PRECIOUS CARGO @Copyright Maureen Lycaon, November 2001. All rights reserved under the Berne Convention, but permission granted to keep copies for personal use. This series contains themes of voluntary slavery, BDSM, furries and science fiction. The furries involved have signed themselves into slavery of their own free will. (Though the only slaves in this chapter are Caitlin and Windrunner, and we don't see any spooge, just references to simulated extreme violence.) If you shouldn't or don't want to be reading this, please don't. Feedback is welcomed: send it to maureen_lcn@yahoo.com. More of my stories, including other chapters of Precious Cargo, may be found at my Velan archive at: http://members.vclart.net/Maureen/ Part 32 Tonight, Fodessa was doing something she'd already done on Perion -- arguing with a pair of reluctant bodyguards. "If you insist, Captain Fodessa," Mya said coldly, his arms folded across his chest, his long cervine lips set in a thin disapproving line. The sambar stag had the clipped accent of a native Halcyonite. "But we wish to register our protest to this. We simply cannot guarantee your safety in such a den of scum." Fodessa sighed inwardly. Not surprisingly, Mya and Soungmai weren't taking kindly to her idea of entertainment for the evening. She'd never had this problem before the last month -- but then, never before had she felt the need to take a pair of bodyguards with her and her crew into the Sambezi Whischest. She hadn't completely explained the situation, of course -- only that off-world professional assassins were involved, and that there had already been one attack on Perion. Even so, they clearly didn't think her going into a cybergame nightclub was a wise idea. "I'm sure you're aware of what sort of *dehengvu* own and operate such concerns," Soungmai added helpfully. The tiger's striped face was impassive, but his ears were laid back just a little. Like Mya, he spoke with the clipped Halcyon accent. "No respectable fur would be involved with such a thing -- that's why they're run by the kangbai." By one of several kangbai, Fodessa mentally corrected but did not say. If she had, they would also have reminded her of the danger of being caught up in kangbai warfare. The kangbai of Halcyon were not crime "families" -- they were not family-based but were merely organizations of leagued criminals. Not all their sources of income were illegal. Nightclub-theaters that showed violent cybergames were not against Halcyon law; it was just that no respectable business would run one. Halcyon's inhabitants prided themselves on how civilized they were, and the dominant religion, Thangvu, frowned upon such displays of unnecessary violence -- even simulated violence. Of course, Fodessa and Caitlin weren't from these parts. "I understand your objections," she said in her most reasonable tone of voice, carefully holding her tail still, though they surely smelled her irritation. "But we've already made the reservations. It has always been our custom to visit the Sambezi Whischest after a sale, and I intend to continue doing so." At her side, Caitlin nodded firmly. Windrunner just looked uncomfortable and confused. This would be the wolf's first time to a cybergame club -- New Yukon had no such decadent delights. "Whether you intend to break off the contract by refusing to accompany us is purely your choice -- yours and that of the Doshi Ji Corporation," Fodessa said, her voice level. "But I'm sure it would not reflect badly upon your employers' reputation if you were to accompany us after registering a protest." Left unspoken was the threat that if they did *not* accompany her, and she or any member of her crew were injured because of that refusal, that *would* reflect badly upon them. Doshi Ji was one of the finer professional security outfits in San-Quoi Sector; it was loathe to admit it couldn't handle a job. Mya considered, and at length his shoulders slumped ever so slightly. "Very well, Captain Fodessa," he said reluctantly. "We shall register a protest." Soungmai nodded agreement. "And we will accompany you tonight." From Karnak Street, the Sambezi Whischest looked like just another prosperous nightclub in the red-light district of the city of Chanpur, offering forbidden delights to its patrons. The building's front facade was dark, undistinguished faux-metal. The only visible entrance was a plain steel door. Large, glowing red holograms spelled out the club's name. No marquee, no animated holograms advertised the teams that would be featured at tonight's event. But a faint whiff of advertising scent reached Fodessa's nostrils: a smell that was soft and seductive, yet thick as patchouli - - with a hard-edged afternote that hinted at aggression. She thought there might even be a hint of blood, sometimes there and sometimes not. They reached the door just behind two male blackbucks wearing furtive expressions and the flowing embroidered black trousers of high-level Halcyon businessfurs. It opened to reveal another blackbuck, who glanced briefly at them as he took their credchits. After subtracting the admittance fee, he handed the chits back and let the pair inside. Fodessa stepped up, smiled at him, announced "Fodessa, party of five," and handed him her credchit. Moments later, he returned it, with a program for the night's entertainment. Behind the door fur was a team of more intimidating furs, dressed in white trousers and formal white shirts: kangbai guards. One of them, a hulking sloth bear, held out his paw silently. Fodessa took out her PW and gave it to him. His left paw held a small, silvery cigar-shaped object; he made a pass with it over the PW, and then handed it back to her. The electronic lock prevented the PW being set any higher than stun. The kangbai members and their employees, of course, had defenses that protected them completely from PW's at *any* setting; their own weapons were more sophisticated and powerful than any that Fodessa could easily obtain. The PW's of her crew and the two bodyguards were similarly dealt with. Soungmai's face was a mask, but Mya's clearly showed his unhappiness at not being able to take a killing weapon into this den of degenerates. The interior of the Sambezi Whischest looked like one enormous room. It was crowded with furs, packed in tightly enough that it was difficult to see the walls, or to tell how large the room truly was. The majority of them were dressed in embroidered trousers like those two blackbucks she'd seen at the door -- members of Halcyon's business class, slumming. A few looked more like they might be associated with the kangbai, at least as low-level members, even though they weren't wearing white. Others were dulat youth, looking for a thrill, or like her -- tourists from other countries or even planets. The room reeked of many species' excitement and anticipation. She glanced back at her entourage. Caitlin, of course, was looking around, checking the locations of the bar and the betting window. Windrunner's eyes were wide and curious, his black nose twitching. Soungmai looked vaguely disgusted, his ears lowered slightly, as he scanned the crowd. Mya seemed primly disapproving but no less alert. Fodessa pushed her way through the crowd with practiced skill, Caitlin and Windrunner in her wake, the bodyguards at either side. Furs who looked up and saw the tough- looking stag and tiger in their Doshi Ji tunics quickly moved out of their way as they approached. Once they reached the back, it became clear that this room was merely the lobby. It opened up into a much larger space, as cavernous as an empty space vessel hangar, cool and shadowy with subdued lighting. Here, furs spread out and scattered into little groups of associates. Businessfurs separated out from white-clad kangbai guards and from young Halcyon dulat sporting purple jackets, colorful patterns shaved into their fur, and wearing bizarre jewelry dangling from ears, tails, necks, horns and antlers (with an occasional exposed nipple). Thousands of years ago when cyberspace was two- dimensional, even before furs existed, humans had designed computer games that allowed players to slaughter each other's avatars in remorseless, sociopathic deadly combat. The names of those early, primitive games were long lost in the mists of time, but cyberspace combat had remained popular over the millennia -- to the annoyance of countless would-be moral arbiters who sought to ban them from countries and, later, even entire worlds. Despite the disapproval and occasional proscriptions, the games grew ever more sophisticated, even during the Dark Ages after galactic civilization had collapsed and technological progress almost stopped. Now they were spectator sports, with players organized into teams cheered by crowds of enthusiastic supporters in special nightclub- theaters -- such as the Sambezi Whischest. Perhaps they were a symptom of some atavistic bloodlust from nonsentient ancestors -- or perhaps they served as an antidote for too- civilized lifestyles. You *could*, of course, choose to watch a game in the comfort of your own home in front of your computer or vidscreen, via a paid-for connection. But, as with the early team sports games of ancient history, there was a certain pleasure in being part of a shouting, cheering audience that sitting at home just couldn't emulate, even via virtual reality. The benches were split by aisles into five divisions -- one for each of the holoscreens which would show the combat in cyberspace. Each screen, thirty feet across, was suspended from the ceiling to hang in the center of the pit, at a height that was half above and half below the level of the main floor -- eye level to the uppermost rows. Fodessa reached the pit and led her group down an aisle to their reserved seats through the growing crowd. The benches were half-filled with talking, laughing, arguing furs of at least three dozen different species, most of whom only briefly looked up or simply ignored them as they descended into the spectator pit. The show wouldn't begin for half an hour. The players didn't actually come to the nightclub; instead, they sat at their own consoles on dozens of different far-flung planets, connected by satellite uplink and tachyon real- time transmission to a main computer system on some distant world, which would run the fight. Only in the immaterial realm of cyberspace would they all come together to do battle. The sole purpose of the pit, and of the venue itself, was to provide space for the large holoscreens on which the gathered crowd would watch the action. Fodessa had picked the location of their seats: halfway down the pit, near the end of one row. Wild Reija-horses couldn't keep her away from the Sambezi Whischest, let alone the merely potential threat of assassins; on the other paw, there was no need to run extra risks. Once again Windrunner sat at her right, Caitlin at her left. Soungmai took a seat on the bench in front of them; Mya took one on the bench behind to guard their backs. With his long ears, better side vision and sense of smell, the sambar stag could monitor what was going on behind him without constantly turning his head. Caitlin soon had his nose stuck in a hard copy of Modern Gladiator magazine that he'd bought earlier today. The cover had a moving holograph of two cyber-avatars locked in single combat -- a massively muscled tiger and a bull moose, dressed in the unlikely costume "armor" of cybergladiators. Beside her, Windrunner shifted slightly. She ignored his restless lupine boredom -- she wasn't looking for an excuse to dream up another punishment just then -- and turned to the black panther. "So what's it say about Team Litan?" He showed her the two-page story about up and coming fighters, pointing at a small static holo of a muscular nilgai bull in triumphant stance, hooves over head, grinning. His ornate but scanty armor was a dusky blue that matched his hide. "It says their new guy Vingam Shevar is going to tip the balance against Team Savaeti," Caitlin said. "If they win this one, they'll move up to the second level." Windrunner smelled curious, and she nudged him to go ahead and take a look. He leaned over her to view the 'zine while she explained, "There are five rankings in the Sa- Quoi Sector Gladiator League, with the first one being the reigning Grand Champion team. Then the other teams compete among themselves for Grand Champion status." Windrunner ahh'ed and sat back, but then he had another question. Looking around, he asked, "Why so many blackbucks here? Is it some sort of founder thing? I'd think the crowd would be mostly carnivores." Fodessa grinned. "Yep, it's a founder effect. Halcyon was settled by a group of blackbuck furs who practiced the Thangvu faith, after a religious dispute on their home world, New Delhi. That was right at the start of the Resettlement, after the Dark Ages." The wolf's green eyes widened slightly, and she took a moment to muse how she'd love to fall into them before attending to his next question. "-- all one species? I thought that never happened." "Well, in this case it did. There were settlers before, but no one's sure who they were; they haven't done much archaeological digging here yet. They must have died out during the Dark Ages. Anyway, Thangvi started as a religion among the blackbucks on New Delhi. Some of them objected to the bloody contests the bucks used to use to determine who could mate with the does. The Federation stepped in and solved it by letting them resettle here if they wanted, and they did. Of course I'm sure it would never have done it if it had known Halcyon was going to go Open Planet." They shared a chuckle, in which Caitlin joined. The bodyguards pointedly ignored them. "No wonder they don't like gladiator contests, then," the panther remarked. "Must be like a ghost from their barbarian past, eh?" In the row ahead, a well-dressed businessfur blackbuck glanced disapprovingly over his shoulder at them. He turned haughtily away when Fodessa looked back with her best innocent expression. Address comments and criticism to: maureen_lcn@yahoo.com . The URL for my archive of stories is in the Author's Notes at the top.