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This was the first attempt I did at writing a first person story, and it turned into something much bigger. It's told from the point of view of Sean Swanson; a newly promoted squad leader in the Iron Wolf Brigade, one of the Commonwealth's most elite units. In it, Swanson and his unit must team up with an age old lupine enemy in order to defend the nation against a nuclear threat.

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My spit shined boots thumped on the polished vinyl floor and my tail swished rhythmically behind me as I marched smartly down the hall. There was a lump in my throat. A small lump, but a lump nonetheless. I drew in a deep breath as I rounded the final corner and made a last effort to smooth out any wrinkles in my uniform coat. The many decorations and insignia glinted in the overhead florescent lighting. I could almost hear my heart pounding in my head. Getting called into the Alpha's office was rarely a good thing.

My name is Shawn Swanson, and I'm an omega first class in Bravo Pack, 25th Iron Wolf Battalion of the Canine Defense Force. You've probably never heard of us. If folks knew who we were and what we did, we would not be very good at our jobs. And we are very good at our jobs.

What I can tell you is The Iron Wolves are what you might call "special forces" and only the best of the best wolf soldiers make the cut. Yeah. Only wolves. You can't really enforce integration laws on a unit that doesn't really exist, so I'm sorry to all you common canines (IE non wolves) out there, but membership in this unit is lupine only.

I spent the last two years of my life doing intense physical and mental training, being beat up by the betas and alphas, and learning unconventional tactics not taught to regular soldiers. It was all worth it to be afforded the privilege of wearing the "Iron Wolf", a howling wolf's head that shone brightly above the airborne wings on my left chest. But even with such an impressive and honorable distinction, I was still an omega, among the lowest rank in the Lupine military, akin to being a private in the "regular" military. But we Iron Wolves were not regular, the instructors had told us. So we kept more traditional wolf pack ranks rather than adopting the normal system. It was confusing as hell, especially when dealing with the rest of the Commonwealth Defense Forces. But, hey. I'm just an omega. I don't get paid to think.

Steeling myself for what lay beyond the polished oak door beyond, I took one last breath and knocked sharply.

"ENTER!" Barked a voice from the other side. I said a silent prayer to the Great Wolf and stepped inside. The ornately decorated office was a bit chilly. The Alpha rose slowly to his feet as I snapped to attention and saluted.

Although he did indeed have a first and last name, only the most senior pack members were permitted to address him by it, and even they did so sparingly. To everyone else, it was "Alpha" or "sir". I felt his stern gaze upon me, my own eyes were fixed on the many ribbons on his uniform. I didn't dare lock eyes with a superior wolf. It was considered disrespectful if not an outright challenge to their authority.

The Alpha slowly stepped a circle around me, performing a visual inspection of my appearance. I remained rigid but bent my knees slightly to keep from passing out. Finally he gave a nod of approval and sat back down at his desk.

"You may sit." He instructed.

"Yes Alpha." And I did so without hesitation.

"So, omega first class Swanson." His voice was deep and gravelly, the result of many years of smoking, and screaming himself hoarse at his subordinates. "Do you know why I've called you in here today?"

"No sir."

"You've done well here, Swanson. You're motivated, dedicated, and you wear the Iron Wolf proudly. You're an asset to the pack, and it's time for you to prove it. Effective immediately you are hereby promoted to Beta second class. There will be an "official" promotion ceremony later but you will assume the duties and responsibilities immediately."

He rose to his feet and commanded me to do the same. I stood stoically as the rank insignia of Beta second class was pinned on the shoulder boards of my uniform. They were essentially the same as the triple chevron insignia of a regular army sergeant and it was the same pay grade. But again, we were the Iron Wolves. We were the elite.

The Alpha grasped my paw and shook it vigorously, then gave me a friendly slap on the back, as if we were old friends. Then gestured for me to sit.

"Now that we've done away with the formalities, we can get down to business."

Three hours later I was standing in a lukewarm shower back at my condo. The slightly cool water splashed over my fur and felt great. Although the Iron Wolf uniform looked great, its woolen material was itchy, hot, stiff, and uncomfortable as hell. I couldn't wait to peel it off. I gargled a mouthful of water and spat it down the drain, the conversation with the Alpha spiraling through my head.

With my recent promotion to a higher pay grade, I was now the senior wolf in my squad, which made me the squad leader. And, as the Alpha had spent the last hour explaining, we were soon to be tasked for a mission. Rumors abound that the province to the south of us was building up its military arsenal, and that Lupine forces were going to be sent in as peacekeepers.

It struck me as kind of odd, The Latran Republic of Navajo was a part of the Commonwealth like us, wasn't it? Why would the military of a neighboring republic be sent in to quell a possible insurgency? Wouldn't you want a non-interested third party like the LN?

Also knotting my stomach was the fact that Navajo was almost exclusively populated by coyotes. A brief history lesson for you folks not familiar with the Commonwealth: Historically, wolves and coyotes have never gotten along. Even our feral ancestors killed each other constantly. That behavior carried over from thousands of years of mutual hatred and still exists today. In the infant days of our Commonwealth, The then-lupine government initiated a program of "reclamation" against the 'yotes that can only be compared to the humans' World War Two holocaust. Hundreds of thousands of coyotes were slaughtered. What was once the second most prevalent canine race now accounted for less than a quarter of the Commonwealth. And although the wholesale slaughter was stopped, sporadic hate crimes still occur on both sides. There are certain areas of Lupine territory where whatever coyote was unlucky enough to blunder into would be killed on sight, and vice-versa. Basically, they don't like us, and we don't like them. It's been that way for years, and it ain't gonna change soon.

However unlike most wolves, I didn't see anything wrong with our canine cousins, in fact I counted no less than three among my friends.

The thing about coyotes is that people underestimate their abilities. They are as fierce as wolves in battle, more cunning than foxes, and more headstrong than huskies. Coyotes were also known to use unconventional methods of combat, methods that often used a lot of explosives. If we were to ever go to war with them, I doubt they would take it lying down like they did during the reclamation. No; the yotes learned their lesson. There would be a lot of lives lost on both sides.

Putting the fears of fighting a coyote insurgency in the back of my mind, I stepped out of the shower, dried myself off, and put on a pair of blue jeans and a button down shirt. There would be plenty of time to think about war and battle later. Tonight was all about celebrating.

One of the reasons I purchased this condo in Downtown Rainier was along with its proximity to Ft. Lobo, it was also conveniently located in walking vicinity to The University of Rainier (Home of the fighting Huskies. Woof!). And that meant dance clubs and college girls. I wasn't particularly interested in the latter,(I'm recently out of a long term relationship that was pretty serious) but going out and having a beer or six every night was my routine.

My favorite hangout was a little country western themed watering hole called Holly's. There was always good music coming out of the jukebox, the beer was cold and decently priced, and it had the sort of ambience that reminded me of my home Province of Yellowstone.

"Hey sexy!" The coyote behind the bar exclaimed when she saw me walk in. (I told you I had coyote friends.)

"What's up, Yo?" I said with a nod.

Yolanda Cruz was a good friend of mine who helped me out a lot after my heart was broken by my ex. And by helped, I mean she had what she called "therapy sex" with me on a regular basis. We both knew that it was always nothing more than two lonely souls just having some fun and companionship. And sex. A lot of sex. Her appetite was insatiable.

Even now, she winked at me with a twinkle in her eye and a smirk on her muzzle that inferred that we would be doing exactly that later. For now though, she slapped a cold pilsner on the bar in front of me and leaned over to give me a lick on my cheek.

"How ya been, wolfy?'

"Great. I got promoted today. I'm an Omega no more."

"Congratulations Shawn! I guess we should celebrate." Yolanda said with an excited grin.

"Easy girl. How about a drink first?"

Not 2 hours later we were laying in my bed sans clothes. I was on my back with my paws clasped behind my head, and Yolanda was delicately nibbling on my neck.

"Damn, babe. I never get tired of that."

Yolanda responded with a giggle and by slowly moving her paw down... there, and began tickling

"We could do it again, wolfy." The coyote flicked her tongue into my ear to emphasize her point. I was about to respond when the phone rang. I let out an annoyed growl and picked the receiver up. The conversation was brief, the voice on the other end was a recorded message that would seem cryptic and downright odd to anyone else. I knew it as the code phrase for an emergency mobilization. I now had 2 hours to grab my gear and report to Ft Lobo.

Yolanda must have sensed my apprehension because she sat up on the bed and looked at me with a concerned expression.

"What's wrong?"

"I've gotta go, babe."

"The usual, you can't tell me or you'd have to kill me, right?" Her voice was only half joking, the other half expressed her own concern. While Yolanda knew that I was in the military, she didn't know exactly what I did. She did know that it was pretty secretive and that I was subject to being called away on short notice. In her experience with dealing with the military types who frequented her bar, she figured it out all on her own. "You special forces guys." She scoffed "Just don't get yourself hurt, ok?" She swatted me with a pillow. "I'd hate to have to find a new boyfriend"

I paused. That was the first time she had used the "B" word. I hit her back with my own pillow.

"Oh yeah like there isn't 20 or so drunk frat boys in your place every night ogling that ass of yours." Yolanda playfully nipped my ear in reply.

"Language, Mr. Swanson." She scolded, wrapping her legs around my waist and draping her arms around my neck, pulling our bodies close. "You've got a while before you have to be there, right?"

"Yes, I suppose."

"Good, because I've got a going away present for you."

Yolanda's mischievous smirk was back.

Yolanda offered to drive me to the base, which I accepted. And after sticking her tongue down my throat we said our goodbyes and I grabbed my bags and proceeded at a trot to the designated meeting area.

Because the Iron Wolves didn't exist on most bureaucratic spreadsheets, our public activities were conducted at the post MP Unit's motor pool, and if anyone asked, we were attached to that same MP company. It caused less questions from family members. So we would meet there, board a bus and get shuttled to our little compound on the backside of post.

I thought I was the first to arrive, but as I found out, I wasn't. My whole squad or "pack" was already there.

"SHEEEE-IT! Boss man Swanson's late to his own formation!" Boomed a large black furred wolf in a voice that could probably have been heard in the next county.

Michael "Mac" McKinney was the most identifiable member of the pack, being just over 6 and a half muscular feet tall, with an equally large voice to match. He could have been a pro football player, but joined the military because it was "more fun to shoot shit".

It was decided early on that he would be a machine gunner, a job he was quite skilled at. It was either that or baggage handler at the Detroit Airport.

Mac marched over to me with a grin and threw his tree-trunk sized arms around me, slapping me on the back. My eyes probably bulged out of their sockets. Although his physical strength and appearance was incredibly intimidating, (On more than one occasion, he broke up an impending fight just by looming over the two parties) I knew Mac was a teddy bear on the inside. Well, until you pissed him off.

"How you feelin' boss?" He asked after the pleasantries were exchanged.

"Fine, fine. You ready to go to work, Mac?"

"Shit. You know I'M ready to shoot a motha-fucka." Mac replied with a toothy grin.

Mac an I exchanged a few more words as we walked over to where the other team members were milling around. There was Scott Zimbro, a lanky southern boy who was in charge of reconnaissance. I also had James Dunn, another good-ol' boy from The Republic of Texas, and finally, Jennifer Thompson; one of the few female Iron Wolves, but don't let her female-ness fool you. Jenny could swill whiskey and brawl with the best of them. And she frequently did.

Once I took accountability of everyone and ensured that they all had their kit, we boarded the plain white bus. Not much small talk was made, but its completely natural to be nervous before going into combat. Anyone who claimed otherwise was either a liar or insane.

The air conditioning in the briefing room was set way too low, and I shivered slightly beneath the gray and black urban combat uniform I wore. There was no shiny insignia or badges on this uniform. For in our world, the world of special operations, nothing must reflect light. The only things visible on the uniform was the flag of the Confederated Commonwealth of Canine Republics on the right sleeve; the normally bright red and yellow colors replaced by more subtle black and grey to match the pattern on the uniform, and fabric name tags with a removable hook-and-loop backing.

I was happy to see the pack begin to have small conversations with one another. Mac and Zimbro were talking about their football team's most recent disappointment, Jenny was excitedly telling Dunn about her newest boyfriend, and I sat quietly digesting the information in my briefing packet.

"Oh snap." Mac whispered quietly aloud. "looks like we got Alpha Pavlichenko for this mission. They only call her out on serious jobs."

"Shit." Jenny whispered. "The bride of Dracula."

"I heard Dracula divorced her for spousal abuse." Quipped Zimbreux

"Shut up guys." I hissed. "She'll kick your ass if she hears you."

I called the group to attention and we stood there, motionless and silent as Alpha Tanya Pavlichenko marched into the room, projecting maximum "Don't fuck with me" attitude. If you'd never met "The little white Russian", you'd never guess that she spent most of her time kicking in doors and killing bad guys. Pavlichenko had the build of a model; her svelte form was clad in almost-white-but-slightly-grey fur, topped with auburn hair that was pulled tightly into a bun behind her head. She had the attention of just about every male member of the Iron Wolves, but we all knew to keep our ogling discrete. For one, she was a superior officer- An Alpha second-class. (Equivalent to an Army captain) Secondly, well. She had a reputation of being kind of a bitch. At just over 5 feet tall, she wasn't the most intimidating wolf around, but she more than made up for it with an almost constant scowl, and glaring green eyes that seemed to pierce the very fabric of your soul. And I very uncomfortably felt those green eyes upon me now.

"Swanson." Her voice was curt and crisp.

"Yes, Alpha." I replied

"Is the pack accounted for?"

"Yes ma'am. They're all here and they have all their gear."

"Good, You guys can sit. We'll be here for a minute. I prefer more traditional briefings to the "death by power-point" that some commanders seem to have run away with." Pavlichenko passed out folders to each of us, containing a map and a very short mission brief.

"As most of you are aware, The Latran Republic of Navajo has been ruled by a somewhat democratic regime for nearly 300 years. Now we all know that wolves and coyotes have never gotten along, and for the last 30 years, our two republics have exchanged rhetoric had small skirmishes here and there, but for the most part we've managed to keep the peace. All that changed last month. The 'yotes went and elected themselves a new prime minister. Now I've heard people talk, but I don't think this guy's talking just to get on Weasel News. He started making extravagant threats against the Lupine High command, and due to the fact that a lot of yotes are still licking wounds from the reclamation, they're not standing in his way. He seems to be winning the hearts and minds of the coyotes. Then at 1900 this evening, high command received information that Navajo now possessed nuclear weapons and was preparing them for use against The Lupine Republics, possibly Cascadia or Yellow Rock."

Pavlichenko paused for a moment to let her words sink in, and I felt a sickening feeling in the pit of my stomach.

"Naturally, the Supreme Alpha does not want to see this kind of thing erupt in her Commonwealth, and we don't want to see any innocent lupines lose their lives. The Supreme Alpha has authorized the Iron Wolves to enter Navajo. Discretely, of course. We've got a three part mission down there. First, we need to make contact with our operative on the ground. Secondly we need to confirm that the coyotes do in fact have these weapons. Last, if they do have nukes, our job is to stop them from being used by any means necessary. Questions?"

Cpl Dunn was the first to raise his paw.

"S'cuse me ma'am, but if the yotes do have these nukes, why don't we just scramble a buncha fighters and bomb those savages back to the stone age?"

"Because, dummy." Jenny was first to respond. "The politicians are worried about the chance that the intel is wrong. Then how's it going to look when some Lupine air force jocks drop ordinance on some coyote family's apartment?"

"Thompson's right." I added. "We can sneak in under the coyote's noses. If we're wrong, and I hope we are, we'll just exfil back home. No harm, no foul. And if we're right." I shrugged

"Accidents happen, especially with nukes." Jenny finished my sentence with a smirk.

"Had to be fuckin' coyotes." Dunn growled under his breath. "I fuckin' hate coyotes."

"Quite." Pavlichenko growled. "Now if you're finished, Corporal Dunn? I'd like to be in charge for a while."

"Yes, ma'am." Dunn replied with his ears folded.

"Good. Now whatever reservations you may have about our canine cousins, stow them now. Despite the corporal's assumptions, Navajo is still a member of the Canine Commonwealth, and a Lupine ally; friendly territory, so we'd like to keep civilian casualties out of this. We're professionals. Not the pup scouts. We don't leave a paw-print if we don't have to. Now grab your shit, Iron Wolves. The plane's waiting for us."

For those of you who have never had the privilege of riding in a military cargo plane, let me tell you. Do it, and you'll never bitch about flying coach again. The six of us were squished in between pallets of cargo and gear. And seats? Well, our butts were plopped into thick nylon webbing that was buckled to the walls. No seatbelts, no stewardesses, and no climate control. People ask me all the time how I can jump out of a perfectly good airplane, and I just laugh.

Naturally, I was overjoyed when the loadmaster slapped me on the shoulder and gave me a "5 minutes" signal. We quickly gathered our things, checked each others chutes and oxygen tanks, and waddled over to the rear cargo ramp.

We jumped into the open air right on schedule. There was 5 minutes of free fall In which I fell silently through the black sky, the only sound being the rustling of my uniform against the wind. At the pre determined altitude my chute opened, jerking me awake as the ground rushed up to meet me.

In the proper PLF, or parachute landing fall, you are supposed to hit the ground with the balls of your feet, followed by the side of your calf, thighs, butt, and finally the side of the back. I would have done that, except a wayward pine branch caught me upside my chin and spun me around, flinging me into the side of the tree with an audible thump. I dangled from my risers for a mew moments, wiggling my toes and arms, making sure they still worked. I was still about 10 feet of the ground. Through my naturally occurring night vision I saw the rest of the pack make perfect PLF's.

risers. Then dropped to the ground with an "oof". I picked myself up and made my way to where the pack was already in the process of gathering their chutes and stuffing them into sacks.

"What the hell happened to you, Swanson?" Pavlichenko inquired when she pulled her jump helmet off. I responded by pointing at my chute and risers fluttering gracefully in the wind.

"You know, you can steer these things." She said with a smirk.

If she wasn't an officer, I would have given her the finger.

"All right pups, lets get this show on the road." Pavlichenko said, pulling a folded map out of her thigh pocket. "As of now we are now 50 miles inside the Navajo border. So far everything is on schedule. Now we need to go find our contact. Or rather, wait for him to find us."

"If you don't mind my asking, ma'am, who is this contact anyway? And how will we know them?" I asked, a bit bewildered at the Alpha's lack of information.

"Oh, you'll know." She replied with a wink.

Suddenly, there was a rustle in the low bushes to my left. Something was moving. Something big. I brought my rifle up in preparation to dispatch whoever had the audacity to sneak up on a heavily armed wolf pack. Jenny dropped to a one kneed shooters stance beside me, and I heard the bolt being racked on Mac's M240. Dunn and Zimbro slowly flanked the right side of the bushes, their own weapons aimed at the threat.

"Whoever you are." I said in a low, threatening growl. "It would behoove you to come out slowly, paws in the air."

"All right, all right!" Came an annoyed voice. "I was just trying to get some sleep! I'm coming out! I'm armed but I'll throw my weapons to the side if it would make you feel better."

"Do it! But be very careful!" I replied.

A pair of tan colored paws emerged, one clutching an AK47 rifle by the barrel, and the other one holding a Glock pistol. The intruder tossed both weapons some feet away, and raised his paws as he rose up. Even in the dim desert night, the large pair of ears perched atop the newcomers head were a dead giveaway.

"Coyote!" I warned. Dunn didn't wait for me to issue another order; he pounced on the yote and tackled him to the ground. The coyote growled in protest and kicked him off, before Zimbreux's rifle butt sent him back to the ground. By this time, Jenny had jumped into the fray. Three wolves and one coyote; who I have to admit was doing a pretty good job of keeping my wolves at bay. The fight continued for another 3 minutes before they finally had the coyote trussed up on the ground.

"Well, that was entertaining, pups." Alpha Pavlichenko's voice cut the tension easily. Even our prisoner snapped his head in her direction. "But you guys just captured our contact."

"WHAT?!" Was pretty much everyone's simultaneous reaction.

"Yep. Iron Wolves, this is Daniel Yote. He'll be escorting us to the target area."

"S'up." The coyote grinned from the ground. As predicted, Dunn was the first one with doubts.

"Oh, hell no! With all due respect to y'all, we can't just trust some ki-yote to lead us on a mission like this! Shit, for all we know he's a Latranian Soldier, and we're his promotion ticket. No ma'am. I don't like it. Not one bit."

"Corporal Dunn!" The Alpha snapped. "Unfortunately for you, your position dictates that you do not need to like it. Nor does it supersede the authority of an Alpha, last time I looked. Your position, omega, is that you follow your orders, and right now that means release the prisoner and shut your muzzle. Got it?" Dunn managed a "yes ma'am" in reply and hastily uncuffed the coyote. He stood at attention behind him as Yote got to his feet.

"Whassup, big Yote!" Mac's booming voice echoed through the desert. "They call me Mac Daddy. Or just Mac." Yote looked a bit perplexed at the large wolf, as if he was surprised that he got such a friendly welcome. But that was Mac's style. He'd never get violent unless you gave him a reason.

Yote slowly collected and re-secured his weapons before slowly making his way over to Alpha Pavlichenko. Much to our surprise, she offered a warm smile and embraced him.

"Tanya!" He said. "Its been such a long time."

"Indeed, Daniel. How's Natalya?"

"She's well. You should come down and visit us sometime. She is your sister, you know."

"Perhaps, if we make it out of this without the world disappearing in a nuclear fireball, I shall. Speaking of which, where do we go from here?"

"Wal*Mart." Yote replied. "You're gonna have to shed those military duds, I've got a camper with clothes and lockers for your weapons and gear."

"Excuse me, Mr. Yote." Jenny interrupted. "But what the fuck, dude?" The coyote sighed in annoyance.

"The site is smack dab in the middle of a National Park. The best way to get close to the site without attracting attention is to disguise ourselves as hikers. Not to mention it gives us a sort of cover story. You guys are part of an adventure group from Cascadia, and I'm your lowly tour guide."

"That's actually pretty good, if no one gets caught." I remarked.

"Thanks. I thought of it myself." Yote replied.

Yote led us to a rest stop along a two lane highway, where a large bus-type RV was parked. He opened the side door and climbed aboard, and we followed. Situated on the master bed were six different pairs of clothes, and brightly colored rucksacks. Pavlichenko carefully selected her bundle, and had us do the same. 10 minutes later we looked less like the cream of the Lupine military crop, and more like college students. Yote selected the appropriate mix of gear that still allowed us to carry most of our own kit, but still maintain its appearance as mere civilian wear.

"All right," The coyote said when all was said and done. "It's about a 3 hour drive to the camp ground. There's a bed there, a mattress in the closet, and that couch folds out. I don't anticipate problems, but just the same, I'd keep your weapons close. Close, but not in sight." Yote hopped over the engine compartment and into the driver's seat.

"Okay" I said, looking at Alpha Pavlichenko. "So you obviously know this guy. But do you trust him? I mean, Dunn does have a little bit of a point."

"Swanson." She replied, staring into me with those burning green eyes. "Trust me. If anything happens to us, we'll be the last wolves on the planet that he'll need to worry about."

"Meaning?"

"He's a mercenary. His allegiances lie with the highest bidder, and that happens to be the Lupine Commonwealth. He also has a personal vested interest in our safety. He's mated to my big sister."

"What?"

"Like I said. If he screws us, we'll be the last wolves he needs to worry about."

About an hour later, I hopped over and joined Yote in the drivers compartment. He seemed a bit lonely, staring off into space, not really focused one particular object.

"How's it going?" I asked quietly. There was a delayed reaction, almost as if it took a second for my words to register in the coyote's brain.

"Oh, I'm fine. Just bored."

"You all right? Looked kind of lost for a moment there."

"Yeah. Just nothing interesting out there."

I saw something in Yote's eyes then, something only someone who has experienced the hell that is war can understand. I knew it because it also happened to me on occasion. The "zoning out"; looking forlornly at the horizon. It was known to most as the thousand yard stare. I decided to initiate a little conversation, to break up the monotony.

"So what would prompt a coyote to go against his own and help the hated Lupines?" I inquired. "I thought you guys were all about 'Yote pride' and we were the devil."

Daniel lit a cigarette, and drew in a long drag of acrid smoke.

"There are some who believe we should strike the wolves first, and settle everything once and for all. That's why they got these nukes in the first place. There are those who think that the Coyote population can survive and outlast any storm the Lupines bring upon us. It may be true, it may not. However I believe that if one innocent wolf dies by Coyote paws, the retaliation will be swift, and it will be crushing."

"Can't argue with that." I replied

"So in order to prevent the unnecessary loss of coyote lives, the ones who seek to perpetuate and escalate this war must be removed. I'm not naïve, Sean. I don't expect Wolf and Coyote to just throw down their weapons after thousands of years and just be friends. But if we can prevent things from boiling over even for just a limited time, well, it's not a wasted effort. I don't expect to create world peace, but we're working at it. We're living proof of that. You think 20 years ago a coyote would be working paw in paw with Lupine Special Forces?"

I shook my head. The coyote had a point

Yote shook his head, and drew in another cloud of smoke. "We need to get rid of the hate, and stop killing each other. I mean, can you even remember why our races have been fighting?"

Again, I shook my head. It was true. Although wolves and coyotes have strived to destroy each other, no one knew why. It was just accepted as how things were.

"Our pups deserve better. And that's why I'm doing this."

As Yote promised, we arrived at the South Entrance to Casa Grande National Park right on schedule. The desert air was cool now, but I knew that it would be over a hundred degrees in a few short hours. The coyote drove into the park for about another half hour before arriving at our camp site. Yote shifted the behemoth RV into park and leaned back in his chair.

"All right, the site is about a 2 hour hike from here, but he sun will be up soon. We got two choices. One, we can try and sneak in right now and get the mission over with. Or we can wait it out and try tonight."

"We go now, Yote." Pavlichenko said flatly, removing items from her backpack. "Gear up, boys."

She produced a large spray can from her bag and closed her eyes as she sprayed the contents about her head. Her once white fur was now flat black. Pavlichenko ensured that any bit of fur showing was coated in the stuff before passing the can to Zimbro. Yote observed with his head cocked to the side and one ear sideways in an expression that was a mix of confusion and amusement.

"Fur paint." I said to explain. The coyote's expression shifted from confusion and amusement to just amusement.

"Not all of us were blessed with desert coats." Pavlichenko growled in annoyance.

We crossed the desert landscape at a brisk pace, our boots crunching rocks and dirt beneath our feet. We followed Yote, who was difficult to keep up with as he zigzagged his way around various species of cacti and desert plants. Somewhere in the distance, one of Yote's four legged brothers cried out to the starlight sky, and I couldn't help but look up too. It was peaceful, serene, and if we weren't on a mission right now, I could have laid on the ground and just stared into the vast expanse of twinkling lights above us.

At the foot of a small ridge, Yote held up the signal to stop. Zimbro, Mac, Dunn, and jenny each fanned out in a separate direction and went to one knee, encircling us in a perimeter.

"What is it?" Pavlichenko whispered.

"We're close. Probably about half a klick away." Yote replied

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah. There's a security patrol up ahead. We're about 100 feet from the outermost perimeter fence. It's the least conspicuous"

"What about this security patrol." I asked

"Sheepdogs." Was Yote's one word answer. And it told me everything I needed to know. South Hill Executive Protection was one of the largest providers of contracted security in the country. The "Sheepdogs" as they were often called, guarded everything from CEO's to nuclear power plants. They were all former military, usually heavily armed, and damn good at their jobs. Too bad for them, we were better.

"What's a sheepdog?" I heard Jenny ask from her position

"Private security contractors. Like me, without the warm and cuddly side." Yote responded.

"Oh. Well, I got eyes on." Jenny said in a monotone that indicated the sniper was on target, and thinking of little else. "Two tangos, smoking and joking. Armed with G36's. You want 'em smoke checked?"

"Negative." The Alpha responded. "Wait and see if they drive away when they're done. No sense in raising an alarm yet.

Ten minutes passed, and the two guards hopped into their sport utility vehicle and slowly drove away, unaware that they had been a literal whisper away from death. With our senses a little heightened we approached the 6 foot tall chain link fence with caution. Yote said that this one was the outer most out of 3 fences, and also the least secured. He directed us to a spot neat a post where the fence was able to be peeled back, and we were able to slip through.

"So Yote, what exactly are we going into here?" I heard Pavlichenko ask

"Back when the humans owned this area, it was an ICBM complex. The silos have all been imploded now, but they kept the underground facilities intact. It's the perfect place if you wanted to keep something and keep it a secret, and keep it safe. Radiation detection satellites won't see it, and even a bunker buster won't break the ceiling. Good thing is, they're not exactly expecting a nuclear attack any time soon, so odds are good that the vent shafts are wide open. We don't even have to go near the main compound to do it. We just have to steer clear of the sheepdog patrols."

We moved a little slower and deliberate now, everyone's ears perked this way and that, listening intently for approaching threats as we moved. Finally, we came upon a small, concrete block surrounded by a high fence topped with razor wire.

"This is it." Yote whispered. "This vent shaft will drop us in by the generators and storage area. It's on the map I gave you."

"What about guards?" Zimbro asked.

"This is the least sensitive area of the facility, so most likely the least guarded."

"But you're not sure?"

"I'm pretty sure."

"Great, just what we need. We drop in right on top of 50 dudes with assault rifles." Dunn growled.

Pavlichenko decided that since Dunn was the most concerned with a guard force waiting for us when we roped down the shaft, he would have to go first. If there was no threat to be found, the rest of us would follow seconds later. Zimbro checked the area with some electronic gizmo, found the alarm and did something to disable it and unlock the gate. That's why I loved him. Give him anything with an electronic brain, and he would make it do his bidding.

Yote and Mac worked to pry the heavy steel door access panel that sat atop the shaft. They both strained and grunted, but eventually the ancient rusted hinges broke free.

Dunn stepped up to the shaft, and to humor him, Yote tossed a rock down the shaft. When no reaction was noticed, Dunn lowered a nylon rope down and silently slid down.

"Okay, so it's clear." His voice crackled over our headsets. "Doesn't mean there's not 50 guys in here somewhere."

"Less talkie, more recce." Our Alpha snapped into her headset. "We're comin' down."

Just as we've trained on time and time again, each Iron Wolf wrapped their legs and arms around the thick rope and slid down, much like a firefighter's pole. Even the coyote handled it like a pro, but then again I had him figured for some type of former special ops guy anyway.

I landed on the concrete floor with a soft thud, and took note of my surroundings. We were in a cavernous chamber roughly 12 feet tall. Bright florescent lights illuminated the concrete walls and floor, and the air was slightly damp. Sitting next to us were four giant black tanks with diamond placards indicating their contents to be diesel fuel. For the generators, no doubt.

I gently loaded and locked my MP5k Sub-machine gun and raised it to the low ready position. Yote pointed down a darkened corridor, and Pavlichenko gave a signal to form up around her.

"All right, Dunn, you Thompson and McKinney hide yourselves and stay here. Zimbro, you're on point. Recon up ahead. Me, Yote and Swanson will be right behind you."

Zimbro nodded and pulled a balaclava over his snout so only his eyes were visible. With his black coveralls and lack of gear, he looked vaguely like a ninja, and that's what he was. Zimbro was the infiltration expert, even going so far as to forgo boots in favor of gliding along silently on his pawpads. There was barely a whisper as he slipped past.

"Give him a few minutes." Pavlichenko said

And that would have been fine and dandy, except all of a sudden an alarm klaxon blared to life and the lights extinguished.

"NVG's!" a male voice shouted down the hall. I heard the clomp of boots, then gunfire erupted. I dove to the side as bullets peppered and chipped the concrete around me. Yote threw himself damn near on top of me and fired a burst down the hallway. Infuriated, I grabbed the coyote by his hackles and yanked hard.

"Dammit Yote! Cease fire! I got a guy down there!"

Yote bared his teeth at me momentarily, then focused his attention back down the hall. Then he got to his feet and ran. He only made it a few feet before he was met a figure in blue coveralls, rifle in is paws. I could tell by the flopping ears he was some kind of dog, but in the darkness it was hard to tell. The hound slammed the butt of his rifle into Yote's snout, sending him backpedaling. The coyote quickly recovered and raised his AK47, firing a single shot that struck the dog in the throat. There was a popping sound, like gunshot, but much quieter, and Yote's paw flew up to his neck. He staggered forward and collapsed on the floor. Several more pops, and I too felt a stinging pain in my neck. My paw reflexively went to the spot and pulled a small metal object from it. It was about 2 inches long, with a pointed tip and fins. A dart. I spun around to warn the rest of the pack, but my knees buckled and I fell to the concrete with a thud, my vision blurring. I fought it as hard as I could, but I was no match for whatever toxins had been injected into me. I could hear the sounds of more gunfire before I passed out,

I wasn't sure how much time had passed. All I knew is that my brain felt too big for my skull and I felt hung-over. When I finally opened my eyes, I realized I was seated on a steel folding chair. I tried to move my paws up to massage my aching temples, but they were bound securely on my back. I also felt a chill on my upper body and discovered that most of my clothing had been removed, save for my skivvies. I turned my head with a groan to take in my surroundings. Yote was seated next to me, also bound, although he had a thick muzzle strapped over his snout. He seemed to be in worse shape than I was. Yote looked at me with an almost pitiful, apologetic expression, and sighed.

As my lights slowly switched back on, a new concern popped into my mind. Where was the rest of my pack?

As if to answer my question, the door opened behind us. I heard a few figures step into the room, but only one stepped around in front of us. She was a border collie, clad in a blue SWAT style uniform with captain's insignia on her lapels. I saw Yote eye the HK USP strapped to her thigh, and squirm a little in his ropes.

"Have a nice nap, wolf?" the dog sneered.

"Where is my pack?" I demanded. "What have you done with them?"

"Wolves... Always concerned your precious packs. Look around you. You should be concerned about what we're going to do to YOU. I'd tell you to ask this handsome devil..." She placed a paw on Yote's head and mockingly scratched behind his ears, ignoring the coyote's threatening growls.

"But he decided to get a little brash, and as you can see, we had to... restrain him. Unfortunately for him, there are few things I find sexier than a feisty 'yote. You just gotta learn how to wrangle 'em, show them who's boss."

To demonstrate, she wrapped her arm tightly around Yote's neck and put the crook of her elbow into his neck. Yote thrashed against the ropes, growling and snarling before his head flopped to the side and he was still. At first I thought he was dead, but a quick glance and I saw his chest rise and fall.

"Your buddy doesn't realize is that I've been taking down 'yotes for a long, long time. I'm sort of a coyote specialist. Love the looks on their faces when they realize they've been trapped by a sheepdog bitch. You are the first wolves we've caught I believe. Perhaps I'm expanding on my forte. But forgive me, I haven't introduced myself. Name's Cheyenne Rawlins. I'm the chief of security for this little slice of paradise. I'm already familiar with Mr. Yote over there, but who are you?"

"Staff Sergeant Sean Swanson, serial number 137242." I quipped. The border collie bitch let out a laugh.

"You're not a POW, staff sergeant. You've been detained for trespassing on government property and sedition. Oh, and murder."

"Murder?"

"Yes, murder. Six of my security staff were killed during your failed assault. However my superiors have informed me since I already have a major enemy of the State in custody, we're more than willing to drop it all in his lap."

She nodded her head to the unconscious coyote.

"You and the surviving members of your unit will be released, I get the satisfaction of noosing another 'yote..."

"Wait, you said surviving members?"

"Yes, sergeant. You can't engage a heavily armed and well trained guard force and not expect to incur any losses. Unfortunately, the skinny ninja kid, the younger of your two females and the big mouthy one were shot and killed by my staff. The other male with them, the big black dude, escaped back up the vent shaft and ran off. The redhead female was with you two when you were darted, and she escaped injury. Her system isn't as resilient to the neurotoxin as you males though, so she's still out."

"So you'll just let us walk right out of here, no harm, no foul, and in exchange all you want is him? What's so special about him?"

"Short version, he's a traitor. The Commonwealth wants him dead, and they've placed me in charge of that particular aspect. As I said before, coyotes are my specialty." As Cheyenne spoke those words, she let out a sort of cross between a soft growl and a purr.

I shook my head in disbelief at the smugly smiling collie. This chick obviously had issues but if she was willing to let us go... I began to think of my fallen pack mates and what their loved ones would be told. On behalf of the Supreme Alpha, we wish to express our deepest sympathies that your son was killed in a training accident.

"Well," I began "It's not up to me. I'm the beta of this pack. You should be talking to my alpha..."

"It makes no difference to me." The dog snapped "This wolf, that wolf. Either way, Yote is mine."

Cheyenne gently took Yote's chin in her paw and lifted it. It was only then I noticed something about the bound coyote.

His wrist was free.

"Coyotes are such magnificent and sexy creatures, wouldn't you say?"

I didn't say. Not because I didn't agree. Yolanda was indeed sexy and magnificent. But because this Cheyenne chick seemed completely and utterly infatuated with the canines she hunted, captured and killed.

"Not quite wolf," She continued, lovingly running her paws down Yote's body. "Not quite dog, but something in between. It's a shame I have to snuff the fire in those eyes. I'd love to feel this body wrapped around me."

"Mhhok." Yote growled through his muzzle. He slammed his head forward, catching the collie in her snout. She let out a surprised yelp and went for her holstered weapon, but Yote's paw was there first. With his thumb he mashed down the holster's release button and slid the weapon free. He wrapped his other paw around Cheyenne's throat and held her in front of him.

The two other guards in the room were caught completely by surprise and fumbled with their own weapons while trying simultaneously to operate their radios. Yote shot them both before they could do either. Cheyenne wasn't out of the fight yet either, she regained her composure and kicked Yote in the groin, then using his arm as leverage, leapt up and wrapped her legs around his midsection.

"OH YEAH BABY! CHEY-GIRL LIKES IT ROUGH!" She screamed while Yote grabbed a pawfull of her raven hair and yanked on it.

The crazy bitch was actually enjoying this!

Yote clearly was not, however. The sounds emanating from his throat were not that of a civilized canine, but rather a wild animal fighting for his life. Not that it was too far from the truth; the collie's paws were now clamped tightly around his throat. Yote seemed to remember that he was still clutching Cheyenne's pistol then, and struck her in the head with it. It took several more blows before the dog released her grip and fell to the floor, her body still. Yote reached up and ripped the muzzle off his snout, panting heavily.

"I...pant... already... pant... got a crazy girlfriend."

Yote stood up fully and fetched a knife from the dead guard, and undid my ropes.

"We got to find your buddies and get the hell out of here."

"You got some kind of plan?" I asked

"Yeah. Find your buddies. Kill everyone else."

"Great plan." I muttered.

"Yeah." The coyote said with an irritated growl. "Take Beavis and Butthead's uniforms and radios."

"What?"

"You wanna run around shooting bad guys in your tightie whities, fine. But I'm wearing something."

The grisly task of removing the dead guards' uniforms with chunks of brain matter and skull fragments on the collars sickened me, but Yote seemed to be right at home. He nonchalantly hummed a tune while he threw the blue BDU top on and buttoned it.

"By the way, Yote. How'd you slip out of those knots?"

"A little patience and a lot of practice."

"Practice?"

"Like I told her, I already have a crazy girlfriend."

Once we had both put our new borrowed clothes on, Yote slowly cracked the door to the room and peered outside. He opened the door a little wider, and stuck his head out, and gave me a "thumbs up"

"Which way?" I whispered. Yote shrugged his shoulders in response.

"These places aren't exactly huge. We'll go one way, and if that doesn't work, we go the other way."

We started down the corridor, stalking silently on our footpads. As far as I could tell, the hallway was only about 300 feet long, with a massive lift connecting the bunker with the surface on one end, and 2 doorways on either side about 50 feet apart. Yote explained that those doors led to separate rooms like the one we were held in. There was a living area, the main control room, storage areas, and a area where the generators and fuel supply was located. Yote thought that the infirmary area would most likely be an offshoot of the living area, so that's where we headed. Granted, neither of us knew exactly where we were going, but it wouldn't take too long to find it. I just silently hoped that we had more bullets than there were surviving guards. The worry was not lost on my coyote sidekick, because a lone guard appeared from one of the doors and Yote was quick to snatch him by the drag strap of his vest and plunge a knife into the dog's neck. The canine's eyes widened in surprise, and his body went limp. Yote quickly searched his pockets, relieving the dead dog of his assault rifle and spare magazines.

Again, the coyote slowly and carefully pulled the door open and motioned for me to have a look inside. It was a recreation room of sorts. There was a big screen TV against one wall, a billiards table in the corner, and a few plush looking sofas. Several guards were lounging on the sofas, their weapons and gear stacked just outside arms reach.

What happened next can only be described as a massacre. But these mutts killed my friends and pack mates. I wasn't in the mood to play nice, and neither was Yote. And in less than 10 seconds, every guard in the living area was dead. Two of them tried to run to the back of the room yelling something about the prisoners, and both were cut down.

The room stank of cordite and spilled blood, but none of this mattered as we moved to the next room.

"About fucking time you showed up." Pavlichenko growled when she saw us enter.

"Alpha," I began "The others... They're"

"I know. And there'll be plenty of time to mourn later. But right now we have a mission to finish, so that their sacrifice will not be in vain."

Yote kneeled next to Pavlichenko and quickly cut her ropes with his knife. He offered her one of the guards' pistols, to which she laughed and yanked the assault rifle from the coyote instead.

"Stop pouting. I'm sure you'll find another one lying on the ground."

With a majority of the guard force dead, searching the remainder of the facility went relatively quickly, and those guards we did run into were quickly dispatched. Finally we reached the last section of the complex, a door labeled "control". This door was heavier than the rest, about the size of the door on a bank vault. It took both Yote and myself to heave the massive door open.

"I certainly hope that there's no one on the other side." Pavlichenko quipped. "Because they probably heard that on the East Coast."

Yote grumbled something under his breath that sounded like "shut up, bitch" but I couldn't be 100% sure. There was another, smaller steel door here and he was a bit quieter with that one. Yote cracked the door about 4 inches, then removed a small object from a pouch on his vest. He pulled something out of the top of it and released his fingers. Then I knew what it was. Yote tossed the frag grenade through the hole in the door and quickly shut it. There were muffled yells, followed by an explosion which shook the room. Yote waited a few moments before slowly opening the door again. He flung himself into the room, firing a few shots as he went. I followed suit. There were only four guards in this room, and they had all been incapacitated by Yote's grenade, and killed by his pistol. A large control panel dominated a wall, and on the other end sat 2 large, olive green containers with a radiation symbol emblazoned on the sides.

"Here's your nukes." The coyote pointed out

"Thank you, captain obvious."

"You're welcome, lieutenant sarcasm."

"You're lucky you're my brother in law." Pavlichenko growled with narrowed eyes and flattened ears.

"Okay, we found the bombs. Now what?" I asked

Yote went to the containers and slid the lids off. After about 45 seconds of fumbling with the packing straw he uncovered one of the warheads and its control box.

"They look like B61 gravity bombs. They were designed to be loaded onto and dropped from fighter aircraft. Old pieces of junk, but they still have safety features."

Yote opened the control box on the warhead and slid a small keyboard out. He flipped a few switches and shoved a small rectangular box into a slot on the bomb. The control panel beeped and several lights illuminated on the panel.

"What are you doing, Yote?" I asked nervously.

"Like I said, these things have a lot of safety junk built in. Before they're loaded onto an aircraft, they have to be both armed on the ground with this panel and again in the air by the pilots. But since the air force was so concerned about the enemy gaining access to the arming panel, they built in a little safeguard. Enter the wrong arming code 3 times, and the bomb renders itself impotent."

He demonstrated by entering a series of numbers on the keypad, after which all the lights on the panel flashed, then went dark.

"Now this thing's just a really cool lawn ornament."

"What about the core?" Pavlichenko asked.

"Well, yeah there's still about 100 pounds of C4 and PETN here, so yeah. It could still blow us all to kingdom come, but it won't go nuclear."

"Radiation?"

"If we were on the surface, then maybe. But under here... Wait, what are you getting at, Tanya?"

"Deactivate the other one, then blow 'em up. That way we can ensure that these things won't be used. If they won't go nuclear, and the radiation won't reach the surface, destroy them."

"Tanya, I can't just..."

"Dammit, Yote!" She snarled. "Even if you deactivate them, what's to stop the owner of these things from detonating the conventional explosive and releasing the radioactive elements in a major city, huh? I've got a responsibility to the citizens of the Commonwealth, and that means you figure out a way to blow these things up. NOW." Her menacing growl was not lost on either the coyote or myself.

"Let me get this straight. You want me to intentionally trigger the explosive shell on two thermonuclear warheads?"

The silence and threatening look from the Alpha was her answer. She wasn't used to repeating herself. Yote let out a defeated, nervous sigh.

"Fine. Swanson; give me one of those guards' radios, that computer over there, and find me a 9 volt battery."

Remember earlier in the story when I said the thought of fighting coyote insurgents made me nervous? Daniel Yote was a prime example of that fear. In less than 15 minutes, he took a collection of office equipment and turned it into a remote detonation device for the two high explosive cores of the nuclear bombs. The ball of explosives reminded me of a big soccer ball, with pentagon shaped plates of explosive infused with ceramic to make them hold shape. Normally it was the detonation of these plates that made the weapon go nuclear, but Yote said that wouldn't happen. I really hoped he was right.

"All right, we got a bomb. Its linked to channel 9 on this radio, so I'd make sure we were using a different one."

"You sure?" I asked

"Pretty sure. All the same, I'd recommend getting out of here and as far away as possible."

"Then let's go." Pavlichenko ordered. "Yote, bring the elevator down, Swanson, position yourself down the hall in case there's any surprises. I'll watch your backs."

I sprinted about half way down the hall and dropped into a prone position facing the elevator doors. A buzzer sounded, and the heavy steel doors slid open. Thankfully there was no one inside. Yote and Pavlichenko quickly scanned the area with their weapons, and waved me up. I noticed Yote was wearing a large backpack stuffed to the brim.

"What's in there?" I asked

"I found a bunch of papers, a couple laptops and some SD cards. There's entirely too many questions here, and hopefully there's some answers in this bag. We need to know where they got the weapons, who exactly bought the weapons, I don't think it was the Latranian Government."

"What makes you say that?"

"Because whoever owns these things hired private contractors to run their security, sheepdogs nonetheless. The Coyote Government would have used its own soldiers. They wouldn't trust nuclear weapons to anyone else but coyotes. There are bigger pieces in this game, and I intend to find out about it."

"Not our job, Yote. Our mission was to stop these things from being used..."

"You don't need to worry about it then, Tanya. The beauty of being a freelancer is that I can act on my own. If we don't figure out who's behind it all, they'll just buy a couple more, and they may not hide them before they're used."

"Who's behind it all?" Pavlichenko asked incredulously. "Daniel, your own prime minister went on national TV and pretty much said that he was seeking nuclear weapons and should use them against us! The intelligence came straight from the Supreme Alpha of the Commonwealth."

"I'm not ruling it out." Yote said "I'm just saying it sounds suspicious."

"Well, if you want to look into it, that's your prerogative. But right now how about we focus on getting out of here alive?"

Nobody said anything else as the elevator made its way up to the surface. The doors slid open to reveal that the sun had risen over the tops of the mountains, bathing the desert in an orange-ish glow.

"Always did love this part about the desert." Yote said quietly.

"Now what?" I said to no one.

"I recommend we at least get past that 100 meter fence before I blow these things."

We reached the ten foot tall barbed wire fence in record time. There were no attempts to be subtle this time as I smashed the padlock with my rifle butt. Yote removed the radio from his cargo pocket and directed us to keep running. I felt the ground rumble beneath my feet as the explosives detonated. All three of us turned around to see a slight depression form in the ground.

"Wow, it worked." The coyote said with a grin.

"Yeah. Let 'em sift through that if they want those things." Pavlichenko spat. "Where do we go from here, Yote?"

"We could appropriate one of those security vehicles over there, find your buddy, and get back to my RV. They got a 1,000 dollar deposit on that thing. I'll drop you guys at the extraction point."

"What about you?"

"I'll find my own way home. I've got a lot of electronic crap to sift through to find out who's behind this."

"Well when you do, let me know. We're in."

I gave Alpha Pavlichenko a quizzical look. Didn't she just get through saying it wasn't our responsibility? She locked eyes with me, and again the fire in the emerald orbs caused me to flinch just a little.

"We've got 3, maybe 4 dead pack mates who are strongly urging us to finish the job."

None of us noticed a pair of canine eyes watching us from behind a creosote bush

.

EPILOUGE

South Hills Executive Protection's corporate headquarters was a four story glass and steel building located a literal stone's throw the Worland Regional Airport. It was a prime location; plenty of land nearby to conduct training, and an airfield capable of accommodating everything from single engine planes to military transports.

South Hills was one of the largest private military companies in the Canine Commonwealth, specializing in security for sensitive sites. Its employees were often referred to as "sheepdogs", though no one could quite say why. Some speculated it was a play on the company's acronym, others said It was because the company was made up primarily of herding breeds.

Cheyenne Rawlins padded silently from the elevator to the large, ornately decorated lobby on the fourth floor. Her heart thumped beneath the "Sheepdog" logo on her chest as she greeted the Pomeranian at the receptionist's desk. She was certain that she was going to be fired for what had happened. SHEP had lost 25 personnel and the client's site was destroyed; all on her watch. Hell, she'd be lucky if the bosses didn't execute her.

"Mr. Weiss will see you. Go on in." Said the Pomeranian. Cheyenne took in a barely noticeable breath and gently opened the massive oak door.

The office was a bit intimidating, spacious and decorated with all sorts of military awards and plaques. But it wasn't nearly as intimidating as its owner. Seated behind the desk was a large framed Alsatian, his brown and black fur streaked with flecks of gray that betrayed his age. He looked at the collie over thin glasses. Cheyenne recognized the other figure in the room as well, and her eyes widened.

"I suppose the obvious question is, what the hell happened in Navajo?" The shepherd asked coldly. "We lost a lot of good people, and our client lost two very valuable pieces of technology."

"With all due respect, sir. If you had given me the personnel and equipment I requested, we could have stopped them."

"Let's get something straight here, Ms. Rawlins. You are one lucky dog! The only reason you still have a job is due in part to your otherwise stellar record. The other is your experience in, shall we say, fugitive recovery. I'll let our client explain." He gestured to the female next to him

"Let me begin by saying that I am sorry for the loss of your colleagues. We expected that the Lupines would send in their special forces, but we couldn't have known that they would be accompanied by that disease ridden rat. Daniel Yote threw a wrench into my plans when he blew up that facility. And I want him to suffer for it. Now Mr. Weiss tells me that you've dealt with "retrieval" operations before, and that you're quite the coyote specialist."

"Yes ma'am." Cheyenne replied matter of fact-ly. "Out of 47 captures, 43 of them were 'yotes. I enjoy the challenge they bring."

"I've also heard a thing or two about what you do to your captives. Not exactly in the Swiss Convention, is it?"

Cheyenne flinched and started to protest, but the client held up a paw.

"Not to worry, my dear. Your secret's safe with me. In fact, that's why I insisted that Mr. Weiss bring you on for this contract. It's a simple job. Track down Daniel Yote, capture him, and... Do what you do best."

"It's going to be difficult. Coyotes themselves are a paranoid lot, Daniel Yote even more so. He doesn't live in Navajo, so I'll have to do some searching."

"Whatever it takes. I assure you, you will have the full resources of the Canine Government, and a very large operating budget."

"What's the catch?"

"One it's a suicide mission if Yote catches you first. Two, we'd like you to use discretion. The point of this op is to make Daniel Yote vanish from the planet, not to make any sort of statement. Do with him what you will, but make sure no one hears him scream."

"Okay, It's do-able. Is the contract ready?"

Weiss placed a thick stack of paper on the desk in front of her. Cheyenne quickly flipped through it and signed on the last page.

"One more thing, Ms. Rawlins."

"Yes ma'am?"

"When you do capture him, I'd like to be present for the next part. I have a vested interest in watching this coyote suffer."

"I can't guarantee anything." The border collie replied "Except that he will indeed, suffer."

"Fair enough. Good luck, and go get your coyote, sheepdog."

"Yes, madam president."

And with that, Cheyenne Rawlins left Mr. Weiss and The President of the Canine Commonwealth to resume their lunch. There was a smug smile on her muzzle as she walked out to her rental car.

She was a lucky dog, indeed.