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The Vixen's Brother

Among the most disturbing behavior observed by the Vulpeculan nobility is their total disregard for the rights of all life they see as beneath them. These traits have been recorded among the hundreds of Princes and Princesses ruling their domains on the planet and precious few demonstrate adequate levels of empathy, understanding of the duties of the elite, nor of consequences of their cruel actions.

Bluntly, the diplomatic corps used to have Beta Vulpeculae as the most demanded position, no doubt thanks to the beauty and charisma of the native species, but has quickly become the most hated. Our diplomats have reported intense, self-gratifying cruelty from the Princes to their servants which has had a negative effect on their morale and psychology.

I do not advocate going against the Annexation Agreement, in which we support the rights of the Princes to self-rule in exchange for loyalty and the lucrative Vulpeculan slave trade, we have made our bed there and must lie in it, if I must be blunt; but I propose we extend the ban on Vulpeculan officers as they have proven time and time again to not understand authority and how to properly wield it, no matter how good they can be as soldiers.

-Page 25, “On the Morality of Our Subjects," by Ambassador Targhuth of the Imperial Regulian Diplomat Corps.

Of course, she was a tricky vixen. The first thing she did was act coy about the details of the job. Then she started to get nervous and started looking behind the truck, worried about trouble finding us once again. I couldn't get an answer out of her. Betraying her thoughts was her fluffy, orange tail, of which the black-tip was playfully twitching ever so slightly.

Drops of rain began to patter at my closely-shaved head. Just what we needed, sitting next to a wet, dusty Vulpeculan, her sweet, earthy musk flirting with my nostrils. Sighing, I pulled out the black tarp from the flatbed and began securing it over the open roof of the Hauler. This was the convertible model of the Regulian Hauler, of course.

“I'm not interested in playing games, Princess." I said, wrapping a piece of rope around the corner of the tarp.

Giggling, her tail swiped sharply to the right. “Not playing any games and I'm not a Princess. I'm a countess from the noble, but impoverished, house of Yi-Pah."

Grunting as I tied the other end to the metal loop on the corner of the roof. “Oh yeah? How many slaves do you have?"

“Five."

“Psh! Five more than I ever had." I said, beginning work on another corner. The rain was starting to become more than droplets. It was going to be a storm tonight. “Well, I guess you must have connections, so maybe your job isn't all talk. I just need the details."

“Not until you take me back to your hideout. Job or not, you're not going to leave an innocent, young noblewoman such as myself alone and defenseless, are you?"

“What makes you think I have a hideout?"

I did, actually have a shelter and a really good one at that. It was pure luck, me finding it and I avoided sharing it with people. There weren't any banks here aside from loan-sharks, so you had to either have a secure hideout or a well-hidden storage area.

“You do, don't you?" Her gloved paw clutched at my arm, her green eyes shining with excitement. “If you take me there, I'll tell you all the details, okay?"

“Alright, fine!" I gave up and tied down the second corner. I pointed at the nearest one to the Vulpeculan. “Just, could you tie down that part before we're washed away?"

To her credit, she tried to tie it down, but she didn't have any idea of how to tie a proper, secure knot nor how to secure it.

“My name's Pawel Lis. Yours?"

“Yaleen Yi-Pah, at your service." She said with poise and grace, followed by muttering nasally curses under her breath as she struggled with the tarp.

I finished my side and came over to help her out, securing it in less than half the time she spent on it. Just in time too. The rain was now pounding down and puddles were forming in the road, turning it to mud. This would make covering up my tracks later on more difficult. It was going to be a long night.

We got back in the Hauler and hit the road in silence.

The storm never let up for a minute. Even over the roar of the Hauler's engine, the raindrops pounded loudly against the tarp. Thankfully, only a bit of water got into the vehicle itself. After the night I had, the last thing I needed was pneumonia as the medical facilities here were not great, when they existed at all.

Yaleen kept silent the whole trip, even when I pulled out a package of pork jerky and offered her a piece. She simply raised her nose at it, snorted, and said no thanks. She would have to adapt her Princessly tastes sooner or later to preserved meat, MREs , and canned food, if she hoped to stay here.

I kept an eye on the rear-view mirror the whole time, waiting to see two white orbs hovering behind me, following us. It never happened. Thank God for that.

Ten miles north of Flint's Bar, turn east when you see the shacks of Haven on the horizon, there will be a narrow slope when you reach the mountains, barely large enough to fit the Hauler through; follow it up and east, then take a sharp north and you'll find the cave I lived in.

In the storm, if you didn't known where you look, you would never see the camouflaged, gray tarp covering up the entrance, matching the craggy rocks along it. Perhaps if you looked at the ground you might notice the earth had been pounded down with a shovel after all my attempts at covering my tracks. It was a good thing to do, not only were bandits common, but my cave had a direct view of the Imperial Tower, reaching up to the sky off on the southern horizon. It was extremely unlikely that they were watching in my direction or cared, but people on Planet did not like to be in its gazes.

The Regulians had soldiers based in the tower and they sent out patrols out without any apparent rhyme or reason. If you spotted an APC or a patrol of armored Regulians with the Imperial black banner with six golden stars on it, you stopped your vehicle, dropped your weapons and dove to the ground. Sometimes a resident of Planet would get the smart idea to try and take revenge. Without fail, this would result in the tower lighting up and a fleet of lift-copters jetting off to the immediate radius of the incident and opening fire on anyone they see.

The Regulians always get their man.

I got out of the Hauler and unraveled the entry tarp. Shutting off the hauler, I shifted it into neutral and began pushing it into the cave, nearly slipping on the mud.

“What are you doing? Just drive the damned thing in!" Yaleen barked, leaning out from her seat.

“You want to suffocate?" I grunted, bracing against the bumper. The Hauler used a Regulian synthetic fuel that was similar, but not gasoline. I had no idea whether the exhaust was toxic, but I didn't want to chance it. “If you're not going to push, you can at least get out."

To my surprise, she actually not only stepped out, but sauntered to my side and helped push. The truck was almost in at that point, but it was the thought that counted. With one final push, the muck swallowing up my ankles, we got the truck into the cave. I swung onto the seat and kicked the gear into park.

The first thing that hit me was the smell. It always hit me: the smell of mildew and moist air. You got used to it after awhile, but after the fresh, crisp mountain air outside, it felt a little rough on the lungs. On the far end of the cave, past the narrowing hall and into the perfectly round alcove, a halo of moonlight leaked in from a wide hole in the rocks, shining a spotlight on a thick cloud of dust and showing the silhouettes of all my possessions: boxes of excess scrap and a few crates of trading goods such as cigarettes and liquor; a fire-pit in the middle of it all where rain drip-dropped from the ceiling hole, atop a sloped tarp a few feet away from the pit. Off to the side, against the wall, were my two sleeping bags.

Still, the light was not enough. I turned on two electric lanterns laying on the crates, illuminating the place, giving it a slight homely feeling. It was ugly, gray, cold, and wet, but it was home and the sound of rain pounding against the thick, rock walls of it made me feel warm, knowing I was inside.

“Nice gun." Yaleen suddenly said, having seemingly teleported to the far 'window' and was examining the Mosin Nagant rifle that laid against it. She took off her gloves and ran her black paws down the long muzzle and then across the wooden stock. She carefully slid the bolt back and leveled it on her shoulder, aiming it out the window and leaning her eye into the scope. Despite a brief snag when her long nose bumped into the bolt and it being a little large for her small frame, she held it expertly.

“You handle it well." I said, throwing a log and some tinder onto the fire-pit.

“I used to fire a gun like this on hunting trips back home in better times."

“Oh yeah?" I said, thinking back to a hunting trip my father took me on shortly before the invasion. I could almost smell the fear on the deer before I pulled the trigger. I missed and it got away, but Dad just patted me on the shoulder and said we'd get it next time. We never got the chance. “What game did you hunt?"

“Runaway slaves."

Suddenly I didn't feel like sharing hunting stories with her. I quickly changed the subject.

“So, the job?"

Her muzzle wrinkled as she sniffed at the air. “I thought you said this place was secure!" She made her way over to the second sleeping back, pressing her black nose against it and inhaling. “Why do you have a second sleeping bag and why does it smell like an Equuleian?"

I cleared my throat. “A friend who sometime stays over." Neilan hadn't been over for months after we separated. I still found myself surprised at the power of their noses, but then if I tried hard enough, I could smell his salty musk over the spicy, rampant dust.

Her mouth hung open, long, pink tongue sticking out slightly over her lower fangs. “Is he handsome?"

“Very, but that's not important right now." I said, flicking my lighter and lighting the tinder. Thunder rumbled off in the distance. “The job."

“Yes, I suppose this place will do nicely." She muttered, sneaking over to the fire and with a swish of her tail, sat on a crate, holding her paws in front of the growing flames.

She withdrew a datapad from her brown jumpsuit pocket, tossing it over the fire. Catching it, I looked at the screen which displayed a picture of a young, orange-furred Vulpeculan wearing a Regulian soldier's uniform. He was winking at the camera casually, and to my surprise, his one open eye was green. Along with his tail being black-tipped, I easily made the connection.

“Your brother?"

“Yes, I'm looking for him. The Regulians said he was killed in a skirmish with the Lacertans near a mining station. They said he died tackling an invading Lacertan marine to save a comrade and was shot. He was the only casualty."

“There are many strange things here on Planet, but the dead don't come here."

“I did not believe their story for a second." She spat sharply. “I love my brother, but this story reeked of deception. My brother, the hero? Hah! I looked into the public records about his ship, every last one of them, and found two reports that listed zero casualties."

“Could have been a mistake."

“I needed to get access to private records and find out the truth, so I went about charming Regulian generals stationed on Beta Vulpleculae. It took several, but after I had exhausted the last one, I got access to his datapad and found a document that told the truth. He was sent to Forbidden Zone Gamma, specifically, this planet. I took my ship and traveled here."

“And crashed."

“Yes, and crashed. But I took that into account. Rest assured, I have a way of getting out of here and I can take you with me."

I tossed the datapad back to her. The room lit up with a flash, followed by a crack of thunder off in the distance. “I'm sorry, I haven't met any green-eyed Vulpeculans."

“But you can help me look for him." She said. “And when we get him back, I'll get you off this planet and get your memories back along with his!"

“How?"

“That..." She said, holding a finger up. “I can't tell you yet. If you were to know, you wouldn't need me. Rest assured, my dalliances with the Regulian generals gave me more than pleasure and I have good intelligence on how to get the memories back. But first, you must help find my brother."

This was a lot to ask and I didn't like that she was hiding things from me, but she did have a point. Whether I was trustworthy or not, she needed to have something to keep me bound to the deal.

“I owe a lot of money to Sirth, that Lacertan you saw me with." I said. “I can't work on this right away, I need to pay him first."

“That's fine. I can assist with that." She said, a smug grin forming on her muzzle as she picked up the rifle. “I'm a good shot."

“It's not good for you to wander around with me. You'll attract attention."

“Ah, I see how it is." She said with a laugh, eyes narrowing to a slit. “You want to keep the pretty, young Vulpeculan Princess all cloistered up and to yourself. Starting your own royal harem, are we?"

“You know that's not what I..."

Her slender muzzle wrinkled and her pointed ear pricked towards the entrance. Lips peeled back to expose her fangs, she whispered. “Are you expecting visitors?"

“No, I..." I listened. All I could hear was the rumble of the storm outside. Her ears were still trained on the entrance.

“I heard footsteps and someone cursing under their breath. It sounds like they're down the slope and climbing."

“Kurwa!" I spat, kicking dirt onto the fire until it choked on the last few embers. Her ears were better than mine, her nose too. If there were bandits out there, she would have heard them first.

And me, the fool! I did it again! I forgot! I forgot to cover up my tracks like I told myself to do! I didn't even put the tarp up over the entrance! I need to remember these things! They will kill me if I don't.

And now I could barely see a foot in front of me. In my haste to douse the flames, I ensured the cave was nearly pitch black. It would keep me concealed, but odds were they were aliens that could see far better in the dark than me. Yaleen was, it happens, one of those aliens, and I saw a silhouette of her leaping onto the Hauler and crawling under the tarp on the flatbed, bushy tail trailing behind.

“I need ammo." She whispered.

I edged up against the front of the Hauler, kneeling and peering around the corner out the entrance. A flash of lightning greeted me, followed by a rumble.

“There's a box on the flatbed."

She must have found the 7.62 rounds and figured out how to load them. I heard her rack the bolt back.

She seemed to know what she was doing, so I trusted her word that she was a good shot. I was more concerned about myself. My Beretta was fully loaded and I readied it, pointing the sights towards the entrance. I thought about loading up the shotgun, but after the close call with the feral Vulpeculan, I was worried that there might have been something wrong with the shells I bought and I couldn't risk a misfire like that right now. The pistol was not an ideal weapon, but it worked.

“Spotted." She uttered a low whisper. “Two Lupiads. Coilguns."

I was tempted to ask how the hell she could tell, even with her enhanced night-vision, but then I saw them too. Two lights rounding the corner on the slope, bobbing the whole while. Their headlamps gave enough of a visual even for me to see they were some kind of canine-like alien, matching her observation.

I could not see the coilguns, but if she was telling the truth, this was bad. The Regulian coilgun could fire a projectile straight through the engine block of the Hauler and out the other end. It also meant they were likely members of one of the bigger bandit gangs, to have access to hardware like that, or were deserters. I hoped for the latter. Either way, we only had two choices, to surrender if they came in the cave, or to kill them before they entered. The former was not really an option; the Lupiad gangs were generally open to taking prisoners and recruiting them, so long as you submitted to their rigid social structure, but that would mean little to them when Sirth's collectors come asking for me, and Yaleen's fate among them would be unthinkable.

“I have a shot on the left." She whispered.

“Fire when I say so. Stay quiet."

The headlamps bobbed closer and I could make out the basic features of the bandits. They were, indeed, Lupiads. I didn't recognize any of them, from what little I could see. They did not wear body armor, having only simple, patchwork clothes on with a logo on the breast. I couldn't make out the logo, but it was likely a bandit gang's symbol.

How did these amateurs get admitted into a gang with coilguns? I thought, raising the pistol. Even with the darkness I lurked in, thanks to the headlamp, I was able to line up the sights on the right bandit's head, then lowering it to the darkness below it, where his torso would be.

Turn back. You didn't see anything.

But they did. They did see the cave. I couldn't understand their gutteral voices, but then one of them pointed at the entrance, at us. They didn't see us yet, but they would soon.

Not yet. Wait.

After several tense minutes as they talked among themselves, they did something that surprised me: they turned around and started walking away, their silhouettes still visible from behind the flashlights.

This was even worse. They were going to go and tell their buddies about it. I'd have to either take all my stuff and drive off in the night, hell, for all I know their bandit friends are at the bottom of the mountain and they'd shoot us dead anyways. Otherwise, if I stayed, they'd bring an army back and I'd have to surrender and then everything would be over. I'd either be dead, theirs, or Sirth's.

But there was such a shame in shooting someone from behind. Even when I was in the militia back on Earth, it was something that always made me uneasy. It was the same reason I was always uncomfortable around the snipers. People aren't wired to shoot at people who aren't immediately hostile, soldier or not. Alien or human. It was one thing if they saw me, raised their guns and were about to fire. But looking at them from behind, despite not seeing their face, you see someone who was just walking around, minding their own business. Maybe I'd have met them at the bar, had a few drinks, become friends, maybe more.

It's a disgusting thing to do.

“Fire!"

Our guns erupted. The heavy bang of Yaleen's rifle and the pop-pop-pop of my pistol. I saw the bodies collapse, but from the distance, for all I knew they were taking cover. Even if they were down, they could still be strong enough to fire off a vengeance round when I got close enough.

I swapped my magazines, pulled my hood up and stepped around the truck, towards the outside, rain buffeting my face.

“Cover me, okay?" I ordered. The only response I got was the rifle's bolt slamming back.

Shuffling out, I stood on the peak of the slope. The two bodies were there, not even twitching, their headlamps still making them an easy target. I kept my gun trained on them as I approached, anticipating them playing dead just to be careful.

They never moved an inch. Not even when I kicked them in the ribs. Blood flowed out from their wounds into the mud. They were dead. It didn't feel good, but I would feel better after a few days. Living tended to do that.

I checked the logo on their shirts. It was a Lupiad's paw in red. The Redpaws. They were a growing gang in the area, didn't have much of a harsh reputation yet, but they didn't have a good one either.

I sneaked down the slope, leaving the coilguns behind. They were better guns, more advanced than mine, but I was not experienced with them. Back in the militia, people used to argue about whether Warsaw Pact ammo or NATO rounds were better. Endless back and forth about tumbling, shattering, stopping power, etc. But in the end, there was one argument that won against both sides.

The best gun is the one you know how to use and the one you can supply.

And I knew Earth guns, NATO or Russian. I knew them well.

There were no lights at the bottom of the slope. I waited for any signs of movement patiently, hunkering down as my boots sank into the mud. A flash of lighting assisted me, showing an empty, narrow road heading downward. I still stared, waiting for someone to make a reveal, but no one ever did.

I pulled my leg free from its mud prison and made my way back to the cave, finding Yaleen sitting on the end of the flatbed with her legs crossed and the rifle laying across her lap. I wiped the rain and sweat off my face.

“Thank you." I said, patting her on the shoulder.

“I can help you. You can see that, can't you? I can help you."

“We can discuss that in the morning." I said, taking my canteen out and taking a swig of lukewarm water. “You're a good shot."

“Indeed."

“Are you also good with a shovel?"