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CHAPTER 15

"The initial psychoanalysis of the first group is not promising, Ionious," said Master Mialo, the Center's expert on mental rehabilitation. He and several other members of the Center's senior faculty were holding a regular meeting on progress with the recovered slaves, and so far that progress had been disappointing. "The numbers are very disappointing and astounding to say the least."

"How so," asked Ionious. The fox was tap-tap-tapping absentmindedly on the tabletop with one paw, a report in the other. He'd been handed an update just moments before the meeting and had not had the opportunity to assess the progress for himself.

Looking to his notes Mialo read some of the latest stats on the first thirty freed slaves to be woken from stasis and examined mentally. While the physicals had all been completed before ending their comas, their psycho evaluation was a different matter entirely.

"Of the seventy two trial subjects," Mialo said, tracing a paw over his notes as he read, "seven express signs of advanced traumatic stress disorder. Two of them are undoubtedly suffering from paranoia approaching schizophrenia. Three are bipolar and seven claim they've entertained thoughts of suicide at least once in the last year. Aside from psychosis, few have anything beyond an adolescent education, their average intelligence quotients are below normal by two to three standard deviations, and all but one are illiterate in any language...though that was expected."

Grim-faced, the medical professionals exchange a round of distressful glances. This was worse than the original projections had been. Unfortunate considering this stage of rehabilitation was the most strenuous, the most difficult. Mending broken limbs and curing most cancers and infections was easy. Treating disease of the mind was another matter entirely, requiring long, delicate assessment and therapy.

"On another note, Ionious," added Mialo, having put his notes aside. "My team has had a hell of a time simply dealing with them. Their hostility toward my crew has been high, even violent at times. Short of forced-repression treatment it will take time. Simply put..." Mialo leaned back resignedly, a frown on his lips. "I need more staff. At least triple what I have now if we're going to handle an expectant load of about...oh, let's say three hundred thousand over the next month. Provided the numbers are similar."

Ionious' flicked an ear in understanding, making a note to contact the proper channels as soon as possible. The trouble was that nobody had ever done anything like this before, and everybody was shooting from the hip on this. "Well, let's hope this pattern isn't indicative of the entire slave population. These were all slaves of military personnel, correct? Perhaps they undergo greater stresses then most due to combat, frequent relocations...things of that sort."

"It's entirely possible," said Mialo, but Ionious got the distinct impression he was doubtful. "Most seem to demonize their oppressors very highly, almost obsessively. One theme that continually arose during our interviews was a feeling of anger and rage that had to be continually suppressed. Though there are exceptions, of course. Some of them either resigned themselves to lives of servitude or didn't have a strong history of mistreatment."

Ionious stared down at his report and went back to tapping his claws, his tail twitching rapidly as he considered the outlook.

"Excuse me, Mialo," said Master Ergasia. She flipped quickly through the files each member of the board had been given before the meeting, looking for one in particular. "Who is the one patient that you said was literate?"

Mialo checked his files. "Um, let's see here..."

Ergasia was a member of the Center's senior staff. An occupational therapist by profession, she was assigned to the Center to oversee the department responsible for ensuring the refugees received necessary training and education to become productive members of Vulpine society. It was sure to be a very daunting task and she was naturally very interested in those refugees that had some level of education.

Ionoius eyed her pensively across the table. "That would be John Banks," he said.

Mialo nodded when he found his file. "Yes, that's right...I was very interested in this one."

"That's Sarah Banks' brother," said Bothos, remembering his previous encounter with the vixen all too well.

"He's certainly the best-adjusted of this first lot," remarked Mialo. "Intelligence is high, even by our standards. Can read and write Lupine and has no identifiable maladies. A bit uncooperative, though."

"I'd like to have an interview with him, if that's alright," said Ergasia, passing a brief, sidelong glance to Ionious. "I'd like to request that some of the more astute refugees be hired to assist with training the less capable ones. I think it would help greatly to have fellow refugees assist since they are more likely to find common ground."

"I agree," said Ionious quickly, returning the vixen's brief glance with a level stare of his own. "But I know that John would want to see his sister first. Mialo? Would you say he's healthy enough to be discharged?" The cognitive therapist nodded. "Good. Bothos, I want you to make sure he has permission and that Master Fortono on the Excedra knows John will be onboard...incase anything should happen."

"Yes, sir."

Ionious dismissed the small meeting and as his staff members dispersed he noticed Ergasia was slow to leave. The vixen was still seated, biting at a well-manicured claw. Ionious noted-almost gladly-that after years she still hadn't kicked the annoying habit. When the two of them were alone she stood.

"Ionious, does this have anything to do with your rivalry with Sozo," she asked crossly, arms folded across her chest. "Or simply as a means to piss me off?"

Ionious regarded Master Ergasia with a carefully measured look. Unfortunately, the two foxes did not have a strong history of mutual personal respect for each other, a sentiment stemming as far back as their school days. They had attended the same academy together and even became involved romantically, a relationship that didn't survive long after their graduation. Each held differing opinions of how the other fit into their new careers, or didn't as the case may have been. Ultimately, the relationship soured then fractured, leaving words on either side that would have been best left unsaid. This was the first time they'd worked together in nearly fifteen years, and while their professionalism kept their mutual past in the past, old arguments insisted on resurfacing every so often.

"Master Ergasia, what I may think of Sozo has nothing to do with my professional responsibilities here at the Center."

She kept her tone calm. "I don't doubt that, Ionious. I'm just concerned that you've become distracted by this...fixation you seem to have with him and that wolf you had here a few days ago."

"What happens out there directly impacts our mission here," he said sternly. "I have an obligation to ensure that what is best for this department is maintained. That includes protecting the creatures put under my care, even the wolf. He was my patient, and I'm not in the business of treating that lightly."

"That's good. I'm glad to see you can take something serious." Ionious growled from deep in his throat. "Just be sure your 'business' doesn't harm our progress here," she said, picking up her data pads from the table and cradling them in her arm.

"It won't. I'll be sure and send John to your office when he gets back-after giving me an update of my patient's condition."

The vixen raised an eyebrow and smirked in a way that Ionious knew from experience meant Ergasia thought she'd won the argument.

"Yes," she said. "Do."

And with that, she did exactly what she'd done to him almost twenty five years before: Left.

***

A pair of guards put Scott Banks on his too-familiar cot, the wolf giving them not so much as a snort as he laid himself down to gaze lethargically at the ceiling. He'd been given his daily cleansing in the quantum shower and a trip to the latrine. As the guards left the room the wolf could hear one of them muttering quietly to the other. Of the few words he could actually make out, one phrase struck him the most:

"Pathetic, isn't it?"

Pathetic...was that what he'd been reduced to? There was a time in his life when he would have fought back at such an insult. Yeah...pathetic. His stomach growled out its familiar displeasure. Scott had eaten a few bites of food earlier, tired not necessarily of the hunger, but of having just one less thing to make him feel so empty. It hadn't helped much. It just made his stomach ache. Rolling on his side he closed his eyes; half expecting, half hoping that he would never wake up again. His dreams and visions had since left him in a momentary peace. Even they, it seemed, didn't want to waste their time on him.

The wolf snoozed lightly for an hour before the sound of rustling and hushed voices roused him. Scott yawned and stretched, listening to his joints crack, and moved himself to a more comfortable position, disappointed at having been woken.

"He's in here, ma'am," said a gruff voice behind. "I'll be standing right here behind you if he tries to hurt you."

Scott sighed. Another session with some damned fox. Perhaps this one would end his sorrow forever...

"Scott," he heard a whisper from behind. It was soft and strained. Full of emotion. His ears perked. "Scott, are you awake?"

There was something familiar about the voice. It had something warming and pleasant to it. Suddenly, he felt a light pressure against his shoulder and a small paw gently squeezed his upper arm through his loose shirt. A cool chill flooded his weary body and the wolf shivered slightly despite himself. The paw's owner must have felt it. The gentle squeeze loosened its grip and patted him. Lifting his head he strained his neck to swivel his nose toward the newcomer. He knew her scent.

Sarah gasped. The wolf she'd known for her entire life was virtually unrecognizable. His bright, intelligent face was replaced by a stranger's: His black nose pad dry and cracking, his eyes beaten and sunken, the healthy shine of his facial fur reduced to flat, faded tones. As his watery eyes looked up into hers and recognition dawned in them, the vixen felt her own begin to burn with hot tears.

The wolf was sick. Very sick.

"Sarah," he whispered quietly, as if not entirely sure she wasn't a vision.

"Oh Gods, Scott," she whimpered out in a mix of sadness and happiness. "What've they done to you?"

Looking down at himself quickly, as if wondering the same thing, he slowly rolled over and sat up straight, his larger bulk still dwarfing the vixen easily. Holding a paw up he touched her cheek softly, proving to himself she was indeed real and not another fevered dream.

"Sarah, what are you doing here," he asked, almost disapprovingly, but his sunken features were quickly brightening with relief and warm familiarity.

She smiled lightly, turning her muzzle into the paw to rub the pads affectionately with the fur of her cheek. "You haven't been eating properly, have you?"

Scott smiled. "We haven't seen each other in how many days, and you're already scolding me for not eating properly?"

She smiled too and, leaning forward to press her cheek to his, hugged him tightly, which he willingly shared. "I'm so sorry, Scott," she mumbled into his ear, stroking the side of his face with hers as tears began to role down her muzzle. She sniffed his familiar scent and took comfort in it, so glad he didn't reject such forwardness from her. "I'm so, so sorry this happened to you."

He made a small chuckle that, cynical as it was, reassured Sarah that he wasn't as misaligned as Sozo had promised her he would be. Scott was a strong creature when he needed to be. Tormented, yes. But strong.

"Don't be sorry," he said when they'd separated. "None of it was your fault, Sarah."

As he said this, his eyes flicked from hers to the guard that stood by the door. The fox wore a bewildered and uncomfortable look on his face. Sarah's gaze followed the wolf's. Turning from the wolf she told the fox to wait outside. When the guard stammered out his uncertainty and concern she became cross and barked at him to leave immediately. The young fox did go, but only after flashing a very disapproving look at the two creatures.

"Scott," Sarah said desolately after turning to face him again. "Things are falling apart. So many might die. Slaves, wolves...innocent creatures. Lokagos says he needs your help to save them."

The wolf's face became heavy at the mention of the minister's name. "I don't see why he should need my help. If they're so advanced and capable why should it matter what I can give them," he said bitterly, looking away.

"I don't think they're really that powerful, Scott. They have their tricks, but it's still limited. They need your help to prevent bloodshed. You know more about Lupine government and military than anybody here. Even Sozo knows that you're more important to them than he is now. Can't you see that, Scott? Don't you want to help them free their kind...save innocent lives?"

"Free them from their evil masters," he muttered vacantly. "These foxes are no different than we are. No more tolerant. No more enlightened. What should I do, Sarah? Help them attack mine...let them free their people so they can turn around and do exactly to my kind what they've done to me?"

"I really don't believe they'd do that," she said. But then, they'd done it to Scott, even after his intentions should have been clear to them. "I don't think they'd do it not because they're any better, but...I just don't think there'd be any point. They promised me they'd send you back home, Scott," she whispered, putting a paw on his arm, the wolf's face still turned away from her. "Back to your farm."

"I don't care about the farm," he spoke in little more than a whisper. "I don't even care if I live or die anymore...I don't have anything left."

Sarah could hardly believe her ears. She was certain he would never say these things again. Had he really changed so much being here like this? A lump was growing deep in the vixen's throat, threatening to choke her. It frightened her to hear him say things like this again, like a cruel relapse to the horrors of Jessica's death. Scott said these things so apathetically, as if it was nothing serious at all.

"My life died with Jessica, Sarah," he choked out, still staring off into the ether. "I know I caused you and John a lot of agony at my expense, and I can never repay you for all that you did to help me through...But I don't think I can keep on pretending it never happened."

Sarah brushed her eyes clear with the back of a paw. Crouching, she turned his nose to hers with a gentle press of her palm to his muzzle. Scott's face was a picture of depression, self-loathing, and survivor's guilt, something that Sarah had seen in him years before. The best thing for him was to have family there to comfort and console him, reminding him that there were still things to live for.

"She was pregnant," he whispered, a dark moist line running down each cheek.

"What," Sarah gasped.

"Jessica was five weeks pregnant when she died. We were..." He swallowed hard, fighting to keep his emotions in check. "We were going to have a boy. We were going to name him Henry."

Sarah was crying with him now. "Oh Gods, Scott," she said between sniffs. "I had no idea..."

He shook his head. "Nobody did, except us...and the coroner, I suppose. That's why she was in the city when she had her accident. To see her doctor."

No number of 'I'm sorry's' could have comforted the wolf. How could it? Sarah leaned forward, laying her head against his chest and nuzzled under his chin. Her tall ears, folded back miserably, she had no trouble hearing the echo of his breath as his chest rose and fell. The rhythmic beating of his heart was slow but strong. As his right arm came to rest on her shoulder, holding her closely, the constant sound reinforced her hope in a small way.

"Scott, if you won't help for anyone else, not even for yourself, then would you please do it for me?"

The wolf looked down at the vixen, whose weeping eyes soaked the front of his shirt. Scott felt a pang of regret, failing to realize until then how much disquiet he was causing the poor creature. Even after loosing his wife and unborn son he had never been truly alone. That revelation, more than any thing else, was what had allowed him to recover years ago. He traced his paw up and down her back, smiling a little to himself.

But this was different, wasn't it? Sarah and John were free creatures now, not that he treated them like slaves before. They could never return home with him now. He wouldn't allow them to return to that life. The life of a slave, no matter how well-treated, was not a free one.

"If you didn't," Sarah said, breaking his reverie. "They'll keep you in here like this forever, or worse. I couldn't bear it if anything happened to you, Scott." She looked up at him and in that moment, when their eyes met, she could hold her feelings in no longer. "I love you, Scott. With all my heart, I love you. I hate to see you like this in this...this hellhole. Whenever I see you hurting I feel the same. When Jessica died you lost everything. I'm afraid that...that if I lost you I could never live with it."

Scott's brow widened in shock at Sarah's tearful confession. The vixen's delicate face was both soulful and tortured, pleading for him to return her affections, even in some small measure. When all he could do was stare in stunned silence Sarah buried her face in his shirt. Scott's mouth, suddenly dry, hung open. He meant to speak-he wanted to speak-but finding nothing of justice to say he remained silent. Sarah's sobbing had quieted and she sniffed quietly a few times. She looked up and broke the silence herself.

"I'm sorry. I...I should never have said anything," she moaned, pausing to wipe her nose with a sleeve. A trembling paw reached up to caress the ruff of his cheek. "But I wanted you to know that you're still loved, Scott. You're not as alone as you may think. There's nothing in the universe I want more than to see you happy again...and nothing I'd hate more than to see you get hurt again."

Standing, the vixen smiled weakly and let her paw fall away from his face, still struck with awe. Scott's eyes fell to the floor suddenly, his mind full of so much confusion, violent flashes of painful memories, and instinctual urges that he couldn't discern from them what was real and what was not. It had been so hard to control his emotions-or rather, keep them from controlling him-that he'd since given up on trying to win this personal battle.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said anything," he heard the vixen say again and his head snapped up. She was crying again. "Maybe I should just go."

Ashen-faced and racked with grief, Sarah turned, hesitated for a brief moment, then started for the door. Her tail hung lifeless from her rump, her muzzle dipped heavily. Seeing her back turned as she made ready to leave him awoke something in the wolf; a fear of being alone, a terrible sense of longing...of love and affection. Maybe it was his sickly state or the setting he was in, but seeing someone he knew he cared for-and that cared so deeply for him-walking away forced him to stand.

"Wait!" he barked out.

Sarah stopped, her eyes finding his, but neither creature said another word for a very long moment.

"Sarah..." he said finally, "Please...don't leave," he said slowly. Looking to the vixen longingly, Scott surprised her with his strained urgency. "I don't really know what I'm supposed to feel." He sounded confused; distant, even. "Do you mean that?"

"Oh, Scott," she said softly, a tremble running through her slim frame as she hugged herself close. She nodded slowly. "I couldn't tell you...I never meant to."

The wolf stepped up to the fox and wrapped the small creature in a strong embrace. Sarah hesitated briefly, tentatively pressing her cheek to his chest. Scott cupped the back of her head gently with his paw, caressing her nape. There was no doubt in his mind that she was telling him the truth. Sarah would never make something like this up. When the love of his life had left him, the idea of longing for another had seemed so impossible-a hole that could never be filled again. The thought that another could love him again was likewise out of mind. He had never imagined that this fox could have loved him in this way. He did love her too, but more as a brother or father figure than anything else.

He couldn't tell her that. And it would be cruel to let her believe that love was mutual. Or could it be? He didn't know, but something inside himself told him he wanted it to be, if only to feel loved again. It was all so confusing, and he was not in the right frame of mind to know for sure.

Scott sighed deeply, saying quietly, "I was so afraid of being alone after Jessica died. But I guess I've never really been alone. I owe you so much, Sarah," he said, but winced when he realized how cold that might have sounded. "I don't think I could ever stop loving her, Sarah..."

Sarah looked up. His eyes were damp and remote as he stared into the middle distance.

"I'd never want you to, Scott," she whispered. "Jessica was my friend, too."

The wolf sniffed regarded the vixen he held tightly. At that moment Sarah feared more than anything he'd reject her feelings for him, but as their eyes met she saw nothing but warmth and acceptance. Maybe she could never have his heart, but maybe she didn't need it so entirely. In his arms she was safe and wanted, and decided that was more than enough.

***

"I'd like to apologize for all the confusion the last few days," Bothos told John an hour after his meeting with the Center's staff. They were in John's small room that he'd been using since being awoken from stasis. "I'm sure you've heard enough apologies by now, haven't you?"

John nodded. The foxes were roughly the same age and similar in fur pattern, though John was slightly taller and darker in complexion than the master. Whether unfortunately-or fortunately, as it may have been-John did not have the same benefit of understanding the situation in the same way as Sarah had with a neural linking. Like the rest of the refugees, John had been woken from stasis carefully to prevent shock and eased into his new environment by orderlies with calming words and reassurances that everything was alright. He was among friends now. But the staff had been quick to subject him to psychoanalysis and hours of ridiculous questioning with few of his own questions being answered; namely, where was his sister and when would he see her again. It became clear very quickly that the doctors and nurses had no idea.

Bothos had done his best to fill in the gaps and ease some of the fox's confusion.

"Let me get this straight," John asked. "Scott has been arrested and taken to a ship to be questioned. Sarah went there to make sure he's not tortured."

Bothos nodded slowly. "I guess you'd say that's it 'in a nutshell.'"

As John packed what few items they had given him-two changes of uniforms and a few self-help documents on coping with stress translated into Lupine-Bothos watched, becoming more and more agitated. A nagging question had been building in his mind and now, as the fox bit his lip nervously, it was struggling to stay inside.

"John, can I ask you a personal question? About your sister?" John raised an eyebrow questioningly, and Bothos took his silence as an invitation to continue. "Do you think it's right that...that Sarah loves him? The wolf?"

John stopped short of packing a uniform into a small bag and looked up, his eyes wide and surprised. "How did you know she loves him," he asked intently.

"The link," said Bothos, suddenly feeling guilty. "I learned more about your sister in five minutes than I could've in three months without it. But not everything. Her adoration for him is very strong but...painful. I don't know why. I couldn't sense in her why she loves him so much and hates herself for it. Is it because he's a wolf?"

John sighed deeply and his attention fell back to his clothes, which he shoved almost violently into the bag and synched it closed. He had known about her love for Scott for a while, ever since the night she'd come running to his room in tears. At the time Scott was having another manic episode in his room, howling and screaming out Jessica's name madly in his sleep, his moans of agony and sorrow filling the house. Sarah couldn't take it on her own any longer: To hear him suffer so completely, so fully, sometimes for days on end.

"Do you really believe what race he is has anything to do with it," he asked, angered by his overt prejudice. When the medical master didn't answer, John sat on the bed he'd been sleeping on for two days and continued. "She loves him deeply, Bothos. I'm sure you can feel that yourself."

The fox nodded, a gesture he'd recently adopted from the refugees. In truth harboring another's affections like this made him very uncomfortable. If he wasn't careful they might become his own.

"Sarah knows that no matter what Scott himself may feel about her she can never have his heart. That belongs to his wife and always will."

Bothos' brow fell in confusion. "I didn't think Scott had a wife."

"He doesn't...anymore. She died a few years before in an accident and it destroyed him. Scott loved her deeply, Bothos, and it took a long time for him to get over it. I don't think he ever has, really. Sarah..." He sighed again and hung his head, rubbing the pads on his paws together. "Scott loves her too, in a way, but I don't know if he'd ever be able to commit his whole heart to her-and she knows it."

Bothos looked down for a long moment, still uncomfortable.

John shook his head. His memory flashed to a time shortly after Jessica's passing when he had to wrestle a kitchen knife from the wolf's paws before he slit his wrists with it. Scott was snarling, foam and spittle around his lips. Sarah was screaming.

Bothos had grown despondent, a grossly upsetting look in his eyes and John no longer doubted that he really could feel Sarah's hurt for himself.

"Bothos, I think you asked me how I felt about my sister loving a wolf?"

Bothos looked up, his quiet expression asking for an answer.

"Well, I honestly don't know," John said lowly. "If it had any hope, I'd say there's nobody in the universe that would treat her better than Scott. But it's impossible. He's a wolf committed to the memory of his late wife. She's a fox. These kinds of things simply don't work out."

Standing, John hefted his bag's strap onto his shoulder and raised a paw, outstretched, for the door. Understanding fully, Bothos stood as well and led his companion to the Center's transporter room.

***

Minister Lokagos was sitting in his office, snoozed soundly, his head propped up by one paw, a forgotten defense and logistics report in the other.

"Minister Lokagos," came a voice over the intercom. "Sir...can you hear me?"

The fox couldn't as he caught up on some much needed sleep, snoring lightly. Before long a figure crept lightly through his office door and up to the silent minister, resting a paw on his shoulder and shaking him gently.

"Sir," the paw's owner said, just loud enough to be heard.

The request didn't seem to help. Sighing deeply, the grey fox caught sight of the data tablet his commander held loosely in one paw and picked it up, scanning the document for a moment. It was a commander's brief on the Lupine fleet's latest shield and weapons upgrades.

"Minister!"

Lokagos' head snapped up suddenly, his entire body going rigid as he rose in his chair. Looking down he remembered his surroundings and sighed heavily. Clearly embarrassed, the ship's minister growled, more at himself than his guest.

"What is it, Fylaka," he asked the Excedra's chief of security after relaxing enough to sit back down.

"Sir." Fylaka wore a concerned frown. "Can I suggest some leave? You've been beating yourself to death lately."

"Yes, you can," said Lokagos gruffly, "and no, I won't. Maybe tonight I can sleep at home with my wife, but not until tonight. Now, what do you need?"

Fylaka said simply, "The vixen's convinced the wolf to assist."

The older fox's ears perked up. "Has she, now? That's excellent!"

Fylaka's ear flicked in affirmation, but he was quick to stipulate the wolf had specific conditions. "He has a demand, however."

The minister's expression quickly hardened. "Demand? What kind of demand?"

***

A silver-furred fox stared, eyes narrowed maliciously, at the Excedra's security feed patched through the computer terminal in his personal quarters. It was a useful feature Sozo's clearances permitted. As he replayed the scene and heard the disgustingly heretic words again, a hateful knot twisted and coiled tighter and tighter through his being. How weak and pathetic could a vixen become to submit herself to the raving lure of such a beast as that damn wolf? How could she so easily betray the trust and welcome he'd extended to her? And the wolf! That unworthy hell's-spawn was far more dangerous than he had ever led himself to believe.

Teeth gritted and fangs bared for the two creatures, vengeful schemes were already playing in the fox's mind. Lokagos no longer desired to hear reason, polluted by childish ideals of justice without fault and war waged through mercy. What foolishness!

Sozo had never before been to war nor served in a military under any capacity. He had slaved away in a field every damn day for over twenty years of his painful life. His 'generous efforts' had brought sustaining life to who knows how many wolves across their empire. Convention would have most believe the life-giving nutrition of his labor's fruits came from the sun, soil, and rain. But Sozo knew better than that. The coveted children of the Lupine Empire were nourished with the lives of slaves. His kind bled and died day by day so that wolves could grow fatter and fatter. Why could he see what others could not?

Sozo stared heatedly at the image before him. That son of a bitch wolf that held his own bitch so closely, so lovingly to this heartless chest thrived on the souls of the innocent. Ate of their blood and sweat! If nobody else was willing to do what had to be done then by the Gods that task would have to fall to him. The lives it had cost so the wolf could live had to be avenged...and the vixen-so unfortunately corrupted by his evil-had to follow suit.

The wolf had to die.