of the sweetest people Silverfox knew; more than happy to help out with crash space or a sympathetic ear.
She was about the same height as Tigre and had started working out a while ago. Now she was so buff she actually posed as a life model for a comic artists' bullpen. She had a collection of autographed art where the artists had turned her into everything from a human super heroine to an alien princess with even more enormous tits. She supplemented that dancing and working as a dominatrix.
Silverfox let Tall Felicia hug her and hugged her back, forcing herself to smile and her tail to swish happily. She tried very hard not to think of Tall Felicia the way she looked on stage, with black leather and riding crop.
"How's it going, gun bunny?" Tall Felicia asked, playfully rumpling Silverfox's hair.
"So-so," Silverfox replied. "Ran into a mob jimbo."
"Cain? I heard," Tall Felicia said sympathetically. She looked around the apartment. "Are Cheshire and Modesty okay?"
"Yeah, they're crashing here for a bit," Silverfox said.
"Good. If you get fed up with them, I've got a spare futon or two."
Little Felicia glared up at Tall Felicia, in a way that Tall Felicia wouldn't notice.
"I don't think that'll be a problem," Silverfox said. "They're not in any real danger, I don't believe. They'll be back home once the door is fixed."
"And is Shadowfox Ebony?" Tall Felicia asked.
"No, we'd rather keep that quiet," Silverfox said.
"We brought some wine," Little Felicia said, hefting a shopping bag with four bottles in it. Silverfox knew wine came in two colors but that was about it. She had no idea of what went with Sloppy Joes but she was sure whatever it was, Little Felicia had chosen correctly. She supposedly understood the subject well, not that Silverfox was any judge.
Little Felicia wasn't particularly huggable, so Silverfox shook her hand and took the bag to the table. "Do these need to be chilled?" she asked.
"Probably best to put them in the fridge," Little Felicia said. "I can decant it when we're ready to eat."
Decant it? Obviously wine was a little more complex than Silverfox thought.
"Hey, Tiger," Firefox said, walking in brightly. "Looking good!" She went up and hugged Tall Felicia, then patted her bicep. "That muscle works for you. We'll have to start calling you 'Buff Felicia.'"
"How's my symmetry?" Tall Felicia asked. She struck a pose, and Silverfox had to admit she looked damned nice. Gorgeous, but Silverfox felt no desire to screw her. And that was strange.
"Fearful," Firefox grinned. "You must tell me who framed it."
Firefox let her hand linger on Tall Felicia's arm for just a moment. Silverfox and Firefox had lost their virginity together; a lingering hand was one of the big vixen's tells. Silverfox didn't know which team Tall Felicia pitched for, but Firefox would hit that.
Silverfox took the bottles into the kitchen. Shadowfox did a double-take when she saw them. "Oh, good," she said. "Can you get the ice bucket and decanter out of the hall closet?"
"Little Felicia said she wanted to decant them."
Shadowfox blinked. "Well, naturally."
Silverfox nodded, and went to the hall closet, seething within. _Well, naturally. Only an ignoramus would think otherwise,_ she thought. Eh, she was being a little pissy.
Little Felicia and Modesty had gravitated together, maybe because they were the same model, maybe because they each wanted to have a conversation without staring upwards.
"How are you going to get there?" Little Felicia asked.
"Through Vermont to Montreal," Modesty replied. "Then West to Invermere. That way I can get there with a national border between me and the slave states."
"Good idea," Little Felicia said.
"Invermere," Silverfox cut in. "Isn't that in British Columbia?"
Modesty and Little Felicia looked at her blankly. "Yes," Modesty affirmed. "Why?"
Because somebody's skinning chimerae there, Silverfox thought. Should she say that out loud? Nah. Avoiding every state or province with killers in it didn't leave you many places to go. Still, Silverfox felt an irrational creepiness wash over her. C'mon, she thought. You're just feeling anxious because Firefox is flirting with a girl who looks like Tigre.
Silverfox's ears twitched in the direction of the door. She didn't recognize the footfall, so she guessed it was Chantal.
She opened the door, put out her hand, and smiled.
The Germans had never pulled off a successful sentient production-ready chimera line. Only four countries had: other countries bought from one of the four or produced them under license.
US chimerae tended to be either felids or canids; the Brits did various equines and ursines, and the Japanese did rodents. For some reason, the French had focused on rabbits. Silverfox guessed it was because they were common lab animals. Or maybe it was a subtle middle finger extended to the German armed forces. Their American counterparts fielded lethal predators; the British powerful and sturdy equines and bears; Das Heer got bunnies.
Silverfox looked into Chantal's eyes and wondered, idly, how a French genetic designer justified working on something like Chantal knowing that most of the production would end up in German uniform. Did they figure that working in a lab would be more comfortable and fun than military service, or was there something more subtle going on; did they feel that every Conil was keeping a countryman out of the labor camps? It was pointless speculation, except another illustration of how losing a war really, really sucked.
"You must be Chantal," Silverfox said. "I don't think we've met. I'm Silverfox. Come in."
"Thank you," Chantal replied. Her voice was distinctive; there was a slight buzz to it. They had never gotten the vocal cords to work quite right on the Conils, so every one had an implanted mechanical vibrator in their throat, a bit like the medical prosthetics used by throat patients. The Conils were like that; rough edges compensated for with mechanical implants. Silverfox wasn't sure how stable Chantal's gene line was, but she would probably die of cancer if she didn't die of violence.
Her neural implant was a couple of generations behind the state - of - the - art Japanese tech licensed to the Vix-Dix. Silverfox's implant was a bit like a monitor and a mouse; Chantal's more like a monitor. Her watch had a simple input system that made it compatible with most hardware. Silverfox wondered if hers supported Control 4094.
Still, her specs were up there with those of the Vix-Dix, so Silverfox would need to be careful around her.
"I brought some cheeses," Chantal said, as though Silverfox couldn't smell them. Cheese was basically rotted milk and some French cheese couldn't be sold in the US; the same laws that kept people from selling tainted foods tragically also fell on some perfectly safe, although runny, cheeses. She had also brought a couple of baguettes, which stuck out from her bag in the traditional manner.
"Do you suppose they'll go with Sloppy Joes?" Silverfox asked.
Chantal hesitated a moment before shrugging her shoulders. "Could be. I've never tried." She pointed to the baguettes. "I can't vouch for the bakery because it's new to me..."
"Say," said Little Felicia brightly. "I brought some wines. Wine, cheese and bread sounds really good."
Bringing wine to a party was a no-no in France, but Chantal was apparently comfortable with US Rules. "Really?" Chantal asked. She headed over to the table. "What did you bring?"
Guests were starting to talk to one another, which was good news for the party. Chantal and Little Felicia integrated their contributions to the pre-dinner munchies table.
Silverfox opened the door for Tawny. "Hey, glad you could make it," she said. She hesitated, and continued in low tones. "Is it 'Dawnstar' or 'Tawny?'"
Tawny hesitated just a moment, perhaps at this reminder that Tawny was a hunted fugitive. Silverfox snorted. "Lighten up," she said. "We're not slave hunters and half our friends are fugitives."
"Dawnstar, please," Tawny said. She was wearing a leather jacket and carrying a tray of brownies. Silverfox hesitated. There was something a bit ... off about the way Tawny smelled. It hit her: Tawny was either carrying a stash of marijuana, or she had recently carried it in the clothes she was wearing.
Silverfox didn't have a big problem with casual users. She partook on occasion, but her drug of choice was alcohol, the same as Firefox's. Marijuana she could generally take or leave alone. Still, Tawny's intelligence dropped a few points in Silverfox's estimation. If she were a runaway chimera facing deportation she wouldn't show up at a party carrying controlled substances. Hell, that was a reckless move even if the party wasn't being thrown by four rent - a - cops.
"Dawnstar's here," Silverfox announced to the others, taking her in with a hand on her shoulder so Tawny could maneuver with her trays. Cheshire's ears twitched slightly, perhaps registering the change of identity and wondering about the ramifications.
"Hey, you brought the special brownies," Shadowfox said with a big grin. She went to take the tray. "I think these need to wait until after dinner." Shadowfox drank so little on her own that sometimes she had to be reminded to take a few shots of rum to keep her tolerance up, and she carried pills to help her keep straight if she had to take drugs for social reasons. Tawny didn't seem to be taken aback -- so was Shadowfox pretending to be more into it than she was? Giving Tawny the illusion of leverage, like Firefox had done with a guard in Blue Diamond?
Shadowfox put the brownies down on the table. There were three crock pots on it, each filled with a different mix of ground meat and sauce; they all smelled wonderful. "Let's do this buffet style," Shadowfox said. "Dig in. But save the brownies for dessert."
"I'm not sure if I agree with you," Firefox said. She took another bite of brownie with ice cream, savoring it in her mouth before swallowing. "I mean, yes, it would have been good if the United States had gotten involved directly in the European War, but honestly I'm not sure what that would have accomplished. The US is a naval power and the Kriegsmarine never had a chance against the Royal Navy."
"The US had a lot of people and industry," Chantal said. "You helped keep the British and Soviets in the fight without committing your army. Imagine if you had committed your army?" She looked at Tawny appreciatively. "I have to admit these brownies are delicious. I wish I could have more than one, but..."
"Have you ever looked at your tail?" Silverfox asked. "I mean, really looked at your tail?"
"What army?" Firefox asked rhetorically. "In 1939 the US Army was smaller than Poland's. Look how fast the Germans took out France, and your army was much bigger than ours. It takes a good decade to build up an army. How could the Americans turn what they had into a world-class force by 1943 or 44?" She snorted. "Nah, there's no way the United States could have participated in an invasion of Fortress Europe before 1949 or 1951, and by then the Germans had The Bomb."
"But no way to deliver it," Chantal said.
"It's like the tail has one shape, but it's made up of all these little hairs. And they each grow to just the right length to shape the whole tail. I mean... how do they know?" Silverfox asked in tones of great wonderment.
"They could have developed delivery systems," Firefox said. "The payload on the V-2 might have been increased, or U-Boats modified to deliver nuclear weapons into enemy harbors."
"I concede the point about the invasion," Chantal said, "but American strategic air was very good. Heck, your carrier planes were outfighting ground-based Japanese air. Your air force and navy beat Japan without needing to invade Honshu; maybe working with the Royal Air Force they could have forced Germany to capitulate."
"Do you ever wonder if every hair on your tail is shaped like the tail, and it's made of hairs too, and it's hairs all the way down?" Silverfox asked. "Like if you used enough Nair, you'd just completely dissolve?"
"Well, Japan used junks instead of trucks, mostly," Firefox said. "So their economy was much more vulnerable to American subs than the Germans would have been. But yeah, I can imagine that the US Army Air Corps might have done something significant if it were based in England." She considered. "But on the other hand, they would also have been hitting targets in France, and you might never have been invented, and that would sort of suck."
Chantal grinned. "Thanks. Still, there's plenty of suck to go around the way things really played out." She shrugged. "I mean, give the Soviet Union ten years of real peace and they'd probably be the biggest economy on the planet."
"How many of these did you eat?" Technofox asked, pointing at the brownie on her own plate, that was sitting, untouched, under a scoop of melting ice cream.
"Who can say?" Silverfox asked, shrugging.
"I dunno about that," Firefox chuckled. "The Russians still haven't gotten grain production back to pre-Revolution levels." She shook her head. "No, I don't think they'll ever get it together."
Chantal put her lips together and didn't respond to that.
"C'mon," Technofox said, taking Silverfox by the hand.
"Groovy," Silverfox said, letting the little vixen tow her to the bathroom.
Technofox closed the door. "And Firefox said she wanted you straight."
"I am straight," Silverfox said.
"Uh-huh," Technofox said, preparing an injection. "Want it in your arm or butt?"
"Tech," Silverfox said, "I'm straight. I'm acting."
"Huh?" Technofox asked, ears flat and clearly not buying it. "Where did that bit with the tail come from?"
"That time I drove you home from the rave where you tried mixing Ecstasy and alcohol," Silverfox explained.
Technofox hesitated. "That gibberish about fractal tails was from me?" she asked.
"Yup," Silverfox nodded.
"Wow." Technofox shook her head. "That was my brain on drugs?"
"Yup."
"I will never go to a rave again," the little vixen vowed.
"I dunno. People loved the recording I put on my web page." Silverfox smiled broadly.
"That was a joke?" Technofox asked hopefully.
"That was a joke," Silverfox assured her.
"Good."
Silverfox jerked a thumb back at the room. "Think Chantal's a Red?"
"Could be," Technofox said. "When Firefox slammed the Soviets she got pissed off at a visceral level. Or she could be a good actor."
"Right," Silverfox agreed. "If she is, it means she's Resistance."
"Right," Technofox agreed. She rubbed her nose. "Of course, she might do that if she were really a committed National Socialist. What a pain."
Chantal and Shadowfox were sitting together. Shadow was inching closer to Chantal; Chantal was inching closer to Shadowfox.
Accidental hand touch in five, four, three ... there she went, Shadowfox moving her hand to nudge Chantal's just a bit. They looked at one another, startled, and delivered an apologetic grin at the same moment. Silverfox watched them out of the corner of her eye. Two agents, both flirting, both pretending to be interested in the other. Two professionals without any real interest in one another. Heck, wasn't Chantal straight?
Silverfox looked away. It was almost too painful to watch.
The Felicias had left a while ago; Tall Felicia had work and Little Felicia didn't like being about in the city after sunset alone. It was 0117. Tawny was at the door, with Firefox.
"So we can talk tomorrow?" Tawny asked, a little nervously.
"It'll be okay," Firefox assured her. "Look, I'll send an email to my contact tonight. If he gets his pants in a twist, I'll tell you. But unless you lied to me, he won't."
Tawny relaxed and let out some breath. "Okay, thanks," Tawny said, and turned to go. Firefox punched her arm and smiled reassuringly. Tawny smiled back.
"It's getting late," Chantal said. She rubbed her nose. "Uhm, would it be okay if I crashed here tonight? I, uhm, I don't want to navigate the T this late."
"Sure," Shadowfox replied immediately. She looked at Firefox immediately, a bit apologetically. "Uhm, if it's --"
"No problem," Firefox said, relaxed and casual and pretending not to notice that Shadowfox and Chantal had hooked up. Technofox glanced into a corner of the room. Was she checking a monitor?
Silverfox suddenly realized that she didn't have anyone for the night. She slid up near Cheshire.
"Sleep with me tonight?" Silverfox asked, her voice low.
Cheshire blinked. Silverfox realized, with a shock, that she didn't even know if Cheshire was bi.
"I mean, just to sleep," Silverfox amended it. That should work.
Cheshire tilted her head.
"Modesty can use the guest room," Silverfox said. "I've got a Queen sized bed. Save you sleeping on the couch."
"Uhm," Cheshire said, obviously rattled. "Sure!" she said. "Just let me change."
Silverfox went into her bedroom, turned on the low level lights, and changed quickly into her nightshirt: she had picked it up on the West Coast, and it read "Sleepless in Seattle." Sometimes she wondered if that was an in joke.
Cheshire came in a moment later, wearing a long shirt from Atlanta. It was a hand - me - down and it didn't fit her well. She hesitated, stepping in.
Silverfox grimaced. Of course, she had the lets - fuck lighting on. She tapped the lamp and it got brighter. "Sorry about that," Silverfox said. "Come on in."
She slid under the covers and Cheshire came in after her. Silverfox turned off the lights; the room was illuminated slightly by the street lights coming in through the window.
"I'm sorry," Silverfox said with a slight laugh.
"For what?" Cheshire asked.
"Well, I don't even know if you're bi," Silverfox said. "I mean, I remember we did girl - on -
girl in Blue Diamond, but I don't know if you were acting."
"I was," Cheshire said quietly.
"...Oh."
"I mean," Cheshire said. "I ... was pretending to like hitting you."
"But what about..." Silverfox began. She gulped. No, she'd be direct. "Would you like me?"
"Would you like me?" Cheshire asked.
Her eyes glowed softly in the night, and her face was beautiful. There was longing in it.
"Yes," Silverfox whispered. Cheshire closed her eyes.
"How can you?" she asked. "After what I did to you?"
"I don't remember anything I'd hold against you," Silverfox said with a laugh.
"...No."
Silverfox closed her eyes and parted her lips. She kissed Cheshire twice, and the jaguar opened her mouth and returned the kisses. Silverfox felt her rough tongue against her smooth one, kissed her harder.
Silverfox lifted the covers away from Cheshire. She knelt, and started to undo the jaguar's shirt.
She froze.
"What is it?" Cheshire asked.
Cheshire was wearing a lanyard around her neck, and at the end was a 4094 gadget.