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"So. You're insisting on him, are you?"

"Yep." The new captain of the FNSC Umbra, Izel, leaned back with her paws held loosely together in her lap. She had one leg over the other, the raised footpaw loose, her lightly furred tail curled out of the way. Her eyes, however, were set straight on the wolf across from her, as she sat in that wolf's office.

The office was pretty well set up. It wasn't as resplendent as she'd seen other offices decorated, though there were some personal touches, such as what could be diplomas or citations hanging on the wall near the desk. The desk was on the higher end of standard, some heavy looking dark brown wood that nicely offset the lighter colored walls. They also offset the gray fur of the wolf behind that desk.

Admiral Daler, the wolf in question, had her ears back. Her fingers were loosely interlaced in front of her muzzle while she leaned her elbows on her desk. Maybe it was a wolf thing, but she had an implacable stare. But Izel guessed that many predators never expected a mouse of any sort to stare right back at them, especially with the calm and steadiness that Izel had. She knew, and Daler knew, that Izel was going to do what she wanted to do, this was just an argument for a look into the proceedings.

Sighing, the admiral closed her eyes, and Izel knew she had won. It wasn't often that prey would win these sorts of battles against predators, and even though she was on friendly terms with Daler, they still happened. "You can't take the ship," Daler began.

"I can take a ship, though?"

Daler's ears flicked outward, then back again. "I can arrange for something to take you out there."

"So you know where he is, then."

"Yes."

Just that. An agreement, nothing more. The grasshopper mouse tilted her head very slightly. "I'm not the only one that wants him back into the fold, am I?"

"No." A sigh from Daler, who begun the next sentence with her eyes closed. "If you bring him back, I'd consider it a favor. Even so—"

"I want him, though."

"A ship can't launch without its first officer, so it's just as well that your crew is still assembling."

"And I still want him."

"My point is, Captain, that we should plan for the very likely contingency that your first choice won't want to come back into the Navy, never mind serve under you."

"Then I trust you to pick another fur in the event that he doesn't. But I still want him, and I'm prepared to go find him if need be."

"I can see that," Daler said, looking down at her desk and activating a display. Izel couldn't see what was on it, especially as the display stayed on her desk, but Daler tapped a few times before pushing something on the display toward the mouse. "I'm sending you with Jabril. You'll need some muscle. Take some furs with you, but not more than four."

"I have some furs in mind."

"I'll bet." Daler tapped a few more times on her desk. "The longest I can wait for you to come back is three weeks, give or take a few days. If you take longer than that, then you're going to risk your captaincy." This time the wolf looked up at Izel, starting into her eyes. "I can only protect you so much. This one has to be without official backing, mostly because resources are a little thin right now. That, and a lot of the Board of Defense has a problem with you being a captain for reasons I know you're well aware of—"

"Not enough sharp teeth. I understand, admiral. But I still want him."

Admiral Daler studied Izel's eyes. "I think you do understand." Her gaze returned to her desk, where she tapped a few things. "Have your list of who you want to take with you sent to me within two hours. If you hurry, you can ship out in four."

"That pretty much limits me to my existing crew."

"You'll be working with them eventually anyway. May as well start now. Dismissed."

The grasshopper mouse rose and turned to leave. "Izel," said the admiral, causing the mouse to look over her shoulder. "Good hunting." The mouse smirked and nodded, leaving the room.

-*-

The place smelled like sadness and fear.

It was clean. Enough. It presented every indication that it was a semi-professionally run environment, to a degree it almost stuck out on a frontier world. It was a little too new, a little too clean, a little too straight, but not enough for it to notice unless one was looking for it. Which Wamai had been, when he found the place. The first time he stepped inside the building he smelled it; a scent that numerous cleansing agents and machines couldn't dispel entirely because of how pervasive it was. This was the place.

The image cloaking he had was subtle; it gave him a longer mane, different color eyes, curled his whiskers in a fashionable way, and changed his spot pattern. He didn't recognize himself when he looked in a mirror, which meant his cover was secure as long as the cloak held, and subtle enough to not run out of power before it could be charged. His cover should hold, but he brought an extra battery or two just in case.

"Lord Borin!" one of the slavers said with a smile that never quite touched her eyes or ears. "Welcome back."

"Thank you," Wamai said. They had a jaguar be his point of contact. Species solidarity, he supposed. It had to be at least a layer of security on this illegal operation. "I hope I haven't missed anything."

"Not at all, not at all. If anything, you're just in time." The jaguar slipped an arm around his back as she guided him through a door and further into the complex. The fear scent grew sharper with an acrid tinge. "My colleagues and I have been thinking about the investment you've wanted to make into our enterprise."

"Oh you have? I promise you, I won't make any trouble. I simply need somewhere to park some funds."

"So we hear." The arm stayed. The hall seemed interminable, and that smell grew stronger. "We have come to the conclusion that your investment is too large for our business."

Wamai forced a laugh. "What do you mean, 'too large'? Surely a growing enterprise such as your own needs funding, does it not?"

"Of course, of course. But perhaps there is a more appropriate vehicle for your… needs."

"Do go on?"

The jaguar grinned, showing her teeth. She stopped by a door, pivoting to stand beside it. "Through here."

"So mysterious," Wamai said. "Am I allowed a hint?"

"Don't you like surprises, Lord Borin?"

"I am not overly fond of them."

"Indulge us with this one." She gestured, the door opening. The smell was at its strongest, mingling with something else. "After you."

What to do? After a moment of staring at the jaguar, he nodded with deliberate slowness, and entered. The jaguar entered at his back, and another, queer smell entered the air, mixing with all the others to create a melange that made his stomach clench, then twist as he came into the open area.

It wasn't necessarily the weapons. He saw unregistered phase pistols and phase rifles, which were relatively minor offenses and expected for this kind of operation. It wasn't necessarily the drugs, which may have been the most legal part of the enterprise, though no doubt completely run through unofficial channels and in amounts that exceeded legal doses. Nor was it the personnel, who all screamed "brigand" as various species looked up at him as he stepped into the room.

It was the slaves. They had large, thick, garish collars slapped around their necks, easily identifying them from the riff-raff. One was a mouse with tawny fur, because of course. The mouse's face was buried in the lap of one of the brigands, a badger who slouched in a chair, shirt pulled up to expose breasts while one of her fists held the mouse's face down. The other slave was a stag with all his points cut off, his face buried in another stag's crotch. The other stag had all his points, and was vigorously fucking the slave stag's face, looking as if he wanted to rip off the slave's antlers prematurely.

"Maybe you'd like to sample some of our wares?" said the jaguar from behind. He felt the phase pistol press into his back, and Wamai did his best to throw a haughty glare at the jaguar.

"Really? Was this necessary?"

"It's a matter of trust, you see. We need to make sure you're on our level, Lord Borin."

Turning fully, he pointedly pressed the barrel of the phase pistol down with a finger. "You could have just invited me."

"We needed to be sure."

"Mm. Well, as soon as the one with the mouse is done, I'll take her."

"She's got a tongue on her, that's for sure!" cried the brigand in question, jerking the mouse slave's head away from her damp crotch. Wamai belatedly identified that brigand in particular as a coyote. "Woo! Been a while since I've been ate like that!"

"I'll take her, then," Wamai said again, crossing the distance and hauling the mouse up by hooking a paw under her arm. Here the sadness, the despair was rank, along with the scent of the coyote slaver. "Is there anywhere…?"

"Bed right behind you," said the jaguar, still holding onto the phase pistol though it was pointed at the ground. "You're not afraid to show us what you got, are you?"

"No." Wamai sat on the bed, hoping the mouse was as good as the wolf claimed she was. He nudged her, and the defeated look on her face infuriated him. Just as quickly, he packed down the anger, jerking open his pants. "You know what to do," he told her, and she nodded, trembling.