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"New Arrivals" By Raska Kannagami

The door Shauri had led me through opened into a hallway. At two points further down the hall to my right there were doors flanked by bored-looking guards in crisp uniforms. "Those rooms are Clearance-Only rooms. You won't be getting in them unless you have the proper credentials, which you don't, so don't even bother trying. You'll also come across doors that are also Clearance-Only, but do not have guards. Those doors are clearly marked 'Restricted Access, Clearance Level blah-blah-blah required'," Shauri explained as we passed them, nodding at the guards who remained bored-looking.

We turned a corner, and then quickly turned another and Shauri pointed to the doors as we passed them, "Storage...that's another room you're not even allowed into, so it doesn't matter...Dining Hall A, Dining Hall B. Note that these are exit only. The entrance to B is up ahead, around this corner."

As we rounded the corner, I looked up and down the hall we were now in. It was very long, stretching further than I could see, and in the direction we were heading there were a great many doors on either side...like a hotel or dormitory. The doors were even numbered like a hotel - even numbers on the right, odd numbers on the left. We headed up this hallway and I could hear Shauri counting the doors as we passed, "One...three...five...seven...nine...eleven..."

The room after twelve was, humorously enough, labeled as '12A', no doubt to avoid issues with those who had triskaidekaphobia. Shauri stopped here and indicated the room, "This is your room. Only you can use the paw recognition lock. Just place your paw on the glowing interface. I shall leave you here, for now. As a female, I am not permitted into the male dorms. I'm only permitted here now insofar as to show you to your quarters. Speaking of which, your quarters are furnished with everything you might need. Dinner is announced by a chime. Fare well, my friend."

With that, she headed back down the hall in the direction we'd just came. I watched her leave, and then regarded the door. I placed my paw on the interface, and after a moment it chirped and the door opened. Soundlessly, the door closed behind me as I stepped in.

The room wasn't exactly sparse, but it did have a rather utilitarian look. To my left, from my perspective at the door, was a large desk with a built-in computer interface. To my right was a refrigerator and a cooktop. Against the adjacent wall to the desk was a simple bed. At the foot of the bed was a doorway, and along the rest of that wall was a dresser and wardrobe, respectively. I headed over to the doorway first.

Through the doorway was another room, set up exactly the same as my own room, though it was obvious that someone else lived there. The only difference aside from the various personal effects scattered about the room was that where my room had a refrigerator and cooktop, this room had a shower and toilet. How...odd. And neither the shower nor toilet had any kind of privacy means separating them from the rest of the room. There were folding screens stored under the bed, presumably these would be used to separate the 'bathroom' area, but obviously since the current occupant did not have a roommate until I arrived, he didn't see fit to utilize the screens. Either that or he was a Cat, and therefore didn't have the same concept of nudity or the need for privacy as we Canines do.

Without trying to be nosy, I looked around the other room, trying to learn about my dormitory mate. The bed was made with military precision, and a quick peek in the wardrobe revealed several uniforms. I looked at the uniforms and found that my roommate was a Major, and had an impressive number of awards and commendations. I wasn't aware of what awards all the ribbons indicated, but I could recognize enough of them to know that this Dog was a serious badass. From the size of the uniforms, and the scent that remained on them, I figured they were a large breed of Dog, such as a Mastiff or a Saint. I figured the latter, though I couldn't exactly say why. The scent was...familiar. I shut my eyes and inhaled deeply through my nose, and tried to associate the scent with a memory. All I could come up with was a vague sense of family, like...a brother. I closed the wardrobe.

The small stool that was supposed to go with the desk was being used as a nightstand, and on it was a picture frame. It was a good thing I didn't pick the thing up, as in my surprise I might have dropped it. The picture showed me, Shy, and a Saint whom I assumed was the occupant of this room. We all looked to be about ten years old. I was in the middle, with my arms around both Shy and the Saint. I was smiling widely, laughing. Shy was looking away from me, blushing. The Saint was glaring at Shy while trying to look like he wasn't.

So, whoever it was, I had known them as a child. From the looks of the picture, we'd been close friends. I couldn't remember him, though the image I saw of him in the picture was annoyingly familiar. I went over to the desk and was about to call up the interface when I heard the door open.

A well-muscled and admittedly rather handsome Saint Bernard stepped into the room, letting the door close behind him. He was dressed in a kilt and nothing else, which was actually rather typical casual wear for a Dog of his size. Upon seeing me, his jaw dropped and the duffel bag he'd been holding thudded to the floor as the door closed behind him, "You're dead!"

I took a deep breath and mockingly checked my pulse at my throat, "Nope, I'm pretty sure that I'm still alive. See? I'm breathing and I got a heartbeat."

The Saint growled under his breath, "Damned Raising Project. But who would'a thought that they would Raise you?"

I leaned against the desk, raising an eyebrow, "You don't seem too happy to see me."

"Of course I'm not! As if the guilt alone wasn't bad enough! Now you're alive again, but you don't remember...what I did..."

"What did you do?" I asked. I was impressed with how dangerous my voice sounded just then. I wasn't even angry.

The poleaxed expression on his face, and the way his ears and tail went limp like they'd fainted were telling clues about this Dog. I also noticed that he wasn't making eye contact with me, something that was a submissive gesture. "I...Look, can we not talk about it?"

It was obvious, not just from his body language, but also from the scent of fear and shame radiating from him, that he desperately did not want to tell me what it was that he'd done to feel 'guilty'. This only served to heighten my curiosity, "Tell me."

He looked away, squirming. It was almost adorable, this big, tough Dog squirming like a child caught stealing cookies from the jar. "Tell me!" I urged again, more insistently.

He whined softly and screwed his eyes tightly shut, "Fine! I killed you, alright!?"

I stood there in stunned silence. After a few moments, I was able to speak, albeit weakly, "Oh..." Then the memories came back. I was scouting ahead of my team when suddenly I'd been ambushed. The bullets thudded into me in quick succession, and before I knew it I was on the ground. Before I passed out, I looked up to see my childhood friend - wearing a Canine Nations uniform - leading a group of Dogs toward me.

"You don't know whose bullets hit me, Mike," I said, his name coming to me like a whisper from the past.

"But I led the squad, I received the commendation for it...I'm responsible!" He replied, attempting to hold back tears.

I walked over to him and, to his obvious surprise, hugged him. "Raz..."

"Shut up, Dog," I replied, looking up at him, "I don't remember when we were kids, but I remember your scent, and I know we were almost brothers. Stop beating yourself up over my death, it's not like it matters now anyways, 'cause I'm back."

We stood like that, rather awkwardly I might add, for a few more moments before I broke away and let him wipe his eyes. "Enough with the Ho Yay, I have an important question for you that's been bugging the hell out of me since I walked into this room."

"Alright...shoot," he replied, the confusion obvious on his face.

"Why is there only one toilet and one shower between these two rooms?"

He laughed, "I wondered that myself, when I first got on this ship. Apparently it's because the water pipes and the electrical conduit has to be as separated as possible. So this side of this row of rooms has all the pipes and your side has the major electrical lines. It makes no sense to me, but I guess that's how the ship was built. It wouldn't be so bad if at least the toilet came with a privacy stall, but apparently that was too much for the folks who designed this place to add in."

I laughed with him, nodding, "I see you have a folding screen there. At least you got that."

He shrugged, "I requested them specifically, thinking that I'd have a roommate. When it turned out I didn't, I kind of forgot about them. Most of the rooms don't have the screens, and the roommates get used to, like, looking away or going into the other room when someone's using the facilities."

We stood there awkwardly, the silence filling the room like a poisonous gas, neither of us really knowing how to break it. It was uncomfortable, to say the least. We used to be closer than brothers, then we were enemies, and now here we were, unsure of which we should be.

I finally couldn't stand it, so I sat down on his bed, "So...what happened after I died? I assume that we lost."

He nodded, "Yeah. We had you guys outnumbered three to one. It didn't take long for the other commanders on the Feline side to capitulate. The Raising Project team got to work as soon as we won, scanning every dead body they could, regardless of which side they'd been on.

"So... how long have this ship been underway? What's the date?"

"Whoa! Slow down with the questions! We've been underway for about ten months now. In a couple months it'll be about three years since you died. As far as the date...here, I'll call it up on the interface for you, just so you know I'm not messing with you..."

He pressed a button on the interface, and the screen was projected onto the wall, reading 'January 19, 4042'.

"No fucking way!" I exclaimed, grinning, "Happy birthday, Mikey!"

"I'm surprised you can remember that, to be honest," He replied, chuckling, "And thank you. It does mean a lot to me, to hear you say that again."

I nodded. "These days, I'm surprised if I remember anything."

He grinned, "Don't worry, I hear most people recover all their memories within a couple weeks. Anyways, want me to show you around the ship? I have clearance to get into all the best spots."

"Sure," I replied.

* * * * * *

Angel-class ships are characterized primarily by their size. Seraph-types, like the Gazardiel, were the very largest. Ships of this type were originally designed for combat from high orbit, but were retrofitted with deep space technologies. For the longest time, engineers were unable to solve the interstellar problem - namely, that there were such great distances between stars and their planetary systems that it would take decades, if not centuries to travel between them. Even now, engineers were still unable to come up with a propulsion system that would be able to cut the travel time by any significant margin.

So, they focused on other technologies. They engineered technologies necessary to support a civilization and which could be fit into a ship without taking up too much room. Gazardiel and her sister ships, were all equipped with the means to grow food, produce air, recycle or incinerate waste, and of course provide basic luxuries

After the war, the Canine nations quickly realized that many of the same resources that the war had been fought for in the first place were nearly gone anyways. Earth-that-was simply could no longer support sentient life. So, we fled into space. According to Mike, the CN launched seven Seraph-class ships, which held the bulk of the fleeing population. There was Gazardiel - where the military and the Raising project were centered. Harachel - the 'Noah's Ark' ship, which contained the genetic information of nearly every animal and plant species that had been on Earth-that-was before we fled, as well as being the home for many biologists, naturalists, and veterinarians. Galgaliel - on which many engineers and scientists traveled, and which was the ship in the fleet responsible for maintaining communication between the ships. Hamaliel - where was stored an immense digital library of every book that could be digitized before the Launch. Hamaliel's crew worked closely with that of Galgaliel to maintain the Interface network, and to ensure that information was quickly available to the entire fleet. Jehoel was the spearpoint of the fleet's formation, and was constantly broadcasting our position and intentions, as well as informing the Pilots of any adjustments they needed to make to keep in-formation. The crew of Jehoel was, in essence, the "mission control" of the fleet.

Then there was Ramiel and Zeruel. These were two Seraph-type ships that were still battle-ready. Armed with the most powerful nuclear and conventional weapons we had available, as well as containing several wings of smaller ship-to-ship fighter craft, not to mention still possessing their original armor plating. These two Seraphs were our protection, should we encounter a spacefaring race that was hostile.

All seven Seraph-type ships - along with a dozen or so smaller vessels - were simply floating through space in a rigid formation, aimed for the nearest star system we could find. Each ship was its own world, almost, simply drifting through the inky black of space.

Mike showed me the highlights of ours. The residential area took up the largest portion of the ship. Not only was there the 'floor' that our room was on, but there were also two levels below us with dormitories. Those two levels were empty now, however. There were a few shops and restaurants...of sorts. The food was all either space-grown plants or genetically cloned meat. After sampling some with Mike, I realized that while it tasted off - nothing can replace the taste of once-living meat - it wasn't too bad. There was plenty to do, if you were a civilian on this ship.

Then there was the working areas. Like the other ships, Galgaliel had space-farms, planted with genetically engineered crops that were designed to have optimal growth in space conditions. It is actually very much more boring than it sounds. There was also the recycling plant, where workers sorted used material into the appropriate machine for recycling. A couple of the other 'jobs' were in the 'sewers' - where workers maintained the machines that filtered waste into useable products and disposed of the remainder - and in the 'engine room'. The 'engine room' was by far the most interesting, as it was where workers kept a constant eye on the mechanical functions of the ship. Sometimes they did spacewalks to repair damaged communications equipment or fractured Haze plates.

Then there were the science areas, many of which were off-limits except to those who had clearance. Since there was no officer on board that ranked higher than Mike, he was able to bully guards into allowing me along. It was in these areas where the ship's scientists worked on the genetic cloning that provided the meat, as well as the genetic alteration responsible for creating plants that could grow in the conditions of space. They also worked constantly to synthesize chemicals and medicines necessary for the ship's crew and population. It was all very fascinating.

The Raising Project areas however, were strictly off-limits, even to Mike. Since the areas dedicated to the Project took up a good chunk of the ship's layout, it was intriguing to say the least.

Finally, Mike took me to the Pilot's room, where all of the ship's navigation, communcations, and heading were orchestrated. There were a lot more people at Interfaces than I expected. I realized that a ship this size wasn't just a scaled-up version of the small racing craft I'd was familiar with, though they utilized some of the same technologies.

As we were on our way back to our room, a thought occurred to me. "Mike...these Seraphs and the smaller craft with them...there's no way they are big enough for the entire population of the CN...let alone that of the Feline Alliance countries. How many of either side got left behind?"

"Well...none, actually. You see, the Raising Project was showing such promise...but there were some ethical issues regarding scanning still-living patients. You see, the scan is actually very invasive and quite likely to cause cancer in living tissue, at least that's what the RP representatives told us in the Army. So...er...there was a bit of a conflict of interests. No one wanted to be left behind, but the government knew there wasn't enough room. The RP guys came up with the solution and presented it to the President and the Council. The 'solution' was to poison every member of the population that wasn't an engineer, scientist, soldier, or other 'essential' field. Then, the RP went around and scanned everybody. Cats, Dogs, every body they could find. They tagged all the civilian Canines with 'Civilian', all the civvy Felines with 'Servant'. This would distinguish the civvies from the soldiers whom they'd scanned during and after the War. The plan, according to the Raising Project guys, is to Raise everyone once we get our feet on a new Earth."

I was both relieved and horrified at this revelation. The government had killed everyone!? And this was supposedly the best solution they could come up with?

Mike saw the expression on my face, "Yeah, I know. But what's done is done and there's nothing we can do about it. It might be a sour comfort, but at least this way you know that Shy will be coming back...eventually."

"Yeah, I'm so thrilled to hear that the government I fought against murdered everyone, not to mention my mate, just to save space for 'essential' tradesmen," I spat sarcastically.

My old friend nodded, "Hey, you think it was easy for us who were on that 'essential' list? Knowing that we were only being spared because - in my case - I was taught how to kill and had a taste for it? Some of us refused to stand by - those whose consciences were stronger than their survival instincts - and let's just say they won't be joining us when we find a new Earth. After the government made that example, no one else protested."

I nodded. To be honest, I was grateful that Shy hadn't been left behind, and felt guilty that I was feeling this way, when many thousands of others had lost their lives.

When we got back to our room, we were greeted by a pair of Raising Project soldiers. I recognized them as such because, earlier, Mike had pointed out how their uniforms were different from his own. The main difference was the stylized phoenix emblazoned on the right sleeve of their uniforms. These weren't Canine Nations Army soldiers, but mercenaries employed by the Raising Project as a means of protecting its interests.

"What is the meaning of this?" Mike asked as we approached, using his gruff "I'm-In-Charge" voice.

"Colonel Haifisch wishes to speak with you both immediately, sir. He sent us to escort you," the senior of the two mercenaries said, unfazed. He looked like he had military background, which was unsurprising for a merc.

"Is he unaware of the concept of an invitation?" Mike asked sardonically.

The senior RP merc gave Mike a pointed look down his muzzle - which was impressive considering that the merc was shorter than I am, and I'm a good head and shoulders shorter than Mike, "This is an invitation, sir."

Mike got the hint. "Alright. Let us go get washed up and put on something a little more formal, and we'll be right out."

I opened the door and walked in. Mike growled at the younger merc as he moved to follow, "What, you're going to watch us shower, make sure we scrub behind our ears?"

The older mercenary put his paw on his subordinate's shoulder. "Two more of my men are posted at the other door. Just in case you were thinking of slipping out, Major," he informed my friend, the thinly-veiled warning obvious. Mike simply grunted and shrugged.

"Why would I pass up the chance to mock your boss while in uniform?"

* * * * * *

"This is bad," Mike said as soon as the door was shut, "Very, very bad."

"How so?" I asked.

"Well, It might just be a hunch, but I think Haifisch knows who you are. He's probably planning on blackmailing you. You know, he keeps his muzzle shut and doesn't tell everyone who you are in exchange for you doing something for him. If that's the case, though, I can't think of what he'd need you for."

I shrugged, "It doesn't matter, we're trapped, right? Checkmated. Now get in the shower before the soldiers think we're up to something."

As he undid the strap over his tail and let his kilt fall to the floor, Mike shook his head, "I don't think this is checkmate, Raz. Check, maybe, but not 'mate yet. We'll just have to see how this plays out."

He was unusually candid about his nudity...for a Dog. Then again, he and I grew up in the same house, and had seen each other naked...hell, we'd fooled around with each other...more times than either of us could count. He started his shower up and began quickly lathering his fur up with shampoo.

"Just remember, my name's supposed to be Shirika. And for the Hound Lord's sake, you've got to act surprised if Haifisch tries to use who I am as blackmail. I don't want you getting in trouble on my account, and if no one suspects you, you can help me from the outside, right?"

Mike nodded impatiently, bending over to clean his feet, and giving me an admirable view of his backside as he did so. If I didn't know better, I'd think he was trying to show off for me. "Yeah, yeah. I know. Get my uniform out, will ya?"

I opened the wardrobe and took out the dark green - almost black - dress uniform, and laid it out on the desk. As I did so, Mike turned back toward me and began to rinse off the suds, his eyes closed as the water ran down his body. His back was arched slightly, like he was thrusting his groin toward me. Yep, he was definitely trying to make a show.

As he got out of the shower, and walked across the room still dripping-wet, it was obvious that he was trying very hard to resist the urge to shake. I couldn't blame him, it was a very hard instinct to overcome. He grabbed his towel and dried off vigorously, making his fur fluff out and making him look ridiculous. He smoothed it out as best he could before donning his uniform.

With his actual uniform on, he looked - if it were even possible - both ridiculous and intimidating at the same time. The uniform had obviously been tailored to him, because it was rather close-fitting. The mandarin collar made his mane poof out comically, and all-in-all he looked very uncomfortable. "That has to be ridiculously hot, with all your fur," I commented.

He looked down at himself, "Yeah, it is. It's kind of hard to move well in it, too. The uniform was designed for short-haired breeds like your kind. We Saints have too thick of a coat for clothing like this. You gonna shower?"

I shrugged, "It's not like I have fancy clothes to put on like you do. I don't think they'd notice."

When we stepped back out into the hall, it was obvious that the mercs were getting impatient. "What took you two so long?"

Grinning mischievously, Mike murred and stroked the merc's cheek, "Wouldn't you like to know?" The scandalized look on the Dog's face was well-worth the implication Mike had made, even though if we had done what Mike implied, we'd have taken longer and would probably have had to shower again afterward.

The two Raising Project soldiers took us straight to Haifisch's office. Firstly, the office was ridiculously plush compared to the rest of the ship that I'd seen so far. It made me wonder if Mike had such an office, being an actual war hero and all. I doubted it.

"Ah! Major Sankt, so good of you and your roommate to respond to my summons so quickly," Haifisch greeted us with thinly veiled sarcasm.

Mike shrugged, "Well, you know how it is...I had to do my fur, and pick a uniform that brought out my eyes. And I couldn't find an accessory that goes with dark green, yanno?"

He said all this in the most egregiously campy voice I could imagine. I had a hard time keeping my face straight.

Remarkably, Haifisch managed to maintain composure as well, "Well, since you seem intent on mocking me, let's skip the fake pleasantries and get straight to the point. I know who your friend there is. It took me a few hours of looking through countless reports and several live-footage pieces, but I'm reasonably sure that I'm correct in saying that your roommate is none other than Raziel Tabris, the notorious traitor."

Mike's demeanor changed instantly, "That's a heavy claim, Haifisch. I hope this proof of yours is good."

"Colonel Haifisch, thank you. And yes, the proof is very good," the collie said, sliding a manila folder across his desk.

Opening the folder, Mike and I were first treated to several pictures. One was of me, wearing the white hakama and haori of a Feline Nations officer, gesturing off-camera and obviously in the middle of shouting orders. As was my habit at the time, I was shirtless underneath the haori, revealing my black-spotted chest which - in this particular picture - was surprisingly clean. Normally there were blood stains somewhere, and usually that blood wasn't mine.

The next picture was very artfully taken, in my opinion. I was standing on top of a tank whose treads had been blown out, my Haze-sword in one paw and the arm of a Cat I was helping climb out of the tank in another. My haori was gone, and the hem of my hakama looked like I had stepped on an explosion - the hem was all charred and burnt. I was splattered with blood, likely the same blood that my sword dripped with. With the setting sun at my back, the picture made me look unintentionally heroic.

I tapped this photo, "He looks quite heroic in this one."

Catching on quickly to the ruse I intended to employ, Mike nodded, "Well, Raziel was a hero to the Cats for a reason. Let's look at these others."

The third photo was a shock compared to the others. It was of my dead body, lying in a pool of blood in the middle of a street in Sherkahn.

I had to say, for a dead guy I didn't look too bad. I looked up at the Colonel, "And these pictures prove that I'm Raziel...how?"

Haifisch sputtered, "Don't try the charade! It's obviously you in those pictures!"

I shook my head, "I'm offended! Just because we're both Dalmatians does not automatically make us the same Dog! We don't even have the same spots."

It was true. Somehow in the Raising process, my spots had changed their shapes and locations. My fur pattern was now completely different from what it used to be. The most prominent difference was my left ear, which previously had been solid black, but now was speckled with medium-sized spots. Mike was quick to point this out, "See, look, Raziel's left ear is black, but Shiriki's is spotted. On that alone I can see that they're not the same Dog."

"Not to mention that, even in the one-in-a-million chance that two Dalmatians have the exact same spot pattern - and we can't even see all of Raziel's pattern in any of these pictures - there are other traits that can be used to tell two apart," I continued.

Haifisch looked dumbfounded, "Like what?"

"Well, spot color is one, but both mine and Raziel's spots are black. Another, which is also kind of useless in this situation is scrotum color."

"Scrotum color!?" The Collie exclaimed incredulously.

I nodded seriously, "Yes. You see, in Dalmatians the scrotum is almost always black, but it can be white with spots like the rest of the fur. It can be a very distinguishing trait. I've known a set of twins who were virtually indistinguishable except for that."

"If you want, Shiriki can show you, Colonel," Mike offered, "If I say so myself, it is a view that's quite easy on the eyes."

Finally, Haifisch lost his cool, "Are you just fucking with me or are you actually gay?"

Mike chuckled, "Well, if you really need to know, I do play for either team technically speaking. I mostly go for the ladies, there's only one male I'd go for."

"Aww, thanks Mike," I said, grinning at him. I knew what he was trying to do. He had already figured that Haifisch was somewhat homophobic, and was now going to use that knowledge to the fullest.

"I didn't mean you, Spots. I was talking about that Corgi actor on that one pup show...what's 'is name... Something something Robinson. I don't normally go for little guys, but damn, that dude's hot!" Mike replied.

"Dude, his nose would barely come higher than your balls! It would be like fucking a puppy," I said, making a face.

"That makes it hotter somehow," Mike replied, grinning, "Besides, I hear Corgis give amazing head."

"GET OUT! OUT OF MY OFFICE!" Haifisch exploded, sputtering.

With mocking obedience, we nodded to him and left, barely containing our grins.

When we got out of earshot of either Haifisch or the guards, Mike burst into laughter, "Did you see his face when I mentioned the Robinson dude? It was like I'd raped his childhood."

I laughed, "Yeah. Good work figuring out he was homophobic. Did you know that already, or figure it out in there?"

"I knew it already. It's no secret that Haifisch is pretty prejudiced. He hates homosexuals, Cats, homosexual Cats, and Polytheists. It was fun to get to fuck with him," he answered smugly.

"And it was pretty genius to bring up the Robinson dude. He is pretty hot for a Corgi."

"Dude, it would be like fucking a puppy," He replied, sticking his tongue out.