FSE

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formerly SoFurry search engine

Well, we are finally getting away from the development and returning to the plot!

CHAPTER 16

Chris Hartford, the Radon Frontier Forward Command's newest Deputy Director of Automated Defense Systems, sat alone in his new office. It wasn't as grand as a governor's office-not by a long shot-but it did have a comfortable, military familiarity to it that he had become used to over the years. His desk wasn't solid oak as it had been, but a composite polyvinyl that was strong but light. There were no decorations on the walls, no fancy moldings, no fine rugs. It was spartan and neutral, and Chris actually preferred it in a way. His new computer, on the other paw, was a behemoth. It was a supercomputer designed to store, modify, filter, and coordinate the incredible amount of data necessary to monitor-in part-the defense of an entire quadrant of space. At just over five pounds in weight, minus the screen and interface, the processor was easily the largest computer he'd ever seen that still sat upon someone's desk.

All the bells and whistles were lost on the wolf tonight, however. The door was locked and the lights turned down low for security, and every type of anti-spy software he had was active. It was added protection, not just from outside hackers, but from his coworkers as well. He could not be sure if he was being monitored, or if he could trust the wolves he worked with. Most of them believed the headlines on the telenet, understanding the mobilization under Admiral Samuel Royce to be perfectly legitimate.

The trouble was, Chris didn't know what to believe. And so, as he leaned nervously over his personal data assistant, he couldn't help but feel trapped and isolated.

"Identify who you are," he typed into the text messenger, hitting send. The tiny computer scrambled the words into a complex cipher and sent the message through space to its yet unknown recipient. The response came several moments after, a similar jumble of letters and symbols that reconfigured into a cogent reply.

"Respectfully, sir, I cannot tell you. Not until I know you are loyal to the empire."

Groaning, the admiral typed, "Why should I trust you are not trying to entrap me?" He was well aware that entrapment of this very nature was a method the intelligence departments used frequently to identify officials with less than model loyalties.

"I can't make you trust me. If we do nothing all you need to do is wait. By 1800 tomorrow the emperor's death will be all over the telenet."

Admittedly, Chris had not started this conversation. He had barely settled into his new assignment when the messaging link appeared on his PDA. Deeply suspicious, he had been careful to admit to nothing and deny any commitment to any action, which clearly aggravated the individual on the other end. Prior to this he had carefully reviewed the information this informant had sent him the day before and while he was not an expert on signal authentication, they seemed perfectly genuine to him. Not only that, but an instinctual suspicion was telling Chris there was far more truth in the warning than his chain of command would like him to believe.

Chris hesitated before typing his next entry: "Who is still loyal to the emperor? I can't trust my chain of command."

"So far the only commanders I know are Admiral Chase of the Thirteenth Fleet, Admiral Valloy of the Fourteenth Fleet, Captain West commanding the ILS Avenger, and Captain Turner of the Falcon. I also believe General Tracy of the Third Army is not in with Royce on this."

"How can you be sure?"

"Because they've all been calling the emperor's office repeatedly the last two days requesting executive orders. If they know he was imprisoned, they wouldn't have called. We believe those involved are relatively small in number. But they're way up there."

The explanation seemed a little weak. As far as Chris could tell he had one of three options: Call the security agency to report this treasonous informant, ignore it entirely, or commit to believing what he said. But without more proof, he had a hard time justifying the risk. Documents could be forged, videos staged and edited. If it was a legitimate conspiracy, he could face capital punishment if discovered. If it was entrapment, he could face prison time and his career would effectively be over.

The messenger must have sensed his apprehension. The next text to flash on his PDA read, "Admiral, my name is Sergeant Randal Peters."

Through the messenger the offer was loud and clear to Chris. This Peters, assuming that was his real name, was taking a very real gamble by identifying himself. Peters hoped Chris would do the same in turn.

"I'll look into to," he typed. "That's all I can promise. I'll contact you later with my decision." He hit send before he could change his mind.

Churp, churp, churp!

The sharp call of his cell phone pierced the silence of his sealed office, startling the already nervous wolf so badly his paw flew instantly to his PDA's bio-interface to terminate the messaging program. Panting heavily, he tapped the telephone control, practically yipping into the microphone.

"Yes! Ahem..." he coughed. "Yes? This is Flight Admiral Hartford."

"Damn it, Chris. It's good to hear your voice."

This time the admiral did yip into the phone. "Scott! Where the hell have you been?"

"I can't explain now, Chris," said Scott urgently. "Are you on the Mourning Son?"

"Not anymore. I've been transferred. The entire military has been mobilized and reorganized. Admiral Royce has assumed full command of the martial government."

"Yes, I know that," said Scott, sounding urgent. "Why hasn't the emperor stepped in to assume authority?"

Chris wavered before sighing. "I...I really can't tell you, Scott. Not over the phone, at least. There have been some strange things going on lately."

There was a long pause on the other end and Chris had to ask, "Scott? Are you still with me?"

"Yeah...I need you to trust me on this one, okay Chris?" There was a sincerely concerned tone to his old friend's voice. It made Chris nervous.

"Scott, what are you talking about? What's happened?"

Through the tiny speaker pressed against his sensitive ear, the admiral could hear distant conversations and hushed arguments. His keen attention could filter out short fragments like "That was the agreement" and "Pinpoint his location" from the muddled dialogue. A minute or two of this passed before Scott's voice returned.

"Chris, I'd like to tell you I'm sorry ahead of time."

"Sorry? For what?"

The world flashed into a billion points of brilliant light. Chris jumped up in panic, dropping his PDA to the floor. By the time he was standing fully upright he was surrounded by half a dozen short creatures. Foxes! Looking around he recognized the setting as being completely alien to him, and a terrible sense of dread rose up inside him. Several of the foxes were armed, scrutinizing him closely. Carefully putting his paws up non-threateningly, Admiral Hartford swore aloud.

"Chris!"

He turned toward the call to see his long time friend and comrade walk up and pass between the fox guards, giving him a friendly pat on the shoulder.

"I never thought I'd be so glad to see you."

"Good Gods, Scott, what the hell is going on!" he growled, ignoring his fellow wolf's jovial greeting.

Scott dropped his voice, hoping to disarm the wolf's distress. "You haven't been captured, Chris. Relax. I just need to have a little talk with you is all. Welcome aboard the Excedra. Here, you'll need this."

Scott produced a small metallic plate from a pocket and held it up for Chris to see.

"What is it," Chris asked, his tone as cautious as his frown was suspicious.

"A universal translator." Scott turned his head to show a similar unit attached to his temple.

Chris growled, but permitted Scott to fit the chip to his temple. Scott led him through the inner workings of the Vulpine ship. Chris noticed that his greeting party was following them closely, their weapons still held at the ready should he attempt anything threatening.

Several minutes later found the pair alone in a small conference room and as Scott attempted to fill him in on some of the important details, a fox walked in that he instantly recognized as the enemy commander he had seen on screen in the Mourning Son's command bridge. Scott nodded to the fox politely.

"Greetings, admiral," said the fox. "I know you've seen me before, but I'll introduce myself all the same. I am Chief Minister Lokagos. Welcome to my ship, the Excedra."

The fox offered a paw to the wolf, who didn't outright accept the gesture. It was awkward being addressed as an equal by a creature such as this. Insulting, even. Remembering where he was he grasped the small paw tentatively and shook it. Lokagos was smiling diplomatically, no doubt understanding the wolf's discomfort and maybe even finding relish in it. From his wide, confident stance, the upturn of his muzzle, and the calm manner of speaking, this fox was used to being in a position of authority. Small though he was, compared to either wolf, this creature was used to demanding respect from his subordinates. That, at least, Chris Hartford could relate to. The fox studied the newcomer closely, but Chris did not get the sense it was meant to be intimidating.

"It is certainly a remarkable ship to see from the inside, minister," Chris said flatly.

The fox released the paw shake. "I want to start out by saying you are not here as a prisoner. I agreed to have you brought here as a courtesy to Commander Banks and you may leave at any time you wish. During your stay here you may not leave this room without express permission. When you are ready to leave, inform the guards in the corridor. Everything in this room is being monitored. Unless you have any questions of me, I must excuse myself."

There were not, and Lokagos left the two wolves.

"Why in the name of the Gods are you helping them!" Chris hissed as soon as the fox was gone. "This is treason, Scott!"

Scott frowned and looked away, nodding regretfully. "Yeah...I know." Turning back he gave his old friend a serious stare. "Maybe to Admiral Royce it is. Maybe even the emperor. But it's for the good of the empire, Chris. A lot of wolves and foxes will die if this isn't solved, and quick. Besides...I've always been an abolitionist at heart."

Chris leaned back, his eyes widening a little in disbelief, even a small measure of disapproval blanketing his expression. It hurt Scott, in some small way.

"Now come on, Chris," chided Scott quickly. "Don't look at me like that. I didn't have you come here so you could lecture me."

"I wasn't going to lecture-"

"That doesn't matter," interrupted Scott. "I need to ask you some things."

"Okay..." Chris was clearly concerned.

"First, is Cadet Gardner okay? My nephew?"

"I think. Last time I heard he was on administrative leave."

Scott nodded, relieved. "Good. I'm leaving him all my property. I don't believe I'll be going home. Can I trust you to file my will with the Department of Estates? Please don't report to anybody that I'm alright. If they knew I were doing this..."

Chris looked disturbed, but nodded all the same. "Yeah...sure, Scott. I can do that."

Scott reached into his pocket and removed a tablet, passing it to his friend. "I put my testament on this. I believe it's all there. Next thing. From what I've heard the command structure has been completely rearranged. Admiral Royce seems to be controlling everything. Why hasn't the emperor stepped up to regain command? He's the only legal chief executive in the empire. The Vulpines had intercepted some disturbing communications, but it's not especially clear what's going on."

At this Chris' mood changed entirely. "I don't think the emperor is still in power. I've been...conversing with someone who's told me it's all a show. Everything. Admiral Royce has led a coup and arrested Emperor Charles and means to execute him." Snorting disdainfully he almost laughed cynically at the thought. "He's scheduled to be executed tomorrow."

Scott sat upright. "That's impossible. How could he ever hope to get away with that? Execute an emperor and people will notice!"

Chris pointed a paw toward the door. "He's going to blame your friends here for it, and use that as leverage to establish a permanent dictatorship. His dictatorship."

Scott gritted his teeth angrily. "That's treason! How could he betray the entire empire like this! How could the High Council allow this?"

"From what I'm told most of them are in on it, too."

A sickening unease gripped his imagination as Scott envisioned such a downfall of an empire he had once sworn to protect and defend with his life. And here he thought he was about to commit the ultimate betrayal by hopefully averting war, if at all possible. That seemed like nothing compared to this.

"Wait," Scott said suddenly, leveling a stern glare at Chris. "Who's been telling you all this? Don't tell me you're in on it too."

Chris held up his palms defensively. "Hell no, Scott! I've been in contact with someone that says he's close to the emperor's guard. He's the one that's been telling me these things. And quite frankly, I don't know if it's real or not. I've been shoved into bureaucratic corner somewhere. I don't know what's going on."

"An insider?"

Chris nodded slowly and Scott settled back into his chair, but then sat up quickly as a thought occurred to him.

"Are you still in contact with him," he asked urgently.

"I suppose," said Chris. "Why?"

"You said they're going to execute the emperor tomorrow, right?" Chris nodded. "I have an idea. Wait here."

Scott bounded for the door and leaning out he motioned one of the guards to him, who approached cautiously.

"Yes? Is something wrong," the fox asked in a tone that suggested he was less than interested.

Scott brushed his derisiveness away, wasting no time. "I need to speak with Minister Lokagos as soon as possible."

For a second the fox stared at the wolf skeptically. "He may be busy, wolf," he said.

"I know, but please tell him it's very important. I think he'll want to listen."

***

John hugged his twin sister closely and wouldn't let go until she pushed him off.

"Alright, alright. I'm happy to see you too, John."

He smiled broadly, very pleased to see that Sarah was well. They were standing together in her small quarters, reunited for the first time in several long, troubling days. Bothos had been kind enough to see to it that everything was set before leaving to speak with the Excedra's medical officer, then return to the Center.

"You look good, Sarah," he said cheerfully. "How about Scott?" He bit his lip nervously, expecting bad news, but Sarah's face only brightened encouragingly.

"I think he's going to be okay, John. He's in some kind of meeting now."

The fox recognized something in his twin, knowing instantly there was something more than just 'okay.' She must have told the wolf how she felt about him, he thought. Judging by the look of it, her feelings had been received well. Despite his doubts and misgivings on this revelation John could see how happy it made her, and he was glad for it.

"Well, that's certainly good to hear. Now, I'm really hungry. I don't suppose there's a place to eat on this spaceship, is there?"

She laughed and nodded. "Yeah, of course. I can show you around on our way to lunch. It's really incredible."

Talking casually between themselves as they walked, the twins discussed anything that came to mind, from the ship to the new people she'd met. When John asked about how it felt to link her mind with Bothos, the vixen snorted disdainfully.

"Like nothing could be a secret anymore."

The conversation inevitably shifted to Scott and what had happened to the poor wolf. Sarah recounted her visit to the hospital and the meeting she had had earlier that day with their long-time friend. John scowled angrily throughout most of her tale, especially her description of Sozo and his attempt to destroy the wolf.

"Incredible, isn't it," he said, shaking his head sadly. "I guess that proves there are terrible creatures of all kinds, no matter what the species."

Sarah looked down to the floor and nodded, then a soulful smile creased her lips. "That may be so, John. But Sozo is one son of a bitch that's not going to be hurting anyone anymore. After Scott agreed to work with Lokagos, he revoked his credentials and put him under house arrest. I only wish I could have seen the look on his face."

John laughed. "Yeah, I imagine so. Oh hey! I almost forgot to tell you that Ionious offered me a job to help teach the slaves they free, at least temporarily. I'm seriously considering it. He wanted me to offer the same to you as well. If nothing else it'll give us something to do since we can't..." He paused, feeling a sudden pang of regret. "Can't go home."

The vixen sighed but didn't speak for the remainder of their walk to the galley, consumed as her brother was with thoughts of simpler times. Eating helped to uplift their spirits, however, and soon the twins were back to their familiar banter. After eating, Sarah led her brother in an off the cuff tour of the common decks-those that weren't restricted to unauthorized personnel. Sarah admitted she was a rather poor guide, but John laughed. As Sarah had promised, the ship was proving to be one shocking mystery after another. To the aspiring engineer, everything about the Excedra was new and fascinating to John.

"Look at this, Sarah," he said, pointing to a seemingly featureless wall in the corridor outside the dining facility where they had just eaten.

"I don't see anything, John."

"That's just it. There are no seams, no welds, or bolts anywhere. It's like the entire ship is made of a single piece of...well, I don't really know what it is. I don't even see a single light anywhere. I think the walls are glowing."

His sister rolled her eyes, but grinned playfully, letting John have his fun. "Only you would actually notice such a thing, John."

A muffled laugh caught their attention and the two foxes turned. A uniformed crewmember stood nearby, a bemused expression on his face. The fox was almost entirely grey in color, or shades thereof, with the faint hint of blackened highlights on his extremities; the ears, his paws, the tip of his tail. He could not have been more than twenty five years old, perhaps as high as thirty, but he carried himself well with the proud stance of a professional.

"It's our job to notice the little details, miss," he said, holding out his paw to the vixen in a friendly gesture. "Hi, my name is Odigos. You must be Sarah?" The vixen nodded and took the paw. "Very pleased to meet you. And John? Minister Lokagos said you were the engineer."

The fox shook the strangers paw. "Well...not really...not officially. I'm sort of self taught."

Odigos grinned. "Not many of those these days, I'm afraid. I'm a fold-core and trans-spatial engineering officer aboard the Excedra. I thought you might like to see the engineering bay while you're onboard."

John's eyes widened, his tail starting to wage excitedly. "Um...I'm sorry, but I don't know anything about fold-spatial-trans-something...I've really only studied mechanical engineering. Fluid mechanics. Things like that..."

The fox cocked an eyebrow. "Well, if you don't want a tour, I guess that's alright."

"No no," John practically barked. "It's just, I don't know that Sarah would be too interested is all."

The vixen shrugged indifferently. Truthfully, she wasn't in the slightest. But if not this, what else? "I don't mind. But why would you do that, anyway," she asked.

Odigos smiled. "Apparently the minister owed someone a favor."

The twins looked to each other. "Scott," they said in unison.

"Well, shall we?"

As Odigos led them through the core of the ship he narrated a little along the way, giving little facts he thought interesting to him, and possibly his guests. "The walls, like you said, don't have any seams or rivets, but it's not entirely solid. It's composed of an electro-sensitive oligo-carbon resin membrane...a fancy plastic, basically, but it's not entirely solid. It's actually a liquid that flows so slowly you can't see it. Pass a small electric current through it and it emits a soft white light, oxidizes the ambient air, and keeps us at a comfortable warmth. We've made many great strides in nanotechnology."

"What if you turn the power up or there's a surge," asked John, curiously. "Wouldn't you burn up or choke to death on ozone?"

"Hehe, hopefully not...No, the oligo-carbon is designed to disintegrate locally should a surge occur. But the likelihood of a surge is remote, at best. Almost all components on the ship are modular. Localized." He paused for a long moment, uncertain, before he asked, "That wolf-the one onboard-he was your master, wasn't he?" John and Sarah both nodded. "I hope you don't mind me asking, but is it true that he's not...um, well..."

"A vicious, brutal, savage," finished Sarah cynically, and Odigos' nearest ear flicked in a gesture of affirmation. "No, not in the least. Scott's our friend. Family, even," she said confidently and John nodded.

"Oh, I see. It doesn't sound at all like what I expected of a wolf."

Sarah frowned sadly, looking distant. "No, not all of them, at least. Scott is...special," she said. "Unlike some foxes I know," she added quietly.

"Hmm," reflected Odigos thoughtfully, clearly troubled. "Engineering is on the other side of the ship. The deck transporter is this way."

***

"Emperor Charles is your best hope of preventing a disaster, Lokagos. Of the few that can make imperial policy and enforce it, he is the strongest," Scott explained as the minister listened patiently, several of his sub-commanders present. "Most wolves in our military still believe that he's in control, the general public certainly, and for all intents and purposes he still is until he's dead and Admiral Royce blames you for it."

The minister's stern gaze did not waver from Scott Banks and Chris Hartford as he considered the wolves' pleas to aide in rescuing their chief executive. "And what is the difference between trading one emperor for another, may I ask?"

"Minister, if I may," said Chris interjecting for Scott. "With the emperor dead, and no legitimate heir, Admiral Royce will position himself as the martial dictator of the Lupine Empire, or as its newest emperor. Now, Royce has already made it clear that he has no intention of cooperating with you if it won't include strengthening his power base, and that is something you cannot afford. Emperor Charles, on the other paw, has no interest in conducting a war against a superpower such as yourself, realizing it would be destructive and cost prohibitive. You also have the public relations aspect. The Lupine people love their emperor. If they believe he was murdered by a fox it will be a disaster for you."

"This still doesn't solve the issue of maintaining the safety of our people, admiral. We have no guarantee that he will not try and hold them hostage, just as Admiral Royce has done."

"Because Emperor Charles isn't the one holding all the cards," said Scott sternly. "He's lost his palace, the High Council, and pretty soon, his life. He may be young, but he must understand that he has no hope of reclaiming what is rightfully his without assistance, and that you can use as leverage." Scott glanced sidelong at Chris, who shook his head jadedly. Scott knew he truly wanted no part of this. That was one reason he had chosen to bear the responsibility alone. And so, it was his call to make. Turning back to the fox he sighed. "This of course means we'll have to kidnap the emperor, with your help Lokagos."

For a long time the small conference room was mostly silent as Lokagos took time to whisper confidentially with his senior staff. They had closely studied the evidence that the wolf Chris Hartford had given them. His experts concluded that from a data standpoint there was no indication of tampering or editing. What was presented was genuine. Now, whether or not it was fact was a different question entirely.

The silence became too much to stomach for Chris. He glanced to his friend and, with doubt in his eyes, said, "We've really stepped in it this time, haven't we?"

Scott snorted a little. "I'm already up to my neck in sedition, Chris, but there's no reason that you need to be involved in this. Why don't you go home?"

The admiral frowned from the corner of his muzzle, scoffing just a little. "Home was never much of one anyway, Scott. I never wanted to have a desk job for the rest of my life, you know. Besides, I can't just leave and let you have all the fun, now can I?"

"Fun?" Grinning despite himself Scott put a friendly paw on Chris' shoulder and squeezed it strongly. "I guess the term 'treason' is all a matter of outcome and whose side you're on."

"Oh Gods," Chris chuckled nervously. "Don't even go there..."

Minister Lokagos tapped a paw on the tabletop, earning the wolves' attention. "You have not given me a reason to distrust you so far, and though this goes against my better judgment I believe that what you propose is a viable option, considering the circumstances. I want to make myself very clear about one point, however." The fox lifted a paw to stress the issue. "I am not in a position to foment a civil war by giving you resources. Should your emperor wish to be my guest he is welcome to it. I am willing to offer him asylum...pending the Bureau's approval (which I wouldn't hold my breath for). Aside from that it is up to you. I hope you understand my reasoning."

"Perfectly," said Scott. "Thank you."

The minister stood and regarded the wolf pair. In the fox's tired eyes Scott was certain he saw a small measure of admiration.

"I don't want your thanks, Scott. Just results. But do me one favor at least?"

"And what is that?"

"I've put my faith in your judgment. Prove me right about you," he said, a brief smile on his aging face, before turning and marching with his staff from the room.

***

Admiral Samuel Royce paced slowly in front of the small formation of loyal, specially selected marines of his new Republican Guard, forged from the ashes of the old Imperial Guard. Satisfied that his imposing rank and stature adequately commanded the unwavering respect of the officers and senior enlisteded that stood at attention before him, he commanded the sergeant major to put them at ease.

"Every so often," he began, loudly and clearly, "there comes a time in history when a single generation is called upon to perform a task far greater than themselves: To uphold their duty as noble wolves in the face of decent, to fight injustice and oppression, and to defend the purity of their breed. I believe now is one of these times. The empire that our forefathers fought and died to build, dedicated to the ideal that every wolf is worthy of greatness, has been threatened by outsiders-heirs of an inferior breed. What is more, our emperor chose to ignore that threat and endanger the security of our people, all in the name of politics. The enemy that scratches at our door has used fear and violence to exert their power, and through this we were blinded to our own enemies within, the chief of who sits now in a prison cell in his proper place."

Admiral Royce paused in his crafted oratory to allow his words to sink in. Roaming from one edge of the thirty individuals assembled to the next, his dark eyes fell on each soldier before he continued.

"We are striving now to build a stronger union. One that will rise from the ashes of the decadence of an outdated and corrupted imperial court. If that is to be achieved, the monarchy and its head must die. It is in no way an easy thing for any wolf to condemn an emperor to death, but it simply must be done for the preservation of the future for our posterity. I've come here today to see if any one of you is willing to bear the task of taking that life. This individual will have full benefits of anonymity and protection from any accusation. I can guarantee that. Should nobody volunteer by close of business today, the duty will be assigned randomly by lottery. Sergeant major, the formation is yours."

"Wait, sir."

The call made Royce stop and turn, searching for its source. His attention fell on a young officer, a first lieutenant, his paw raised. The junior officer, who shifted nervously on his boots under the admiral's intense gaze, let his paw fall to the small of his back.

"I volunteer, sir."

Admiral Royce looked to the marine's nametape and nodded satisfactorily. "Lieutenant Biggs, you understand the responsibility fully, I presume?" The twenty five year old grey wolf nodded the affirmative. "Very well. You will be transported by private shuttle to the detention station at exactly 1200 hours tomorrow. You will be briefed on arrival."

The sergeant major called for attention before dismissing the marines.

***

A tiny survey ship scarcely larger than a Lupine eagle-class fighter craft skated undetected through hostile space, its active and passive cloaking systems at full functionality. Scott and Chris sat uncomfortably behind the pilot's station on cramped benches not designed to accommodate a full-grown wolf. There were two other creatures on board, both foxes; a pilot and his systems operator. The pilot removed the neural-link controls from around his forehead and swiveled around in his chair.

"We're within teleporter range."

Scott nodded.

The copilot turned to face the wolves and a holograph was projected into the space between them. "This is a schematic of the imperial palace as it stands now."

The image was a scale model of the impressive structure, seemingly solid in every way. Chris reached forward curiously and touched one of the ancient towers, finding it felt as solid as it looked.

"Incredible."

"This here," continued the copilot, the building's roof and top floors dissolving to reveal the inner rooms and corridors, "is the location you gave us." A small access hallway was highlighted.

Chris looked closely at the model, then pulled out his data pad and compared it to the schematic his insider had given him. "Yeah, that's it. Sergeant Peters said he'd be there no more than five minutes, beginning at exactly 1100 hours."

"He still doesn't know where the emperor is being held," asked Scott, somewhat worried.

Chris shook his head.

"That shouldn't matter," said the pilot. "So long as he follows the protocol we gave you he could be on the other side of the universe for all we care."

For half an hour Scott and Chris waited, reviewing the plan and conducting equipment checks. It was simple enough, but no less dangerous and no less vital.

"We only have one shot at this," said Scott, making his friend scowl almost angrily.

"You honestly think I don't know that!"

"Stand by, sir," said the pilot. "Bio-systems indicate the hall is currently occupied. I'm redirecting your destination to an empty supply room twenty meters to its east."

Chris Hartford stood up quickly, bumping his head on the low roof of the craft. He hissed and cursed, feeling his head for an open wound. "That's just great," he muttered to himself.

"Good luck, Chris. I'll see you in a few minutes."

The wolf nodded and in an instant he was gone.

***

The evening news played on the only telenet screen on the lowest level of Detention Station Romeo-Seven. It remained neglected entirely, however, by its intended viewer, a very humiliated and dejected wolf. One would never have guessed that he, less than one week before, was the most powerful and influential wolf in the empire. Not even he could have recognized himself, a prisoner in a dungeon his very own ancestors had built to house their enemies. The irony was not lost on the wolf.

Groaning painfully, Charles Navarre-once lord and alpha of all wolves-dragged himself into a sitting position against his bed's headboard. Lying on his back with two broken ribs had become unbearable, a kind gift rendered unto him by one of his regular guards-a vindictive psychopath, if ever he knew one. He was lucky it hadn't punctured his lung. Charles' right eye was swollen shut, another gentle reminder, and the video screen caught the attention of his left.

"The Honorable Emperor Charles issued a proclamation today imploring the noble subjects of the empire to endure the crisis with steadfastness and resolve. In a statement delivered to our media office today, Emperor Charles praised the people of the Lupine Empire for their strength and courage in times of trials and difficulty. 'As the Gods have blessed the empire with prosperity and strength,' he writes, 'so too will they deliver us from the paws of foreign aggressors. I have placed every trust in the abilities of our military and its leadership to do what is righteous and necessary to ensure that right prevails. May the Gods bless the Lupine Empire.' Sources within the imperial court have informed us that Emperor Charles has been evacuated to a secure location where he will..."

Charles looked away, disgusted.

Yes...secure. Perhaps the most secure facility in the entire empire. Never in its long life has there been an escape or infiltration; R-7 was not a conventional prison for thugs and criminals. Even traitors to the empire had their place in the public penitentiaries. No, R-7 was where they sent those they were ashamed of. Those they just as soon wished never existed at all. Here is where souls have been taken for centuries to be forgotten by the universe beyond its walls. Probably nobody appreciated this more than Charles. How many had his ancestors erased from existence within these walls? How many had his father...or even he in his short reign?

Was it justice then, for Emperor Charles to be soon forgotten as others had been? This he knew would be the inevitable outcome, for no other reason would have brought him to R-7.

With the echo of a heavy clank the door swung inward on its reinforced hinges and two armored guards lumbered in, one brandishing a stun-gun, to other a pistol.

"Get up," growled one, his face mostly obscured by a helmet and visor.

When Charles snorted disdainfully the two guards hauled him roughly from the bed, dropping the wolf onto the floor. He gasped agonizingly, holding his chest as he snarled. The guards lifted him to his knees and bound his paws behind his back with a pair of cuffs. One of the wolves waved a paw and a young Imperial Marine officer stepped through the door, a pistol in one paw and a data tablet in the other. So, thought Charles. This is how it ends. Unwaveringly the lieutenant approached the disgraced figure and, with a calm but forced tone began to read from the tablet.

"Charles Navarre, once emperor of the Lupine Empire, you have been found guilty of committing treason against the government and public of the empire and have been sentence to death. By the authority vested in me by the government of the new Lupine Empire and its martial authority, I do hereby execute fully the commands of this order. Have you any last words?"

Swallowing hard, Charles stared up at his executioner, noting the name printed on the officer's uniform. "Tell me, Lieutenant Biggs... what exactly did Admiral Royce promised to give you for this. A promotion," he snarled. "Wealth, perhaps?"

The officer's eyes wavered for an instant, then steeled themselves quickly. "Nothing of the sort was promised to me for this honor," he stated coldly. "I volunteered for this duty."

The cold conviction in the words of this wolf, not much older than himself, cut Charles deeply...even more so than the pain in his ribs and chest. His expression suddenly hollow, the youngest of the creatures present slumped on his knees, defeated.

"Then I guess I'll see you in hell," he whispered, looking down.

Fingering the trigger of his pistol, Second Lieutenant Biggs took a deep breath. "Perhaps you will, your highness...but not today."

Biggs lifted the weapon sharply, taking quick aim and emptying three rounds into his target. The guard to his left rocked back as the first two slammed into his flack jacket at full force, the impact something akin to a blow from a wrecking hammer. The third shot found its mark, however, and a shower of thick red blood sprayed the bed sheets behind him. The body collapsed, the wound to its neck instantly fatal.

"Good Gods!" barked the second guard, his stun-gun clattering to the floor as he reached for his pistol.

Biggs rounded on the wolf, a well placed bullet burying deep into his unprotected bicep. Howling in sudden agony the guard stumbled back, catching the edge of the bed and falling onto his side. Bigg's second shot dug harmlessly into plate armor and the seasoned guard quickly used his good arm to draw his pistol and take several wild shots. Lieutenant Biggs howled as fire exploded in his lower thigh. But the next shots went wide, giving Biggs enough time to empty his clip into the soldier's head.

A siren began blaring crazily, red strobe lights filling the chambers with their alert. "Security to detention level five," screamed the intercom. "Security to detention level five!"

Panting heavily he threw down the weapon and fell to Charles side. The emperor's eyes were wide in shock, his body visibly shaking.

"What the hell is going on!"

"I'm sorry, sir, this is not the time," Biggs shouted over the siren. Through the cacophony he could hear the pound of boots in the hallway, quickly getting closer. "If I may, your highness," he said before grabbing the collar of the emperor's shirt and ripping it down the center, exposing his chest.

Digging frantically into the pocket of his uniform jacket the lieutenant produced a small silver plate.

"Freeze you!"

Biggs jumped in surprise at the thunderous command from behind him. A spotlight bathed his back and the distinctive sound of charging side-arms reached his ears. Urgency gripping the young officer he quickly forced the silver plate against Charles' bare chestfur as the explosion of high-caliber shells echoed through the room and down the hallway. The scene exploded in light and Charles' pinched his eyes shut against the glare. A heavy weight pressed forcefully against him, pushing him squarely onto his back as the world became suddenly quiet.

"Dear Gods," he heard someone gasp from above, breaking the unexpected silence. "Lieutenant Biggs! Emperor Charles! Are you alright?"

Opening his good eye he found himself staring up into several horrified faces, one of which leaned over him and the weight on his chest was quickly lifted.

"Lieutenant Biggs," the wolf shouted. "Can you hear me?"

Scott Banks and Chris Hartford both helped the emperor to his footpaws. Staring down his breath caught in his sore lungs. A marine in a sergeant's uniform, the name Peters on his breast, cradled the body of the young lieutenant in his lap. His trousers were quickly soaked in crimson blood, Biggs' blood, his eyes glazed over with a lifeless stare. Looking up, Sergeant Peters shook his head.

Bewildered and stunned, Charles scanned his new surroundings quickly. The space was confined and cramped, the roof not quite high enough. Two grey wolves stood beside him, the lieutenant and sergeant still at his footpaws. What was most surprising were the two foxes sitting at the far edge of the space in high-backed flight seats. They wore solid white jumpsuits and stared back at him through thinly veiled visors. One of them turned to the other and told him something unintelligible before the second stood and reached into a locker, removing a small cylinder.

The fox approached Charles and stepped behind him. The cuffs disappeared and the wolf rubbed his wrists.

"Would somebody please tell me what in the Gods' names is going on."

Scott bowed respectfully. "Your Highness, you're among friends now," he said. "I am Group Commander Scott Banks...I believe you know Fleet Admiral Christopher Hartford."

Chris bowed.

"Yes I do," said the emperor, his brow creased in confusion. "My governor of the Radon Frontier, correct?"

Chris frowned, shaking his head. "Not anymore, sire."

"And this," continued Scott, "is Sergeant Randal Peters. He's the one that really made your rescue possible."

Sergeant Peters stood, the front of his slate-grey uniform darkened by deep blood stains. He bowed respectfully, though his face was racked with grief. Charles realized he and Lieutenant Biggs must have been close.

"I guess I owe you my life, sergeant." Then, painfully, he crouched down to Biggs' side. "And his as well," he said sadly, reaching out to close the deceased's eyes with a paw. Shaking his head sullenly he sighed heavily, something that made him groan and grab his chest.

"Pilot," said Scott. "Take us back to the Excedra. He's going to need a doctor."

***

Boots echoed noisily as a wolf ran full-speed down the marble corridor of the Defense Department. Slowing only enough to make a right turn down a wing and dodge a secretary he didn't stop until he reached the glass walls of one of many tele-video conference rooms in the building. Throwing custom and caution to the wind, he pushed open the door and interrupted a top-level meeting with a breathless bark.

"Admiral Royce! We have a situation!"

Growling haughtily the wolf stood from his seat. "What is the meaning of you interrupting-"

The signal officer shoved a message into the admiral's paws and a brief scan of the short message was all it took to send the tablet flying into the far wall at full force, shattering the thick glass.

"I want the R-7 warden on the net. NOW!" he screamed, his nostrils flaring.

"Aye, sir," shouted the soldier over his shoulder as he ran from the conference room.