Elusion

 

ELUSION

By G.M. Rader

 

 

 

 

 

 

© 2018 G.M. Rader

Originally published in HEAT Vol. 15 (2018) from Sofawolf Press

1

I pulled open my side of the airlock and gave the traditional knock on the larger hatch beyond, drifting backward in the zero-G. It sprocket-rolled sideways to reveal four armed guards and the station’s security manager, who was wearing what you might call an unfriendly expression.
I didn’t care. I closed my eyes, opened my mouth, and breathed sweet, fresh air for the first time in four days, since Gallant’s—my ship’s—CO2 reprocessor exploded. That had been an almost-miscalculated risk, but it got me here. “Here” being Bradyec Station, a little space station owned by the Haasbroek Trading Company, Inc., and so far off the beaten path I’d needed a damned good excuse to divert there—hence the sabotage.
The Security Manager gave me a moment to fill my lungs before clearing her throat. I pushed myself down to the deck so we were eye-to-eye and gave her as winning a smile as a fox can. She was a tall grey wolf, all business, her uniform creased sharp enough to cut, magboots holding her to the deck. Her name tag read L RADY.
She fixed narrowed blue eyes on me, that look that customs and security types like to use to make you squirm. “Keith Harrow?”
I was a professional smuggler and having none of it. “Yes, ma’am, that’s me.” I glanced around the squad. Fox, otter, cougar, and another wolf. The otter, N YASHIN, was the only other woman in the group and I could tell she was trying not to look nervous. “Nice of you to throw me a party.”
L RADY was having none of it either. “Docking without an approved prior permission request is prosecutable, Mr. Harrow.” One of her squad, the cougar, rattled his rifle like they sometimes do for emphasis. I didn’t let on that I noticed.
“I apologize for the protocol breach, ma’am.” I was expecting this, it was all part of the plan—except the weapons, but those were probably just for show, and I resolved not to be unsettled by them. “Declared the emergency as soon as I could. The accident took out my long-range. I haven’t had comms for days. Or air.” I splayed my ears, aiming for sympathy.
She ignored my expression and narrowed her eyes further. “An inquiry into the matter will be required. Your ship will remain impounded in the meantime. What’s your cargo?”
“Right, of course.” I gave her an apologetic look. “I don’t know about the cargo, I’m just the pilot. Union contract hire, you know how it is these days.” Nothing aboard was illegal, anyway; I was here to pick something up.
She flicked her left ear in irritation, and I widened my smile; her expression grew increasingly irate. “You’ll need to remain aboard until the investigation concludes and a determination is issued. Any personal belongings—”
I snagged the duffel floating beside me and held it out, cutting off the customs lecture.
She passed the bag to the fox. “We’ll need to perform an interior inspection.” She waved the cougar and otter forward. I moved aside to let them through.
“Do you have any questions, Mr. Harrow?”
I looked back at her, still smiling. “Permission to come aboard?”

2

Two hours later, after the customs interview, the medical interview, considerable red-tape, and instructions to stay out of restricted areas, I was on a barstool nursing whiskey on the rocks and half-listening to the news, something about big trade negotiations between Haasbroek and Altantec, another multi-system corp and a traditional competitor with Haasbroek. I was finally getting to relax and think about how to go about finding this “Lance” my coyote contact had told me to talk to about the cargo I was picking up. Smuggling is a medium-risk side job, and not knowing what I was picking up or where I was taking it made me a little uneasy. But there was a tidy sum freshly deposited in my bank account, with the second half still to come. Worth it.
A tap on the shoulder interrupted my thoughts. I turned to find myself eye to eye with the wolf from the welcoming crew. When a quick glance found his boss nowhere in sight, I smiled.
He smiled back at me—I’ll be damned. But only for an instant; then his expression returned to neutral. I glanced at the nametag on his shirt. “How can I help you, Officer L Hopkins?” He had a less confrontational demeanor than his boss and flashed another smile. It looked good on him. When he held up a folded document, something in his fur made it shimmer with hints of spectral color, sort of glittery. I decided I liked that, too.
“Corporal Hopkins,” he said. Of course. “This is your summons to the hearing tomorrow.”
I took the paper—actual paper, not even polymer sheet. Even out here where everything needed shipping and shipping cost money, the lawyers still held onto archaic traditions, like serving legal documents on inked paper. It made some sense: they could send it to my tablet, but a paper document made sure it’s served and received. We spacefarers had our own archaic traditions, too.
I skimmed the text. “Ten-hundred, station time? I’ll be there.” I smiled and folded the document, tucking it into an inside pocket. He nodded. I gave him a winning smile and a two-finger salute. “I’ll let you get back to your duties, then.”
“Actually, I’m off shift,” he replied. His expression was neutral, but that was a notably unnecessary detail. I let it hang for a moment.
“I see. I hope you didn’t have to come all the way down here just for this. Surely someone on duty could have brought it?” I phrased it as a question, fishing.
He shrugged. “It’s on my way home.” He nodded politely. “So, I’ll let you go. Good afternoon, Mr. Harrow.” He started to turn away.
“Well, if you’re off duty…” I said hastily. He paused. “Can I buy you a drink?”
He kept the same neutral expression, but his eyes were searching, one ear twitched forward. I gave him a wider smile. If he was interested… so was I, and the longer I looked, the more interested I got.
I pulled out the stool beside me. “You’re the only person who’s been friendly since I got here, it’s the least I can do. What’ll you have?”
He hesitated again, then slid up onto the seat. “Whiskey and cola. Thanks.” I caught a cute little wag of his tail from the corner of my eye.
“Topmost shelf for my handsome friend,” I told the bartender, a bored looking badger. “On my tab.”
That got him to grin. I winked back. The bartender grunted and didn’t smile at all, just mixing and serving. I waited until my new lupine friend had a sip, a chance to speak again, but he just sat there. Cautious, but there.
“So, d’you have someone waiting for you?” I took another sip of my drink and rattled the ice down.
He shook his head. “Nope. Coworkers and I don’t… really socialize. Probably just going to watch a ‘cast or read a book.”
“Ah, too bad. I always hated not having any company on long trips. I’d guess it’s kind of the same out here.”
He shrugged. “Yeah, I suppose so.” He set his glass down and met my eyes. “Do you fly a lot of long trips with no company?”
I leaned on the bar. “Sometimes, yeah. Lately, anyway. Union contracts, you know. Ships these days don’t require much crew, they practically fly themselves.” I smiled. “So it’s nice to have a drink with someone. Thank you.”
He smiled back, starting to relax, and lifted his glass. “To company, then.” I lifted mine, and we drank, and I set my empty glass on the bar and called for another.
“You know,” I said, “if you’d like some company for a while longer… I don’t know where anything is on the station. If you don’t have any plans, maybe I could talk you into showing me around?” I smiled again. “If you’re not busy.”
I could tell he was thinking it over, looking at his glass, maybe considering whether he could get into trouble if he was seen with me… or, I hoped, about whether he could get into a better kind of trouble back at his place. After a moment, he nodded. “Yeah, sure. I don’t have any plans.” He glanced at me, then toward the bartender—who was ignoring us again after refilling my glass. Friendly guy.
I smiled and sat forward. “Sounds great.” My evening was looking ever-better. I waved the bartender back over, not wanting to seem rushed. “Another drink for… my friend here. Corporal Hopkins?” I inclined my head and laid a hand casually on his knee.
He laughed, tipping his knee toward me. “Lance,” he said. “And thanks.”
Oh. Well, this was working out splendidly!

3

His quarters were small, just two rooms and a tiny cubicle for the head, but he didn’t have the roommate junior personnel usually get stuck with. There was a couch and coffee table and a large display panel bolted to the wall across, and a couple of bookshelves. The kitchenette at the other end of the room was neatly-kept.
“Make yourself comfortable,” he said, disappearing into the bedroom. I sat on the couch and relaxed, closing my eyes. Station time was about noon, but my ship time was closer to midnight, and I was still recovering from four days of increasingly stagnant atmosphere.
He came back wearing a snug tee shirt and sweatpants, showing off a solid physique. He left the bedroom door open behind him. “Was a long day, today. I had to get out of that uniform, hope you don’t mind.” I shook my head, watching him. I didn’t mind even a little bit. I scooted over to make room for him on the couch, where I could tell he usually sat. He settled beside me with his arm across the back of the couch, so I leaned in against his side, looking up at him. He slipped his arm down over my shoulders, resting his hand against my chest. He flicked a light lick against the tip of my ear and smiled. “Comfortable?”
“Oh yeah.” I put my hand on his chest, solely for the purpose of letting it slide down over his belly to his lap, feeling the lump of his sheath through his sweatpants. “Definitely comfortable.” A moment passed, gazes locked, and I swear the light in the room shifted, showing off the shimmer in his fur, whatever it was. I didn’t care, I’d ask later. We could talk business later, too. There was nothing more important in that exact moment than bumping noses with this handsome wolf, brushing lips, pressing into a soft, slow kiss and tasting his teeth, the tip of his tongue, feeling him stiffen under my fingers…
His communicator chimed and he tensed up. I opened my eyes, breaking the kiss, and shook my head, catching my breath as I murmured, “Let it ring.” I nudged into another kiss, lips parted—
He returned the kiss, but with distraction and unease this time. He pulled back when the unit beeped again. “I have to,” he said, looking apologetic. I nodded, giving him a wink and his hard-on a firm squeeze through his pants; he squirmed and called for the comm system to answer.
Rady’s voice grated through the speakers, like nails on a chalkboard in my ears. “Hop, Rady. I need you to find Harrow and send him around to his docking port. Need to do the exteriors on his ship.” Damn it! Didn’t she know it was midnight for me?
He looked at me, and I sighed, laid my ears back and nodded. “All right,” he replied. “I’ll… find him and get him on his way.” He cut the channel.
He followed me to the door. Before I could step through, he pulled me back, slipped his arms around me, pressed close enough I could feel how hard he was, how hard I was, and he kissed me again. “See you later, Keith. I’m gonna get some sleep.” He smiled. My hands were shaking when he shut the door.

4

On a station as small as Bradyec you can get anywhere in just a few minutes, but this still did not seem quick enough for Rady. When I arrived at Gallant’s airlock, she was already suited, arms crossed and drumming her fingers on her arm, looking like I’d kept her waiting all day. She punched in her code to let me into Gallant for my suit. While I was getting it on, a cheetah showed up with a toolbox, the name ANDREY emblazoned across his helmet.
Ten minutes later we cycled through the side airlock. Tethers clipped, Andrey extended the cargo arm and moved us around to the dorsal side of the ship. The red-painted heat shield was cratered outward and blackened from the inside. It wasn’t a large hole, but it had burnt completely through.
“Whew.” Andrey’s voice was tinny over the radio link. “Looks like the catalyst blew. Took out your high-gain, too?” He pointed at a shredded tangle of cables that used to go to the communications antenna.
“Yeah, that’s what took me so long to get in contact on approach.” Taking out the antenna hadn’t been part of my plan, but it lent authenticity.
“How’s the hull look, Andrey?” Rady ran a gloved finger over the ragged edge.
Andrey shone a light through. “Looks pretty localized, but we’ll hafta check the welds and maybe cut away a bit into the antenna box and the next compartment up. Doesn’t look too serious inside, though. More burn-through than pressure rupture.” He turned to push off toward the airlock. “Lemme go get the remote.”
I was watching him sail back to the airlock when Rady turned and slammed a hand into my chest. It didn’t hurt, but the abrupt assault and her grim expression were startling.
She made a grab at the control unit on my chest. I dropped my hold on the cargo arm to fend her off, drifting while trying to block her arms, my tether unfurling. “The hell are you doing?” Panic echoed in my helmet. Her muzzle was moving, too, but I couldn’t hear her; she must’ve shut my radio off. She grabbed my helmet and jerked, smacking my faceplate against hers hard enough to make me flinch, sure they would crack. I pushed back, trying to get away, but all that did was clunk our helmets together again. Her grip was solid. “The hell—”
“Shut up,” she snarled, her voice distinct but not very loud, carrying through the glass where our helmets pressed together. “Hold still. Listen.”
I stared at her and she glared back, about as face to face as we could get. Panting from the struggle and adrenaline, fog formed on the inside of our faceplates with each breath. I stopped struggling, terror subsiding into anger. “What the fuck? What are you—”
“Shut up and listen! I do not need you botching this operation any further. We need to get the cargo off the station and your little act of self-sabotage is holding up your departure and drawing attention. This’ll be Andrey’s priority, but—”
I stared at her, rattled. “Wait, who are you?”
“I’m your contact, idiot!”
“No, wait… I met Lance, I was getting to talk to—”
She shook her head, cut me off again. “Listen to me. I’m your contact. We were supposed to meet and work out getting the lance on your ship, but now until this investigation is done we can’t risk being seen—damn it.” She broke off as Andrey’s voice came over the speakers in her helmet. “We’ll talk later. Turn your radio back on.”
She pulled away and turned her own transmitter back on while I fumbled with mine. “—the remote,” Andrey was saying, sailing back toward us with an articulated, boom-mounted camera, “so I’ll take a peek inside and see how bad the bulkhead damage is. Once we get it patched, we’ll pressurize and work from inside.”
While Andrey assessed damage and took notes, I worked over what Rady had said. If she was my contact, not Lance, then I could have compromised the job if I’d tried to talk to him about it earlier, instead of… inviting myself back to his place. Had Mr. Coyote meant Lance was my cargo rather than my contact, as Rady seemed to be saying? I certainly wouldn’t mind, but then he’d probably know about all of this, unless… I did not want to get caught up in kidnapping. But Rady had clearly said “the lance,” which suggested I was smuggling something, not someone. The coyote definitely had not mentioned Rady at all, I was sure of that.
The inspection took about twenty minutes, then we made our way back to the airlock. Rady shot me a look while Andrey pressurized the airlock, but she didn’t say anything until we had our helmets off. “Andrey’s people will start on the repairs, Mr. Harrow. If we need anything, I’ll call you. Stow your suit in your cabin, please.”
She waited until I was out of the airlock, locked it back up, then turned and left, Andrey following. I rubbed my forehead, then headed back to my room.
Maybe this was not working out as perfectly as I’d thought.

5

At 09:45 the next day, I paused outside the door of the conference room to tuck the fur around my neck back into my shirt collar, which was not cooperating and looked frustratingly disheveled. A quiet night spent fretting about my encounter with Rady left me nervous, and the formal attire wasn’t helping.
I heard a low conversation inside, but didn’t pay any attention to it until I heard Rady’s voice say something about “Lance.” My ears turned forward and I crept closer to the door to listen, staying out of sight.
“… operationally ready, according to the status report. When will everything be mission-capable? Transport is en route, and you know the Board’s reputation for… impatience.”
The other voice replied, female, one I hadn’t heard before. “Welll… The nanomech is well-propagated, protein synthesis is progressing well, so on, so forth. But it’ll be at least a couple more days unless we boost the process heavily.”
“I think you should—you’re the expert, of course, but it might be a good idea.” Rady said, sounding careful. “We wouldn’t want—”
“Hey, Harrow! Ship’s coming along nice.” Andrey’s voice startled me. I turned to face him with a rigid smile as he went on. “Got the welders on the job, we’ll have her patched and pressure tested and get that new converter installed in no time.”
“Good to hear,” I said, relaxing a notch. Finally something going right. I tilted my head. “Have you been in contact with the owner’s insurance carrier already?”
He looked surprised, but before he could answer Rady popped out of the conference room. “Gentlemen, good morning. Come in, please.”
We both stepped into the room. Rady’s conversation companion turned out to be a weasel in a white lab coat, with a name tag that read Q MILLS. She smiled and waved to Andrey, then turned the smile my way, giving me a long look. I smiled back uneasily.
Rady, Andrey, and Ms. Mills all sat down in front of digital placards matching their name tags; I found the one reading K HARROW and sat down, across from the other two and next to Andrey, who sat at the end of the table by Mills. There didn’t seem to be an L HOPKINS.
A few moments later, a cougar in a suit hurried in and took the seat between Rady and Mills. “Ladies, gentlemen, sorry for the delay.” He set a tablet down and turned it on. “Mr. Harrow, I’m Marcus Dunbridge, Bradyec station manager. This will be an informal hearing to review the irregularities surrounding your arrival.” He started off speaking in a rush, but slowed his pace as he went on, as if catching up with himself. “I understand you had a bit of an emergency en route. Andrey, I see you’ve performed an inspection of Mr. Harrow’s vessel… ah, Gallant. Could you relate what you found?”
Andrey sat forward and began to explain the type and extent of the damage. I listened to him explain in surprising detail exactly how the converter blew out and how it affected life support and hull integrity, but I kept my eyes on the three across from me. Rady was expressionless, just a stoic half-frown expression the entire time. Dunbridge nodded every so often with an “Uh huh?” or “I see” thrown in for flavor. Mills, though, listened intently; I couldn’t tell whether it was because it was unfamiliar subject matter, or because it was familiar, and she was looking for irregularities. She certainly looked like a technical type, and her expression made me even more tense.
“Sounds like you’re a very lucky fox, Mr. Harrow,” Dunbridge said after Andrey finished his alarmingly complete analysis. I did feel more than a little smug about it, though. My plan was clever and well-executed, casting blame on the owner, previous operators, maintenance technicians… anyone but me.
Dunbridge turned to Rady next. “Chief Rady, your security analysis?”
Rady sat forward and flicked her ear, looking at me before turning to Dunbridge. “Neither our initial analysis of the vessel or Andrey’s findings seem to show any cause for concern. The vessel conforms with type. Thirty-two cargo containers in the bay, all sealed with crypto matches, hashes consistent with spec and tag. Mass of the vessel is consistent with the manifest and mission expenditures. Only Mr. Harrow aboard for crew, per union contract.” She shrugged. “I don’t see reason to be concerned, and the computer analysis didn’t flag anything but deviations following the emergency.”
I almost nodded at her analysis, which was also entirely correct. There really was nothing unusual about Gallant’s mission besides the unexpected detour.
Dunbridge turned to the weasel. “Dr. Mills? Any questions or comments?” She was looking at her own tablet, scrolling through the reports, and she didn’t say anything for a long moment. It started to make me a little nervous, the one unknown element here at the table. She stopped scrolling to reread something, then laid the tablet down and leaned back in her chair with a bored sigh. I caught a glimpse of my photo before the tablet went black.
“Looks fine to me,” she said. “I’m a biologist, not an astronautics engineer. I trust Andrey and Lena’s judgement.” She looked over at me, her expression casual, lazy… but I saw her eyes narrow slightly. Suspicious… or appraising.
I didn’t wait for her to form whatever thought it was coming to the surface. I turned back to Dunbridge and asked, “So, then, once the repairs are done and the insurance claim is processed, I can head back out? I do need to get this shipment underway again.”
Dunbridge glanced down his tablet with a frown. “Unfortunately, I’m afraid not, Mr. Harrow.”
A chill crept down my spine.
“As it happens, Mr. Robert Atkins, Assistant Regional Director for our sector, is en route on business.” Rady snapped her head around to look at Dunbridge, frowning hard. “And given that an incident of such a severe nature occurred aboard a Haasbroek ship—” wait, what? “—he’s taken an interest in the case. Once A.D. Atkins arrives and has a chance to interview you and review our findings, I imagine then you’ll be free to go.” Dunbridge gave me an apologetic smile and stood up. “Until then, please, continue to enjoy our hospitality, and if you need anything… I’m sure Chief Rady can help you. Now, if you’ll excuse me…”
I sat back, stunned. I glanced at Mills, but she was leaning over to murmur to Andrey, who had circled around the table to her. I looked at Rady, who gave me a grim look as Dunbridge shuffled past her to leave.
“Mr. Harrow,” she said, “I’d like to see you in my office. For some paperwork.”

6

I followed Rady into her office, on edge. She shut the door, turned to me, and asked bluntly, “Are you having sex with it?”
“What? No! I mean… with what? I mean, what are you talking about?” The abrupt question caught me off guard, and that annoyed me. Moreso because she knew right where to go to get me off balance.
She walked behind her desk. “If you are, knock it off. This is not just some dalliance for you, a notch in your belt or however you count them. You are transporting a weapon system, and you’re better off thinking about it as such.” She frowned, flicked her ear, looked uneasy for a moment. “Attachments aren’t going to do either of you any favors, especially if we don’t get it off the station and this deployment proceeds.”
“What ‘it’?” I growled and leaned over her desk. “The doublespeak is getting old. And while we’re at it, how the hell am I now a Haasbroek employee?”
“You’re not.” She flicked her ear again—always the same one—and sat down. “Your ship now indicates a Haasbroek registry. You are still a union pilot, but operating for the Company.” She looked at me grimly. “I had Yashin—my signal security tech—recode your ship’s transponder and alter its registration when you arrived to streamline the repairs so we wouldn’t have to wait for insurance red tape. It’s not just you at risk here, Mr. Harrow. I don’t think I need to remind you that’s a serious risk on her part. So I would appreciate it if you would be a little more careful from here on out.” Yashin, the otter in the greeting party. That’s why she’d looked distraught: tampering with a vessel’s transponder was an offense almost as serious as stealing the ship itself. Either could land you in a small cell for a long time.
“Quick thinking, very clever.” I laid my ears back. “Now I won’t be stuck here or anything.”
She snorted. “And your brilliant plan was so much better—no, pointing fingers won’t get us anywhere. We need to figure out how we’re going to get it off the station. Now, under the nose of Atkins himself, who is coming to pick it up.” She crossed her arms when she mentioned the director, tilting both her ears back and looking down at her desk, thinking.
I threw up my hands. “What the hell is ‘It’?”
She gave me a long look. “You really haven’t figured this out, have you?” She sounded more surprised, less irritated. “Lance Hopkins, the wolf on my crew you’ve been… spending time with. It… he, whatever, is a LANCE asset, product of the Limited-Augmentation Nanomech Camouflage Enhancement project developed during the last war. He was one of the first group of successful test subjects in the program, and they borrowed his name to backronym a program title. Sounded nice and deadly and that made the Board happy.”
Oh. Well, I wasn’t having sex with “it” yet. On the other hand… “Why are you calling him ‘it’? Just because he was part of some program—”
“He is effectively a weapon system, that’s why. It was a combat enhancement program. The Company considers him military materiel. Valuable but expendable. Hence not forming attachments. You’ll regret it in the end.”
I straightened back up, and must have looked as pissed as I felt, because she actually raised a brow and straightened up. “He is not expendable property.”
She regarded me a moment, then nodded. “Frankly, I don’t completely disagree with you. At the same time, the Company does. It’s a mess, yeah. But guess who wins that argument?”
I growled while I worked this over, then shook my head. “Ugh. Okay, fine. So I’m here to smuggle him off the station? If he’s such an important asset, why’s he grinding days as a security guard in a backwater like this in the first place?”
“This ‘backwater’ is a research facility—why do think we’re so far off the main routes? He’s here in reserve status. Maintenance, analysis, and storage. If they can put him to use as security, too…” She shrugged. “Return on investment. And yes, you’re here to pick him up. Someone up in higher administration ordered him reactivated, and you’re here to get him out of Company control before they can deploy him.”
“Haasbroek can’t just own someone—”
She cut me off again. “We just went over this. Haasbroek can own and control the technology in him. Those enhancements are property of the Company and they’re integrated. Cannot be removed. He agreed to that when he joined the program. But they can’t do anything if they can’t find him, and that is where you were supposed to come in. And the whole idea is to get him out of Company control, which is where you came in. You arrive and we ‘adjust’ some paperwork, he goes away on a ‘covert transport.’ By the time the real transport gets here, you’re both long gone, and the paper trail points down a dead end.”
“Oh.” My tail fell. When I came up with my convoluted plan of deception and sabotage, I hadn’t considered that they might be prepared and expecting me. I’d just assumed I would need some excuse—and it was a good excuse, sure, but maybe the risk of killing myself by asphyxiation had been slightly unnecessary.
“Yeah. And now we get to figure something else out before Atkins… arrives to pick him up.” She paused when she said the director’s name, ears canting back again, looking like she was trying to figure something out. She shook her head and flicked her ear, tapped something on the terminal on her desk and read for a moment. “His courier is scheduled to arrive tomorrow afternoon.”
“Damn. That’s… a pretty tight timeframe.” I frowned, watching her. “What’s up with this Atkins guy?”
She met my eyes, gave me a steady look. “He…” She stopped, then seemed to change her mind about what she was going to say. “He’s the new Regional Assistant Director. The one who’s coming to pick up Hopkins. Tomorrow.” She made an exploding-fist gesture, spreading her fingers.
“Andrey says the repairs on your ship should be completed tonight or early tomorrow morning, but he’s known for optimism. His crew will be anxious to finish before the director arrives. I don’t know exactly how much Mills knows about what’s going on, but I think she’ll sign off on fudging the records and getting him out of here, given it’s fucking Atkins that’s coming for him.” She growled and rubbed her temples.
My irritation was starting to fade, supplanted by her contagious tension. “That’s… a really tight timeframe.”
“Yes, it is.”
Neither of us spoke for a moment.
I sat in the chair in front of her desk, thinking this over. I hadn’t asked what I was being hired to transport when I took the job. It was bad for business, and potentially for my health, to show too much interest. I didn’t mind taking on a passenger, either. A job was a job. But now that I knew… I could only think about the fact that I liked Lance, and Haasbroek’s considering him company property, a military asset, didn’t sit well with me at all. A knot settled in the pit of my stomach. Rady was right, we needed to be careful, and quick. “So… what’re we going to do?”
She flicked her ear again. “I’m not sure yet.”
Oh, boy.

7

I went straight back to my room, resisting the temptation to search out Lance’s quarters. It turned out that it didn’t matter. He was waiting outside my door in civilian clothes.
“I heard it went well,” he said, with a little wagging. I couldn’t quite meet his eyes, and after a moment, he noticed. “Hey… you okay?”
“Yeah, just… thinking. Sorry, come in…” I opened the door, followed him in. I collapsed onto the couch by my EVA suit.
“You sure? You look worried.” He sat next to me. I only meant to steal a glance at him, but when our eyes met, I couldn’t look away.
He waited while I collected my thoughts, ears forward, concerned. “I talked to Rady. About you.”
His ears canted back and he leaned back. “Oh. I see.”
I felt my own ears lower. I cleared my throat. “She told me… what you are.”
He nodded slowly, ears still tipped back. “Yeah…” He hesitated before continuing. “Developed for the last Corporate War… That’s supposed to be a secret.” He was quiet, wary. “I’ve been deactivated for years. A few months before the end of the conflict.”
I sighed, started to speak, but he raised a hand, holding his ears back another notch. “Look, it was a long time ago, and I didn’t exactly realize what I was signing up for. But that’s not who I am. Not really who I ever was.” He folded his hands in his laps, twiddled his thumbs. “I was young and rash. I… well, I’m from Etrion. I wanted to do something. To fight. We all did. I didn’t tell you because… It’s not exactly small talk material. And when people find out, they tend to back off. Way off. That’s why I don’t hang out with my coworkers.”
I sighed. The Etrion assault one of the early major campaigns in the conflict. One or another of the corporations had targeted the manufacturing infrastructure planetside and in-system, taking everyone by surprise. “I’m sorry. I…” I didn’t know what to say to that. He’d been probably duped, taken control of, and now I’d been sent to carry him off yet again, like the object Rady and the Company seemed to think he was, not even considering who he was or how he felt about any of it. But this wolf clearly was not just a thing, no matter what had been done to him. He was just trying to get by, to overcome history, and wasn’t getting much help. And for some reason, he was still letting his guard down with me, at least a little.
He put a hand on my leg and squeezed. He offered a smile. “We don’t have to talk about that right now, though. You had a good day, and you get to stay a little longer.” His smile turned into a sly grin, and I couldn’t help but smile back a bit, despite my conflicted feelings. Funny how he managed that, making my guilt and trepidation fall away, replaced with a twinge of… what? Lust? Delight? Maybe even happiness? Funnier still how I wanted him to.
I realized then, or maybe decided: Rady was wrong. Lance was not just another notch in my belt. I had enough of those, and for once, I actually cared what happened after all of this. And maybe, just maybe, I could dare to hope this could be… at least a little more.
I laid my hand on top of his. He was right, all this heavy stuff could wait. I squeezed his hand and tilted my head, affecting a thoughtful look. “Hmm… Yeah. I believe we have some unfinished business.” I leaned forward, scooting closer, and held my muzzle close to his for a moment, then bumped my nose against his.
“Mm hmm.” He turned his hand over and closed it around mine, tilted his head, brushed lips. I caught his lips with a little lick and both his ears came forward, and he kissed me.
That same rush. Warm, flooding… urgent. Lips parted, our tongues met and tangled, and almost before I realized it, I was straddling his lap, hands on his shoulders, pressed up against him. He wrapped me in a firm yet tender embrace, and it felt good. This wolf… I could get used to this.
I put my palms on his chest and broke the kiss, tugged up at his shirt, baring his subtly shimmering fur. He laughed, pulling the shirt up and off while I slid out of his lap, unfastening the fly of his pants, tugging them down when he lifted his hips and unfastened the tail button in back.
I looked down at him then, long enough to make him fidget, splaying his ears. “Everything all right…?” he asked, tone hinting at self-consciousness. He had nothing to be self-conscious about, fit, handsome, hard already, and the shimmer I liked, I could now see ran through all his fur.
“Just fine,” I murmured. I unfastened my own pants and pushed them down—but before I could get them past my knees, he sat forward, put one hand around above my tail, the other curled around my swollen sheath, and his lips on the tip of my shaft. I exhaled heavily, feeling unsteady with my pants half down and his tongue sliding warm and wet along my cock in slow licks as he slipped it almost completely into his muzzle. I eased my hips back, saliva glistening on flesh as it slipped from his lips, right up until he circled his fingers around the base and squeezed, looking up at me impishly and pulling me back by my swelling knot. I slid my fingers up through his fur to rub his ears and over his head, panting as he caressed tenderly with his tongue. When he slipped his fingers under my balls and tickled behind them, I almost lost it.
I sucked a breath through my teeth and tugged at his shoulders. “C’mon,” I said, carefully disengaging from his lips; he looked a little disappointed but didn’t resist, licking his nose as he stood. I kicked off my pants and he licked my nose next, then kissed my lips again. I pressed close, hard flesh pressed together between us, tasting myself on his lips and tongue. I grabbed his hand and fairly dragged him into the bedroom.
I pushed him back onto the bed, playfully but firmly. He laughed and scooted up onto it, and I climbed up on top of him, brushing close and reaching for the bottle I’d left on the nightstand after I’d used it and passed out after our earlier, interrupted visit. He watched, ears pinned forward, and I swished my tail and grinned, dribbling slick, cool fluid along his rigid shaft; he exhaled slowly, closing his eyes and lifting his chin. I shut the bottle and tossed it aside, curling my fingers around his cock, feeling the tension, his quickened pulse, the heat of arousal as I stroked him, spreading the lube from tip to sheath, carefully around the bulge forming at the base. The stiff length twitched over his belly when I pulled my hand up and off. I reached around to rub slippery fingers under my own tail, and he opened his eyes, smiling and shifting under me, the shimmer in his fur more pronounced in the low light. He started to say something, but I cut him off with another kiss, sliding up and pressing close to guide the tip behind my sac, slipping him into place.
He groaned when I pushed back, slipping down onto his cock—and before I could settle into his lap, he pushed up until the swell at the base of his cock pressed against me. Achingly full but wanting more, I rocked forward and pushed back firmly, both of us panting, fingers curling in each others fur as passion rose, faster and faster with each stroke. I pressed down into his lap, needing all of him, and he gripped my hips, pulling me down. Then he hugged me tightly, growling, “Hold on.” He rolled and flipped me on my back with a grunt, sliding through my clenching grip, but never slipping out.
He didn’t hold back. I didn’t want him to. My legs wrapped around his waist, he thrust deep and hard, panting, grinding and pulsing inside. I gripped his shoulders, tightened my legs around his waist, lifting my ass off the bed while he drove in hard. I felt the sudden sharp stretch as he hilted, and squeezed his cock, savoring the intimate pleasure of being filled while he bucked in short strokes; then I felt him come, tense and panting, a low, restrained growl of pleasure vibrating against my body.
I closed my eyes, stroking him as he came down, my legs still around his waist and his arms pinned under me. I licked his cheek, not even finishing myself and not caring, just not wanting to let him go. He nuzzled my ear sleepily, murmuring, “Thank you.”
I thought my heart would stop.

8

I woke slowly, arms full of wolf. We were still on top of the blankets, but warm, close, his back nestled against my front, hands over mine on his chest. I smiled and squeezed him; I hadn’t expected him to stay, much less to wake up curled around him. I liked it.
I realized a steady beeping from the other room had woke me, probably his communicator. I nosed the back of his ear and gave it a lick. “Lance..?” He stirred and mumbled. “Your comm’s ringing.”
“Let it ring,” he grunted. I laughed, but uneasiness began stirring as well. The clock read 08:09; time was short. The communicator beeped again. I sighed and sat up carefully, and he rolled onto his back, echoing my sigh as I slipped off the bed.
The communicator was in the pocket of his pants by the couch. I poked at the screen. “Corporal Hopkins’ phone.”
“Harrow? Where’s Hopkins?” It was Rady, and she sounded tense. Someone said something in the background but I couldn’t make it out. My unease grew.
“Haven’t seen him.” An obvious lie, since I was talking on his phone, but something was wrong here.
“Stay put, we’re on our way.” She terminated the call.
“Lance,” I called. “Something’s up. Rady’s on her way, and she’s not alone.” I heard him grunt and thump out of bed. I took our clothes into the bedroom, dressing quickly while he stepped into the tiny bathroom and splashed water on his face. The door chimed as I pulled on my shirt. Lance turned off the water and I answered it.
Rady stood outside with the fox and cougar from her crew, a hyena and a tiger I’d never seen before, and a tall coyote I had: the one who hired me for this mission. I tried to hide my surprise.
“Keith Harrow, Robert Atkins, Regional Assistant Director. His ship arrived a little early.”
I stepped back to let them in, standing across from the bedroom doorway to give Lance a minute. I saw him pick his pants up off the bed; everyone else stood facing me, their backs to the bedroom door.
“Mr. Harrow,” said Atkins. It was definitely him, and he looked in charge. “Where is it?”
I avoided looking toward the bedroom; the others all watched me, waiting. Lance stepped into the room—and froze, eyes wide and ears flattening. I chanced a glance at him over the tiger’s shoulder. Lance was staring at Atkins, fur shimmering—way more than I’d ever seen before.
I looked back at Atkins. “Where’s what?” I stalled. I caught motion out of the corner of my eye, the shimmer of his fur as Lance ducked back out of sight into the bedroom. Rady and the hyena followed my gaze, then looked back when Atkins growled.
“Lance Hopkins,” he said. “The asset which you were supposed to have picked up and left with already.”
“Oh. He isn’t here.” Stalling again. Of course, we could all smell him, so I added, offhandedly as I could manage, “He had to go.”
Atkins growled. “Check it,” he told the two with him. I felt my pulse starting to race. The hyena stepped past me into the kitchen. I fought back panic while the tiger made a quick search of the bedroom. When he came back, the tiger was carrying Lance’s clothes. “Nobody here, Sir… but I can smell him everywhere. Definitely came here at some point.” He leered at me. “These his clothes?” I nodded. How the hell could he have not found the big naked wolf in my bedroom? There was nowhere to hide, and I heard him check the bathroom, too.
Everything about Atkins looked displeased. “I wanted very much to avoid this, Mr. Harrow. Do you know what ‘Lance Hopkins’ is?”
“I have an idea.”
“And you know about the ongoing trade negotiations between Haasbroek and Altantec?”
“It’s been in the news, I think.”
Atkins glared. “A member of the Board of Directors has ordered this asset deployed to irrevocably disrupt those negotiations. If that happens, because you failed here, there will be considerable bloodshed on both sides, on your hands.” He paused, and chill shot down my spine as his meaning sank in.
“Shit…” I whispered, head reeling. Haasbroek was going to start another war… using Lance.
Atkins smiled grimly. “You might say. If you had done your job instead of crippling your transport and dallying with your assignment, this could have been avoided. He would be safe and sound, far away.” His expression turned icy. “You with him, if you insisted. The negotiations would continue, and there would only be minor repercussions from the Board. Now my hands are tied. I cannot, will not allow personal attachments to interfere with preventing this travesty. Not yours, not his, not… anyone’s.”
“No… no.” I shook my head, feeling unsteady. “He wouldn’t do… he wouldn’t cooperate with that.” He wouldn’t. I was sure of it.
Atkins looked down his muzzle at me. “He is among the most advanced bioengineering projects ever developed. Do you really think something as simple as neurochemical conditioning is beyond our capabilities?” He turned to Rady, dismissing further objections, not that I could think of any. “How many people do you have?”
Rady flicked her ear—her nervous tic, apparently. “Seven, counting me, not counting Hop—the asset.”
“Post these two to outside.” He turned to address the tiger and hyena. “Organize the rest and search the station. When you find it…” He seemed to hesitate, then set his jaw. “Terminate it.”
Rady blinked, and both her ears flattened back. She stared at Atkins, her expression shifting through surprise, disbelief, then pure venom—then blank, just as quickly, before anyone else noticed.
Atkins turned back to me. “I expect you will resent that order, Mr. Harrow, but I’ll warn you now: for your own safety, it is best you remain in your cabin and attempt no interference. No one regrets this more than I; but if you had done as instructed, both of you would be safe. This is on your hands, not mine.” Not icy this time. Bitter. “Chief Rady, come with me.”

9

Panic set in before the door even closed. I ran to the bedroom, agitated enough that I brushed right past Lance in the doorway, felt him, but when I turned to look, he wasn’t there.
“Lance?”
“Yeah. Hang on…” He sounded as agitated as I felt. I tapped the dimmer by the door to bring up the lights, and as they came to full brightness, I saw part of the wall move, a shifting, distorted illusion—then fade into shimmering, then plain brown and gray fur, leaving my handsome wolf standing there looking perplexed.
I stared, disbelief. He looked at me, lifted his hands. “My mods, from the Program. It’s camouflage that triggers under certain conditions. Heart rate, tension, stress. Or I can do it intentionally.”
I tried to process that. “What? How is that even possible?” If I hadn’t just seen it for myself, I wouldn’t have believed it. Hell, I still wasn’t sure I did.
He rolled his shoulders. “I’m not entirely sure, to be honest. Something like how some marine creatures’ pigments change color to blend into their surroundings. Kind of like that, but applied to fur. There’s a nanomech component that enhances it, too, and some biochemical stuff. They explained it to me, but I’m a soldier, not a scientist. Quinn, Dr. Mills, she’s in charge of me for R&D purposes. They’ve been reactivating the mods. She told me for research purposes—I can’t believe she wouldn’t tell me about a deployment.” He started pacing, distraught.
I rubbed the back of my ear. “I overheard Rady and Mills talking yesterday, about you I think. Said something about nanotech. And Rady said you’re being deployed.” I mentally kicked myself; maybe I should have mentioned that sooner, instead of jumping right into the bedroom. “Atkins, too, just now…”
He laid his ears back at Atkin’s name, kept pacing. “I didn’t expect to see him… ever. Shit. This is not good….”
“Lance…” He stopped, looked at me, distracted. “Who is he?”
“He’s, uh…” He laid his ears back, and his tail tucked against the back of his leg. “He was my unit manager during the war. I guess he’s in the Directorate now. I didn’t know that, haven’t heard from him since the trial.”
I tilted my head. “Trial..?”
“Ugh…” He rubbed his temple. “Toward the end of the war, we had a mission go bad. Really bad. He didn’t get some intel to us, and we kept rolling when we should have aborted. There were… unintended consequences. Unnecessary casualties. There was a summary tribunal afterward, and he put the blame down on my team, claiming we didn’t call in when we were supposed to so he could relay new intel. But we did and he wasn’t there.” He scowled. “He got off because they couldn’t prove anything with the encrypted commo we used, but he hung four of us out to dry. A formal reprimand, less than he would have got for sleeping on the job, but still… The chain of command knew it, too, and they wanted to get him on something…” He stopped pacing, glancing at me, hesitating. “So they charged him with fraternization. And me. He and I… uh… had a relationship. And they could prove that one… in detail.” He flattened his ears and shook his head. “He was in command, so he did get the worst of that. Then he gets into management?” He growled and resumed his pacing. “Sneaky son of a—”
“So, wait, this guy, he hangs his boyfriend by the tail, then years later comes back out of nowhere and tells his cronies to shoot you on sight? I mean, maybe he wants to stop another war, but what the Hell?”
Lance stopped by the door, leaning against the frame, tense. “Yeah… He probably figures that if I ‘resisting’ then it’ll look justified and the Board can’t come down on him. Covering his ass again.” He growled again, then looked straight at me. “But he sent you… why?” The suspicion in his eyes caught me off guard, made my chest tighten.
I shook my head. “No! No… I mean yes, he hired me to pick you up. He didn’t tell me where to take you. And I didn’t even know it was you. I thought I was picking up cargo, not a passenger.” I thought back, pieces falling into place. “I assumed I’d transfer cargo to someone else at the end of this trip. He just now said you’d have been safe. Rady did, too, earlier. After the hearing. I expected to get details at the pickup. Rady. She was apparently my contact here, but when I ran into you first, I thought you were.”
My hurry to allay his forming suspicions left me breathless. He watched me, listened… then nodded and sighed. “Guess he has other plans now.”
I chewed my lip, relieved but still on edge. “Yeah. We gotta get you out of here…” I glanced toward the door. “The guards though…” I looked back at him. “What about this camouflage? Can you use it and sneak past them?”
“Probably not. The door opens, they’ll both be looking squarely at me.”
“That tiger didn’t see you.”
“Yeah, the lights were off and I danced around him. And my scent is pretty strong in here right now.” He grinned. I smiled back a little, warmth spreading in my ears and chest. I felt a bit better. “It’s just camouflage,” he explained, “and it works best in darkness; bright lights break the effect, especially if you’re looking or I’m moving. Maybe they didn’t know it’s working yet.”
That made sense. I hadn’t seen him until I turned on the lights. “Well, still, if we can surprise them, get the door opened, hide out somewhere…”
“Okay, but then what? Get to your ship?”
I shook my head. “No, Gallant’s cold. Takes a couple hours to spool her up and get the reactor online, then the engines. And they came in on a courier. Torch ships have power of a freighter and a fraction of the mass, so they could fly circles around us…” The facts clicked into place, an idea coalescing. “That’s it! The courier’s a VIP transport. I’ll bet they left the reactor online so they wouldn’t keep him waiting when it’s time to go.”
He raised a brow. “Take his ship? Can you pull that off?”
I quashed my excitement. Like Rady said, I needed to be careful. “If you can get us on and the crew off, then… yes. I’m type-rated.” A white lie: I had the rating, but I’d never flown one beyond the qualification flight. But I’d flown damned near everything else, and when you get down to it a rocket’s a rocket.
“How many crew are we talking?”
“Two, three at most. Hell, it was just me aboard Gallant. These ships could fly themselves. The crew’s really just there as insurance, and convenience for VIPs.”
He turned out of the bedroom and went to the door, studying it for a moment. “We need a diversion or two. First, out of the room. Then, distract them from the fact we’re headed for the docks.”
I sat down on the couch and rubbed my forehead. “This is getting complicated.”
He came over and rubbed my ear. “Maybe not. My first thought was to get out on your ship. If they assume that’s our plan… They only have a few people to search a big ship, right?”
“Probably, yeah..?”
“So, we draw their attention there somehow, let them think we’re hiding somewhere on it, buy us some time while we slip over and commandeer theirs.”
“Huh. Could work…” I sat forward. “If you can get me a link, I can run the startup sequence remotely. That’d get their attention.”
“Oh, that’s good.” He furrowed his brow. “Operations is out. But R&D is autonomous. Maybe Mills… she actually has more influence around here than Dunny—than Dunbridge does. This station is an R&D lab.” He paused, flicked an ear back. “I think she’ll help us. She’s… a friend.”
“Then we’re still down to how we get through that door.” I looked at it, looked at him. “Any ideas for that?”
He shrugged. “Knock?”
I frowned. “I doubt they’ll just let us go because we knock and ask politely.”
He grinned. “Never know ’til you try. Nothing to lose, right? Get them to open it, and… well.” He swivelled one ear back, hesitating for the first time. “Maybe we don’t get along well, but those are my people. I don’t want to hurt them.” He glanced toward the door. “Davey will come in with his weapon drawn. Goober, though… he’ll hang back, let Davey go first… but he’ll be easier to surprise.”
“So, knock on the door, they open it, and you jump and disarm them.”
“Yeah.” He nodded and took a deep breath. “Okay. Let’s do this.” He stood against the wall by the door and turned the lights down to the night setting. I went to the door, glanced at him—and he was just… gone. It was eerie. I raised my hand, curling my fingers, and knocked.
There was no response. I paused before trying again, this time banging with my fist. Then, loud enough they could hear, “Hey! I know where Hopkins is!”
Nothing for a second, then the door slid open, and as Lance predicted, the cougar was standing there with his pistol drawn, his other hand up in front of him defensively. I raised by hands and stepped back, saw the fox—Goober, I guess—hanging back.
“Where is he?” Davey asked, stepping in after a quick glance around. My heart shot to my throat: Lance was camouflaged, but still opaque, and his shadow was clearly visible… but the cougar didn’t notice from his angle. I backed up further into the room.
“Hey, I’m unarmed, you don’t need that…” I nodded at his weapon, stalling as the fox hung just outside the doorway.
“You said you know where he is. Well, where?” Davey drawled, annoyed, but he did lower his weapon. Then, the fox stepped into the room. He had a hand on his pistol, loosened in its holster…
Lance, backlit against the doorway, tackled him from the side. There was a yelp and a growl, and Davey spun, crouching, lifting his gun—
“Drop it.” The growl in Lance’s voice sent a prickle up the back of my neck and made my tail tuck. He had the fox’s pistol, raised, pointed at the cougar.
“Hop, whoa, hang on… we’re on your side, man! Goob, door!”
The fox, now pressed back against the wall, looked between the two of them, then hit the control and the door slid shut.
“Hop, we’re on your side, buddy,” the cougar repeated. “They’re out lookin’ for you—how the hell’d you get in here, anyway? Rady’s got everyone playin’ dumb lookin’ for you with the A.D.’s guys, and Yashy’s tryin’a find you from ops so she can point ’em the other way.”
Lance turned on the lights, back to normal and fully visible—and, I suddenly realized, still not wearing a stitch. He looked skeptical, both ears half-back, weapon raised. Authoritative. Handsome. Dangerous. I liked it. “You locked me in, that’s how. The hell you screwing with Atkins for?”
“What?” The cougar holstered his pistol, gesturing angrily. “He said to shoot you on sight, I was here, heard it myself! Ain’t like we don’t like you, man.”
“Uh huh, right.”
“Nah, look… Maybe we ain’t been as friendly as we shoulda, I’ll grant that. But you get posted here an’ Rady says, ‘Don’t get attached, keep yer distance.’ Sounds like it came from him. But so we done that, but don’t mean you’re not on our team. You’ve done good, professional, good at it. A real asset.”
I growled, fury growing at the way Atkins had managed to poison the entire environment Lance inhabited.
“Then he comes in here and just tells us to off one of our own?” Davey laid his ears back and lashed his tail low. “Hell no.”
Lance narrowed his eyes and flicked an ear back, then lowered the gun. “I still need your weapon.”
“We let you walk out that door—which we’re gonna do—an’ I might need it more.”
Lance considered, then nodded. “All right. Can you tell me where they are? And is someone watching surveillance in ops? We need to get down to R&D.”
Davey looked at Goober—F GUBERNICK, according to his uniform name tag. Davey was C DAVIDSON. “Tell Yashy we found ‘im, need a path to R&D.” The fox pulled his microtab from a pocket to send the message. “Got a message out on the text channel after they left,” Davey said, grinning. “Yashy’s been screwin’ with surveillance so it shows a loop ‘cept where the A.D.’s guys are. Dunno how long ’til they catch on, though.”
“She says done,” said Gubernick. He looked at his microtab, reading the message verbatim. “Says to ‘have them keep their communications devices on them so I can track them and blank them from the map.'” He looked up. “Er, that’s right, they can tell we’re in here.”
Davey growled. “Yeah, good point. Better get back out there.” He looked at us both. “Ain’t gonna ask, best we don’t know. But good luck.” He stuck out his hand. Gubernick did, too. Lance shook them both, and so did I.
“Thanks, guys.”

10

We ducked out of sight twice when we heard voices and footsteps. Even so, it took only a few minutes to get to the door placarded DR Q MILLS, RESEARCH & DEVELOPMENT CHIEF. Dr. Mills was sitting at her desk and did not look surprised to see us.
There was a moment of silence after Lance shut the door, the three of us looking at each other. Lance broke it warily. “Was he here already?”
“Yes, he came to get on his soapbox and make his veiled threats before going to find you.” She scowled.
“Some not so veiled. He’s ordered me shot on sight. You didn’t know about this?”
She shook her head and sighed. “No. The reactivation order came from the director of R&D. On the Board, not regional. They framed it as a new research phase, nothing about a deployment.”
Lance frowned. “Atkins is R&D now?”
Mills snorted. “Definitely not. He’s Operations. My guess is he found out you’re being reactivated, figured out why, and got himself transferred to our Region so he could stall or stop the operation. These negotiations will be a disaster for the Company however they come out, but as far as the Company is concerned, war is at least good for business, and I think he does want to stop that.”
I growled. “So why not just still send me and Lance out? Execution seems a bit extreme. Given their history and how he talks, it sounds like he’s framing it as some kind a noble sacrifice while pawning off the blame. On me.”
Mills raised a brow, glancing between us. “You told him?”
He nodded. “It seemed relevant.”
Mills grinned at him. “I told you he’d like you.”
I squinted. Of course I liked him. A lot, actually. But… “What?”
Mills shook her head. “Nothing.”
Lance cleared his throat. “SO…” He rubbed his nose thoughtfully. “If we escape, he gets demoted, fired, whatever.”
Mills nodded. “I think that’s it. Time has run out and he’s desperate. I didn’t piece it together until the inquiry, when Andrey described the fire that brought Mr. Hopkins here and Dunny told us Atkins was on his way. By the way, that was clever, Mr. Harrow, and also stupidly dangerous. I’m no engineer, but I am a chemist, and do you have any idea what would have happened if that catalyst had exploded instead of just catching fire?”
I blinked. “I thought it did explode.”
“No. It actually reacted quite gently. If it had burned just a little hotter it would have reached an exothermic threshold that would likely have caused your ship to exit hyper abruptly and in small pieces. Please be more careful next time.”
“Oh.” I rubbed my neck sheepishly. “I will.”
“Anyway…” She looked at Lance. “If you were gone when Atkins got here, not his fault. Now he’s here and it is. But if he tells a story about you resisting, he might keep his position and influence; and given your history, it’s plausible. That coyote is a snake.” She turned to me again. “So, you two either need to find a very good hiding place or get out of here, which I gather was your original plan. Can you still do it?”
“Uh, yeah. Right, we have a plan.” I cleared my throat. “Can you get me a link to my ship? We’ll start her up, make them think we’re trying to escape. Then we take their ship instead.”
She regarded me appraisingly, then turned the display on her desk toward me. It showed a schematic of the station, several groups of dots highlighted. I leaned in to look closer. “What’s this?”
“I’ve been watching their progress. Corporal Yashin patched me in. They seem to be guarding both docked ships.”
I looked at Lance. He studied the display grimly. “That’s a problem.”
I rubbed the back of my neck. “Maybe not. When Gallant starts up, they’ll be confused. They’ll probably assume we went around somehow. One of the unguarded airlocks, and in the auxiliary hatch on Gallant. We just need ’em distracted long enough to get on the courier.”
Lance nodded. “Okay. Better do it, then.”
I started working on connecting to Gallant. Lance turned back to Mills. “Atkins is going to be upset when he finds out you all helped us. And he’s dangerous. You going to be okay?”
The weasel snorted. “He’ll be upset, period. He’s interfering with R&D and Operations. Ops might overlook it, but R&D will not. And everyone here is going to tell the same story, I’ll make sure of that. He doesn’t dare touch us, and he knows it. There’ll be trouble, but not from him.”
I finished my command sequences and shut down the link. “Done.”
Lance stepped around the desk, wrapping his arms around the weasel. She hugged him tightly. “Thanks, Quinn. For everything.” He ducked his muzzle and gave her a little lick on the forehead.
“You’re welcome. It’s been fun.” She let him go and looked at me, offering her hand. I shook it. “You two take care of each other, eh?”
I exchanged a glance with Lance. “We’ll try.”

11

Lance and I made our way around the ring as quietly but quickly as we could in zero-G, but stopped short as we came in view of our destination airlock. Two figures flanked it, talking quietly: Atkins’ tiger henchman and, to my surprise, Rady. I caught a handhold on the bulkhead and pulled up short, but Lance was twenty kilos heavier, with a fraction of my zero-G experience. When he grabbed a handhold, momentum jerked him around against the bulkhead with a reverberating thump against the metal. Rady and the tiger turned to look, no way they could miss us. The tiger snarled, “Got ’em!” and moved around Rady, bringing his arm up, pistol in hand.
Lance launched off the bulkhead toward them. I cringed; there was no way the tiger could miss. Then Rady shoved his shoulder as he fired, putting him into what had to be a dizzying spin, and sending the shot wild. An instant later Lance slammed into him, grappling his chest and shooting arm, tucking his head low to evade a vicious bite. Rady was off the wall a second later, catching the tiger in a headlock and wrapping her legs around his thighs for leverage. The three of them grunted and snarled in a violent, zero-G struggle of life and death.
After a few moments the tiger went slack. Rady released him cautiously, then Lance let go, too. Rady grabbed the tiger by the jacket, searching his pockets until she found a keycard.
I kicked off my handhold to the one closest to the airlock, eyeing the unconscious tiger. “How long will he be out?”
“Doesn’t matter,” Rady said. “When your ship powered up, Atkins guessed your plan and sent Mr. Tiger here to replace our guys. Said he’s on his way. But I’ve got the mooring and security codes. Now access to his ship, too.” She turned to the airlock controls with the keycard.
As if on cue, another gunshot rang out and all three of us flinched. The shot ricocheted off the deck and twice more around the ring with fading pings. I spun to see Atkins and the hyena coming around the ring, the latter lining up another shot. I shoved myself toward the inner bulkhead where the curve of the ring would give me cover, at least for the moment, clinging close to the wall.
Atkins shouted, and it took me a second to realize it wasn’t at us. “Undock, they’re at the airlock!”
Crap. “Uh, better hurry…” If the ship separated from its moorings before the outer door opened, we were finished.
Rady swore and punched buttons on the control panel as the hyena fired again. Lance returned fire, then grabbed Mr. Tiger and swung him back toward our attackers. It wasn’t a great throw, with the limp feline bouncing off the deck at an angle, but they held their fire until he drifted far enough give another clear shot. Then the airlock door rolled open, and Rady was inside, Lance hauling himself in after.
Silence followed. Atkins called out, “Come on, Rady. You don’t need to do this.” The coyote sounded calm, collected. I didn’t feel any of that. “Give him up, and we’ll forget this happened.”
Instead, Rady called, “Door’s open!” Atkins snarled, his calm apparently shattered.
Success, or at least progress. With the inner and outer doors open, only the docking seal kept everything from blowing out into space, so the mooring clamps wouldn’t release. We were almost in—or the two wolves were. Six meters of open space lay between me and the airlock, with no cover from the gunfire. I could see Atkins just coming around the bend, his muzzle twisted in a scowl, and one of Mr. Hyena’s arms, the one with the gun. Atkins spotted me and pointed. I felt my heart in my throat.
I looked back at the airlock. Lance held up a finger for me to wait. He poked his pistol out, then his head, firing a volley toward Atkins and the hyena and sending them both scrambling.
I brace my feet against the bulkhead in a sideways crouch and pushed off as hard as I could, shot across the open space and through the open door—and the hail of return fire on the way. I slammed elbow-first into the airlock’s exterior bulkhead, panting. It hurt, but that was all. I hadn’t been hit. I felt a surge of elated invincibility, until another ricochet pinged inside the airlock and killed it.
Rady was trying the handle on the ship’s exposed outer hatch, then swiping the keycard, trying the handle again, growling, “It’s not working…” At the other door, Lance kept firing every couple of seconds, just enough to keep the other two at bay. I squinted at the handle when Rady tried it again. It didn’t look solid.
“Hang on…” I pulled myself over and gave the handle a shove. It moved, then pushed back. I grinned. “It’s open. They’re holding it. Here, help…” I braced my feet against the frame, and she followed suit. With both of us pushing, the handle turned, and a good bump with my shoulder pushed the hatch open. A uniformed marten inside scrambled back, freezing when Rady pointed her pistol. I moved past him to the inner hatch.
“How many on board?” Rady asked.
He gulped. “Just three of us.” She waved him out with the gun and he went without argument.
The inner hatch opened easily, with nobody visible beyond. Hooking up the ladder to the flight deck while Rady waited at the bottom, I stopped just short of coming through. The two remaining crewmembers were up by the cockpit, a black and white malamute and a remarkably young-looking fox, both in flight suits. They held their hands up, the fox’s shaking. No weapons, so I pushed up the rest of the way and smiled as reassuringly as I could. “Nobody’s going to hurt you. Go below. Do what Ms. Rady says.” They nodded, hurrying past me, and I climbed into the pilot’s seat.
I had a few seconds to examine the controls. Fancy and newer than I was used to but familiar enough. I disconnected from the station services, started bringing up the engines—and then flinched when a sudden flurry of gunfire came from below, punctuated by a yelp of pain and a snarl and followed by the sound of the hatch slamming shut. “We’re on!” Rady yelled.
I reached up for the mooring controls. “Those guys didn’t get hurt, did they?” I didn’t want to think about it, but I had to ask.
“No, they’re in the lock. Outer door shut.” Good enough. I punched the emergency release, and there was loud THUNK and a muffled puff of air venting from between the doors as the docking clamp released, then silence. We hadn’t moved, and there were still only a few centimeters between us and them, but they couldn’t get to us without suiting up and going outside. I switched on the maneuvering thrusters and started backing us away.
I looked over my shoulder as Rady popped up onto the flight deck, followed by Lance. I searched him intently for signs of injury but he seemed fine. I breathed a sigh of relief, then I felt guilty; I didn’t even think about whether Rady’d been hurt… But she seemed fine, too, wiping a little blood off her lip and looking typically irate. “Who got hurt?”
Lance growled, but Rady replied. “That hyena. His name is Carl. I hope he loses that ear.” I winced and laid my own ears back, but didn’t feel much sympathy. He was shooting at us. At Lance. I echoed the growl.
“What kind of weaponry do you have on this station?” I asked. We were too close for them to use it just then, but not for long.
“For them?” Rady answered. “Effectively none at the moment. The security chief’s codes have just departed. They’ll have to change the authorizations. Takes some time.” She ducked her head to look out at the receding docking ring. Her ears tipped back and her lips curved upward slowly—the first time I’d ever seen her smile.
Bewildered, I followed her gaze… right to the airlock. There, in the porthole just big enough to frame his coyote face, R Atkins was glaring murder at us. I smiled broadly and waved. He turned away.
I took a deep breath and leaned back in my seat, eartips brushing Lance’s chest. He smiled down at me, and put his hands on my cheeks. I closed my eyes.
We were safe.

12

Two hours later, the muted roar of the main engine rumbling through the ship, Lance came up to the flight deck and climbed into the copilot’s seat.
“Arr,” he said softly, offering a little grin.
I smiled a bit and shook my head, a little of the weight of the day’s events lifting. But my hands shook a little every time I thought about it since our escape. Smuggling is part-time, you can quit after any job you don’t get caught. Piracy was for life.
We sat silently for a minute, watching the stars that still didn’t seem to move, until Rady climbed up from the lower deck and leaned against the pilots’ seats, a squeeze-bottle of whiskey in hand. With the engine at full power, directly “below” us, we had close to normal gravity oriented to the deck.
“Twenty minutes or so ’til we go FTL,” I said.
Rady took a pull from the bottle and wiped her muzzle with the back of her hand. “Where to?” She offered the bottle to Lance, who declined, then to me.
I accepted and took a gulp, making the same face she did. Fitting: it was rum, not whiskey. “Well, first, random course changes to counter tracking. Then…” I passed the bottle back. “Not sure. I’ve got a friend on Canyon that could probably handle the ship for us. Maybe. We need to get rid of it. Too obvious.” I considered options. “We could stay on Canyon, it’d be near impossible to track us down there if we’re careful. We could split up. Might be safer.” I looked at Lance, and found myself relieved at the deep frown he gave me.
Rady looked between us. She took another drink. “Hmmm. I think you need Hop to keep you out of trouble.” Lance’s frown turned to a grin, still looking at me. “And apparently you both need me to keep you out of trouble. How long to Canyon?”
I pulled up the navigation display and ran a quick projection. “Six days. With three of us and provisions for seven, we could go three or four times that.”
Rady nodded, quiet for a moment. “Guess we’ll see when we get there.” I glanced at Lance, who hadn’t taken his eyes off me yet. Rady looked at each of us again, then stood up. “Getting shot at makes me sleepy,” she declared, turning away. “Think I’m going to go catch a nap and forget about my recent job loss.” I chuckled, watching her go. Maybe she had a sense of humor after all.
Lance put a hand on my shoulder, squeezing gently. I turned my head to rest my chin on his fingers, closed my eyes, breathed his scent.
“Thank you,” he said softly.
I opened my eyes and smile wanly. “You’re welcome.”
“No, really. You saved my life. Risked your own to do it. You didn’t have to, you just met me.” He chuckled. “Quin was right.”
I tilted my head. “About what?”
He dipped his muzzle, swiveling his ears back a touch. “She said… she encouraged me to meet you. Said it’d be good for me.”
I smiled and leaned in closer. “And that I’d like you. Yeah… she was right.”
“I’m glad I listened to her.” He brushed his thumb over my whiskers. “I think we should stick together. Canyon, wherever.”
I smiled a little more. “Sounds good. I’d like to stick with you, too.”
He squeezed my shoulder, leaned in, and touched his nose to mine. “Sorry for making you a pirate,” he murmured, lips brushing mine as he smiled. I kissed him softly and smiled back. His fur shimmered, and my heart skipped, too.
“Worth it.”