For the Defense of the People

By Vincent N. Terrell

          
           "And these are the latest results of our new planetary missile defense system. As you can see, we've made across the board increases in the effectiveness of our response system. The defense council is seriously over budget for this program though, and needs a funding increase of 20% to maintain optimum response times within the defense network. Increases of 5-10% would lengthen our system's reaction times by a third, while no funding increase would effectively double our response times. Comparatively, funding increases beyond 20% are projected to reduce the system's reaction times by as much as a tenth for each additional 20%. With this in mind, the defense council representative moves to consider the budget increase resolution."
           Hrasi bodies around the room shuffled in indecision. The huge, poorly lit council chambers did little to intimidate the sole speaking human, even when it was filled with Hrasi. Miles Arathch, representative of the Hrasi homeworld defense council and the only human with a respectable position there, tried to make out the various faces he knew in the crowd of furred bodies. There were a few hairless bodies, but mostly they had distinctive leather collars or subtler jewel restraints on, marking them the personal property of one of the Hrasi representatives. Most such slaves were either naked or scantily clad, and a few had writing utensils. Such kind masters we have that trust us with their words, he thought. Were it that we humans were all so virtuous.
           "I do not believe the representative's highly-praised program will ever offer the advances we have been promised," one of the chambermen said. Miles recognized the voice as Tuashiid, a frequent antagonist of the defense council's propositions. Sometimes Miles wondered whether the chamberman's agenda was more to quash him personally than to hinder the defense council, but that was an unworthy thought. "While the defense council might have had good intentions, I do not believe the representative, given his current state of personal affairs, can be legitimately allowed any authority to floor motions in this session." In response the call-to-order bell sounded three times, quieting the small uproar caused by chamberman Tuashiid's allegations.
           "Representative Arathch's professional and personal statuses are not at question," Chamber leader Hamahsoh boomed. Miles sighed in relief. At least the council's discussion leader believed in him. There were grumbles from the crowd, but Miles stood firm. I'm doing what's best for my patrons, He reminded himself, There is no wrong in that. "I will entertain the representative's request. Is there another representative who would like to offer any contrasting opinions?" One dark brown Hrasi representative stepped forward and raised his voiced to speak to the chamber.
           "What amount of our resources would your proposed budget increase encompass, representative Arathch?"
           "20% is comparable to an extra six billion per year funding and an extra 3000 slave-hours for labor. Minute expenditures compared to many of the projects this chamber opts to fund," Miles added. The Hrasi nodded and dissolved into the anonymity of the crowd. There was a fleeting moment of silence.
           "Are there no more questions?" The chamber leader asked. No one had anything to say in response. "Then we shall put it to a vote. All in favor of the defense budget increase please indicate so on your ballots, and all others please mark your feelings there as well. The vote's total will be announced at session's end along with all other budget resolutions. Next motion please." Hrasi bodies shifted in their seats as Miles stepped down and the light brown Hrasi representative for the human genetics engineering stepped up to make a new motion. She was Huri Riehs, one of Miles' best associates. Huri always wanted some genetic material from him in her everlasting quest for the perfect human, but otherwise treated him with kindness. She had a manner of making him feel like a favorite pet.
           "Representative for the genetics council moves to consider resolution 769C, the reclassification of high-quality gene samples into psychological profiles…" Miles tuned it out, seeking to return to his seat. Psychological 1-A profiling didn't concern him even if he was a 1-A; genetic engineering was strictly a Hrasi matter. He stepped down from the minor podium and walked past the aisles of representatives, reporters, and other Hrasi dignitaries.
           Two of his most intimately familiar Hrasi companions waited for him there, his bodyguard and secretary-assistant. Both beautiful Hrasi women, magnificent even beyond the elegant features every Hrasi had. Tall Vher was a dark brown muscled woman, huge for a human, much less a Hrasi. Vher stood a full head taller than he, who stood a head and a half above most Hrasi, and her height lent to the sense of security one felt in her presence. Raiira was a luxury unheard of, a Hrasi secretary for a human. She was small for a Hrasi, a fair-furred bundle who smiled at him as he approached.
           "You did well, Miles; You always do. I think we'll do well in the vote, and the council ought to be pleased." Miles bowed, blushing slightly as he sat down.
           "Thank you, Miss Raiira." She smiled.
           "I'm not 'miss' Raiira, mister Arathch. I always tell you to just call me Raiira." Miles looked down, but said nothing. "You might want to listen to Miss Riehs, sir, she's talking about the 1-A classification. You're a 1-A, right? Might want to hear what she's planning to do with it."
           "Might," Vher agreed, "She could end up limiting your pool of acceptable breeding partners." Miles signed a 'no'.
           "I'm sure she knows better than I what's best for the genetic engineering project. I'll be happy with whatever she decides." Raiira grinned.
           "That's probably why you're a 1-A specimen in the first place." She pointed out at Huri. "Trust me, you want to listen." Miles conceded the point.
           "…only for skills and raw ability scores, we don't classify for domestication. The genetics council feels that there is a danger there. Of all classifications, the 1-As are trusted with the most vital, powerful positions. We do this because they have the best chances at being able to do these sorts of jobs. However, just because they can accomplish the tasks they are given does not mean they should be allowed to.
           "Take our own Mr. Arathch for example. He's one of the most loyal and trustworthy 1-As I've ever met, but what if he wasn't? Imagine the amount of damage Miles could do if he was a traitor - no offense, representative Arathch." Miles squirmed as the whole chamber swiveled their eyes to stare at him despite Huri's apology. "No, what we need is more intensive testing for 1-A servitude, domestication, and unswerving loyalty to their masters. If anything, we're testing them less than other classes of humans. You'll find the details of our proposed new psyche' evaluations in your session briefing packet." Papers flipped as each Hrasi chamber-person checked their stacks of resolutions for the details.
           "She proposes splitting 1-As into five groups of loyalties A-E just as you've already been split by mental abilities. Loyalty ratings of C's and below lose the more powerful worker positions, while B's and below begin to lose their breeding privileges," Raiira murmured, shuffling through the packet she'd been given. There were no questions for Huri when the chamber leader opened up the floor for them, and the chamber didn't hesitate to vote for it. Must have passed easily, Miles thought. He was happy for Huri.
           "Going to find it harder to get into bed," Vher growled at him teasingly.
           "I doubt it," Raiira countered, "He'll probably just end up a 1-AA." She fell silent as the Chamber Leader hit his gavel again.
           "Then, with the conclusion of representative Riehs' motion I would like to adjourn the session for the week. Unless there are any valid objections, we regroup for another meeting ten days from now. Same time, same place."
          

---v---

           Hrasi and humans bustled through the narrow halls of the Aghra chamber's subterranean railway connections. Miles was too mild to push his way through the crowd of Hrasi politicians and their human subordinates, but didn't have to. Vher was more than happy to push and jostle for him, and he needed only follow close behind in her wake. Raiira pushed up behind him to stay with her boss in the mess of arms, legs, and sweat. Most of the other representatives were at least afforded a decent berth by the throngs of frightened human servants, but apparently they had no misgivings about brushing up against him.
           It was a struggle every step of the way through the masses of people fleeing the political chambers, but they eventually made it to the metro train. Vher shoved them a spot right in front of the doors of the train as its doors hissed open, then courteously waved Miles. When he didn't budge to go forward before a Hrasi, Raiira pushed him forward so the waiting crowd could follow as well.
           Miles had always found the subway's layout fascinating. Each train was divided up into three color-coded sections. The front-most was the Hrasi-only section with blue walls, followed by a smaller orange mixed section and a yellow human-only section. The blue was lined with plush, padded seats that ran each side of the train, with lush leather seat backs. The orange was merely cloth, divided into a pair of 2-seat rows on each side, while the yellow had bare metal/plastic benches on either side with no backs to speak of.
           The advertisements on the ceilings and walls varied accordingly as well. Blue section had commercial ads for the latest technological advancements while the orange and yellow were mostly government propaganda ads. Orange had war posters advertising the latest victories against the feral humans of old Earth and stressing the need for the draft, while yellow's ads were almost all reminders about the laws concerning human behaviors and warnings about the consequences of failing to uphold behavioral regulations. Miles didn't take it personally at all, simply walking to the orange row that opened into the blue. Raiira slid into the seat beside him while Vher took the orange row seat behind him. It rankled him how the two brought themselves down to stay around him. Vher could've just as easily took the blue seat in front of him and still watched him, while Raiira had no need to be near him at all.
           Other Hrasi and humans came in as well, quickly filling the train. Almost all the Hrasi he recognized as other representatives or chamber-persons, but he didn't recognize most of the humans. The representative for the Agricultural Economics Board passed him along with the representative for the Haigh Conservative Coalition (who glared at Miles threateningly and turned his nose up at the sight of Raiira sitting beside him). Huri Riehs took the seat directly in front of him, the one he'd wished Vher would've taken. Riehs smiled at him warmly as the rest of the bodies filled the train-car, filling all the seats and beginning to take up the car's standing room.
           "Hello Miles, Raiira."
           "Good evening, Miss Huri," Miles replied. Riehs' grin widened at that.
           "Hrn, now that's a nice change. Not the formal 'miss Riehs' today?"
           "I'm sorry, Miss Riehs, I meant no-"
           "No, no, I like it. Glad that you're trying to better yourself in our eyes." Miles sighed at that, and Riehs laughed. "Your one fault is that you've always been too formal with us Hrasi: almost too respectful of your masters. I'm happy to see you're still improving, it speaks well of your genetic line." She smiled again. "Not as if you weren't already the best genetic donor I have on hand."
           "Of the humans, perhaps," Miles murmured lowly, looking down and blushing.
           "Better than some of the Hrasi men I've met too," Huri responded. Raiira looked up from some notes that she'd been studying to grin at Miles.
           "Better than a whole lot that I've met," Raiira agreed. Miles said nothing, but just blushed and stared farther down. Huri and Raiira exchanged mirthful glances.
           "Cut it out. He's had enough for one day," Vher growled. Miles turned behind him and mouthed a thank you. Vher smirked and patted him on the back.
           "Huh, I was wondering about what chamberman Tuashiid was talking about," Huri said, "What was that 'state of personal affairs' he mentioned?" Raiira looked at her sharply, but Huri didn't take notice. "Come on, Miles, you know stress affects your ability to breed. You want to tell me these things before I pair you off?" She kept at it, not noticing that he was staring down at the floor sullenly. "That 3-A girl I paired you off with last week, I could've gotten another 1-A for her, someone more relaxed. You'd better hope she bears…" Raiira looked at Riehs exasperatedly.
           "Miss Riehs!"
           "It's alright, Raiira. I wouldn't worry about the 3-A, Miss Riehs: that was before. Jonathan died just yesterday." Huri paused.
           "Jonath- oh… your bond partner, right? The 1-B? I'm sorry, I didn't know… I… Ah… Sorry, Miles." He signed a 'no' glumly.
           "Don't be: My fault for not telling you. I should've by now." All three were silent for a moment, Miles dismal even as Vher tightened her grip on his shoulders. Rails screeched as the old monorail dived through tunnels of rock, howling out the silence of three Hrasi and a single beleaguered human.
           "Doesn't feel too good, does it?" Huri asked.
           "Not great," Miles admitted. "I'm not at my best. Sorry."
           "I know; My Iirae died about five years ago. It'll get better after a while." She looked earnestly at him. "You're pretty valuable to me, to all of us in the long run. You want someone to night with, you can have your pick of my stock. Anybody, if it'd make you feel better." Miles signed a 'no' silently, staring down at the floor. "Rather stay with me?" Huri asked. That was strictly forbidden to him: a taboo that only Huri could override, and a social deviation that would cause a scandal if it got out, ruining both of their futures. It was also an impossibly generous gesture on her part, but he signed a 'no' again. Huri frowned in frustration at her failure to hearten him.
           "Don't suppose you'd like to bed down with either of us? Or both?" Vher prodded jestingly. Miles leaned is head back on the chairs headrest to stare up at her.
           "You would, wouldn't you?"
           "You're actually interested?" Vher asked hopefully, but Miles signed a 'no'. Raiira furrowed her brow thoughtfully while slipping her papers into her loosely fitting magenta vest.
           "Maybe you ought to not search out another bond partner." Vher looked at her disgustedly.
           "You mean go solitary?" She practically spat the word, like it was a foul taste in her mouth. "That's a human aberration. He's too cultured to be sleeping by himself." Raiira shook her head.
           "No, what I think he needs is a servant. A slave. You rank high enough to own a slave, Miles. It'd be good for you: make you more assertive. You need to learn to be a master anyway. How does it sound?"
           "I… don't know," Miles sighed. He could tell they were going to gang up on him. It made him feel bad enough to go against a single one of his more friendly masters, but grouped together he couldn't bring himself to vocally oppose them. To his horror Huri brightened at the idea, eyes glazing over at the thought.
           "That's a wonderful idea. Hrrn… most of the slaves are either not bright enough to rank an 'A' or not strong enough to rate a '1', but there are a few 1-As that outwear their jobs and go to free market. Might take a little bit of searching around, but I bet we could find a fertile female 1-A for him. Huh… A stable, constantly-producing 1-A pair would be able to stock my labs in a few decades, and with the new accelerated-growth, the potential-"
           "Miss Riehs," Raiira interjected softly, "I'm not talking about a human slave." That stopped Huri and Miles cold. My god, he thought, they want me to enslave a Hrasi, one of the noble race. I can't do that.
           "Completely out of the question!" Huri whispered emphatically, suddenly realizing what a public place they were in. "Think about all that wasted seed! He's the prime specimen of the city, trust me, I know these things! He can't breed off of a Hrasi; it'd be wasting a genetically perfect, domesticated human every time. Nobody can afford that!"
           "It'd make him feel better," Raiira countered, "and besides, it'll be good for his physiology. You told me Hrasi are good for human's libidos, so actually it'd be better for his 'productivity'. More importantly, it'll give him someone to love. That's good for him, right? Which matters more than anything else, right?" That last was pointed directly at Huri, who backed off with the dip of embarrassment in her ears. "What do you think, Vher?"
           "I think you two should stop talking about him right in front of him, stop humiliating him in front of the whole train, and maybe actually ask him what he wants." Both Raiira and Huri cringed at that.
           Miles cleared his throat softly, and all three Hrasi stared at him. Raiira looked at him guiltily, Huri looked at him with subdued worry and indignation, and Vher gazed with friendly reassurance.
           "Do I have to do this? I don't think I'd make a good master."
           "Would you rather be alone?" Raiira asked. Miles sagged in his chair.
           "No…"
           "Then you need a slave. A Hrasi slave," She insisted, and Huri growled as the train jolted to a stop at the next train depot.
           "Alright, but we increase your collection rates, Miles. Let's go ahead and make it daily. Before you get home, Alright?" Miles sighed and nodded submissively, then rose with Raiira and Vher to disembark the train. Huri snagged him back into his seat. "Starting today," she told him. Raiira and Vher turned around, hesitating, but Huri waved them off. "It's okay, he's safe in my hands. I'll have him back in one piece, if very tired, by nightfall." Vher grinned lewdly and Raiira blushed, then waved.
           "See you in the morning," Raiira called.
           "Have fun," Vher added, narrowing her eyes and flicking her tail in a mock-seductive style. Miles just sighed again. Why do I have to be the 'perfect specimen'? Every day? Uhn… oh well, it's for the good of the Hrasi race, not to mention the human one. I can't begrudge them that.
          

---v---

           Huri's 'lab' was more like the birthing wards of human-only hospitals. Essentially that's what it was: A custom-tailored-human producing center. None of the humans there had any possessions nor any need of them: no clothes save the occasional patient's gown, no jewelry save their identifying collars. Young human girls maybe 10 years old laughed and played in the 2nd floor lobby that Huri brought him through.
           Miles felt a twinge of almost-envy; though they'd never learn to read, write, or be taught anything else past basic speech and reproductive health science, they'd be direct contributors to the Hrasi's envisioned future for his kind. Those girls would soon be birthing the next vanguard generations until they hit 50 or so, when the fertility-lengthening drugs lost effects. They'd be put down then, but it was for the best: what more could they do to brighten the virtues of their lives?
           Older teenaged girls lounged in sofas, perhaps 13 or 14. They had all just began their periods of usefulness, a fact their prominent bellies displayed. He and Huri strode briskly through the young female wing of the breeding center and into the lab's living quarters. More humans were there, a few women he knew fairly intimately. They all waved at him, smiled shyly, or looked away while blushing. Miles felt awkward at being the only one there with a formal Hrasi suit, which reached down to his boots. Also, the temperature in the area had been adjusted to make a naked human feel comfortable, and he was starting to sweat.
           "This way," Huri urged him, grabbing his hand and pulling him past. She led him to the end of the hall and pushed him through the last door on the left, then followed through and shut it behind him. "It's been a while since I got a blood test from you. Your anxiety shouldn't change that too much," She reassured him, patting him on the back and leading him to a chair in the corner. Huri then went to a wall cabinet and removed a syringe with no discernible needle. "It's a sub-cellular needle," Huri provided at his questioning look, "shouldn't hurt at all. In fact, I'll be very upset with the manufactures if you can even feel it."
           True to her word, the needle slipped through his shoulder's skin without any more feeling than that of the syringe's cool plastic. He watched as Huri drew out a thin red cylinder of blood. "There," she said, "It's done. No big, huh?"
           "No big," He agreed, and Huri's ears perked up.
           "That's more like it." She snapped off the syringe's detachable front and threw it away, then pocketed her new red vial. "Now then, you want to do me some real work?" Miles got up and proffered his hand, allowing Huri to lead him through the door and into an adjacent room.
           It was dark and musty, with a single bunk on one end, a pile of furs on the other, and a small door in the back that led into a tiny bathroom; he knew it well enough. "Stay here," she commanded, then abruptly left. He signed a 'no', closed the door behind her, then went to the bathroom to relieve himself. When he was done he draped one of the furs over the bunk and lay atop it patiently. His suit was beginning to overheat him, so he unbuttoned the heavy coat and threw it across the bunk.
           There wasn't much time to wait. To his surprise, though, it was Huri who returned, not some human girl. She'd laden her arms with a bottle of dark red wine, a shallow saucer-cup, and a taller human goblet. Miles was touched: human-specific stuff was hard to find and expensive.
           "What's this, Miss Huri?"
           "Thought you'd rather not want someone tonight. Or was I wrong?" She stopped and looked at him with a hint of hope in her eyes.
           "No… If you don't mind…"
           "That's fine," Huri promised, "You don't need any more stress; I'm not going to press it." She sat down beside him and handed him the deeper glass. A small plastic bottle lay at the bottom. "Before you leave." Mile picked it out and held his glass to let her fill it as she ripped the cork out with her long canines.
           "Don't you ever stop, Miss Riehs?" Huri chuffed softly as she poured them both a drink.
           "No. That's why they let me on the genetics board. But you don't need it, do you?" He couldn't really argue with that.
           Thick blood-red wine swashed in their glasses. When Miles put it to his lips the stuff tasted smooth and full-bodied. While no wine specialist, he was fairly sure it wasn't standard hospital-lab fare. Huri folded up to sit cross-legged on the bunk and lapped slowly at her saucer.
           "Didn't expect this, huh?" she asked. "I didn't want to let Miss Raiira or Miss Vher know I just wanted to talk to you. Thought they'd read between the lines and do something stupid, like say no."
           "So why am I here?" Huri looked at him with concern.
           "Worried about you. You didn't tell me what happened."
           "Forgot. Sorry." She grimaced.
           "That's why I'm worried. You don't normally forget these things. You must have been hurt fairly badly. Are you all right?" He considered that.
           "I suppose so. I'm not perfect, Miss Riehs, Sometimes I forget. I'll try harder."
           "Ah, but you are perfect. By all accounts strong, intelligent, agile, virile, servile… and I hold you to a higher standard." She leaned over to nuzzle his neck, making him freeze up in agitation. No Hrasi had done such things to him since his childhood. "I need you, Miles. You're my best resource in this entire city, maybe even the entire continent. You mean more to me than most Hrasi-"
           "Stop," Miles interrupted, "That's not true. Don't tell me that, I don't want to hear that. Please stop." She pulled back to look at him.
           "Hhunnn… you're delicate, though. I know that. But what I've said is all true. You ever wonder how many children you have?" Miles looked at her in distress.
           "You know humans don't get to have children. Why are you testing me? I'm loyal; you know that."
           "Not testing. Telling you the truth. Sometimes I wonder how your mind works, how it is that you can have no fight in you when most humans are too violent to breed. You know that reclassification I was talking about? Did you listen?"
           "Raiira made me," he admitted, and she smiled appreciatively.
           "We're going to add a new classification based on personality - servitude, in short. You know how many 1-As like you are going to lose their jobs and breeding rights? Something like 70% of them. I can tell you that you're not going to be one of them. So you become even more valuable to us. Back to the question. You know how many children?"
           "I don't. Two? Ten?" Huri flicked her ears at his naivete.
           "More like two hundred. Maybe only fifty if you don't count the artificial blends I used your genes in, but even those are made about 80% you anyway. Those are mostly infants now, but almost all are 1 or 2-A's. They'll all be great scientists, or managers, or maybe even defense contractors."
           "I don't understand, Miss Riehs." She glowered.
           "Call me Huri, damn you, you know I don't like being called Miss Riehs."
           "Sorry Huri," Miles said humbly, shying away from her reproachful words. Huri looked at him strangely.
           "You're an odd one, for sure. What I meant was that you have the ability to produce not only the good works of your own life, but also populate the next generation with people who could do the same. So, there isn't much I won't do to keep you happy. You just tell me." She took another few strokes at her saucer, then set it down on the floor and sidled up next to him, wrapping an arm around his chest and nuzzling him again. "Anything really," she murred.
           "You're very committed to your job," Mile said softly. It wasn't an attack, but a soft reminder. Huri's ears flattened down a bit, and she didn't bother to hide it; she was candid if nothing else.
           "I've devoted my life to it," She growled between snuffling under his cheek, "I am committed. More committed to you, though. If you told me you weren't going to help me any more I'd still be your friend. More important to me that you're happy, believe it or not. You don't have to believe me, but it's still true." He didn't believe her, frankly, but would never tell her that.
           "I don't need anything right now," Miles whispered. Huri brought her lips up to his and pecked him lightly.
           "Do you even know what that is?" She inquired gently, and smirked when he signed a Hrasi 'no'. "It's a kiss; a human sign of affection. Funny you don't know it when I do. But then, I'm more human than you are in some ways." She shook her head, chuffing silently. "I'm just babbling now. You want to go home? I'll take you there."
           "Thanks." Huri looked at him one last time.
           "Sure you wouldn't rather stay with me? I can make you feel better…" Miles smiled, but signed 'no' once more. "Then, will you at least give me my sample before you leave?" He groaned aloud.
           Candid. My patron-friend may be insatiable and relentless, but she is candid. That's virtue enough…
          

---v---

           Miss Riehs didn't dare walk him home: too dangerous that late in the evening. She drove instead, even though his small house was only a few blocks away. It was a short drive to say the least, perhaps two minutes. Huri kept looking at him out of the corner of her eye, as if watching for something in him. When we were there she stopped the car and killed the engine, then threw off her restraints and clambered out the door with Miles.
           His residence was the one thing he had that he could take real pride in. According to the previous owners, a venerable Hrasi couple with whom he still kept contact, it was an experimental hybrid of old Earth's Japanese dojo architecture and that of the ancient Hrasi Ahronae clans from the southern islands. In practice it came out as a linear wood-brick building that had jutting roofs, three consecutively smaller floors, and allowed nature's vines and trees to grow throughout the infrastructure. Somehow one might think that the growth would wear on the building, but the building and the fauna were constantly being reshaped so that they didn't interfere with one another. Even a human like he could appreciate the unity and natural harmony of the place.
           Both human and Hrasi padded past the house's low fences and up the house's overgrown lawn / garden to the front door. Miles went for his bottom right coat pocket to retrieve his keys, but there was no need to do so: the door opened of its own accord. Well, perhaps not entirely of its own accord, Miles thought wryly. Vher stood at the hallway entrance with a cup of tea in hand.
           "Evening, sir, Miss Riehs. Come in. We decided you'd be better off if you weren't alone tonight." Miles looked her up and down, taking a second to recognize where she was, while Huri blinked confusedly.
           "We?" Miles asked, staring up at the towering two-meter Hrasi. Vher moved aside and waved an arm down the hall. There were light patters, and then Raiira poked her front torso out from an opening into a corridor at the back of the hall. She was dripping wet and clothed solely in one of Miles' bath towels.
           "Hello," she called. More meekly: "Hello Miss Riehs…" Riehs looked at Miles, then at Vher, and then back to Miles.
           "I'm going to leave the three of you alone now," She announced quietly, barely controlling the set of her ears and the smile of her face. "Unless you'd rather I stay…" Miles looked at her, incensed, but Huri simply shrugged at him and walked back to her car.
           "Come in," Vher repeated, and he did so. Miles really couldn't bring himself to seethe at Vher or Raiira, but it was much easier to become annoyed with them. "You're early," Vher rumbled, "We're not ready for you yet. Didn't expect Miss Riehs to be done with you that quickly."
           "You didn't tell me you were going to come into my house. I thought you were my friends, but what's this?" Raiira popped back into the corridor, presumably back to his bathroom. Vher shut the door behind him, locked its bolt, then coughed.
           "Sorry sir. You did give us keys in case we needed to get into your home. We didn't decide to come until after we left you. I didn't mean to anger you." Miles blew out a breath of air.
           "No. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be angry with you. Please don't mind me, I'm just tired." Vher nodded, then beckoned him up the stairs to the second floor sitting room. A small, frugal entertainment center stood up against one wall, with a small projector, a radio, and a micro-disk player. Pallets, furs, and pillows surrounded the center in a semicircle. A few kneeling-height tables lined the walls, and a trio of oversized pillows faced a single center table in a triangular pattern. It was to one of those that Vher took him.
           "Here, sit," Vher offered, pressing him into one of the pillows, then handed him her tea. "Have this. Dinner's cooking - I have to go rescue it before it burns. Raiira is finishing cleaning up. She wanted to look good for you. Thought you'd like her better if she was pretty." Vher backed away from him. "May I take leave of you?" Miles waved his hand at her.
           "You've never had to ask me to do anything, don't start now. My home is your home. Go do whatever you want to, don't bother asking my permission. I'm giving it to you now." She nodded, flicked thanks with her ears, then glided out, tail swishing behind her.
           Miles sat back in the pillow. It smelled like home, calming to him. He sipped at the tea, one of the alcoholic white teas Jonathan had liked. Didn't suit him, but the alcohol was good. He stared up at the ceiling, followed the grains in the woods on the beams. Had some more alcohol: something to dull his senses. He normally derided drugs, claiming them handicaps for the weak-willed, but Vher had been drinking it: he could taste and smell her in the glass. He'd never deride Vher: she was one of his truest friends. So he kept drinking, and looked up at the wood grains, listening to the room. The airflow change around an obstruction signaled another person's entrance. Miles sat up to see Raiira there.
           She'd gone all out. Her fur and beard had been brushed, fluffed out, and slicked to a glistening, thick sheen. Her tail swayed out enticingly behind her, tufted at the end in a classic provocative style. She wore a pair of severely short deep red breeches, and not a shred else. At his gaze Raiira swiveled her hips, showing her tail off.
           "You like?" she purred, then walked over to him and pulled up another one of the pillows beside him. Raiira leaned over to rub cheeks with him, letting him feel the warm dampness of her pelt. "Do you like it? I wanted to dress up for you…" He smiled at her wanly.
           "You're always beautiful Raiira, just more beautiful today. You look amazing…" Raiira frowned.
           "But?"
           "But I don't think I can really appreciate you at the moment," he murmured. She looked hurt, then seemed to think better of it and shut up, leaning down to nuzzle him again.
           There was some crashing from the bottom of the room, and then Vher appeared from the bottom of the stairs with platters of food.
           "Dinner!" She called, and both Raiira and Miles got up to help her. "Just her, Miles. You stay there." Reluctantly, he sat down and let the two women set out the dinner on the table. Vher took one look at the placement of Raiira and Miles' seats, smirked, and pulled the last remaining pillow over to the other two. The two sat down on either side of him and draped their respective tails across his back. "Food," Vher encouraged, pointing at a sizable 4-course feast laid out in front of them. Raiira whistled in wonder.
           "…Wow, Vher. I didn't know you'd had all this in the works." She glanced over to Miles. "Vher doesn't look it, but she's a gourmet cook. In for a treat, we are."
           "I'm… glad you came," he said lowly, "I'm not sure I would've eaten if you hadn't."
           "See? You need some big sisters to take care of you," Raiira said, and Vher snorted.
           "Ha. You're one to be talking about 'big' sisters." The two chuffed as Miles added his own laughter to the chorus.
           Happy noises filled his little sitting room as the atmosphere relaxed around the three and the pair of Hrasi tried to reestablish their rapport with him. They kept the conversation within the boundaries of small talk, guiding Miles past deep, heavy subjects. The three managed to make it slowly through the meal, Raiira doing the talking while Vher prodded, cajoled, guilted, and eventually simply ordered Miles to have more food. He wasn't that hungry, even though it was great food. Vher was indeed a gourmet. His spirits were the problem. At dinner's end neither woman had any complaints when Miles helped clean the table up. To his growing nervousness, neither showed any signs of leaving.
           "Feeling better?" Raiira asked.
           "Feeling tired," He responded, belched, then covered his mouth, mortified. Vher grinned from her giant height and belched louder. Raiira's ears wilted and her nose wrinkled, but otherwise she managed to hide any distaste.
           "Tired, huh? We can fix that," she purred. "Put you to bed." He almost protested or asked where they planned to stay, but decided he didn't want to know. The two led him through the house's indoor atrium and into his bedchamber. A low, heavily sheeted bed lay there, along with a dresser, desk, and table. His walls were lined with pictures, a few pre-space paintings from the northern continent, an ancient ornamental hunting bow from the Yoichi fletcher's period of unrest, and other personal effects. Both women took him to the bed, pushed him under the covers. When he saw Raiira slipping off her trousers, though, he did protest.
           "Raiira!" he hissed, "Stop that! You know you can't do that! Don't do this, please. If we got caught, the punishment for both of-" Raiira silenced him with a paw on the mouth.
           "Quiet… You didn't see Miss Riehs' expression before she left? She knows perfectly well what we're doing. She'll back us up, I'm sure." She finished with her trousers, clambering above him while Vher watched with faint amusement from higher up.
           "Then she knows? What if she doesn't approve? She could tell the authorities… Even if Miss Huri did back us up, the scandal would be the end of my career. They'd put me on open market. Please, Raiira…" He pleaded with Raiira while shrinking away from her as she lowered her self into his torso.
           "Ha," Raiira chuffed, "then we'd just buy you for ourselves. Our relationship would certainly… change, but you'd still be relatively safe. At least, from everyone but us. And we're not wholly impossible to please…"
           "You mean… you and Vher?" Miles asked. Vher chuffed softly, nodding.
           "Didn't know? We don't like to advertise it. You'd expect us to have partners the same size, right? Well, we used to be. I grew though, and little Raiira's the runt." Raiira rolled him from straight under her to the inside of the bed. It left Miles with her pressed up from behind him, arms lovingly but forcefully holding his hands from thrashing. That might have been enough trauma for the night, but Vher had to undress as well and lay on the other side of him, where his more sensitive parts were.
           "I'm scared," Miles squeaked, but Vher's ears perked up at that as she settled in so their genitalia lined up. He tried not to notice, pushing away towards Raiira, who growled appreciatively.
           "Going to make one of us happy either way," Vher murred at him softly, "and if you don't we'll move for you. But we'll not hurt you, so don't fear." She fit her hands past him and around Raiira's back, pinning him and pulling him tight between them.
           "Stop!" He begged, and Vher did, pushing away.
           "Why? You don't like us?" She grinned. "You homosexual?" Vher inquired plainly. Miles took a moment to catch his breath and collect himself.
           "No. I'm definitely female only, but you're forcing me. Please, let me sleep. I know you want to play, but you're trying to replace someone I slept with and trusted implicitly for the better part of a decade. You can't do that." Vher gazed at him with fire in her glowing eyes, but the fire died.
           "Of course," she apologized, "I'm sorry." Vher came closer then, pushing his arms towards Raiira but allowing him to come as far into her chest fur as he dared sleep while keeping her bulk at a comfortable distance. Miles calmed, squirming his arms out of Raiira's grip and laying them freely in front of him while he rubbed himself a spot for his head on Vher's expansive chest. The last thing he remembered of the night was the feeling of having a pair of warm, purring Hrasi atop him, murmuring quietly between themselves as they both patted and massaged him. He was definitely sinning, knew it, and decided to feel bad about it later.
          

---v---

           Green, fertile hills and valleys covered the landscape. Dew condensed on tall grasses and reeds around Matron's manor. Miles could feel Matron, as if she was just around the corner. He walked down the manor's thick-walled halls looking for her. He walked through the sitting room, up the stairs, and down to the end of the dormitory room hallway to the window. Matron's soft, gentle, and genuine laughter was coming through one of the doors. He swung it open, and was engulfed by light.
           Matron was above him, laughing; he was an infant again. Her smile, the set of her ears, the way she picked him up and held him close all made him happy. These were memories from before he was cognizant, where he had scant memories that incorporated two or three senses. She hugged him close, saying something he didn't understand as speech, but made it clear she loved him. He held close, inhaling deeply her scent. Matron always smelled like the forest: like faint flowers, like ancient evergreens, like morning rains.
           She smiled at him warmly, looking content and proud of him. Matron had always been beautiful: a longhaired, white-golden woman in her early twenties. She'd grown her mane out long, tied it back in a single braid, and brushed the rest in a long-furred pelt. He remembered she'd worn a single blouse, or at least a single type of blouse every day. A strong, cotton weave of dark blue and brown that started as a shirt at her shoulders and flowed down in one piece to her ankles. It'd added to the motherly aura she had.
           Matron bounced him on her knees, let him suckle from her breasts, patted his head. He remembered having had siblings, and they were there in his dreams, hanging on Matron's cuffs. They all needed her, as he did. She was a single star for them, a single noble Hrasi in a sea of blithering human children. But she never lost patience with them, forever guiding and protecting them.
           A flash and he was three or four. Speaking better Hrasi than his sisters or brothers, already learning to read and write. Sitting on Matron's lap, being read a story at night after everyone else had gone to bed. She would relax against a wall, sitting cross-legged with Miles in between. She'd deliberately falter every once in a while, let him 'help' her with a word or two, always touching and rubbing him. He had one clear memory of a book whose moral he didn't understand.
           "Matron? Why do humans always have to serve Hrasi?" He'd asked, turning to stare up at her. She'd looked down at him tenderly.
           "Because humans need to learn from us. Wild humans are like animals, Miles. They killed innocent Hrasi civilians. Normal people, for no reason. We have to take all the humans and teach them how to be good, like you. Then we can live together." He'd been curious at that idea, new to him.
           "Then why is there a war?"
           "Because not all the humans want to serve us. We have to force some of them. They can be dangerous, Miles. I met one once; he scared me."
           "Am I a wild human, Matron?" And she'd chuffed, dropping the book and hugging Miles close.
           "No, you're not. I think you're a good one. You're going to be a good human servant some day. To bed now, okay?" He'd gone.
           That was one of his favorite things about Matron; she was honest. She told him everything: what honor was, why she slept alone, what loyalty was, why it was honorable to be a slave or a servant, why he had to be loyal, why Hrasi were superior to humans. And that she loved him, always that. He liked to hear that, began to feed on it.
           Another memory: a storm, particularly bad, that had knocked out the isolated mountain manor's electricity generators, leaving the estate dark and cold. As a Hrasi, Matron had a single thick fur blanket for both Miles and all his siblings. She'd told them to huddle together as the temperature lowered, the rain turned to sleet, and the lightning thundered.
           Matron had loved them enough to give them all of her sheets, then curled up on her bare mattress. He'd been so scared that he'd not been able to stay with his brothers and sisters, and instead had felt his way to Matron's room, where nobody went.
           "What do you want, Miles?" She'd asked softly. A lightning strike lit her form up - she'd let her mane out of it's braid, let it flow down her back.
           "I'm scared, Matron. And cold. May I please sleep with you?" She'd chuffed very softly.
           "Come here, Miles," she'd whispered, and he'd tottered blindly into the room, in her general direction. Matron caught him, lifted him up to her bed, and held him to her chest. He put his face into her neck and slumbered as she pressed him close and licked him over, purring. It was his first recollection of sleeping with anyone.
           More time passed; he grew older. Matron grew older too, but only to her early thirties. Sometimes she'd ask him to come to bed with her, once he turned eight, and occasionally asked odd things of him, like whether he would like to bite her neck. She never pressed anything very hard with him, but insisted on these requests even less. Nonetheless, he'd never found himself asked for anything that made him uncomfortable, and always accepted. Afterwards, she'd always purred vibrations through his body and licked him down until he was asleep, but also crowded very close. When he asked why she told him that she was lonely, and that she loved his company, a cryptic response to a child.
           Matron began taking children to the town when he turned ten. She started with the slowest, weakest of the fifteen or so children. They returned with arm brands that had pairs of a single letter and number on them: 1-D, 4-B, 3-C… That wasn't all so bad, but then strange Hrasi began to visit. Matron would talk with them, bargain with them, and then the branded child would leave with them. She started acting more protective of Miles, as well. Matron began seriously tutoring him in math and writing, and made him her regular sleeping partner. She eventually stopped asking him to come to bed, he always came, and she'd tell him everything about the transactions she made at night.
           "Where did Krista go, Matron? She left with that man today," He'd asked one day, typical of what he'd ask every day.
           "He runs a bordello down in the city. She's going to end up a short-lived prostitute, most likely. It's too bad…"
           "Prostitute?" He'd asked innocently, and she sighed.
           "She never could think very well, you remember that." It was true - she'd had trouble grasping the most basic concepts of algebra. "Well, I did my best, but she never really developed the brain she needed. So instead she's going to let people use her body for her master. She'll get fed, maybe some care, maybe some friends if she's lucky. I always sell the children I know are only worth their bodies to that man; he's the gentlest with them. I'd still be surprised if she lived to be sixteen." He was quiet for a moment.
           "Please don't do that to me Matron," he finally asked. "I don't think I can die like that."
           "Never," she promised, "You're my favorite. I'm not going to sell you. When you're old enough you can go live without me. Your mind is worth so much more than your body." She licked his closed eyes. "Besides, I love you. You'll go far." He'd clutched at fur, letting her purrs put him to sleep.
           The children's numbers dwindled slowly, from twenty to ten to five, and so on. By the age of thirteen he was the only one left. Miles began thinking of Matron, who was still very beautiful, in uncomfortable ways, and when he asked her about she told him he was becoming a man. She wouldn't let him sleep beside her then, but let him sleep atop her bed at her feet. She worked him harder and harder. In Matron this would show itself not as more antagonistic, pressured teaching, but faster and more intense. Thankfully, the faster she went the more willing she was to slow down.
           Matron also began exhibiting an odd behavior: indulging him in his own interests. She asked him what he liked, and then taught him about it. Forever his world had been the mountain estate, but he and Matron had read books about space and battles, and that held his attention. It was with great reluctance that she taught him the rudiments of archery and martial skills, but she did so when asked. More willingly from her came the space sciences and associated math.
           By far the greatest change in their lives were the trips to town. Starting on his thirteenth birthday, Matron began taking him on trips down the valley to the city of Yduura, a booming trade center. He saw countless Hrasi, which Matron kept away, and adult humans, which Matron doubly kept away and growled at fiercely if they came too close to Miles.
           Often the trips were for supplies or luxuries that they could now afford, having only two mouths to feed, but on his tenth trip it was obvious that he was part of the expedition. Something in Matron's demeanor said it: perhaps the set of her jaw or position of ears. That day she took him to one of the breeding centers, although at the time he knew only that it was an important building.
           The breeders there gave him lots of tests: fit these pieces together to make a cube, then a pyramid. Draw the shortest path through this maze, identify the one in a group of words or ideas that didn't belong, and other such things. Matron sat behind him the entire time, offering silent reassurance. When he was done they tested his strength and speed. The doctors there took the tests and came back a few minutes later, then told Matron that he was a very high 1-A.
           "What's a 1-A?" Miles had interrupted, and Matron winced. She'd let him get away with improper protocol a few times. "Apologies," he'd murmured immediately afterwards, but the Hrasi doctor had simply given him a dour look.
           "I-A is a two-part categorization of your abilities. The 1 represents physical aptitude, a scale of 1-5 where your one is the strongest. The 'A' is a measure of mental aptitude, on a scale of A-E with A being 'smartest'. You have managed to retain both superior mental and physical characteristics, something for which your handler should be praised." Miles got the impression that his genes let him get away with protocol slips as far as the doctor was concerned.
           "He's shown special affinity for physics, astronomy, and spatial geometry," the doctor continued, "I suggest, Miss Hanuan, that you develop his interest and skills in these areas further. Some day he might make an excellent cartographer, navigator, or perhaps even a small-time design engineer. A good gene set too; I might take him off your hands for you, if you'd like. I can pay." Matron chuffed from behind Miles, setting his nerve on end, but didn't speak seriously.
           "No thank you, I like my Miles just the way I have him." Matron collected a few papers from the doctor, then thanked him, took Miles by the hand, and left with him. She smiled at him warmly as they walked back.
           "A 1-A, Miles. That's amazing, but I'm not surprised. You've always been special. Someday you'll fully understand how much that 1-A means. Would you like to stay here for the night?" And being an impressionable young human he'd of course agreed. It was the single worst mistake he'd ever made.
           Matron had taken him to a small hotel, checked them in for the night, and then shown him the city. There were things there he'd only dreamed about. Aquariums, museums, parks, and conservatories dotted the town. Matron show him them all, seemingly elated that he'd been labeled a 1-A. When they went through the parks he was the only human without a collar, and she the only without leash or whip - there was no need in their case.
           The two stayed out late. She took Miles to eat dinner at an actual restaurant and went so far as to have him sit across from her as an equal. Matron wasn't acting like the Matron he was used to, who'd gently remind him of his place and keep him subservient without harsh words or actions. She was acting like she truly thought he was her son, an obscene idea, and like she actually wanted him to be equal to her, which was even more absurd. That evening's meal left him confused and a bit disquieted. His feelings proved to be aptly placed.
           By the time the two were finished with their food the sky had turned black. Matron and Miles were the two last customers at the restaurant, and walked down the alleys alone. Matron wanted to go back to their hotel by way of a nearby park, so they ended up strolling through bushy groves that obscured sight of city except for the periodic park light.
           They got perhaps a hundred meters into the thick of the park, hidden to the rest of the world, before being attacked. A trio of huge Hrasi males emerged from the bushes, blocking off both the path ahead of them and the way they'd come. Matron pulled Miles into her, smothering him against her chest. She growled at the Hrasi menacingly, and the one in front of her growled.
           "Quiet, Miss. You're not going to hurt us, and you're not going to protect that human. We're not a bad sort, anyway. All we want is your money and valuables, because we have to eat. Just give them here and we won't touch you or your slave." She'd not listened, ears flat against her skull and eyes dilated. Miles became frightened as he heard Matron rumble a dangerous low whine. He'd never heard her do anything like that, and it scared him to death. Each of the men came closer, and she whined higher.
           "I'm warning you, leave us alone," Matron hissed. But the men paid her no heed. "Stop!" She cried, and it was to no avail. Trembling, she let go of Miles, who stepped back and looked up at her sneering face.
           "Matron? What are you-" She did another thing she'd never done: slapped him across the face, hard. Her claws were sheathed, but it still rocked him back.
           "Run, quickly!" She spat at him. "Go!" And even as one of the Hrasi made a lunge at him he was off, leaving the fool to break his face on the pavement. All four Hrasi cursed as he ran for his life.
           "Little bastard!"
           "Stupid bitch!"
           "Give up, whore!"
           "Run! Get out of here!"
           He ran alright, until they were out of sight. Then his actions hit him hard, he realized what he'd done, leaving Matron to die, and ran back calling Matron's name.
           He found her were he'd left her, but lying face down under a bush, chest pulsing shallowly.
           "Matron," he'd cried, "Matron! Are you alright?" She'd coughed in reply. Miles dragged her out into the park light and flipped her onto her back.
           The wounds had been bad. Blood dripped down her muzzle from her mouth, her chest and arms were ripped with claw slashes, and there was a sickly red hole in her gut. She winced at his manhandling of her, still conscious. "Where'd they go?" He'd demanded, but she'd shook her head.
           "No. You know better than that, Miles…" Matron coughed blood onto his white cotton shirt. "Oh hell, Miles… I hurt. Why did I have to die now? I've just found you out as the success I knew you were all along. I love you, Miles." He'd been terrified at her words.
           "NO! You're going to be fine!" He'd cried, and she'd tried to frown.
           "Miles… don't yell. It doesn't become a servant to yell at his mistress. I'm not going to be fine, either." Matron frown collapsed and she looked at him miserably. "I don't want to die here, or now. I'm cold, Miles. Cold and scared. Don't leave me here until I'm dead. Please?" Miles had looked at her, eyes tearing, and had shaken his head.
           "I won't. But what am I going to do?" He pulled her into his lap, curling her into his chest, and she settled her breathing, speaking then with a more authoritative voice.
           "You go back to that breeding center, tell them I was murdered, tell them I want you handed over to my sister, Miss Aury Arathch. I-" She coughed. "I want you to live with her until you're ready to go out on your own." She looked up at him and smiled, although the pain of doing so strained her. "I've already left everything in your name, so she'll not cast you out. If she does I want you to go to a breeding center and ask about a job."
           "Breeding center?" He'd asked worriedly, suddenly having been hit with the seriousness of what she was talking about. But she chuffed, more of a cough now.
           "Where I took you for the tests. The doctors?" Then she coughed again and looked down, breathing heavily. "So cold… uhhnnn, Miles, not long now…" He pulled her closer, stroking her fur and rubbing her cheeks.
           "It'll be okay," He assured her unconvincingly, "I'll hold on to you. Don't worry about anything, Matron." But Matron wasn't going to be worrying about anything. Matron had nothing to say. Matron was gone. He knew it even as her ears gently picked up into their default positions, even as she went slack. He'd collapsed against her, crying, then got up, turned around, and ran into the night.
          

---v---

           Miles woke scared and sick, cold and alone. Yellow-orange light filtered through the windows in his bedroom. There were scents of Hrasi in the room with him, and he guiltily remembered the events of the previous night. Instead of snoozing Hrasi, however, he found furry depressions on either side of him.
           He hated that dream of Matron. It lay lurking in the recesses of his mind, waiting to come out when he slept. Ironic that, of all the years of his life he'd spent with Matron, that last hour with her was the one he dreamed of the most. It ashamed him, made him feel worthless and a traitor, despite rationalization of his actions. Perhaps that was why he remembered it so well.
           "Raiira?" he called out softly, "Vher? Jonathan? …Matron?" No one answered. He guessed he was alone again, alone in the entire world. Quiet came over Miles as he sat up and hung his head. It wasn't a good time for him to be alone; a day when the chamber wasn't in session and he didn't have to meet with the defense council or go into the office to work on defense systems design, or even do anything. There wasn't anything to distract him from thinking about his past, lost loved ones, or any of his numerous shortcomings. Being idle wasn't something he was good with.
           The scent of morning dew helped bring get him up. Forever used to the sweet smells of his childhood mountain home, the city dew smelled acrid and oily to Miles. He couldn't get over it; the scent bothered him and got him awake quickly. After breathing that dew Miles realized he'd never get back to bed, and didn't really feel like it after having nightmares. So instead he threw off his covers and rolled out of bed, looking back at the sheets. They were almost comical; a huge depression with burnt red fur cover it, a mid-sized depression with no fur, and a much smaller depression with brown fur all over it, each side by side. It just served to remind Miles that he was alone; even the two people who most loved him had left him in the night.
           "Miles?" He jumped - totally naked - a good three or four feet in the air and did a 180-degree turn to land facing the doorway. Raiira stood there with a bemused look, hands on hips, leaning against the doorway in her vest and shorts. "Impressive," she complimented. "Did you just want to show me that, or is there something else?" Miles stood dumbfounded.
           "Raiira… I thought you'd left… thought you'd gone after I was asleep…" She smiled.
           "We're both still here. Vher's trying to make you breakfast, and I was working. I'd wondered if I shouldn't have just done my transcription work in bed so that you wouldn't wake up alone. Huhnn… let's stay in here. I can get Vher to bring in the food." She had turned and left before Miles could respond.
           Abrupt, that could definitely be Raiira. She could be calm and reassuring, but once she got an idea or action stuck in her head she'd carry it out if it killed her. Miles liked her for that, but mostly had her around because she and Vher had made it clear from the beginning that the two them came as pair. He needed Vher: she was protection from malcontents, conservatives, and feral fellow humans.
           There were no clean clothes in his drawer. Of course not, he chided himself; it's Jonathan's turn to do the damn laundry. Let's just add insult to injury; no one ought to mind. Feeling somewhat superstitious, he searched through his old friend's clothes in the drawer along side his and picked out enough for the day. He won't need these anymore, Miles thought, but a bad feeling still lingered in him.
           "Hai, breakfast," a sweet tenor voice sang, muffled from above, "On its way!" Vher appeared in the doorway as Miles was pulling his pants up with several platters on another tray. She stopped dead when she saw him, flicked an ear at his bare morning self, then after a moment shrugged and went in anyway. "G'd morning," She rumbled, "Sleep well?"
           "Not really," Miles replied, having gotten used to being perfectly honest with her, "Good morning all the same. You?" She looked at him and mock-pouted as she laid down the food platter on his bedside.
           "I'm sorry. Feeling better?" Raiira appeared in the doorway and grinned.
           "Seems better enough to be doing early-morning acrobatics." Vher frowned at her but said nothing, while Miles smirked. Raiira elaborated. "He… noticed my arrival this morning a little too much."
           Vher really knew how to cook. She'd made them sliced and glazed Geri meat, his favorite (although Vher wasn't quite the caliber of cook that Matron had been). There were also halved hard-boiled Geri eggs and small loaves of authentic Dui meat-pastries whose recipe came from, she claimed, her clan-mates in t

e Uhuscss highlands. As the three ate their meal Raiira briefed him about his day's schedule, which was to be taken up by something he'd not planned on - a trip to find him a suitable Hrasi servant.
           "I've found several reputable slave brokers who deal in Hrasi - the market for Hrasi being considerably smaller. Six in fact, so there shouldn't be much of a problem finding the right Hrasi for you. No need to settle for anything than perfection, either: the six dealers have something like three hundred Hrasi between them all. I've already ordered and received the necessary papers for you to have ownership over a Hrasi - no small feat, sir. I sent copies out to each business earlier this morning, so there won't be any need for delay after you pay them."
           "I don't have a choice in this," Miles grumbled between bites of egg, "do I?"
           "You could fire us," Raiira offered.
           "How about just firing you?" Miles asked. "Joke," he hastily added when Vher slanted her ears back. Raiira smiled.
           "I'm afraid not. Besides, then Riehs would just make you get a human slave. And you thought you were free, huh?" Miles didn't really have anything to say to that.
           "As I was saying: your new servant. She's going to be a fairly large investment, seeing as she won't actually be producing any money - I'm assuming here that you plan on treating her fairly well. Your salary will take about a 20% hit for her. That with the 40% war tax the government takes out of our hides isn't going to leave you with as much as you're used to. You shouldn't have to change your spending habits, frugal as they already are, but it'll hurt the amount you can save. No big problems there, though, so you can't justify giving us a pay cut." Miles nodded glumly at the news, but Vher immediately started where Raiira had left off.
           "This sounds strange, but it isn't safe for either of us to accompany you to any of these dealers," she growled while gnawing on a piece of Dui, "We are actually low enough in the social strata of sorts to be legally taken as servants to you. You do provide us our entire support, and arguably we have no other servile ties than to you. That would legally make us your slaves should we go into any of the slave dealers with you, so you're going alone. I'm going to take you to the various locales, but you're on your own from there. I'm not too worried about you: these places should protect you as a client because you're worth more as a customer than as inventory." Miles narrowed his eyes.
           "But you can't be sure… It's dangerous, isn't it?"
           "What, you want me to have Riehs take you?" Vher asked, mocking him, and he shut up. Vher might do it, and Riehs would make sure to pick out someone who'd alienate him so he'd spend more time in her labs. "I didn't think you would," she chuffed. "Then, we'll leave as soon as we're done here, alright?" Raiira split open a Geri bone with her superior jaw power and sucked out the marrow inside, then growled at Vher.
           "Hey, pass the Dui. You don't need any more of the sweet stuff. The eggs too, pig." Vher snorted.
           "I made those pastries for Miles, not you. And you're one to speak about sweets." She passed the sticky, flaky honey-meat Dui buns grudgingly, then bit through one she had in her free paw, licking at the sugary glaze on top. "At least I occasionally get some exercise," Vher humphed.
          

---v---

          The fourth dealer at least looked more reputable than the previous three. At about midday, Miles' searches had turned up nothing. That was really an optimistic view of things: a realist would say that the search had been a disaster. While all but the second dealers had recognized him as the human who worked on the defense council, neither seem to have understood or believed that he could buy a Hrasi.
           The first had simply denied him access to their stock, instead trying to show him their more beaten up specimens of human slaves. The second had thought him an escaped slave of their own, and only some quick talking and bargained phone calls had saved him from a predicament that would have been at the least embarrassing and at the most career-ending. The third had taken one look at him and told him to get out. Perhaps, he hoped, the fourth establishment would be more open and understanding than the last few.
           This fourth place was in the seaport district of town, in between wharves and bars and loading docks. The whole area smelled like fish, oil, and sea salt. Afternoon sunbeams beat down on Miles relentlessly, but the ocean breeze cooled the air to something approaching comfortable. He didn't exactly feel safe going down the boardwalk alone, but was fairly sure he could outrun any trouble.
           Looming in front of him was the slave house. From the outside it looked like an ordinary warehouse. Dark wood beams ran up the three-story walls, side by side with reinforced concrete pillars, and a solid metal roof. It was by all means an ugly, functional building with no decoration or frills. There wasn't anything more than a small sign that read 'Kyouh Bay Slave Importers'. It was definitely the place, though. He walked up to the metal double-doors inside and pushed his way through.
           Inside was just as bad as the outside. The place was essentially a warehouse. The entrance opened up into a drab lobby that smelled of antiseptic and sweat. There was ample lighting from overhead fluorescents and plenty of lamps, but it didn't cover up the basic sense of fear and imprisonment. While not outright frightening him, the atmosphere in the building set his nerves on edge.
           Past the lobby was a three-part airlock with transparent walls, probably to keep escapee slaves in. The airlock gave way to a huge open-air… warehouse. It was reminiscent of a convention center: winding pathways led between rows upon rows of cages. Cages, Miles noticed with a grimace, that had humans and Hrasi in them. That's no way to treat Hrasi, he mentally seethed, even if they are slaves. A few offices were attached to the second floor, and he saw the administration going about their business up there. A few guards stood on balconies and looked down at the cages, watching them.
           There was a tap on his shoulder as he looked through the airlock at the slaves. Miles turned to see an exceptionally short, round Hrasi male peering up at him. The little man looked in every way to be a clerk of some sort; he had a loose, brown cotton outfit comprised of vest, belt, and trousers, beady brown eyes, and a dark-chocolate pelt.
           "Do you need assistance, sir?" The clerk looked at him inquiringly when he got a blank look from Miles. "Are you here to pick up one of our inventory specifically, or has that been left your discretion?" Miles puzzled over that for a second, then frowned as he realized what the man meant.
           "No, I'm here of my own volition. Mr. Miles Arathch at your service." The Hrasi's jaw dropped almost enough to hit the floor.
           "The representative of the defense council? The only human councilman in Kyouh?" Miles sighed. Not again, he moaned inwardly.
           "The same, sir."
           "Apologies, Mr. Arathch, I'm sorry I didn't recognize you. My name is Kej Fovoham. Might I be able to help you?"
           "I'm looking for a servant: a slave. A female Hrasi, in particular. Do you think you could help me?" Kej did a double take at that.
           "A Hrasi, sir? I'm not sure that's allowed, sir…" Miles tried to compose himself.
           "My secretary told me this morning that she'd sent you the papers you needed. Perhaps you got something from a Raiira earlier?" Predictably, the man's eyes lit up at her name.
           "Oh, right, I'm very sorry sir, I'd forgotten. This way, sir." Miles nodded curtly and followed Kej through the airlock, which involved large amounts of locking and unlocking, and then out into the open expanse full of cages. There were traces of fear, distress, and bodily fluids Miles' deadened nose could detect, so he assumed they must have been overpowering to the young clerk. Kej, for his part, held up admirably, and instead asked Miles about what qualities he wanted his new slave to have.
           "What's most important to you sir, in terms of your slave's traits? Anything in particular you're looking for?" Miles considered that for a moment.
           "Temperament, mostly. I want a docile, sedate slave. Someone loyal, uncomplaining, and unquestioning of my orders. Build, also: I need a small, weaker one, someone fragile who doesn't pose a threat to me. Intelligence would be highly preferable as well." Kej nodded.
           "Docile, harmless, and clever to the extreme. Well, that doesn't narrow my list of candidates much. I can think of twenty possibilities already, and probably could add more if I had a list of our current stock on hand. Perhaps you would like a certain breed of Hrasi: a particular clan? Perhaps you would like a certain pelt type or color? Maybe a certain skill set?" Miles looked away, feeling sort of sick, and stayed silent. "Don't bother with being shy, sir, I need to know so I can help you pick one. I promise to keep it confidential," Kej chuffed, smiling, then looked more serious. "Listen, sir, they're slaves for a reason. They don't merit the respect you might show the average Hrasi."
           "Sorry… I don't want to make your job any harder. I've always admired the northern highlander clans… Yoichi, Higa, Uruss: the lighter-pelted clans. The more lightly built clans. My Matron was a Yoichi - she became my template for beauty, I suppose." Kej nodded.
           "Ah, you have good taste. The northerners are beautiful indeed. I have a northerner concubine who's a distant relative of the Higa clan; she's gorgeous. You interested in anything past her body?" He lolled his tongue out at Miles, who looked away. This man is too flippant with Hrasi life, he thought.
           "I am. More important, in fact, that she be clever and intelligent. As for knowledge base… Well, cooking and housekeeping at least, but something more advanced would be vastly preferable. A background in physics, math, the hard sciences, or spacing would be the best, but I'd happily take someone with experience in history or literature."
           "Ha! A slave with a background in physics and literature, is that all? You certainly are easy to please," Kej chuffed, and Miles winced. Kej saw it and seemed taken aback a bit. "No, I was joking sir. Of course we have educated slaves of some sort. It's just that while nearly all of stock should be able to keep house and cook as you mentioned, not as many have higher education. Remember sir: most of these slaves come from rural areas across the ocean where society is not as well developed. Quite a few were sold by parents who could easily prove that they didn't have the means to support the extra children. Most don't have much of an education, and the majority is illiterate. That doesn't mean they're not intelligent."
           "I'd really rather someone who understands what I'm talking about at any given time," Miles said, dismissing Kej's sales pitch for a less educated Hrasi, "She's definitely going to have to have some education." Kej shrugged.
           "Alright then, that does narrow it down. Temperament is a sketchy thing you'd have to look at yourself, but education is a definite property. You want a slave who's also an academic in science and the arts. We have 8 such individuals in stock, 3 of which are female. None of them are going be your exact match, though one of them appears to be a northerner. Unless you're willing to give in on the education or gender requirements, we can go see these three - they're all right next to eachother."
           The two picked up their pace, walking briskly through the labyrinth of languishing slaves in their cages. The three Kej had mentioned were separated in the back left corner of the warehouse. "Keep in mind that these slaves are rare in that they have a lot of knowledge for servants. They are going to be accordingly expensive," he warned. Miles shrugged, and Kej grinned. "Good. I was hoping you'd feel that way. Here's the first," he said, pointing at the left-most cage.
           Inside was the compulsory sheet pile, water and food bowl, and toilet / sink, as well as a cherry brown / black Hrasi with piercing brown eyes and a thick coat. She was crouched down in an attack position, not surprising because there wasn't height in the cage for her to stand up or room for her to stretch up. She looked very tall, muscular, and had the fierce looks of a southern plains clan Hrasi.
           "And who are you?" Miles inquired softly. The slave growled quietly back.
           "Stop that!" Kej hissed, silencing the woman. "This is Pararun, formerly Pararun Gisehj." Gisehj was indeed a southern plains clan. "She was an accountant for a small banking company. Miss Pararun was caught, charged, and convicted for embezzlement after several years working there. Unfortunately for her, her family, bond-partner, friends, and other connections would not pay the fine she was handed as sentence, nor was it determined that she could reasonably be expected to ever accrue the funds to pay the bank back its losses. Her former employers settled with the courts to sell her into slavery instead, to try and make up some of their damages. She was sold to us with the warning that she can be… feisty." The servant growled.
           "Let me go! I'll never bow to another's twist desires, or sick fantas-"
           "I said shut it, bitch," Kej hissed, "Or I'll punish you personally. You don't want that again, do you? I can make it worse, so shut it down." The woman glared at Miles and Kej, but subsided.
           "Not my type," Miles concluded, "Too strong. Too assertive." Kej nodded.
           "I thought so. What about this next one?"
           'This next one' was a traditional river-valley clan descendant - beautiful golden yellow pelt with jade green eyes and a pink nose. She looked to be in her teens, and was considerably smaller than the first, about Riehs-sized, although much better muscled. I guess these slaves don't have much to do but exercise to improve their physique, Miles grumbled. What a waste of Hrasi genius. The young woman locked her knees together as the two men shifted gazes to her, hiding her privates from watchers who could essentially see everything else.
           "Straight from the Fauhnan jungle, this one. Supposedly a field biologist," Kej explained. "She was… unwise in her touring of the area, and ended up spending most of her life's savings in protection money. When that ran out…" He leaned over to leer at the girl from above. "Care to finish the story?" The girl gulped
           "Rape," she muttered. "Chain rape, enslavement… the usual. By the time I'd found my way home the university had written me off as dead and had my government papers taken into personal collection. The dean of the university promised my master he'd destroy those papers in exchange for…" She shuddered.
           "A heart-wrenching story, no? And she's still good for more. She's still relatively virginal, occasional rape and associated trauma not withstanding." Kej looked at Miles hopefully. "How about it?" Miles looked the girl up and down.
           "How much?" The girl shuddered, but Kej had focused in on Miles at the very sign of money.
           "Fifty thousand credits, non-negotiable." Miles nodded. Not so bad, and she can make it up to me.
           "Fine. I want her given decent clothes, some warm food. Give her a chance to clean up, but don't let anyone so much as lay a hand on her. I'll call Miss Huri Riehs to come here and have her taken to my residence. Before that, though, I want new papers for her. I want her bonded to me." The girl looked up at him, incredulous and terrified even as Kej had turned his back to them both, punched buttons wildly on a datapad. She looked at him dubiously and with great trepidation.
           "You don't want me as a… slave? Then…?" Miles smiled at her.
           "I want you as a biologist. Bonded to me, you get a small stipend to help pay your living and protection against re-enslavement. I get my fifty-thousand-credit investment back - eventually - and you can help my geneticist friend Miss Riehs. Sound fair?" The girl's eyes and mouth opened wide, and she sat there dumbfounded.
           "You mean… You'd give me my life back? I… Sir…" she was silent for a moment, and Miles poked his arm through the cage far enough to rub her muzzle.
           "I will. You're going to be made a person again, alright? If the people here give you any trouble, tell them Miles Arathch said not to lay a hand on you. I'll see you tonight; I'm having a friend pick you up. A female friend, so don't worry." The girl looked shocked, staring at him, nodded numbly, then lay back on her cage's floor.
           "Don't believe this…" She muttered. "Tell me this is real…"
           "This is real. Listen, though: I don't even know your name," Miles prompted, and the girl chuffed.
           "My name's Eaghera, but you can call me anything you want to."
           She curled to a ball in the corner just as a pair of brown, stocky Hrasi blustered into the scene. Kej brushed past Miles to punch in a code on a small keypad at the cage's bottom corner. The pad fell open, exposing a key lock, and Kej deftly keyed that open with a metal key from his vest pocket. The entire front cage's wall fell open on unseen bottom hinges. The Hrasi men reached in and forcefully dragged Eaghera out, who yelped in fear.
           "Careful!" Miles warned, and from Kej: "Be gentle!" The two Hrasi musclemen let Eaghera stand up and sway uncertainly, naked and freezing. "You going to be alright?" Miles asked warily, and she turned to stare at him with a humiliated look on her face. She glanced down at herself, then back up to Miles.
           "I'm okay," she said meekly, and her pair of escorts led her away. Kej moved beside Miles to look at him questioningly.
           "Why did you do that? She'd have made an excellent slave."
           "She didn't deserve to be a slave. She never should been taken in another's service. I'll bring her back to your world, get my money back, and she'll be one more person in my debt." Kej frowned.
           "That's… interesting. I suppose I understand the long term reasoning, although I'd just take her for that beautiful body of hers." He snorted. "Well, is she all, or do you still want a slave?" Miles nodded.
           "She was to appease my conscience; making up for having a Hrasi slave. I still need a companion. Do you have any others?" At that Kej's eyes glittered anew.
           "Of course, sir. I had really wanted you to consider this last one anyway. Take a look." Kej pulled Miles over to the last cage and pointed towards it. Miles turned to inspect the cage, then stepped back in confusion: it was empty.
           "Where is she?" Miles asked, searching the cage. The sheets were balled up in the corner, the sink and toilet looked untouched, and the slave's food was sitting uneaten in the center. Kej grunted.
           "Come out, you. No need to hide. Out, I have someone that wants to see you." The sheets rustled, then a small black nose poked out from them. It snuffled a bit and a pale white Hrasi extended herself out from the ball of sheets. She pulled out of the blankets and lay on her belly. "There she is. You like?"
           She was beautiful in Miles' eyes: a perfect example of Hrasi nobility in form. The woman could easily have been an albino; she was bleached white. Her eyes were a deep green, stark contrast to her long-furred pelt. Her ears were large but scarred, and had several nicks and cuts in them. The slave had a thin build, lean muscles, and almost no body fat, but she looked agile and fleet of foot. Definitely a pedigree Highborn, Miles thought. What is one of my Matron's kind doing here?
           "She's gorgeous…" Miles breathed. "Who is she?"
           "We're not really sure," Kej murmured. "Assuredly she doesn't know. Her master had her personality and relative memories wiped before she was sold to us. She doesn't even know who her old master was. We've tested her thoroughly, and found her to have advanced instruction in science and math, as well as a strong affinity for music. She doesn't even have a name; we've chosen not to give her one. Sometimes I wonder if she's capable of anything besides terror and distress. For you, though, she'd be perfect: never any question of authority, no threat to you. You'd essentially have a blank slate to write on."
           The enigmatic woman said nothing, but lay perfectly still, save for the shivers that racked her body.
           "Don't be afraid of me," Miles whispered into the cage. The slave's muzzle twitched, but she showed no reaction otherwise. "Huh," he grunted. "I'll take her, too. How much is she?"
           "Seventy - Five thousand credits," Kej lolled, and Miles stared him dead in the eye.
           "You know I don't have that kind of money." The tiny man only grinned.
           "Of course you do, sir. And if you don't, I could easily find other buyers for her." Miles looked at the man, then shrugged.
           "Alright, seventy-five thousand it is." The clerk silently flowed down to the cage's keypads and released that cage's front wall as well.
           "Out," Kej growled. "You have a master now. You belong to him, hear?" The slave crawled out of her cage and knelt at Mile's feet. Kej looked down at her, then up at him. "She's yours. I'm going to go up and record her purchase in accounting; the bill will be automatically tacked on to the other slave's. You should receive the bill at your home in a few days. You're free to take her wherever you want now." With that he walked away, leaving Miles and slave standing there.
           Miles looked down at the white form kneeling before. "Stand up here with me," he said softly, and she rose. She kept her head down, gazing at his chest, and squirmed uncomfortably. "Hold my hand," he asked, putting his out. Miles' slave took it shyly, squeezing down, but he felt no claws. He looked down at the girl's hand: no claws. "You were de-clawed?" A miserable nod. Miles said nothing at that. "Would you like to take your blanket in there?"
           "Please, master," she said, voice quavering. It was the first thing he'd ever heard her say. Her voice was soft, light, and made her seem even more frail.
           "You can retrieve it." She let go of his hand, leaned into the cage, and plucked out her sheets, wrapping them around her. Miles watched as she wrapped her torso in a loose toga-like form. He took her hand when she was done and led her out of the building.
          

---v---

           In a completely unrelated event, rebellious twice-traitor fighter pilot Aaron Sykes banged his head on the bulkhead of an industrial ore freighter. He was cramped into a small space between the hauler's power core and the distribution grid. Damn all, he swore, It's not fair that I have to be smuggled. He would have rubbed at the lump swelling on his head if he could have moved his arms. Aaron listened to the sounds the ship was making, wondering what had awoken him. There was nothing but the clatter of feet above him, the hum of the power core, and the howling of dust on the hull.
           Abruptly, the bulk plate above his leg ripped off and a furry white head poked down into his crotch upside-down.
           "You okay Aaron? I heard a clang…"
           "I'm fine, Naia," he growled, "Just bumped my head." The Hrasi 'Naia' looked at him sympathetically, then reached in an arm to rub his face blindly.
           "I'm sorry," she pouted. He snorted.
           "Sorry. I'm stuck between a nuclear fusion drive that's probably irradiating me enough to leave me sterile and cancerous and a power grid whose discharge could easily fry me, and you're sorry? I'll be lucky if I survive, while you get to mingle with generals and eat gourmet feasts and-"
           Naia slammed the bulk plate back into place, leaving Aaron's curses to bounce off the walls of his cell. "Damn Hrasi bastards…"
          

---v---

           The sun hurt Miles' eyes as he walked down the harbor boardwalk. It was past midday, but the sun still hung swollen and yellow in the sky. Sea smells also greeted him once he'd left the building with his new slave. Instinctively she kept a pace behind him, not dragging him down with their hand-in-hand link, but not presuming to walk alongside or ahead of him. Actually, he wouldn't have minded; a Hrasi in his mind was still a Hrasi if she was criminal or enslaved, and as such was still due some basic respect. There was a lonely, dreading misery in her eyes, though, which he didn't like in the least. Miles was going to make it a point to change that.
           Miles and his slave walked quickly through the dangerous districts of town to the street corner where he'd left Vher and her car waiting. She was waiting out on the hood of the little red thing.
           "Hey, sir. I was beginning to get worried when you didn't come back." She nodded at the slave-girl. "What's her name?"
           "She doesn't have one," Miles explained, "at least not one yet." Vher frowned but pressed no further. Instead she opened her car's door and slipped inside.
           "You want to go home?" she asked. Miles nodded. "Then get in the back: I'll take you there."
           Miles opened the back door, then waved his slave in before clambering in after her.
           "Hrasi and women first," he told the woman, who said nothing. Vher started the car moving as soon as he shut the door. As the car rolled past wharves and warehouses, Miles turned to get a better look at his new servant. She really was stunning, and was silky smooth to the touch to boot. "Do you remember anything about yourself?" Miles asked gently, and his slave shook her head. "Do you know who you are?" he elaborated. The woman considered this carefully.
           "I'm your slave," she finally decided, "I belong to you. That's all." She sat in a fetal position: legs pulled close together, hands on knees, head tucked down to stare at her chest. Her ears were cocked back in a cautious-frightened position, and her fur was ruffled out in an agitated state.
           "Do you remember who you were before that?" Miles prodded.
           "Another man's slave," she said quietly, shifting nervously.
           "And before that?"
           "I don't remember, master." Miles twitched at the 'master' reference, but didn't quite refute it.
           "You've never had a name?" The slave shook her head quickly, still very insecure.
           "I'm sorry, master. I'm sure I once did, but I've forgotten if I did."
           "Do you want a new name?" Miles asked honestly, and laid a hand on the girl's shoulder. She jumped, then drew into a ball. Miles could feel her muscles winding under his grip. She was panting.
           "Scared of me?" The girl tucked her head in further.
           "I'm sorry, master. I don't know what I want. Please, don't hurt me." Miles narrowed his eyes.
           "I'm not going to hurt you. Here, come sit in my lap, calm down." The girl's flattened, but she moved into his lap and shuddered. He put an arm around her back and hugged her close, then began petting her face. "Better?" he asked, but the girl started shaking violently in the Hrasi version of sobbing. "Not better," he murmured, and stopped petting her. She sat in his lap, shaking more slowly, and he relaxed his grip on her. "I'm not going to hurt you… It's alright."
           "I'm scared, master." Miles looked down at her, rubbed cheeks lightly with her. The shuddering slowly subsided.
           "Better. It's alright; I'm not going to hurt you. You want a name?" She laid her head into the crook in his neck, breathing shallowly and quickly.
           "If it would please you, master," She whispered. He thought about names.
           "How about Ojia, or Yenneh, or maybe Eiri?"
           "What you will, master." Miles grinned.
           "You don't sound very opinionated. How about Kyaruin?" It was a name that vaguely translated as 'without wish'. Perhaps not the most flattering name, but neither was it as insulting as a slave's name.
           "It's a beautiful name, master. If you wish, it is mine." Miles rubbed cheeks with her again.
           "Then, be Kyaruin. You can sleep if you want; it'll be a while before we get home. It's alright."
           In the front, Vher grinned and turned onto the next road on the way to her employer's residence.
          

---v---

           "…Be alright," Kyaruin heard her master say to his gigantic female companion from across the doorway to his house. The woman purred, nodded, and winked at her master, then closed the door on Kyaruin and him, leaving them inside. Kyaruin's master turned around to look at her, smiling. She had another twitch of anxiety, but managed to suppress it; he'd said he wouldn't hurt her, and he hadn't lied when he'd said it was all right for her to sleep on the trip there, so she gave him the benefit of the doubt.
           Her fears were academic, really: She was a slave and had to obey her master's whims accordingly. That she remembered very clearly. It was still better to not have to live in terror of one's master, though. Most of her old memories were gone forever, but the more recent ones usually came and went from her, leaving vague impressions of the last few weeks before her memory wipe. The one memory she knew in her gut and heart was a memory of being beaten. Multiple memories of being beaten, actually, for a multitude of reasons. To her, it came down to one basic principle that she lived by: Keep your mouth shut, bitch.
           "Haven't seen anything like this before?" Her master asked, and she was startled out of her reverie, enough to make her drop her sheet and stand bare before him. "You don't take long, do you?" he chuckled softly, and she shrunk back in fear to avoid the inevitable assault that would follow. Her master only barked a human laugh, much to her surprise. "I guess you didn't intentionally drop your clothing, hmmm? You can have it back for now, if you want." Kyaruin stood stolidly, not about to move without express orders to. Her previous master had drilled into her the idea that she couldn't second-guess her master's orders, and she had been often punished when she did. This one only raised an eyebrow.
           "You don't want it back? I said you could," he murmured. When she didn't move for the sheet he frowned and bent down to retrieve it himself, then put it into her hands. Her master looked disappointed. "Why didn't you get it yourself?" he asked.
           "…You didn't tell me to, master," Kyaruin whispered meekly, cringing for more expected blows. None came, but he moved to catch her chin and tug lightly on the tufts of her young beard. She bore it with quiet tolerance, afraid to pull away from his touch lest he become violent. Her master only stroked her beard, though, then gently brushed her cheeks. Intentionally he kept the palm of his hand in front of her nose, and she dutifully inhaled his scent. While it may not have done much to calm her down, Kyaruin was grateful he didn't smell like male Hrasi; their gingery musk unsettled her at a gut level.
           "I don't have to tell you everything," he said, rubbing her jawbone. "You may be my slave, but you're still a Hrasi and I'm still a human. This is your new home, and you can act in it however you like, aside from the few things I'll tell you to and not to do. So you don't remember being a person? You still are. Neither I nor anyone else is going to take that away from you."
           When he was done Kyaruin saw an odd, intense look on her master's face. She loosed an iron grip on the sheets that she hadn't noticed she'd made - it was odd how much stronger a Hrasi could grip without having claws to worry about.
           "I'm…. sorry, master. I'll try to be more…. Independent from you." He smiled at that.
           "Good. Oh, 'Master' is fine, but my real name is Miles Arathch. You may call me as you like, I really don't care." She didn't bat an eye.
           "Yes, master."
          

---v---

           Naia rapped cautiously on the loose floor-plate in the engineering deck's farthest corner. "Anyone there?" She asked cautiously. There was a faint mumble from below. Quickly she checked to make sure nobody was in sight or earshot, then carefully pulled the floor panel off. Under it lay the naked white legs of her human friend, Aaron. "It's me," she whispered, "We're in the Hharras system now: that conversion we just went through was our last. You feel okay?"
           "I feel sick…" came the reply, in hoarse English. "You can't just stuff me in a damn box for three days and throw me through eight conversions like that. I've seen you guys go through conversions before; it doesn't mess you up like it does with me… ugh, I need food. And water. And a shower, and a toilet, and new clothes…" There was an acrid, pungent scent coming from the floor panel that Aaron was speaking from, and it rankled with Naia's nose.
           "You soiled yourself? I thought you were an adult," she coughed.
           "I've been down here for three damned days, and I can't move. Not that you cared to listen when I mentioned it repeatedly." Oh. He had mentioned something about that… Naia's ears flattened out in embarrassment.
           "I'll get you some new… oh, what the hell, I'll just take you back to my quarters." She pulled his legs, brought him up out of the recess in the floor. Aaron was, as promised, filthy and reeking. "Follow me," she hissed in disgust, turning her nostrils away from him and beckoning him out of the engineering bay.
           She'd picked an auspicious time to try and smuggle him across the ship; perfect midday. Everyone on the whole damned ship, all 48 of them save Aaron and herself were in the galley stuffing their faces with frozen meat-facsimile. The halls were clear as the two of them stole down the main corridor, up to the habitation deck, and down to the farthest passenger cabin at the end of the hall. There was not so much as a trace of other Hrasi even as Naia locked the two of them inside. Naia quickly shooed her friend into the cabin's single shower / sink unit, keyed in an order for 5 minutes of warm water - expensive on a ship - and left him to his own devices.
           It was a very few seconds after the hot water ran out that Aaron came out as well, naked and shivering. He smelled like northern mountain flowers, too. Naia chuffed openly at his discomfort of being seen by her - Aaron could be incredibly self-conscious of himself sometimes.
           "Don't laugh," he growled, teeth chattering from the cold, "It's not funny that I'm freezing, or that you're a pervert that won't give me a damned towel." Such words only served to further amuse her.
           "Here's your towel," Naia called, fishing one from under her bunk and throwing it at him. Her companion caught it deftly with the unnerving grace and sense of someone who knew exactly where and how it was moving, wrapped the towel around his waist, and crossed over to her cabin window, staring out at the stars. Naia came up behind him and laid a paw on his shoulder.
           "So, this is the famed home system of the vile Hrasi?"
           "This is it. The sun is Hharras, or 'guardian', and its eleven planets are its charges. The habitable one, Haras, is our homeworld, the place from which we draw our name. Hrasi: 'those of Haras'. It's also were we're going."
           "That I guessed," Aaron said somewhat dryly. "But what will we find once we're there?" Naia patted him on the back.
           "Help. I know some of my father's old friends. And if all else fails, you could easily pass off as any number of humans…"
           Aaron stood and gazed at the stars drifting in the dark.
           "I hope so. I really do hope so, Naia. We should've met back with Amara weeks ago, and this is not helping matters. We shouldn't be here, it's too dangerous by far." Naia pulled him back to gaze at him critically.
           "You know of another place where we can find any sort of political help? Only in the lap of civilization, the one philosophical hotbed where there are people besides the militant conservatives, my friend. Like it or not, this is where we're safest."
           "That's the problem."
          

---v---

           Kyaruin oriented herself to the new surrounding quickly. Her master didn't ask much about her, just showed off the entire house. There was so much to see! An indoor atrium, a gourmet kitchen, elaborate bathrooms, beautiful architecture… And he seemed to actually enjoy telling her everything. To Kyaruin the manner of treatment was completely alien, but it was also very much welcome.
           Apparently, her master lived off very little. His house was full of eccentricities and artifacts of Hrasi culture that had no practical use, while his own furniture and living conditions were frugal at most. Her master, or 'Miles' as he insisted she think of him, had outlined a list of things he wanted her to do. Even combined the chores were next to nothing. She was expected to keep the house 'presentable' and cook for the two of them - that was it. Once those tasks had been completed she had the rest of the day off. Kyaruin'd been quite bedazzled by that, but he seemed to be telling the truth.
           It was evening before they were done, and by then she knew literally everything about that house she'd ever need. To her continued surprise he walked out of the house shortly before dusk, claiming a need to care for some business. No threats or chains to keep inside; once he was gone she could've easily ran away. Not that she would even have considered it, but the trust he showed from the outset was amazing. He just told her to have dinner for the two of them by his return in two hours.
           Kyaruin needed little searching to find ingredients in her new kitchen; it was well stocked. She worked in silence, slicing raw ruri meat into thin slips, dicing kyii into large chunks, and roasting both in a thin vegetable oil. It was odd that she knew the recipe in her hands - they moved without hesitation, but that she had no idea what she was making, or how she knew how to make it. Concentrating, she thought back, pushed around in the recesses of her memory, straining for old memories… and cut her finger with the chopping knife. Shows what happens when I try to think, she mentally growled, then shook her head. Doesn't sound like something I would have said. But then, how would I know?
           The meats hissed at her as she stirred them in the boiling oil. She added in some Hibeshi leaves and onions, then turned up the stove's heat and let the ingredients fry while she moved on to the bread. Too quiet, she decided. I wonder what sort of music my master likes? Is it the same kind that I used to like? I wonder if I'll know it when I hear it…
           A small crystal-disc player of vaguely human origins sat on the kitchen's edge, and Kyaruin hit the 'play' button to hear what music sounded like. Soft bells rang in the background of the opening track, then blossomed into a deep, sonorous string orchestra. The song was deeply classical; complex chords that registered with her in a familiar way that said 'Hrasi'. She listened to the rich basso of some bass instrument, and then to the lilting sweetness of a high wind-whistle instrument. Music like that soothed her, calming down overworked nerves that she'd all but frazzled out. That's beautiful… but I wish I knew what it was.
           Kyaruin kneaded meat-dough in her hands, squeezing and pulling it until it was even and smooth, then sending it into the oven. When she was done she looked her furry hands, each covered in bits of red meat and pink flour bits. In particular she looked at her fingertips, winced at the scarred recesses where her claws should have been. What did I do to deserve being declawed? I don't think I could hurt anyone. With that solemn state of mind she continued her work.
          

---v---

           The door creaked open at the front. Kyaruin knew; she heard it from her kneeling position at the side of the dining table. Her carefully made meal was arranged for her master at the table, with her much more meager portions served on the floor. She made no noise or motion as her master walked through the house and finally into the dining room. He deliberately walked behind her and crouched.
           "Looks wonderful, Kyaruin," he whispered, brushing at her ears. "Perhaps you'll join me at the table, though?" She rose slowly, bent back down shyly to retrieve her dish, then managed to set it on the table across from his. He touched her shoulder from behind. "It looks good. Thank you. Shall we?"
           "Sir," she mumbled, sitting gingerly at her place, while her master took his. For the first time that evening she saw him, loosely dressed in the grays of an official, with a beaten hide vest. He looked interested, which Kyaruin wasn't sure how to take.
           "I brought you something on the way back from my small errand; I had to find accommodations for a separate purchase of mine. I wasn't sure about you, so I guessed with a bias towards thin." He put a hand in his vest and drew out a thin cardboard box. "Here," he offered, handing it over.
           She undid the box's bindings, then slowly unfolded it. Inside was a tightly wrapped bundle of white silk. She murred appreciatively as she unfolded the cloth in her lap. It was a set of thin, translucent clothing: a dress, a vest, a loose nightgown, lingerie, and several pairs of shorts. "I thought they would better suit you than a sheet would," He said softly. She bowed her head softly as she folded her new wardrobe back together.
           "Thank you, master." She whispered. Miles pursed his lips in a brief shadow of a smile.
           "Not really your master," he whispered back. Kyaruin dipped her ears in concession. "Our food is getting cold," he said more loudly, then proceeded to spear a bite of her ruri meat and devour it. "It's good," he praised.
           Kyaruin ate a bit of it, stealing looks at her master to make absolutely sure that she was not outpacing him. They ate silently.
           "Do you like to talk?" he asked at the very end of the meal, breaking a long silence. She gulped.
           "I haven't done a lot of talking that I remember. Not many people really wanted me to talk much," she replied honestly. He nodded slowly.
           "I can understand that. But do you like to talk? Do you enjoy it?"
           "I don't know, sir. I haven't done very much of it, at least not that I remember." She fidgeted. "My conversations have been limited to yes and no for a very long time, master. I'm afraid I can't converse very well." Miles laughed.
           "You do a job of it for someone so long out of practice. Maybe you'll tell me about your life tonight, or later past that?" She frowned.
           "I don't remember much more than being beaten and used sir. If I had a life before, then it was taken away a long time ago." Miles looked up at her more somberly.
           "You can't have your life taken away from you, short of being killed outright. It's not gone, just waiting for you to return to it." He took a sip of his drink. "I can help you with that, eventually."
           "Master, please. I don't even remember who I am or was. Please, don't tell me I'll ever be my old self again. I'm not even sure who my old self was."
           "Does that mean you'll never find out," he asked quietly, "Or are you just afraid to find yourself?"
           "It means, master, it means that… It means that I don't think I'll ever be who I used to be, whoever that was." Miles gazed at her serenely for a moment, then shook his head, speaking sympathetically.
           "Whoever worked your mind over so you'd be a slave did a damned good job. You're wrong, of course; there is in fact very little stopping you from searching for yourself and reclaiming your life. Most of it is simply in your mind, even. All the same, I do believe you have your work cut out for you. I bought you specifically because you don't have the will to kill me or run away. It's too bad that that same trait keeps you a slave." Kyaruin sat silently, having no response. "Huh. We have nothing to say? Well, clear the table then, and come to bed. I'm going to take a shower."
           With that her master sat up, stretched, then walked through the dining room door and down the main hall. Kyaruin was left alone to pile the dishes and wipe off the table. She shivered once he was gone. Master scares me. I think he wants something more from me, and I don't know what it is. I wonder if he'll be mad if he doesn't get it? God, I hope he doesn't hurt me. Master was being so nice to me earlier… Did I do something wrong? I almost wish he'd just get it over with and hit me and then tell me what mistake I made. But I don't want to see him angry, especially not with me. I wonder what he'll want from me?
           She finished collecting the plates, then took them to the kitchen and set them in the dishwasher. Water was running audibly through the plumbing in the ceiling, so she didn't dare turn the dishwasher on for fear of burning or freezing her master. Instead Kyaruin found her silks and retreated to the bedroom. There was a full-length mirror in the bathroom adjacent to the bedroom, so she dropped her sheet toga to examine herself nude for a moment, checking for new bruises and abrasions. For the first time in what seemed an eternity, there were none. Kyaruin unfolded her nightgown, then slipped into it.
           She couldn't help but laugh. Her master was certainly odd; wind chill was about the only thing that her new gown would protect against. It was already translucent, but with her white fur and in good lighting the gown simply served to put a haze about her figure. It wasn't even that warm. With a sigh she dug through her silk gifts to find the lingerie and deftly fit it about her. It was a little tight, and tickled her, but at least managed to hide her in lace. As if it'll stop him, she griped to herself. Maybe wearing something like this is more provocative than nothing at all… I certainly don't want to encourage him. She quickly rinsed her mouth out, then stripped again and splashed a bit of water on herself so that she could more easily brush her pelt into place. With a few swipes of the hand she got her mane and body fur all pointing the same direction, then clothed again and walked into the bedroom.
           Apparently, the only counsel her master kept was the dark. There was no light except for a few beams from one of the moons directly outside the window. She spread herself out at the foot of the bed, rolling over on her backside and then spread-eagling. From such a position there was little for her to do but stare at the wood grains in the ceiling beams. The water cut off after a few minutes, so she waited patiently. She twitched involuntarily as she felt his presence when he padded into the room. There was a quiet rustle as he sat down beside her.
           "You look beautiful," he murmured. A soft, warm hand rubbed at her neck. "Not too comfortable, though. You want to sit up?" Kyaruin did so, drawing the film of her gown around her. "Don't worry," he soothed, "I won't hurt you." Her master lightly touched her chin and drew her gaze up to meet his. She stayed silent.
           "Why didn't you run away?" he asked, with no trace of confrontation in his voice, but instead curiosity. She gulped, nervous at the hand at her neck, even if it was unclawed.
           "I… Because I didn't want to. You would have found me and punished me eventually."
           "I think it's more than that. I've been thinking; when they trained you to be a slave they did a good job on you. Your will must have been fairly deeply submerged. I wonder if you'd struggle if I choked you to death right now." Kyaruin's eyes went wide.
           "Please, don't! I - no, just please-"
           "I'm not going to," he chuckled softly, then looked more serious. "But I wonder if you would. There is practically no willpower left on your outside; it's all hidden away. Don't you think it's bad enough that I think I own you? Do you have to think that too?" Kyaruin felt a little bit sick.
           "It's true… I'm yours. I don't understand what you want from me. I'm sorry, master." Miles sighed.
           "I bought you because I wanted someone I wouldn't have to worry about treachery from. I never wanted a body. I'm Miles Arathch, a human born from a Hrasi, blasphemous as that phrase may sound. I have all the bodies I want at the genetic engineering center. That's not what I was looking for. I hate to say it, but you're here in my dead bond-partner's place. I really want someone to talk with, to confide in, but you seem insistent on being a piece of flesh. Even if it means you leave me someday, I want to undo the work of whoever made you a slave." Kyaruin looked away, pulling from the hand on her chin.
           "I'm sorry, sir. I don't even know if that part of me still exists." Miles smiled to himself.
           "It's there. Just well-buried, I suspect." He yawned, then laid back. "I'm tired. You want to retire for the night? No need to sleep with me, if you don't want to," he offered her evenly. In response Kyaruin gracefully slipped her clothing off and laid atop her master, nuzzling his bare chest. She licked an exposed nipple, making him squirm. There was no sign of protest, so she carefully bear-hugged him, squeezing her master's chest lightly. "You're a woman of very few words," he laughed quietly, "Did you know that?"
           "Well, master. There's not a lot I want to say," Kyaruin purred. "Except…"
           "Except?"
           "You don't have much hide, sir. We really should take this under the covers, before you freeze."
           "Sheets? I have you, what do I need covers for?" He began burrowing under the sheets and furs anyway. She chuffed to herself for no particular reason, hugging him tighter and trying to cover more of him with her limited surface area. "Yeah. Quiet type: that's you," he said, already slipping under her warm, deep purrs. One night survived, she thought. And only the rest of my life to go.
          

---v---

           Morning came gently, splashing rays of golden-yellow across Miles' bedroom. He awoke refreshed, blissful, and entirely ignorant of what he was doing underneath a beautiful Hrasi girl. She couldn't have been out of college at that age. Oh god. I hope she's not some prostitute I picked up off the street. That'd get me killed. Almost better if she is, though: I'm gonna get torn to bits by her parents if she belongs to somebody. He laid his head back. I wasn't drinking, though. Was I? What did I do yesterday? …Oh. It's that Kyaruin lass. Thank god.
           Miles leaned his head up to look at her. Her snow-white face was curled up against his chest, and she was drooling on his right nipple. Why did I pick her? She's so young, and an albino too. Reminds me of Matron. He brought an arm up inside the covers and tickled the base of her tail. Raiira had told him the sensation was torture: maddeningly arousing, ticklish, and a bit painful. He scratched at her with long fingernails until she moaned and awoke with a shudder.
           "Good morning," He said cordially. Kyaruin picked her head up, seeming to suddenly realize she'd slobbered on her master, then dutifully cleaned him with her raspy rough tongue. Her body was starting to twitch, and he felt her crotch's dew on his leg, but he kept on scratching her. She didn't even notice.
           "Uhhn. Master, I think I've missed breakfast. I'm sorry. It won't happen again."
           "It's alright. I'm about done punishing you anyway." She frowned, still groggy.
           "What?"
           "I said that you're about to soil the bed." Kyaruin's eyes widened as she finally realized what he was doing, whereupon he stopped entirely. "I'm not serious, Kyaruin. I don't care if you miss breakfast one day. That isn't why I brought you here. Anyway, it's too early for serious talk… Uh, I need a shower. Why don't you clean yourself up while I go take one? Oh, and if you have time, change the sheets too." The girl looked at him warily.
           "Yes, master." She rolled aside and slipped out of bed in search of her nightgown. Miles took his first full breath without a hundred or so pounds of Hrasi on his chest, then pulled himself up and walked dazedly out of the room. Instinctually he went for the master bathroom, then realized that'd be where his slave was about to go. He turned instead to stagger off to the guest bathroom at the end of the hall. Why do we have to have mornings? he grumbled, They're so damned slow. I hope Kyaruin gets over that crazed, terrified look she always has on. I don't want to be seen scaring Hrasi. Besides, she makes me feel… feral.
           Miles got to the bathroom and shut the door, then got himself in the shower stall and turned on the cold water. He could only take it for a moment, and that was the moment it took him to wake up. Once conscious, he quickly raised the water temperature up to something a bit warmer. Miles took a dab of gel from the shower dispenser and rubbed it through his hair and into his skin. Another Hrasi invention: gel that cleaned the endless hairs of a pelt - or in his case a mere head of hair - and sunk into the epidermis to act as a topical antibacterial. It tingled, the chemicals probably sloughing off entire layers of his soiled skin. The scent of flowers and antiseptic wafted through his nostrils.
           For half an hour he sat and soaked, scrubbing away all traces of the previous days, then stopped to let the water rinse the soap off. All that hot water made him feel giddy - another Hrasi invention. The outgoing water was piped in a coil around the incoming water pipe, so his hot water effectively never ran out. Soapy mist started to clog up his lungs, making him cough and rasp.
           With great resignation Miles cut the water and stepped out of the shower, grabbing a towel to dab off the water and wring his hair. The bathroom door he unceremoniously kicked open, too lazy to pull the handle. There wasn't anyone around, so he took his chance to kick things. Having been fairly trained in martial arts and archery, he felt somewhat oppressed by the city, so he took the opportunity to hit things when he had the chance. It was probably a bad habit, and he knew it, but it felt better than sitting in a chair all day. He promised himself yet again to ask Vher if she would spar with him.
           "Are you all right, sir?" Kyaruin called out from somewhere past the hallway. He wrapped the towel amid his waist modestly as he heard steps come past the stairs and through the weaving hallways. She strode out from the last doorway at the end of the hall, looking concerned.
           "I'm fine," he assured her.
           "Oh. I'm sorry, master, I thought I heard you fall…"
           "Not quite. I just kicked a door, nothing fell. No problems."
           Miles looked at her appraisingly. She'd donned a pair of her new pearl-white trousers and had combed herself to a gleaming sheen. Something about her looked out of place, though, and it took him a while to figure it out. What the night before had been a long, flowing mane that sort of melded into her coat was now a long braid that stretched down to the seams of her shorts. "Your mane. You braided it into a single plait. Who gave you that idea?" Kyaruin's expression melted into a scared, apologetic look.
           "I… I'm sorry, master. I thought you would like it… I didn't mean to circumvent you or anger-"
           "No, that's not what I meant," Miles said, chuckling. "You look beautiful like that, and you can do whatever you want to your appearance. I won't become upset because your hair is too short or long. Shave if you want to. What I meant to ask was why you decided to do that. It isn't very popular with Hrasi." His servant looked much relieved.
           "Oh. I saw it in a picture on the wall on your dresser. There was another woman that looked like me, so I thought that you must like that style… I'm sorry, sir."
           "Nothing to be sorry about, Kyaruin. Your braid looks wonderful; it's the one I grew up seeing. My caretaker wore her hair like that. She's the one in the picture - her name was Matron." Kyaruin swallowed, then cocked her head to the side, as if unsure whether or not to speak.
           "Master, may I… ask you a question?" Miles smiled and dipped his head in consent. "Why did you say 'was'?" His smile faded.
           "She died when I was thirteen. We got caught in a late night brawl and she was murdered."
           "And you?" He bit his lip, looked down.
           "Me? I ran. She told me to, so I ran. When I came back she was all but dead. I was the only living person her will listed as a recipient, so I inherited her estate. Then I ended up being snared into the genetics program. The money and things she'd left me paid my way through another 5 years of school, so I had enough academics to put me in a clerical position at the defense council. I suppose I just worked my way up from there, really." Kyaruin was, as usual, silent.
           "I'm sorry," she said. He shrugged.
           "I miss her, but it really was a long time ago. Everything fades." She frowned, but nodded agreement.
           "Thank you, master. If you're still interested, sir, I fixed breakfast for you…" He grinned.
           "I think I might enjoy that. Let's see it." He followed her to the hallway's end, around the corner, and to the end of that hallway, quickly padding down the stairs. His Kyaruin strode ahead with an unsteady, self-conscious gait. The two walked into the kitchen, and Miles pulled a stool from under the kitchen counter, bidding Kyaruin to do the same. She did, but first went to the stove, returning with a small platter of sussui (battered eggs and ground meat) to set in front of him. He took a few bites. "Pretty good," he offered her. Kyaruin smiled modestly.
           "Thank you, sir," she murmured.
           "Going to have to stop calling me sir and master pretty soon, you know," he said between bites of sussui. "You can call me Miles instead. It is my name." She frowned, shifting uncomfortably.
           "I… really don't feel comfortable with that, mas- ah…um…" She twitched, rearing back in her seat as if she'd been reproached. Miles smiled.
           "I think that's the closest thing to 'no' I've heard out of you yet. I'm glad; it looks like there might be some hope for you after all. How about Miles when we're alone, and master or sir the rest of the time. Is that better?" He watched her with an inquisitive gaze. The expression there was not one of any great delight, but he didn't expect one, nor did he particularly care. She finally consented with a conciliatory nod.
           "I think I can deal with that… Miles." the last word she held on her thin black lips as if it might get her killed. Perhaps it could've with one of her previous masters, he considered.
           Miles grabbed a few last mouthfuls before pushing it back over towards Kyaruin. She looked down at the plate and speared a piece of sussui morosely, then swallowed it whole. It was plain to see that she didn't relish it much. "Don't tell me that you didn't make yourself anything, Kyaruin…"
           "Wasn't hungry," She murmured
           "Liar," he gently prodded her. She dipped her head. "Listen, Kyaruin, you're one of the highborn! The best stock of a noble and ancient race. That bow in our room was probably made or strung or fired by one of your relatives. I'm only human. I've been trying my best to make you feel like an equal, and I'm trying to make you treat me like one." She shifted in her seat.
           "I'm sorry. I really am. It's just that… you scare me…" She rested her hand on her cheek. "It's easier for me to be a slave. I'll try harder, though." Kyaruin looked up at him with a pensive expression.
           "I know. A single day isn't very long, and it's a lot to ask of you to go from slave to companion in such a short time. I've also seen what slave conditioning has done to some people. You must have some willpower to have come as far as you have so quickly. I don't want to force you into anything, so take your time." He smiled, then. "And I don't mean to scare you. I'm sorry if I did. I want you to be able to trust me." For a moment after those words fell from his lips she was absolutely silent, just staring at his chest.
           "I don't remember ever trusting anyone. It wasn't encouraged in my… conditioning. It's sort of an awkward feeling; like second-guessing. I do trust you, though. Even when you scare me..." She trailed off, looking down at the plate again. Huh. Scare her, do I? I'd be scared to death too. He weighed the risks of a certain prospect in his head, mulling it over and trying to decide before she finished with her little spout of free thought.
           "Would you like to go with me today?" he asked, catching her eye. She frowned.
           "Do you want me to?"
           "Do you want to?" He asked again. This time she considered more carefully.
           "Where are you going?"
           "My workplace; the council of defense. Mostly office types, but there's a lot of lab work to do as well. Then a stop at the genetics department on the trip home. The defense stuff involves a lot of simulation and projection, most of which is space-based. I just thought you'd enjoy it."
           "That sounds interesting. I'd like to, yes," she affirmed, nodding her head, "Very much."
           "Then we'll go together. You didn't meet that other woma

who drove us yesterday, did you? She's my bodyguard, Vher. Her partner is Ms. Raiira, my secretary. We'll be seeing a bit of them; they'll meet us at the metro in about an hour." Kyaruin nodded.
           "When do we leave, then?" Miles shrugged.
           "In a bit. But first… you want to maybe feed yourself?"
          

---v---

           "Remember, this is only temporary", she says. Well, it's been temporary for long enough, dammit. Aaron huddled in his cramped cargo crate. There was barely enough room for him to fit, much less move, and his joints were killing him. Naia seemed to have a thing for locking people up in small spaces. Her idea for smuggling him off the freighter? Put him in a cargo container, of course. He just hoped that Hrasi customs protocols didn't involve checking the cargo, or he'd be dead. He was worried enough that the basic plastic box Naia had crammed him into wasn't going to conceal his scent.
           For what felt like hours he sat there while being jostled by adjacent carts. When the ship finally hit atmosphere, it was immediately noticeable. Whoever the pilot was obviously hadn't had a whole lot of training in smooth re-entry to planets, or didn't care. The buffeting continued until they flattened out, leaving him to flex his muscles and find the bruises there. There were few minutes of calm flight, with nothing but the whistling of wind on the hull, then a horrible crack that shuddered through Aaron's entire body.
           He sat completely silent, listening carefully to the sounds outside his crate. The air sounds had ceased, so they had to be grounded. Then, for a moment, he thought there were footsteps, but they dissipated into silence. The cargo bay felt like a tomb: no light at all, no sounds, and a stale, dead smell. Every so softly, footfalls tapped between the cargo crates; he could feel them in his bones. A smooth, sliding sound of metal on plastic buzzed about a foot away, and his heart stopped.
           "Get out of the crate," a rough Hrasi voice growled. Aaron didn't dare move, but his thoughts were racing through his head.
           How could they know? If they did, why not take me during flight? They can't know I'm here. There's no light, anyway. Hrasi night vision won't work in true darkness, so they wouldn't be able to see me. Lucky bastards to choose the right crate at random, unless…
           "I said get out of the box, human. I know you're in there; I can smell you." Aaron held still. "Think you're hiding, animal? I said I can smell you. You REEK. You might as well be standing in front of me shouting. Now, get out of the box before I shoot you."
           He's bluffing, Aaron thought, grinning, otherwise he'd come in and get me. Got to stay cool. For a few tense seconds both he and his assailant listened hard, trying to locate the other. Finally the Hrasi growled.
           "Damn. Why couldn't that incompetent have put him somewhere smaller? If he's gone, he could be anywhere right now…" the guard spat in disgust. "Going to get myself killed if anyone hears about this." With considerably less stealth the guard banged his way to wherever he had come in through, and stopped to turn and shout irritably back into the bay. "Hey, if you're in there, you ought to give yourself up. In a minute I'm going to close this door and vent the air before I open the bay to the rest of the world. I'd hate to be you when the oxygen levels in here start to get low…"
           Bastard! Aaron gritted his teeth, but wouldn't move. Better to die there than be captured and tortured to death, in his opinion. The Hrasi left and there was a hissing of the door closing shut. Silently he berated himself, having realized that he'd just gotten himself killed. He started breathing fast, deep gulps, in what was probably a highly futile effort. With an electric hum the lights came on and Aaron stopped hoarding air long enough to simply dread the inevitable whine of the ventilation system sucking the life from the room.
           That never came, though. Instead there was a great shudder as the far side of the cargo bay groaned. A thin beam of golden light split in a vertical path through the middle of the wall, then widened. The prospect of pure sunlight and an end to days spent traveling in a crate, not to mention a free pass out of sudden death, brought Aaron's spirit back to life. He punched his crate's walls repeatedly until finally they gave way and collapsed to the floor. Afraid that he'd been caught on camera, he sprinted for the wall, then jumped into the sunlight.
           "Aaron," a voice hissed as he landed solidly on pavement. It was midday on a suprisingly earth-like world, minus all the huge buildings and pollution. He was in a gray loading bay on a hill or mountain that had a great view of some city - probably the capital - just past where the ship had landed. The voice was coming from behind a crate of rusted canisters in the loading bay's far-left corner. He ran there quickly to find Naia looking at him worriedly. "I was afraid you'd been found! Usually they open the doors as they hit the ground."
           "I almost was. Funny, somehow they knew I was onboard. I came too way close to being captured. Too close." Naia's eyes shifted away from him.
           "My fault. We better get going." She set her jaw in a worried scowl. "Better switch into some decent clothing. That military uniform might attract some unnecessary attention…" She beckoned him to follow her out of the loading bay, which turned out to be a single building, and took him behind the bay. On that side was an incredible view of raw forest: the city apparently didn't extend past the mountain they'd landed on. Naia showed little interest, but nudged him and pointed to a brown lump on the ground.
           "God, what the hell is that?"
           "Your clothes," Naia muttered morosely. Aaron pushed it over, then nearly wretched. A young human man about his size and age lay dead, covered in a brown cloak and bleeding from a single slit across his throat. "Hurry up, before he stains them. People will be able to smell the blood." He looked at the body solemnly.
           "Is this what I've become a part of? Naia, I hate to have to have to tell you this, but we're not supposed to be the murderers! We're the good guys, remember? Killing innocent people isn't going to win us any friends, not to mention that it's wrong!" He was hissing at her, angry as hell but too smart to yell. To her credit, Naia's ears dropped in shame and she turned away.
           "It was you or him. I know what I did, and I'll take whatever consequence fate hands me. Right now it's more important that we not get caught. You and I need to go somewhere and meet someone… important." Aaron stared at her.
           "I hope so, if people are going to die over it. Important, huh?" Naia looked away, unable to meet his eyes, and spoke softly with an upset voice.
           "Yeah. It's real important. You won't forget it any time soon. So just get the clothes on before someone finds us."
          

---v---

           The defense building was huge! Kyaruin had never seen anything so magnificent. It sat atop a small mesa; the several hundred steps up to it, in fact, were carved directly out of the land. The building itself was the single largest she had ever seen: a steel and stone monolith a half-mile long and at least 75 stories high. The two or three flights of stairs needed just to get up to the entrance made the building feel intimidating.
           "Kind of scary, isn't it?" the younger of Miles' associates asked. Either Vher or Raiira - Kyaruin had already forgotten.
           "It's so big… you really work here?" Kyaruin asked. Miles chuckled at her side.
           "Indeed I do. It's a small office, though. Actually, the defense council only maintains the bottom 20 floors. The rest is split between the intelligence / counter-intelligence department and the internal security commission. There's a lot of overlap between what we all do, so we're all in the same building." The larger partner, who Kyaruin was fairly sure was Vher, rumbled with a good-natured chortle.
           "He's a bit of a figure here. A guard or intelligence staffer would arrest him almost every day. There's an in-house brig and interrogation center here, down in the basement, so whenever he was late to the office his boss would check down there. More often then not he'd be sitting in some meager cell. Once or twice they even sent him over to interrogation. That's at least part of why he hired us." Kyaruin flicked an ear at Miles in question. He smiled.
           "It's true. I haven't been tortured in the workplace yet, but I have been drugged a few times. You know, it's really hard to do a good job as a politician when there's truth serum running through your veins. It's mostly stopped now that I have a Hrasi entourage to back me up, though." He looked at the smaller Hrasi. "That is, when they decide to back me up." The young woman smiled, looking up at the clouds and perking forward her ears.
           "It was a one-time act, Miles," she demurred, "I wouldn't do it again. You just won't get over it." The larger Hrasi leaned over to Kyaruin and filled her in with a whisper.
           "Last month was Miles' fifth anniversary as council representative. Raiira asked him what he wanted as a gift, and he told her to surprise him. So the next day she pinned him to the floor in the lobby and got one of the newer guards to detain him. Needless to say I was not there, but by all accounts it was a pretty good show, especially because there were plenty of people there who knew exactly who he was and didn't so much as unsheathe a claw to help him."
           "That's horrible," Kyaruin exclaimed. Raiira - definitely the shorter one - shrugged it off with a smile and a twitch of the ears.
           "Maybe, but it was a one-time deal. I don't usually do that." They reached the top of the stairs and made the journey up to a pair of giant double-doors. "Scared?" Raiira asked. Kyaruin gave her a sidelong glance.
           "A little bit…" Miles reached over to her, laid a hand on her shoulder, and smiled before dropping his hand back down. She thought that his ears would've flicked if they could have.
           The group pushed through the doors and into a spacious lobby. The ceiling must have been a hundred feet above them, and there was nothing in the center of the room. The space in the room felt good to her senses: reassuring and calming. Elevator shafts and stairways lined the walls, as did guard posts with desks and several dour faces, but the large part of the room was clear. The other fished into their pockets and pulled photo ID necklaces and draped them around their necks.
           Kyaruin was looking around worriedly, wondering if she needed one as well, when a large, clawed hand grabbed her shoulder and held her in place. She turned around to find herself staring at burly young man dressed in black armor. He wasn't openly hostile, but there was a business-only look in the set of his muzzle.
           "Excuse me, miss, but you can't come in here without a permit," he clipped tersely.
           "She's with me, sir. I was about to take her for a visitor's badge." That from Miles, who had walked up behind her. The guard took one look at badge and nodded.
           "My apologies, representative Arathch. Please be sure to do so before you leave the floor." Miles nodded back, then squeezed Kyaruin's shoulder and pointed at the guard post to the far left of the lobby. The two headed in that direction, with Miss Raiira and Vher in tow.
           All of the guards at the desk there seemed to know Miles. Each nodded or smiled politely at him, odd to see from otherwise stonily serious figures. There was a clipboard at the desk that he bent over and began signing on. The head guard, signified by her looser khaki uniform and handgun as opposed to rifle, gave Miles a thin smile.
           "Another one, sir? You need more help?" Raiira nodded.
           "Yeah. It's because he's incompetent. Eventually he won't be doing any work at all though, and then we can replace him." Miles pursed his lips in concealed amusement.
           "Miss Raiira… you can be so cutthroat sometimes…" He finished signing and slid the board over to the chief guard, who took it up and passed back an ID necklace. Miles turned to Kyaruin and handed it over. "Here, keep it on until we leave," he murmured, smiling. She ducked her head, slipped it on, and thanked the guard. Raiira, meanwhile, had already made for the elevator shaft, and the rest chased after her.
           The elevator doors opened just as they got there and they boarded it quickly, not dashing in public but sprinting to catch up with Raiira. Vher flashed a brief glare at her.
           "Couldn't wait to get to work?" Raiira looked up to her with a flick of the ears and a wrinkling of the nose.
           "Guards and guns are unsettling." Vher's ears drooped in jest, and Raiira frowned. "Trust me, you're different." Vher grinned as the doors closed. Miles punched a button, then backed up in front of Kyaruin, leaving her stuck between a wall, her master, and two strange Hrasi.
           She looked at the pair of Hrasi out of the corner of her eye. They'd met her only an hour before, but already both acted like she was an old friend. Nonetheless, she was wary of them. They were too enigmatic. Kyaruin had spoken with both, and on the surface they were amiable, solid people. Vher seemed to always be in good humor, and appeared perfectly honest, while Raiira came off as being clever and teasing. What disturbed Kyaruin was why they were there. There was simply no reason for them to be in Miles' employ.
           She looked from Raiira's face to Vher's. There was not a hint of malice, jealousy or animosity in either's expression. They had both heavily approved or her. Love, then, was probably not what had them bonded so well to him. Money wasn't a viable explanation either; Miles couldn't possibly be able to afford top rate for a personal bodyguard, and such a relationship wouldn't dare include Raiira's pranks. Miles wouldn't blackmail them, although she supposed someone else might've. Still, they wouldn't become close friends with him under those circumstances.
           What could it be then? Perhaps, she thought, they simply liked him, enough so to live and work for him. She preferred to think so, because the alternative - that the pair were con artists - wasn't very appealing, and she couldn't could do anything about if it were true. With that type of image in mind, the pair was downright fearsome. Kyaruin shook her mane, tying to dislodge the thought.
           The car lurched downward, in the wrong direction. She frowned in concern, but relaxed when came to gliding stop a second later. Must be one of the underground levels. Such a huge place this building is. The doors opened and Miles stepped aside to let in what must have been the single-most distressed woman she'd ever seen. As the lady saw Miles, her ears wilted and her expression looked that much more aggrieved. She quivered at the sight of him.
           "A… Aaron?" Miles looked at her concernedly.
           "I'm sorry, but I'm Miles Arathch. Are you all right, miss?" The woman opened her mouth to say something, then thought better of it and turned her back to the entire group, staring into the corner. She hit one of the highest floor buttons on the list, then sunk her head in her hands and shook silently. Kyaruin watched, if not immediately sympathetic then at least curious as to what was wrong. Raiira and Vher were both pointedly ignoring everything around them, staring up at the ceiling.
           The woman was a mess. Her pelt - as thick and white as Kyaruin's - was matted and tangled from perspiration and ruffling. The car was full of fear-scent that Kyaruin could almost see emanating in waves from the girl. Her tail hung low between her legs and was swishing agitatedly; her entire body was shaking, actually. Kyaruin found that simply standing next to the girl was beginning to upset her own mood.
           "Are you sure you're alright?" Miles repeated. The woman didn't bother to respond, or even signify that she'd heard, but just leaned heavily on the elevator wall. Having been twice rebuffed, Miles was content to let the elevator make its way up to their floor. Kyaruin got to see the girl's face on the way out; it was pained to say the least.
           The floor they'd entered on was a maze of corridors and posters, all disorganized. It seemed far too casual for a government facility. Miles led the girls down the second corridor from the right, and then the third left, another right, and then several more doorways in a sequence that she had forgotten far before they'd finished. The final hallway was worst of all: littered with stacks of documents that lined the edges of the walls, government campaign posters, charts, graphs, and even a few idle sketches done on print paper. One of the doors in the hallway Aaron smoothly keyed open and entered.
           His office was a mess. Besides the two desks and obligatory conference tables there were two filing cabinets lining one wall and an overflowing bookshelf lining the other. Both desks had extensive computer terminals with papers stacked on and around them. The floor as well was covered with so much paper that the only floor showing was in the path of the door. Kyaruin and Vher gingerly took their steps into the window corner of the office while Raiira and Miles took their seats at the two desks.
           "Labyrinthine, isn't it?" Raiira asked, smiling. Kyaruin nodded.
           "I don't think I could find my way back."
           "It's simple: follow the paper trail," Vher said matter-of-factly. The other two grinned. Must be an old joke…
           "Why all the papers?" Kyaruin asked, curious. "Aren't you a politician?" Miles nodded.
           "Among other things. Formal job descriptions are fine around here, but if you really want to get ahead you help anywhere where you're needed. I do a lot of design and simulation as well. Like that for example," He said, pointing to the top paper of a pile at her feet. She bent down to grab and flip through it. "Those are dimensions and projections for the new space-to-space missile launching platforms. I did the trajectory calculation program."
           "He wrote the code that tells the missile where to go," Vher elaborated.
           "She probably understood, Vher. She has a fairly solid background in science, from what I'm told. It's all just basic physics, astrophysics, geometry, and programming. Easy, Kyaruin." She nodded absently.
           "Do you… Who was that woman in the elevator? She seemed to recognize you," Raiira mentioned. Miles shrugged.
           "I have no idea. Someone coming from the sub-1 floor detainment center and going to the 69th floor intelligence offices. I'd forget about her if I was you. You don't want to get involved with intelligence's business if you have a choice about it, Miss Raiira." He turned to tap at his workstation for a bit, bringing it online, then popped out a mini-disc from the drive slot and held it up to Kyaruin. "Want to see something really interesting, though? You'll die if you see the lab…"
          

---v---

           Miles headed for the defense's simulative computer labs with Kyaruin in tow. They had to go through the security lock at the entrance to the defense department's networking center, and there was much consternation over whether or not Kyaruin should be allowed in. The guards - longtime friends of his now - protested that she could easily be a Haigh spy, or worse, a Yusuuran rebel. Miles hated to be confrontational with anyone, but especially Hrasi. He had promised to show Kyaruin around though, so he sat down at the guard station and explained very patiently that Kyaruin barely knew who she was, and had not so much as formed an opinion yet, much less taken a political stance. They ended up letting her in with the basic agreement that it would be his hide if anything happened because of her.
           "My," she exclaimed as the two walked into the inner sanctum of planetary and system defense. "I had no idea…" He smiled, spreading his hands out in an all-encompassing gesture.
           "This is the true power of taxes."
           In fact, there was good reason for her to be impressed. The computer facilities were considerably past 'state-of-the-art'; they defined the art. Huge supercomputers sat up against every inch of wall, and in fact most of the lab was divided using the towering machines as walls. Monitors were everywhere: hanging from the ceiling, embedded in the desks, in the floor, on the walls, and even directly on the ceiling tiles. To top that, nearly each workstation had its own holographic projector for heavy work with three-dimensional graphics - a luxury unheard of in even the richest colleges. Each of those projectors cost about what a fully equipped computer lab for a major university did.
           Most of the equipment there had been designed and invented solely for their lab, and included several unreleased systems technologies. Pretty much heaven for anyone who wanted to do some of the simulation for which the department was famous, but hell for the poor unsung heroes who had to keep the lab running. He knew because he'd repaid several favors by coding new interface programs or sitting in the repair shop hand-building a more efficient adapter for two rare cable connections. There was even a cot in the lab so they could keep a networking specialist at hand all the time.
           Kyaruin walked in slowly, as if stunned. Miles watched her eyes race from monitor to monitor, read the labels on the machinery, and drink in the hum of function. It was midday, so the lab was relatively full. Miles led her to the back of the lab and sat her down at a wall terminal.
           "May I?" She asked, unbelieving. He nodded with a smirk.
           "Just let me do my work here first." He slipped in the mini disc he'd earlier pocketed, then brought up a huge matrix of numbers. As he copied them onto a template in another program, he explained his actions. "What we're working on here is a missile defense program. The idea is a counter-missile net. A thick wall of small projectiles will be fired at any object that enters our system with a speed of 5% of light or better. However, those same projectiles would wreak havoc on any incoming or outgoing vessel if they ended up drifting in the normal space lanes. What we do is simulate attacking every known class and variant of ship or missile we've ever encountered at every possible speed in .000001% of light increments and in every possible direction with increments of .000001% of a radian. All of this will be tested in a pre-programmed simulation environment of our system, which will add further variables such as relative position of the planets, which could effect gravitational pull on the projectiles."
           "That's… a lot of calculation. That's at least a million sets of a million millions of simulation trials. How many such projectiles are there?" Mile grinned.
           "That's the best part. Up to five thousand each from 10 weapons platforms. The fire must redirect the projectile from a dangerous collision course without leaving a single projectile within the space lane's borders. We can pick them up later. This will test their success rate so far."
           "To speak truthfully, it sounds like it wouldn't work very well, sir…"
           "We've the redirection part down fine; our success rate was over ninety five percent last time. What are killing us are the projectile's endpoints. Last time we ran a simulation the space lanes only stayed clear a tenth of the time. This time we've added one-time engine packs on the projectiles with remote triggering, so we can fly them out of the way if they end up there, assuming the engines don't get damaged or go off prematurely."
           Miles entered in his finished template with a final keystroke, and the workstation chirred busily as it sent the problem off to the huge number-crunching machines around the room. He turned his back to Kyaruin. "I see we're asking questions now, not to mention critiquing my staff. Finally gaining some confidence… You're almost acting like a real live Hrasi," he teased softly. Kyaruin looked up at him warily.
           "…Miles? You want me to, right? I mean, If you think I'm out-of-line, then-"
           "Not at all." He put his arm on the back of her chair, leaned into her face, and gave her a thin smile. "I think you're fine. I like it; you make a great Hrasi." He pointed up to the hologram display in front of them. "Look, the data I put in puts out graphic simulations. There are billions of billions of simulations taking place, so the computer displays a miniscule fraction of them."
           The holographic projector showed a wire-frame of a human freighter coming through the conversion point at nine-tenths of light, a ridiculous speed for such a vessel. Within a few seconds it had slammed itself into a swarming wall of metal spikes and went careening out of the system. Then the space lane corridors were highlighted in pale green, and each projectile in the lane was bracketed. About three-quarters of the projectiles in those lanes fired off and managed to clear the space corridor, but there were still at least a dozen left.
           "That's a failure, right?" Kyaruin asked. Miles frowned and nodded. Kyaruin looked thoughtful. "At even a thousandth of light speed, a single projectile could really ruin a starship. Maybe you could mount electromagnetics on the weapons platforms? You know, to pull the projectiles out?"
           "It's a good idea, isn't it? Everybody has had it at least once. We all run into the same problem: magnets and computers don't work together. Use the magnetics and EMP knocks out the missile defense system. That's bad."
           "Well, how about separate magnetic platforms?" Miles raised an eyebrow, then shot her down again.
           "Thought of that too. But the problem is that you can still only do that once, and in order to grab the projectiles you end up hitting the weapons too. You can't just send out a magnetic 'beam'; it has to be omni-directional. We don't have that kind of technology yet." He pulled back and shrugged. "But don't let me discourage you. It took me longer than thirty seconds to come up with those ideas, so you probably have a better chance of finding the answer. I'm going to go check my simulation results so far - I usually get some odd results out of the computers, so I have to go filter through some of the less plausible simulations. Why don't you check out the network, maybe play around with the system a little bit? You can find anything and everything on any public computer on Haras from here. I'll be back in a few minutes."
           Kyaruin nodded, so Miles gave her one last smile and headed out to the in-progress alteration terminals. And please don't get me in trouble, he almost added, but decided not to. She wouldn't do that, would she? Of course not, he thought. No need for him to make Kyaruin think he didn't trust her.
           Kyaruin watched him walk away, leaving her alone there. The network was interesting - incredible, actually. Almost as good as earth stuff, no matter what her master thought about his own race. Even so, he was still leaving. She'd noticed that since they'd left the house she had begun to feel uncomfortable in public when she wasn't at his side, like a lost child. A conditioned response, probably: if she had had any interest in running away, it would have made a great deterrent. Of course, that she wasn't interested in running away was probably conditioned as well.
           She looked down at the keyboard in front of her. He gives me his key and just walks away? The world is left under my claws, or it would be if I had claws. I'm going to have to teach him to be more careful. He did tell her to play around, though. Playing around certainly appealed to her…
           She decided to find out for herself if the lab really had the connections that Miles said that it had. Every public computer on the planet was accessible, he'd said, so she was certain she'd be able to do a bit of checking up on people, especially with her master's clearance.
           She opened up a basic search program that she recognized and typed in 'Miles Arathch' to the query line. Within a second over thirty thousand hits had come up, rated by perceived relevance. Kyaruin went for the first file listed. It was the department's own employee listing. Name, occupation, age, gender, mental-physical categorization, etc. There wasn't anything of any real value at the top, so she skimmed down to the end. Aha! There was an entry for 'historical capsule' with a brief history and links to other people, events, and places in the database. That she decided to read through.
           Born in the coastal city of Kisara Fagh on the 3rd day of Aharu. Born to captured freighter pilot Rachel Sykes after breeding with 2nd generation slave Christoper Jurei by liscensed breeder Lhuaran Jurei. Sold immediately thereafter to breeder Hanuan Arathch. Raised by Ms. Arathch in the Askaraun highlands to the age of thirteen. Ms. Arathch noted Miles as being a child prodigy at an early age, and found him to be interested in the fields of science and mathematics.
           At thirteen, Miles was registered with the Genetic Engineering Project (on 15 - 22 - 17) at their clinic in the capitol of Yduura with a 1-A categorization. That night Ms. Hanuan was assaulted and murdered by a three-member gang. Miles survived and was entered into the care of the GE clinic in Cerhsa. Upon examination of Hanuan's will it was determined that her entire estate was to be entrusted to him. At the GEP's recommendation Miles traded his inheritance for full tuition and funding at the Cerhsa University of Engineering and Spatial Science, from which he graduated with a triple degree in computer programming, modern conversion point physics, and statistical analysis (8 - 17 - 19).
           At graduation Mr. Arathch applied for a position as a systems design analyst at the Haras Department of Defense, into which he was accepted (8 - 18 - 19). He has since risen to the position of general representative from the Department of Defense Council. Mr. Arathch handles all public relations issues dealing with the defense council as well as representing the department in the lower chambers.
           Kyaruin nodded slowly. So there's some solid information here. Next she typed in 'Raiira / Vher'. For a moment she thought for their last names, then in frustration simply added '/ Arathch' for a double cross-reference and made the search. The computer hung for almost five seconds, scouring every file. There was absolutely nothing. Kyaruin leaned back in her chair and blew air out of her nose, whispering to herself..
           "Huh… Not a single hit on the planet? And they work directly below the intelligence department? Unless the department is incompetent - but why tail Miles? He's hopelessly loyal. He'd take a bullet for a Hrasi even if she were a mass murderer. There's no reason to spy on him. I don't understand this at all…"
           "Don't understand what?" a light, casual, and familiar voice asked from in front of her. She could feel her heart skip a beat as she raised her eyes to find Raiira posed quizzically right behind the computer monitor, hands full of paperwork, tail poised up, and ears perked. "What're you working on? And where did my boss go?" Kyaruin stood stock-still, struggling to keep her ears up and her tail calm.
           "He went to de-bug his simulation." Raiira slanted an ear back as she nodded slowly.
           "Uh-huh. De-bug. You're a technical person, aren't you?" Actually, Kyaruin could've been a network administrator in her 'past life' for all the computer skills she had.
           "Yeah. Yeah, I'm technical. Anyway, that's where he went." Ms. Raiira didn't budge.
           "Okay. So I'm guessing that's not what you didn't understand… So what're you doing? Logged into Miles' account? He doesn't let anybody on there." Kyaruin gulped.
           "Technical stuff. Real technical."
           "Then you're in luck," Raiira chirped, beaming, "I know my way around this system better than almost anyone." She moved behind Kyaruin to get a glimpse of the screen before Kyaruin could so much as move for a single keystroke. Raiira's genuine smile faded as her ears dipped, then forcefully rebounded as she pasted her smile back on.
           "Kyaruin, I'm flattered that you've taken such an interest in me, but I really don't think I'm your type, and I know Vher isn't." She cocked her head to the side and furrowed her brow in confusion, then almost laughed. "Oh, you were trying to cross-reference us with Miles! How cute! That's funny, really." Raiira leaned back to gaze at Kyaruin wryly. "If there was a conspiracy against Miles, do you think the system would let him see it?" Then her expression faded into a friendly, teasing smile. "Knowing your background I suppose you wanted to find our kinks so you could plan a foursome, right?" Kyaruin's nose wrinkled as she leaned back.
           "Not quite, miss Raiira. Who are you? What're you doing to my master? I don't understand, but I want to know. I won't let you hurt my master," she insisted, frowning. Instantly, Raiira's friendly mask dissolved.
           "Wrong answer. The correct one, by the way, was 'yes'. You see, that's just about the only plausible reason you might make an inquiry into who we are. Well, that's not true. It's the only plausible reason you might make an inquiry that I would not be required to… investigate. I gave it to you, too. That should have been a freebie."
           Dread like a lump of iron hit Kyaruin in the gut. Instinctively she flattened her ears and pulled into as much of a ball as she could while sitting. Raiira sighed. "You're an adult: don't act like a child. You and I are going to go on a very short trip: simple background check. I'll leave Miles a note. Please don't behave in such a suspicious manner. The background checks get more intensive, and then we get into actual questioning, so try and stay out of trouble from now on."
           "If it's so brief, can we skip it?" Raiira smiled a little as she dropped her paperwork on the terminal and scribbled a note that she left on the keyboard before reaching down and pulling Kyaruin to her feet.
           "Come on, you've got nothing to hide. We're going to the elevator. Stay in front of me, keep your hands behind you, and don't communicate with anybody. Simple security procedure." Kyaruin complied and walked out the door, Raiira quietly behind her.
          

---v---

           The new engines were crap. That was what Miles had decided after careful simulation observation. Absolute crap. Not only did they not work, those little sons misfired half the time, punching a hole through a station, breaching a passing ship, or even shooting down the weapons platforms from which they were fired. Miles bowed his head to the monitor.
           This is what happens when you leave something that requires logical, rational thought to a human. And I'm supposed to be one of the smart ones… Amazing we've survived long enough to start a war. I wish I knew a competent Hrasi engineer. Even Kyaruin came up with my two reject variants on the magnet approach in under a minute, and she's slave material. He threw up his hands - literally - and sat up from his small corner terminal with overheated machines whirring all around him, determined to find Kyaruin and hopefully some inspiration.
           The lab was much quieter than even when they'd entered: the place had all the hustle and bustle of a graveyard. It was a bit unsettling to weave through supercomputers louder than all the people in the room together. When he got to Kyaruin's desk there was nobody there, but several binders were there - Raiira's stuff, by the looks - along with a hastily scrawled note on the keyboard.
          
           Miles,
           I took Kyaruin out to lunch (she said she was really hungry). We're going a little farther than the cafeteria, so we'll be out for a while. I'm really sorry if you need me, her, or just wanted to take her out. We'll be back by 1400, so please feed Vher. I promise to make it up to you if you're mad!
          
           - Raiira
          
           He frowned at the letter. It was odd for Raiira to just get up and leave work, although she had done much worse before. Perhaps she was hinting that he needed to spend some time with Vher?
          

---v---

           The elevator doors slid open and Raiira gently pushed Kyaruin in before following her. Raiira followed and hit the door close button behind her.
           "In the corner, please," Raiira asked. Kyaruin shrugged and stood in the corner. From the reflection on the elevator's stainless steel walls she could see Raiira punch the bottom-most button on the elevator list and pull a key from her pocket that she used to lock the doors, stopping any other passengers from boarding.
           "We're going to the bottom levels," Kyaruin questioned softly, "aren't we? Simple background check, huh?" In the wall's reflection she saw Raiira's ears flick.
           "Little bit late for you to be perceptive," Raiira said somberly. For a moment there was nothing but the hum of the elevator.
           "What are you going to do to me?" Kyaruin whispered. Raiira was silent. "You going to shoot me?" No answer. "I think Miles might notice. He might even care."
           "I wouldn't be so sure of that if I were you," Raiira interrupted, "you did replace his best friend in a week." There was more silence. "Don't fight," Raiira said suddenly. "Better for you if you don't. As a friend. You don't have to believe me."
           "Thanks," Kyaruin muttered sourly. She stared into the wall as the elevator car kept on its descent. It felt like a descent into hell. With a lurch the car came to a stop and the doors slid open.
           "Out," Raiira said blankly. She pulled Kyaruin out of the car and into a large, long, and wide gray concrete hall. Doors with no windows lined each wall underground with security cameras posted at regular intervals to keep watch over what felt like a prison. The hallway curved off to the right maybe two hundred meters down the way, blocking further view. Raiira pointed down the hall and motioned for her to follow.
           They walked down the hall silently until Raiira found an open door on the right side and pointed inside. Kyaruin swallowed and walked in. Inside was an inclined table, a desk and chair against the wall, and another chair in the corner. Each one was bolted and welded to the floor. Bright fluorescent lights made Kyaruin squint.
           "Bright," Kyaruin mumbled.
           "Too bright?" Raiira asked affably, moving over to a panel next to the door. The lights dimmed to where the glare wasn't blinding Kyaruin. Raiira sat back against the door, slumped on the wall, and crossed her arms. "So. Have a seat on the bed. I know it looks like a rack, but try and imagine that it's not regularly used for torture." Kyaruin stepped onto and lay down on the table. She slipped her hands behind her head and tried to make herself comfortable.
           "So you're going to be my interrogator and executioner?" Raiira laughed at her.
           "I suppose. Unless you'd like me to go fetch Vher?"
           "That'd be nice," Kyaruin replied, "Would you?"
           "Smart girl. Vher is the nice one. Only a few hours and you figured that out. But no, you're stuck with me. Sorry." Raiira strode over to the desk, pulled out something like a chain and another object she couldn't discern, and moved to where Kyaruin lay. "Here," she said, "I don't want to set the wrong mood, but it's better to be on the safe side."
           "What are those? What are you going to do?"
           "Does it matter? You couldn't stop me anyway. These won't hurt you, though. We're not to the part where I hurt you. I'm going to hold that off as long as possible."
           "Thanks a lot. I love you too." Raiira smiled as she moved behind Kyaruin, who was starting to shiver.
           "Now now, Kyaruin. No need to be spiteful. No need to be scared, either. I said I wasn't going to hurt you." Raiira made a sudden move and Kyaruin found her hands handcuffed behind her head where she'd stretched them. She sat up but Raiira pulled her back by the cuffs and secured something else with a metal-on-metal clang. Kyaruin tried to sit up again, but was immediately caught by a short chain attached to her cuffs. From behind Raiira chuckled.
           "I wasn't going to escape," Kyaruin growled irritatedly. Her captor moved in front of her to give her a pouting look.
           "Oh, it's not so bad. Be quiet. I just like being safe."
           "Better secure my legs and jaw, then."
           "Oh, but if I tape your jaw you can't… do anything. You have a point, though." Raiira bent down closer over her and held up a small plastic syringe. "This ought to allay your fears for me." She put a hand on Kyaruin's muzzle and exposed her neck with incredible force. Kyaruin tried her best to struggle, but there was a ridiculous amount of power in Raiira's grip.
           "What are you doin-?" she gasped. Raiira tried to keep her still.
           "Quiet. Stop fighting me, you really don't want me to miss with this stuff." Kyaruin went lax at the warning, then flinched and yowled in agony as the needle went directly into a neck vein. She felt fire shooting through her and as Raiira squeezed the drug in Kyaruin mewled that she thought the vein would burst. "Oh, come on Kyaruin. I've had this performed on me before. It's not so bad. And there isn't enough fluid in here for me to burst your vein unless I really forced it." A minute more of searing pain and Raiira withdrew, stopping only to put a dab of something cool - probably plasm - on Kyaruin's neck.
           "What the hell was that?" Kyaruin yelled in anguish. Raiira hissed lightly.
           "Ms. Kyaruin, I don't like to be yelled at. It would be - will be - very easy to make you disappear." Raiira struck a pose of sorrow of confusion: ears low, tail swishing, and back arched. "Miles!"
           she called out, "It's Kyaruin! She's been hit by a car! Come quickly, I can't tell if she's breathing!" Then the pose and demeanor lifted as she rose back to her proper height. "I used that exact line on him a few days ago. Poor fool. It's too bad he's the only one that gives a damn about you; it might be harder to fool someone less gullible."
           "What did you do to me?" Kyaruin breathed and Raiira gave her a bland smile.
           "It's a standard interrogation drug. It causes full body paralysis and loss of bodily functions. From the neck down, of course: you'll still be able to scream and curse me all you like, but you won't be able to do anything else. Not to mention that your body will react like a sleeping or comatose one, so you'd better hope we finish soon, before you embarrass yourself." Raiira gazed at her enigmatically then reached down below the table and brought it to a perfect horizontal. "I've heard one of the best ways to interrogate is by adding humiliation to your basic interrogation regimen." She moved next to where Kyaruin was chained and unsheathed a knife she showed off to Kyaruin before cutting away her vest. "I realize you're a sex slave," She said, finishing with the vest and moving to Kyaruin's thighs, "but it can't hurt to try the old physical humiliation trick.
           "Now, you may or may not know this, but there are several schools of torture and interrogation. It is quite the art, no matter how barbaric the movies make it seem. Lucky for you I'm a fervent believer in your basic punishment / reward style. I'm good, too: most of my subjects tell me I have dual personality syndrome. They tell me a whole lot more though, as I'm sure you will. I have a single rule with the people I interrogate: we stay friends as long as you keep talking. No lies, no stubbornness, no pain. Now, I realize that this means that people who don't know anything could be seriously hurt or killed, but that's a risk I'm willing to take." Kyaruin gasped in protest.
           "But I don't know anything! I'm a slave! I was bought yesterday!" Raiira laughed again.
           "Why is it that everyone says that? I'm sorry if you're telling the truth, but it's a little late for you to convince me of that. I'll tell you what: if you die before giving me anything, I'll believe you."
           "Great," Kyaruin breathed, "So how do I get out alive?"
           "You don't. I'm required to kill you before you leave this room. That's how it's stated in the contract." Kyaruin moaned, then laid her head aside and shivered, mewling. "Hey," Raiira said, "Cheer up. I told you how it's stated in the contract. It doesn't say anything about actually killing you. If you can prove your innocence without dying, I might keep you-"
           "Don't. Please don't try and string me along on some lie. You're not really going to do that. Don't play games with my mind." Raiira was out of sight, silent. Her voice came from directly above Kyaruin's head.
           "Alright. No lies: you're dead when I'm done with you. You know, I'm not supposed to let you interrupt me or ask questions and make requests, according to the interrogator's handbook at least. Did you know that we have a handbook? But I'll give you some leeway, seeing as these are your final moments."
           "I don't understand… You killed Miles' bond-partner? What did he do to deserve that? And now me? Why do you have to kill me? Neither of us has done anything…"
           "He got in my way. I have to do my job, or I don't get my pay. You think Miles supports me? He might be giving up half his salary, but it's pocket change to me. Pretty soon I won't have to do anything. You weren't in my way. I was actually beginning to like you, but then you went and started mucking around in my past, which I don't appreciate."
           "So you're just in it for the money? What makes a secretary's job so lucrative?" Raiira vaulted up to Kyaruin's bed and straddled her chest, looking down on her.
           "See? You can't do anything." She rubbed Kyaruin's cheek. "Now, remind me why you're the one asking the questions."
           "Because I'm not going to wake up tomorrow and you are." Raiira smiled.
           "So what does it matter what you know when you die, then? Telling you anything would be monumentally stupid of me, don't you agree?"
           "I'll trade you answers," Kyaruin said hoarsely, lungs being crushed under Raiira's weight. The young woman noticed Kyaruin's discomfort.
           "Hurting you, love? I'm sorry." She pushed back to sit between Kyaruin's legs. "Huh. Well, why don't I just torture the answers out of you?" Kyaruin sighed, searching her mind for an answer.
           "Because it'll take less time."
           "Alright. I can do that. But you answer one of my questions now. I want to know what you were doing searching through the Haras network for me." Raiira glared at her, waiting for an answer.
           "It… it doesn't make sense that you work for Miles. Nobody could reasonably believe that. You're too smart, too beautiful, and he doesn't need you. You yourself said he paid you almost nothing. I can't believe that you'd stay with him. Maybe if you were in love, but then you'd be jealous of me." Kyaruin looked at her evenly, and Raiira nodded.
           "You're telling me the truth, aren't you? Actually, Vher does love him. I like him too; he's a sweet man. Your turn." For a moment Kyaruin stopped to try and calm herself. "No pulling yourself together," Raiira whispered lightly. Kyaruin wasn't sure if she was teasing or deadly serious.
           "I asked my question before. You're not a secretary, so what are you?" There was a soft chuffing.
           "Love, you are the curious one. Don't worry, I'm working on his side, even if he doesn't know how. I'll tell you, though.
           "You see, Miles is a wonderful man. Strong, smart, loyal, etc. He's also incredibly dangerous. So what if it takes him two hours to come up with a conceptual idea? Once you give him one, you only have to wait another hour before he has the final, tested plans in your hands. That man has single-handedly designed the last four missile defense systems. He IS the missile defense program.
           "Miles does have two particularly dehabilitating chronic conditions. The first is humanity. It's characterized by a lack of fur and claws. The other is worse, though. He suffers from a severe lack of the big picture. Let me explain: normal people don't betray eachother. He does. He'd slit his mother's throat if a Hrasi walking down the street asked him to. Mile hates his own people, and he tries his best to help us defeat them. Doesn't even care if his race is going to be enslaved: he was raised to think that's the way things should be. That's not an easily defensible position, though, so people like me get hired to keep him away from… other ideas.
           "The job description is fairly simple. I keep him firmly in my grip, and get rid of the people in my way. Some human or Hrasi is spouting love and peace and surrender? I shoot them when he's not looking. He's feeling down, depressed, or out-of-touch? I look sincere and listen to him or cuddle. Some damned celebrity or somebody out of my reach is tempting him? All I have to do is screw him and he'll be so guilt-ridden for the rest of the week he'll miss it."
           "You hate him so much?" Kyaruin asked. "I don't understand why."
           "Hate him? I like him a lot. If I had to marry a man I'd choose him, and damn the lower chamber if it says that it's illegal." Raiira grimaced. "They passed that law when he was serving as a representative, you know. He didn't try and fight it, of course. Stupid jerk. I wanted to jump up and represent for him. He's kind, though. I've known him for seven years, and he's never been anything to a Hrasi but generous and forgiving. I can understand why Vher loves him, even past the fact that she's a sentimental fool."
           "This from her own bond-partner…" Raiira frowned.
           "That was in the contract too. I left my bond-partner back home. Once I'm finished with this job, I'll leave Vher to her own devices. Who knows, maybe she'll stay with him? I couldn't care less.
           "My turn now. I want to know what your job is. If you're infringing on my operation I swear I'll make you suffer…" Kyaruin gulped.
           "I think this is where you're going to stop being my friend. My job is whatever Miles tells me it is. I'm his slave. Before that I was another man's slave. Before that… I don't know. Maybe something that involved computers."
           "You think? Memory wipe, I assume?" Raiira asked in a skeptical, dull tone.
           "You're not going to take that, are you? You're going to hurt me," Kyaruin stated flatly. It wasn't really meant as a question.
           "Answer me."
           "Yes. Yes, I've had a partial wipe, followed by a basic slave reconditioning," she said.
           "Only a partial?"
           "My slave abilities have expanded to become directly experience-based. The slavers didn't want me to lose any of that experience, so they wiped around some selects in my memory. The partial wasn't a very good job anyway, so the great majority of my memories are only broken or lost, not permanently erased. I'm a slave, though. Bought into Miles' custody yesterday, and I don't remember hearing of him ever before that." Raiira studied the younger woman under her.
           "You are especially lucky today, Kyaruin. I very rarely do this, but I am going to give you another chance to answer me." She rose on her knees to fall atop Kyaruin, stopping herself from smashing faces with the girl by only a few inches. The sinister woman slipped her arms around Kyaruin's back to pull her up. Kyaruin tried to avert her face as Raiira's came closer, but her muscles didn't respond. "I do like you, Kyaruin. I want you to survive interrogation. If you do, you'll live - I guarantee it. All I have to do is take you to the real torture rooms at the end of the hall. There are memory-wiping devices there. A few full wipes and you'll be dead. They have 'therapy' devices there too. We just reinstall your slave conditioning again and I walk away with a beautiful young slave. Vher isn't really interested in my attentions, but I'm sure you can be conditioned to be." The horror on Kyaruin's face couldn't possibly have matched what she felt
           "No. No! You can't do that! That's not… fair! Just! That's wrong, damn it! These last two days have been the best in my life that I can consistently remember. For the first time I have a name. For the first time someone loves me. Loves me! For the first time I am, and I know it. How can you take all that away from me after two days? Don't take my name, please! I have a name now; I want to remember! The hell if my name means 'without wish', I want too. You can't take my name away." Raiira laughed lightly
           "What an oratory. Truly heartfelt," Raiira said. She licked Kyaruin's nose. "But you're just a whore, a sex slave. If you must remember something, remember that. You'll just have a mistress this time around. Now, take advantage of the second chance and save yourself the pain. It is exceedingly rare."
           Kyaruin just closed her eyes, began shivering even worse than before, and started to mewl incoherently. There was no way out, she was going to lose everything either way, Raiira was going to hurt her to try and pry out a conspiracy that didn't exist, and there was nowhere to run or hide. She couldn't even curl up into a ball. In the moment of solitude Kyaruin ignored the cold metal table, chafing chains, sore arms, cold draft on naked skin, and the insatiable woman atop her, going instead to the deepest inner recesses of her mind to call for help. Help from Miles, help from whoever it was that was her mother, help from a god, she didn't care. What she got was a warm, rough tonguing of the face. She opened her eyes back up to see Raiira licking Kyaruin's cheek
           "No being hysterical," Raiira murmured. She caught Kyaruin's face in her hands and forced her mouth into the girl's, lapping at the young woman's mouth. Even in her face muscles there wasn't the power to resist, so she let Raiira have her way. It actually calmed Kyaruin down once she realized Raiira wasn't hurting her, but just exploring her mouth. Eventually Raiira drew away. "It's human: a kiss. It shows affection. I have affection for you. Tell me what I want to know."
           "You're hurting me."
           "No Kyaruin, I'm going to hurt you if you don't start talking. Right now I'm just being affectionate."
           "I don't have anything to tell you. Do you want me to lie? Please, there's nothing for me to tell you. Don't hurt me… I'm not holding anything from you, so why hurt me?" Kyaruin pleaded ineffectively. Raiira shook her head.
           "I don't understand, love. There's nobody in this world worth protecting for the amount of suffering I can inflict." Raiira frowned at her, then took a moment to lick Kyaruin's nose once. Her ears perked forward suddenly as she smiled happily. "Maybe you just don't believe me. I know, I'll just hurt you. You'll tell me whatever I want to know if you understand how much pain it'll save you." Kyaruin was absolutely terrified.
           "Please! I can't tell you anything because I don't know anything! I don't want you to hurt me!"
           "Then start talking," Raiira said simply. "Just do it. Betray your employer. Betray your friends. Do it. I promise not to hurt you if you do. It's to save your life, my friend. There is nothing more important than your life. Friends, family, ideals, principles: it's all worthless if you're dead, Kyaruin. Just give me a name: two words. Two words! Give me a person, a place, an event, that's all, and there won't be any pain." She stared down at Kyaruin, who lolled out her tongue.
           "Miles. Miles Arathch. He's my master." Raiira frowned at her.
           "You're trying to tell me that he asked you to find out about Vher and I?"
           "No. No. He told me to… 'play around with the system a little bit'. I decided to look for you on my own."
           "Play around with the system? Damn, he'd say something like that. Son of a bitch! He wanted to tie up the system. He wanted you to take the hit." Raiira pushed off of Kyaruin and rolled to a stand next to the table. She paced back and forth. "Damn, damn, damn! Since when did Miles turn rebel? He wanted to distract me; he's probably getting rid Vher as we speak. We can't afford to lose him! How the hell did he turn? He was perfectly loyal the other day… I can't believe this."
           "Listen to you," Kyaruin murmured, "you've lost it. Miles wanted to entertain me while he de-bugged a simulation. He didn't tell me to search for you, and if I hadn't we wouldn't be here. There's no conspiracy. You're being paranoid." Raiira stopped, wrinkling her nose and biting her lip, then shook her head.
           "No. I'm not paranoid, I'm perceptive. It's why I'm a government spy and you're whore. Do you understand me? Miles is dangerous. He could ruin us if he worked with the other side. He's probably done with Vher right now, and he's going to come for me next. He knows how to use a bow. That Yoichi thing in his bedroom, he could slip it past the metal detectors… Damn! Damn all!" Kyaruin had to laugh.
           "You seriously think Miles is going to chase you down and shoot you with a bow and arrow? That's not paranoid? What's paranoid, thinking Vher is going to stab you in the back with a fork?"
           Raiira wasn't going to take that. She walked right up to Kyaruin, bent over the table, and hit her across the face hard. Blood went sailing off the table and into a dotted line along the floor. Five bloody streaks welled up across Kyaruin's face. "That's going to scar," Kyaruin whispered. "I won't be so beautiful if you do that."
           "Shut up!" Raiira yelled at her, suddenly completely losing it. "You stupid bitch, shut up!" She snarled violently. "I'll kill you, you worthless fucking whore. If you don't shut up, I'll kill you." Kyaruin shut up, and Raiira bent directly to spit in her face. "Whore. I'm about to reset you back to your love slave defaults, but there's one thing you might as well learn. Do not argue with me, do not yell at me, and just, in general, do not get in my way. You'll regret it." Raiira bent below the table and undid Kyaruin's chains.
           "Why don't you kill me, then? I'm not stupid, and I'm no whore. A whore is someone who gives their body up for money; it's their job. That's not me, but it does sound familiar, doesn't it?"
           "Don't worry, I'll kill you. Once your memory is gone, you'll be dead all right. There won't be a shred of Kyaruin left, not even your name. You'll be my toy. Let's you and I take a walk down there and do that right now." Raiira pulled Kyaruin's slack body up and dragged it to the door, which she flung open. "Yeah. Let's you and I go kill you."
          

---v---

           "I'm back." Aaron raised his bloodied head from the table as much as he could, but he was really light-headed. He knew the person by her voice, brimming with distaste and shame, but he wanted to make sure. It was important, somehow, to see Naia standing there in her black uniform, ears down, staring at him.
           "Oh god, Aaron. They went really rough on you. Didn't tell them a thing, did you?" He shook his head pitifully. "I'm sorry. I didn't want this to happen. I brought that tape." She held up a single black cassette the size of his fist. "A new Aaron, guaranteed. They won't hurt you afterward. We can be friends again." Aaron coughed blood, then spoke hoarsely.
           "You really think that? You just erase me and it'll all be okay? We won't be friends, Naia. All that'll happen is that Amara, Maura, and Jaurn will become our enemies. Just more pain and suffering, that's all you'll create. You know you're making a mistake, right? Like killing the slave, this is wrong. The good guys don't do this stuff, Naia. It's a fairly easy way to recognize when you're on the wrong side. You know that, right?" Naia looked at him with torn emotions.
           "I know. I've already chosen my side. I chose it when they taped me with the counter-agent conditioning. It's too late for me to change sides again."
           "It's never too late. I've changed sides, and I've been in the military at least as long as you." Naia sighed, shaking her head.
           "Well, you can change sides one last time, then. You and I both know it has to end like this. If it's any consolation, I'll have you redo my conditioning as soon as I'm done with you. You've made my heart ache. I'll have to replace its armor. This'll only be the second time."
           "What were you like before you got indoctrinated? Would I have liked you? Would we have been friends?" Naia shrugged.
           "I don't know, Aaron. I wasn't lying about my childhood, so I suppose I was whatever kind of person those experiences produced. I guess that if I was wiped and conditioned in the first place I must have really been a malcontent. We might have liked eachother. Who knows?" She moved to undo his chains. "It doesn't matter." Naia helped him up, hissing at the cheap bandage jobs over the gaping wounds in his chest. "I'm sorry. You didn't deserve that, even if you are the enemy."
           They hobbled together out the room and down that winding, enigmatic gray hall. Aaron didn't balk at all, or even talk. He'd no intention of talking to her or causing her trouble, instead focusing in on himself. The pain in his chest nagged at him, trying to throw his concentration, but he ignored it. Naia carried him slowly, grunting and dragging Aaron along. In a sort

f de-attached way he was sorry she had to pull him; it must have been exhausting work.
           Naia was panting by the time they got to the door at the end of the hallway. She didn't complain, nor did Aaron complain about the jabs of pain he'd suffered at each of her forceful steps. The two didn't have anything more to say eachother. Silence hung through the halls. I can understand why a government would build a place like this. This is the sort of place where people disappear, Aaron thought off-handedly. Oddly enough, it wasn't very intimidating to him anymore.
           Naia set Aaron against the wall and swung the door open. She dragged him through and shut the door behind him. Aaron was left on the floor, staring up at the concrete ceiling. His breathing slowed to deep, long inhalations and exhalations. Painfully and carefully Aaron got to his feet, wobbled, then staggered to the nearest thing he could lean on - a booth with restraints for feet, arms, and neck, all Hrasi-sized.
           "So this is where you wipe me," he muttered, "this is where I die." Naia walked up behind him and put her hand on his shoulder.
           "This isn't where you die. This is where you're born. It's where I was born…" Aaron swallowed, closed his eyes, and forced himself to ignore the pain in his gut one last time.
           "Then," he whispered in English, "Be born again." He reached his arm back to grab Naia's hand and yanked forward with all the remaining force he had left. With Naia's smaller weight and lack of preparation she spun past him to wind herself as she smashed into the memory booth. Aaron picked her up and rolled her onto the booth, then dashed to fit the restraints around her. He clamped down both arms and was going for her first leg before she recovered enough to resist him.
           "What do you think you're doing?" Naia growled. One solid kick in Aaron's gut was all it took to send him to the floor. "Let me go, Aaron, you're not going to walk out of here alive this way. You said yourself that conditioning isn't the answer." Aaron took his time to upright himself.
           "I said conditioning me wasn't going to help. Conditioning you helps; it gives me an ally that I really need right now." He coughed blood into his hands. "Maybe you can bandage my wounds afterwards." A sharp pang sent him reeling. He staggered to lean against the booth, then hesitated. "You going to kick me again if I lean there?" Naia glared at him, but shook her head. Aaron collapsed against the security booth in relief.
           "Aaron, trust me, you don't want to use that tape on me. It's meant for a human: it could kill a Hrasi. Besides, all of the tapes have loyalist deep-wiring preprogrammed into them. The closest to a friend you can condition me into is a counteragent or spy like what I was before I met you. I'll still end up betraying you. God, Aaron, don't. Please."
           "Are you recommending," he asked mirthfully, humor dampered only slightly by sharp pains and blood spattering from his lips, "That I just let you go?"
           "I would, but you wouldn't listen, would you? So why bother? Just don't tape me, Aaron. Please. Please…"
           "What happens if I tape you without putting a tape in?" Aaron asked quietly. Naia was silent. "It won't program you into a loyal Hrasi citizen, will it? I wonder."
           "It won't program me into anything. You do the wipe, but not condition anything to replace what you've lost. A full wipe takes out everything except a person's earliest memories and basic lingual skills. Are you really willing to turn me into that, Aaron? Kill me?"
           "I don't want to, but I need somebody. You're the only person on this entire damn planet that I know. I need you. You can't imagine how scary this is. Screw tomorrow, Naia, I don't know how to get out of this building alive today. I want to be alive tomorrow, and I want to be me."
           "So do I!" Naia yowled at him, fighting against the restraints. Aaron pushed off from the table where she lay. "I said I wasn't going to hurt you," she muttered, "I haven't forgotten. Sorry about that." Naia waited for him to settle back down. "Aaron. Think realistically. You can barely read: how do you plan to perform a complex operation like this on me? You don't know the equipment, don't understand the process… you probably don't even know where the control panel is!" Aaron looked around the room. The only panel with a slot for a tape was at the head of the booth, up against the wall.
           "That one," he rasped, nodding at it. Naia actually smiled.
           "Good guess. Doesn't mean that you can operate it." Her ears dipped in concern. "Come on, Aaron. Let me go. We'll re-tape eachother into counteragents and go find Amara. You'll live, I'll live, and she'll live, too: Amara trusts you even more than you trusted me."
           "That's exactly why I can't betray myself over to you. I'd rather take my chances with you, as much as I hate to say it. At worst I fry your brain and I die - that leaves nobody to stop Amara and the Yusuurans. She's good enough to replace me. I'm expendable." Naia's ears went back.
           "I guess I should be happy," she murmured quietly, "I've finally gotten you." She turned her head to stare at him eye-to-eye. "I betrayed you, so now you're going to kill me. One way or another I'll be dead in a few minutes, right? So who's going to stop me if I sell out?" She laughed tiredly. "I already told them about Amara and the Yusuurans. Those fools told me where to go if I didn't make it to them when we abandoned ship. The military is probably sending ships out right now." Aaron froze.
           "You didn't."
           "Sorry, Aaron. You can't just survive until tomorrow; you're going to have to get off-planet fast. Too bad you don't know where to find the Yusuurans. You need me for that."
           "Damn you! And no, I'm not letting you go. I'm not that stupid; I know you'll stab me in the back. You're insane if you think the 'reformed' routine is going to work on me. I'll find them on my own."
           "Our friends will all die if you do that. Even if you found them - eventually - you'd still be too late." Naia grinned. "Funny that I hadn't thought of that. Yeah, it looks like you can't do without me."
           "I'll do a partial memory wipe," Aaron growled.
           "Sure you will. That's even harder. What if you erase the wrong part?"
           "I can justify that risk pretty easily, seeing as if I don't do a partial you'll attack me the moment I let you go." Aaron staggered over to the console. There were Hrasi glyphs in a neat matrix, and several scan graphs. "Hey, how do I operate this?"
           "Why should I tell you?" Naia asked.
           "Because otherwise I'll just punch in random buttons," He muttered
           "No you won't."
           "Because there's a tape here with the word 'slave' on it," he lied.
           "No there isn't."
           "You want to risk that?" He asked, trying to sound convincing. There was silence.
           "Should be a manual in a slot at the bottom of the console." Aaron checked the bottom: there was one. He pulled it out. Great, he thought, it's in Hrasi. No big surprise there, but the manual was an inch-thick hardbound book, and his reading skills in Hrasi were rudimentary at best. "Confusing?" Naia asked, doubtfully hopeful.
           "Hardly," Aaron countered, "It's perfectly intuitive. I'll have it down in an hour."
           "There are patrols that come in here every hour or so."
           "You have a gun," he said, then made it a point to pull it from her pants and pocket it. "I'll shoot anyone that comes near me." He turned back to his manual and managed to find the section on partial wipes after only a few minutes of awkward silence. "…It says 'kill the glyph in the group that matches the brain you wish to die'." Naia blinked at him, oddly serene. She chose, thankfully, to speak in English.
           "I doubt that. More likely it says something like 'delete the element in the matrix that corresponds to the memory group you wish to eliminate'. You just can't read."
           "So how am I supposed figure out which element I need to delete?" She chuffed.
           "I think I have a vested interest in not telling you that." Aaron was already reading the glyph / memory group descriptions, though. For another few minutes he sat and read the glyph descriptions. Naia made the only sound, just breathing nervously. Aaron, meanwhile, was totally focused on the manual; he thought that he'd found what he needed. Hunter-Glyph: basic memory groups. Killing (deleting?) the glyph is reserved for removing the most basic (programming?). Includes (person-thing?), likes (preferences?), and altered loyalty bases. Sounded good to him.
           "I found it," he announced.
           "Wonderful. Sure you don't want to let me go?" Aaron ignored that, towering over the console and searching its huge, 3-D cube matrix for the hunter glyph. He moved his finger over it, then hesitated.
           "Goodbye Naia." Naia closed her eyes.
           "You'd better be good to me. If you kill me, I'll never speak to you again. Goodbye, Aaron." He hit the glyph and watched it disappear.
           Naia yowled sharply, once, then pulled against her restraints. He was glad it wasn't him there; it didn't look enjoyable. For about fifteen seconds Naia fought that way, then collapsed against the booth. Aaron moved over concernedly.
           "Naia! You alright?" She wasn't moving. He threw caution to the wind and undid her restraints, then shook her and patted her cheek. "Naia. Come on, you're still there, aren't you?" Slowly, her blue-green eyes opened and focused on him. "Naia?" She frowned in delirium.
           "Who are you?" Aaron's eyes went wide.
           "I'm Aaron. I'm your friend. You remember where the Yusuurans are, right? Naia?"
           "Yusuurans? What are they? Am I Naia?" Aaron stared at her for a minute, looking for a hint of jest in Naia's expression. There wasn't one. He bowed his head and clenched his hands to fists.
           "Shit. No, damn it, I read it right! Why didn't it work? Hell, I don't believe this!" He hit the table and Naia jerked away in fright, looking at him in raw terror.
           "Aa-ron?"
          

---v---

           The cafeteria was brimming with employees and their servants, even more than usual. It was the one place where people gave Miles smiles and friendly nods or ear-slants instead of disgusted looks. He frequented the place for that reason; it was nice to be somewhere where everybody was on good terms with him. Vher walked behind him at the serving line, picking dishes left and right. She didn't hold back, either: why bother when he was going to pick up the tab? Not that he cared. Vher hungry was not pretty sight, second only to Vher wet and cold.
           They progressed to the end of the line, making small talk with the same servers they'd been talking to for years, then Miles paid for the meals and they went looking for seats. Vher chose a corner table in the cafeteria's atrium-like windowed room. She set down her tray before glancing up at Miles with a smirk.
           "So where did Raiira and your pet Kyaruin go?" He set down his tray and pulled out Vher's chair for her obligingly before seating himself.
           "I'm not sure. Raiira left me a note that said she'd taken Kyaruin out to lunch, but she didn't say where." He leaned forward and murmured conspiratorially. "You think maybe she's trying to tell me something?"
           "Yeah," Vher replied, ears twitching in amusement, "She's probably trying to tell you she can't afford to feed me right now." Miles laughed. "That is odd, though. She doesn't usually play matchmaker with you. That's Riehs' job."
           "You think she just wanted to get the two of us alone?" Miles asked with a grin. "Surely she could've found someone better." Vher glared at him. "For you, I mean," he added hastily.
           "Oh, you weren't a bad choice, I think," she growled, "Besides the occasional lapses of sensitivity." Miles looked down, at a loss for words, and Vher chuffed at him, ears perking forward, as she bent down to spear a piece of meat off her tray. "Oh, and you're entirely too gullible," she chuffed around a mouthful of Shiidow hawk breast. "I don't mind being pushed towards you, Miles. Actually, this is a good opportunity. I was going to ask you if you'd like to go on a trip with me to the highlands up north, like maybe Higa province. Just for a few months, say, over the winter? We could rent a mountain cabin and go hiking from there. Just the two of us for a few months - no work, no bigots, no people at all." Miles grinned at her.
           "Yeah, right. I'm sure I'll be doing that sometime soon." Vher's smile faded and her ears drooped. She looked at him like he'd just told her she was fired. A very odd, queasy feeling came over Miles as he was gazed at. "You were joking, right?" Miles asked. Very slowly, she put down her knife and signed a 'no'.
           "I was serious." He winced.
           "I… I'm flattered, Vher, but I couldn't possibly do that. Besides the logistics of me having to do work all year and the fact that I'm doing a large part of almost every project I'm involved in, if I just ran off with you it'd ruin my career. Even if nobody could prove that we'd done anything, my reputation would be destroyed. It's a capital offense for me to do anything more than touch you unless I'm your slave, even if you agree to it. We've been through this before. I have enemies in the chamber that literally want to see me dead. That would be more than enough to do it." Vher blinked to break her stare, and instead looked out the window.
           "I thought you might say no, but I wasn't expecting to be ridiculed. I'd always entertained the idea that you liked me, for some reason. I suppose it was wishful thinking. But if that's the way you feel, fine. I can accept that. Forget I asked." She turned back to her tray and resumed eating, perfectly composed.
           "That's not what I meant," He whispered intently, "You know you're more than my friend. If it weren't for you I wouldn't be able to get out of bed and face the world these days; I'd be at home in bed moping about my dead bond-partner. I don't want you to think I don't like you. Please don't be angry. It's just that if I go with you there won't be anything left for me when I get back." She chewed, still not looking at him.
           "Why do I work for you? Tell me the reason why I bother to work for you. We have to renew our contracts with you next spring. Can you tell me why I won't walk off?"
           "Because I pay you well and I also took on Raiira, so the two of you can work together? That's what I've always assumed." Vher's went flat against her skull.
           "I couldn't care less what you pay me, and I'm not kidding. The government subsidizes almost ninety percent of what I make anyway. And frankly, I'd be just as happy if Raiira worked somewhere else. It's the government that says we have to work for the same person if we're both going to get subsidized pay. Have you considered, perhaps, that I like you?" Vher dropped her gaze even further trying to hide her disgust and disappointment. Miles, meanwhile, was looking at a major salvage operation for Vher's friendship.
           "I didn't know any of what you just told me. I'm sorry. I really do like you, but there are laws, and I have nothing to fall back on. It sounds like fun, I know, but once there's even a hint that somebody broke a law, that's it. I die, or at least am expelled from the free class and get put on open market. I'm sorry, but there's no way for me to say yes, and I can't say no without sounding personal. I wish I could say yes… please don't be mad at me. I'm glad you like me too, but that doesn't change anything." She rose her head to look at him, and swallowed a hunk of meat.
           "I'm not mad at you, or at least not yet. I'll tell you if I decide otherwise. In the meantime, forget I asked. It's stupid of me to make you make that choice. Sometimes I just forget those laws apply to you, the same way I forget you're a human sometimes. This conversation never happened, alright?" Miles nodded and Vher bent down to grab another bite, swallowing it whole before continuing. "Maybe I can ask a weekend, or a week? And you can ask Riehs or Kyaruin to come play witness?"
           "I'd like that," he replied, relieved that she'd put her animosity aside. "We'd still be able to… get to know eachother, but we'd have someone to vouch for us. Yeah, I can afford to take a day off. I'd like that." Vher brightened.
           "Good," she said, ears perking. "Good." Then she nodded at his plate. "You haven't touched your food."
           "Not hungry. All that talk of laws and being mad at one another killed my appetite."
           "Oh." Her nose wrinkled. "Then, can I have your-"
           A thunderclap went off in the middle of a bright, sunny day, and several things started to happen all at once. A chorus of Hrasi shouts sounded along with a very familiar human snarl. The two guards yelled his name and swung their rifles up to aim at someone outside of the cafeteria. The roar of the gunfire from those two was deafening, but stopped when suddenly one guard's head blossomed in a crimson spray, immediately followed by the rending of his companion's head. All of this happened in the space of about three seconds, at which time his field of vision and other senses were seriously compromised as Vher pounced on him from across the table,
           "Down!" She screamed at him furiously, pinning him to the floor and trying to bodily shield all his vulnerable spots. Having a second thought, she twisted up off him far enough to kick their table over to shield them from possible bullet fire.
           "Backup," a Hrasi man was yelling somewhere, "Backup!"
           "Arathch! Drop your gun!" More fire drowned whomever that person was out. A male voice shrieked in pain less than 30 feet in front of them, and Vher swore.
           "Stay down," she ordered Miles, then pulled her hip pistol from its concealed pocket and rolled off him. She crawled to the table, then popped out of its cover for a second to fire a shot before ducking back down. The gunfire in the lobby just outside the cafeteria continued unabated. Vher peered out off cover again to make sure nobody was there, then waved at him. "Get the dead guard's gun in front of us and get back behind cover. I'll cover you."
           He nodded and started crawling, but the gunfire had died down and muffled, as if possibly the fight had traveled outside. Miles got to the guard in question, who was missing the entire left hemisphere of his brain, along with that side of his face. Blood and gray matter coated the automatic rifle still clutched in the guard's grip. He unceremoniously ripped the gun out of the guard's hand, promising the man he'd make it up to him and attend his funeral. Miles scuffled back towards the table's cover, but a bullet stopped him in his tracks, stinging the back of his neck and sending him to the floor.
           "Don't shoot him! He didn't do anything but follow my orders! He's not the gunman!" Vher was yelling over the din. Miles was having trouble hearing her, for some reason; all of the noise in the room sounded filtered and surreal. His vision was also beginning to blur significantly. All he could hear was Vher's voice: distorted, angry, upset. Someone - possibly her - picked him up with claw bared, snagging into his arms, and started to carry him. His vision blacked out and the last thing he remembered wondering was where he was going. Miles didn't stay conscious long enough to find out.
          

---v---

           Kyaruin shut her eyes and tried to free herself. She was strapped down on the memory booth, pulling at the restraints haplessly. Raiira was sitting at the console behind her, punching in a code sequence.
           "Let me show you what happens to the people who aren't my friends," She growled lowly, concentrating, "and the people who get in my way. You're going to die, and you know I'll be using what's left of you afterwards. Just a thought to accompany you in your last moments, bitch." It hurt for Kyaruin to move her hands, but the sedative had mostly worn off, so she tried to pull at her bonds anyway. "What, you're going to escape?" Raiira sneered, noticing Kyaruin's struggling. "Good luck."
           "You've gone insane. What do you think you're going to do? You can't go back to Miles and Vher if you have me, and you can't leave them if you don't want to be hunted down by the government."
           "Don't worry yourself about that, it's far beyond your comprehension, I assure you."
           "Which mean, basically, that you don't know." A harsh laugh came from behind Kyaruin, who didn't think she'd said anything so hysterically funny.
           "You are pretentious, aren't you? Well, if you have anything you'd like say, make it quick. I don't promise I'll listen, though."
           "Yeah, I have something to tell you," Kyaruin hissed, "you're a damned fool, and you stand very little chance of surviving to see tomorrow if I have anything to say about it." Raiira hrnnned noncommittally.
           "Well then, it's good that you don't have anything to say," she replied, and tapped once on the console. Shooting pain went through Kyaruin's body, frying her neurological system in seconds, knocking her out, and cutting off her scream before it got out of her throat.
          

---v---

           The last guard behind the post across the room jumped up to take a shot and Aaron put a bullet in her head. Her body flew backwards, rifle firing randomly into the ceiling as she fell. Footsteps thundered from the hallway across the room. Aaron calmly took out the used clip in Naia's gun, letting it shatter on the floor and spill out handfuls of empty casings. He reached in his back pocket for another clip, then belatedly realized he didn't have any. Shit. Great timing, Aaron. More guards were tromping down the hallway, and he didn't have a clip.
           Smirking at himself, he walked to the guard post left of him and knelt down below the desk there. A dead guard lay crumpled in the corner next to him, and he picked through his uniform. The guard's rifle had the annoying embedded Hrasi trigger, which effectively prevented anyone without retractable claws from using it, but his pistol was standard trigger, and he had several additional clips on his belt. The clips looked close enough to fit to Naia's gun, so he tried fitting it. It slid in and clicked smoothly. Well, what do you know? Looks the Hrasi haven't abandoned standards yet.
           "Aaron!" Naia hissed from her fetal crouch under a table across the room. "What are you doing? Shouldn't we be running?"
           "If I could run," he called back, "sure. But I can barely walk."
           "Get up, Arathch," Someone yelled from the hallway, "we know you're there!" Aaron narrowed his eyes and raised his gun backward above the desk and fired off a few shots.
           "My name is Aaron!" he rolled out from the side of the desk as automatic fire ripped up the wall above the guard post and took aim at the lead of a trio of guards. The recoil from Naia's weapon shook his arm and threw his aim off, but that hardly stopped him. By the time the guards had figured out that their target had moved there was only one of them left, and Aaron carved out the man's chest with metal slugs before the guard could change his line of fire.
           After the trio hit the ground, there wasn't any noise but the air conditioning system. Pieces of stone fell from the walls where bullets had ricocheted across the room, along with clouds of dust. Some Hrasi snarling and growling came from farther down the hallway, but they didn't come any nearer. Painfully and agonizingly Aaron stood, clicked the pistol's safety back on, then wobbled on his feet.
           "You hurt?" Naia asked, rolling to her feet and sprinting to catch him before he fell. "Are you okay?"
           "Just not in any condition to be fighting," he grunted. Naia looked at him, then touched the bandage on his chest, making him groan in pain.
           "What an awful wound… what happened to you?" Aaron gritted his teeth in pain.
           "Torture happened to me. One of my friends betrayed me. Never mind that, though. We have to get out of her before more guards come." As if summoned, a single pair of footsteps came bolting down the hallway. "Get down," Aaron breathed. He pulled his gun, undid the safety, and held it up to the opening of the doorway, waiting for whomever it was to emerge. A single black-uniformed guard ran out with rifle in hands, then spun in the air to land on his back with a slip of steel in his heart. "How many of these people are there?" he asked nobody in particular. "I've shot enough innocent people today to last me the rest of my life." Naia took him by the hand.
           "Let's go," she insisted, "I don't like this place. Everybody here wants to kill us."
           "Everybody on this planet wants to kill us. Everybody in this solar system wants to kill us, most likely. Help me walk Naia: I don't think I can on my own." She nodded, putting her arm around him. The two hobbled out impeded only by the dead bodies.
           Vher stuck her head from the hallway into the lobby and watched the two leave. All the guards had fallen, and she had no intention of attracting attention to herself. Those two were monsters if they'd shot through the entire battery of guards. And the human… she understood why the guards were yelling Miles' name. The two of them could easily have been twins. Miles lay limp in her hands; she smiled at him and rubbed his cheek. Got to get to Riehs, she thought, waiting for the other human and Hrasi pair to leave the area.
           "Is he hurt?" a man asked, coming up beside her.
           "Gunshot to the back of the neck. I need to get to the Genetic Engineering building fast, but the two who were shooting the place up are still leaving the building."
           "There're government vehicles in the top level of the garage." Vher frowned, then hoisted Miles over her shoulder.
           "We have a parking garage? Show me."
          

---v---

           White walls in a padded cube surrounded her. There wasn't any gravity, so she floated in the middle, waiting for something to happen. At the very thought, the cube shattered to a mire of objects. What is this? She wondered, Is this what I look like inside? A black void stretched into infinity, but was littered with objects. Tables, guns, computers, screens, trees, and a whole assortment of other odd things floated in space with her. Let me out of here! She screamed, but nothing came from her throat: only the idea of her yelling appeared.
           "Who're you?" A voice asked from behind her. She turned around to see Miles Arathch, a tall, thin human man. Who am I? She frowned. I don't know, Mr. Arathch. I'm sorry. Can you tell me? "What are you doing here? You don't belong here, do you?" She shook her head, and he nodded. "Then I'll take you somewhere else." He waved his hands past her eyes and the scenery changed.
           They were in a courtyard at the center of a group of whitewashed buildings, under a starry night sky. A fountain bubbled beside them. "How about now?" Miles asked, walking around the courtyard. There were flowers in the garden surrounding the fountain, and he bent down to smell them. "I've never been here. This is a university, isn't it? You went here, didn't you? What a romantic scene."
           I don't know. I remember this place. I think something happened here, she projected. "Something important?" He murmured, seemingly engrossed by the flower. She turned around to stare at a man standing behind her. The looming figure reached out his hand and pulled her into his chest, covering her mouth. As much as she tried, she couldn't scream or concentrate enough to attract Arathch's attention. It was eerie how the whole sequence unfolded silently, as though she was simply an observer.
           The man knocked her to the ground, jumped atop her, and pinned her down. Let me go! She thought. Help! Somebody! Nobody was there to do anything, or maybe they just didn't care about her. Her struggles were ineffectual against her aggressor. Terrified, she went limp and squeezed her eyes shut, trying to ignore what was being done to her.
           "You're losing," someone said, "Pretty soon there won't be any of you left." Someone's there? Help me! She opened her eyes to see who it was. The man was still atop her, forcing her, but the scenery had changed. They were in a richly tapestried bedroom, on a silken bed. Stop, you bastard! She projected, then tried to push him off. The man grinned and forced her limbs back down.
           "Quiet, bitch. You're mine," he snarled authoritatively. I'm yours? She was confused, but felt familiar dread. Help me!
           "You're not fighting. Do you want to lose?" That same voice taunted her. Help me! I don't know how to fight! I'm weak… The man growled.
           "Yes, you are weak. Now shut up."
           "Of course you know how to fight! Don't use your fists, fool. Do you really think they exist? It's all in your mind. Try using that instead." She frowned in complete confusion, then looked up at the man on top of her. Stop it. Get off of me, and get out of my life. The man laughed out loud.
           "What are you going to do to me? You don't even know who I am. You don't even know who you are. Quiet, stupid bitch." You don't have a name. I don't either. No one has a name here.
           "Not true," a human voice lilted from behind. Miles Arathch bent beside her and smiled. "I have a name. I'm Miles Arathch." Then help me! Take me away from here! Arathch nodded, and the two were alone in a garden atrium. She collapsed into a bed of ferns and stared at the sky through a window in the ceiling.
           I know you. Tell me how, she projected to him. "You're my slave," he provided, looking down at her, "but that's obvious. What's more important is if I know you; you have a name too." She looked up. What is it? Please. "Without wish."
           "Without wish?" she asked, then did a double take. "I can talk?" Arathch smiled.
           "You know your name, don't you? You can navigate this place now - through time and space. But I'm not going to help you. This isn't my mind. One thing I will tell you though - you might want to change a few things. Hurry. Your mind is going because someone doesn't want you the way you are. Without wish - Kyaruin - stop living up to your name." Kyaruin sat up.
           "I will, Miles…" She closed her eyes. "I'm going back the university." When she opened her eyes she was there, standing next to him. Arathch was smelling the flower and her attacker was sneaking up on another Kyaruin, who was turning around. Just as had happened a few moments ago, the man attacked her, but this time Kyaruin was there. "Hey, let go of her, you son of a bitch!" Kyaruin charged him as he pushed down her double. He looked up and hissed in surprise, but was far too late: Kyaruin jumped into him with a lunging punch that decked him. He fell to the floor.
           "You!" The man yelled, but didn't say anything else, because he was winded when Kyaruin landed on his chest. Kyaruin stared into his face and memories came back: memories of being raped as a college student, memories of being enslaved, memories of being tortured and abused, then wiped. "I got you once," he gasped, "I can take you again." She grinned humorlessly.
           "I don't think so." His ears flagged in dismay when she punched him in the throat. "You're not going to give me any trouble any more." Punch. "Because you've given me enough trouble already." Punch. "And I'm not going to let you get in my way anymore." She grabbed him by the throat and caught him in a headlock. "Goodbye." The man struggled, trying to slash at her, but he stopped when she pulled hard and snapped his neck.
           The other Kyaruin was still lying on the ground. "You okay?" Her double stared at her, shaking. Kyaruin sighed. "Your name is Kyaruin. So is mine. I want you to go as far back in our memories as you can and change everything that we did wrong. I'm going ahead to find out why our life is being deconstructed." The double stared at her. "You all there?" The double looked blank.
           "Who are… I can speak? I can speak! What are you?" Kyaruin shrugged.
           "I'm you. I'm me. There's no time for this. I'm going ahead. Just close your eyes and want yourself to go backwards." The double blinked, looking at her dully. Perhaps only a single 'her' could be actively maintained in Kyaruin's mind. "Ugh, never mind." I want to be where I can stop my mind from slipping, she projected. Nothing happened. I want to be the last place I was before being enveloped into my mind.
           "Well then, it's good you don't have anything to say," a woman was telling yet another Kyaruin clone while hunched over a console. Kyaruin herself was standing in the corner of a dreary, concrete memory wiping room. It was obvious that the room was meant for wiping; the only feature in the room was the memory booth, and the largest piece of furniture was a huge bookshelf stacked with artificial conditioning tapes.
           She walked to look at the titles. Every single one of them read 'personal slave conditioning'. So the woman is going to make me her slave? She can try. Kyaruin bristled. I know who my master is. I'm staying with Miles. If this person wants me, I'll just kill her.
           Kyaruin's double suddenly jerked up and started thrashing on her bed. The woman above her laughed. Kyaruin walked behind the woman and slammed her elbow down on the back of the woman's neck. The woman fell against the console with a yelp, then dropped to the floor. Good riddance. Kyaruin looked down on the console. In her mind there was a mess of code and alien human symbols that she couldn't possibly interpret. She didn't have the slightest idea what to do, so she did what came naturally: bash the console. Her fist went through it and blinding white light engulfed her.
          

---v---

           I'm still me… I survived a full memory wipe. Survived, ha! I recall everything. That bastard that kidnapped me on campus, I remember him now. The time I spent in his harem, being wiped… if I ever find him I'll rip his balls off. That is, if Raiira doesn't kill me. The double-crosser in question jumped atop her and smiled down.
           "Hello, girl. I'm Raiira, and I'm your mistress. You understand?" Kyaruin gulped, struggling to keep her ears erect. I can't let her find out that I'm still me.
           "Mistress?" she asked, feigning conditioned shyness. Raiira nodded.
           "Mistress. You belong to me. You do what I tell you to, and you enjoy it." Her nose wrinkled. "You know what a kiss is? It's a human show of affection. I'll show you." She brought Kyaruin's head up and kissed her, closing her eyes in bliss. Just wait, Kyaruin thought while engrossed in exploring Raiira's mouth, I'll slit your throat the moment you let me close enough. The only person I'd even consider having as a master is Arathch, and I especially wouldn't have you.
           Raiira broke off her kiss and pulled back to stare at her, smirking. "We'd better be going, love. This is the capital city. You and I are going on a little trip to somewhere a bit more remote, where there aren't so many people to bother us." She undid Kyaruin's restraints and pulled her to her feet. "We'll have to find some clothes for you somewhere." Kyaruin blinked and nodded.
           "Yes, mistress." Raiira smiled and turned around. The moment Kyaruin wasn't being looked at she let her expression wilt away. Just wait…
          

---v---

           Miles winced. His eyes didn't want to open. Cold air wafted around him in a calm, quiet room; he thought he was lying on a bed. There was worried Hrasi musk in the air and he could feel another person nearby.
           "Uhn. Can you help me? I can't open my eyes… Please, milord or milady." A rustle of a moving, furred mass came from immediately to his left.
           "I'm not your lady, sir," Vher's comforting bass rumbled, "But I appreciate the thought. You were shot across the back of his neck by an overzealous guard. I took you to the GE headquarters as fast as I could; you're lucky to be alive. Miss Riehs said that the bullets only grazed your neck, but one might have hit your spinal cord. I can call Riehs' assistant if you'd like."
           "Please. Where's Miss Riehs?"
           "She's on the phone in her office, calling all over town. She heard about that other human that looks like you, the one who shot through the defense guard team like it was nothing, and went frantic. She wants him for her GE project." Miles wasn't sure how to take that news.
           "There's someone who looks like me? Maybe we had the same father…" Another person stepped in from the far right.
           "He didn't act like you," a smooth alto voice purred, "I think you're a bit better behaved. Funny that she wants to breed a mass murderer a day after she introduces legislation on categorizing humans by personality to limit ornery slaves' breeding rights." The woman walked up to him, standing at his bedside opposite Vher. "Someone called my name?"
           "Miss Eaghera!" Miles said, smiling, "I'm so glad to hear your voice again. I can't open my eyes; they feel numb. Please, help." There was a small chuff from Eaghera.
           "You don't have to be polite, Mr. Arathch. I owe you enough already. Hrnnn, can't move your eyelids? A bullet probably bruised the back of your brain when it went through your neck. That's fairly specific muscle paralysis, though. I'll give you a bit of neural catalyst to help those neurons connect up." She touched him right below his right eye and behind his right ear. "Going to inject you there, alright? You won't feel it."
           "Who are you?" Vher asked. "Miles knows you, but I don't." Miles felt Eaghera's claws on his cheek, right below the eye. Fluid swelled warmly under his skin there, then again where she'd touched him behind the ear.
           "I'm his bond-woman. He bought me from the slavers earlier yesterday. I owe him my life, my dignity, and just about everything else." Vher humphed.
           "Huh. Funny nobody told me about that. Mr. Arathch?" Miles grinned.
           "Apologies. I was going to, but my day was interrupted." Furry fingers, claws carefully pulled, touched his eyelids and pulled them back. Light, golden Eaghera retracted her hand and smiled down at him.
           "Better?" He blinked twice and his face tingled.
           "Better. Thank you, Miss Eaghera. I'm in your debt." She laughed.
           "It's been years since anyone called me Miss. I'm no lady, nor do I think a little medical checkup is enough to clear my debts with you."
           "Ignore him," Vher rumbled, ears perking, "he's always too polite. You can go crazy trying to get him to speak casually with you." She reached out a hand to grab one of his and squeezed tightly. Her claws almost broke the skin. "I'm sorry, you know. It was stupid to have you break cover. I'd understand if you didn't want -"
           "Vher," he insisted, and she shut up. Isn't it enough that I trust you? He wondered about asking her, but wouldn't dare to in front of Eaghera. "So what can you tell me about my evil twin?"
           "His name is Aaron Sykes," A familiar female called from the door. Riehs walked in holding a thick binder of papers, "He was turned in by an counterintelligence agent posted on a carrier that supposedly had a large Yusuuran conspiracy ring. She'd just finished filing her mission report when she went down to the prison cells and allegedly freed him, then helped him shoot his way out. Tell me, does anything I've said so far sound familiar?" Both Eaghera and Vher signed 'no', but Miles nodded.
           "Sykes. Sykes is a familiar name. I think one of my birth-parents was a Sykes." He sat up slowly, wincing from the sharp pain in his neck.
           "Careful," Eaghera warned him, "We just bandaged that. If you move your neck too much it'll break. I shouldn't really let you get out of bed, but something tells me there are more important things at hand." Riehs brushed past her new assistant and handed Miles the binder she was carrying.
           "You're right of course. Your biological mother was Rachel Sykes, a captured pilot. I believe she was originally paired with the intention of producing a stronger, faster human to train our soldiers against. Since so many people have mistaken him for you, I think we can safely assume the two of you are half-brothers, and that he's a few years older than you are. I want him, Miles. Your brother is by all accounts much faster than any normal human is. Those genes are still mostly in the feral population, and are the one thing I'm still lacking. Maybe you can tell me where he's heading?"
           "I think it's safe to say that they don't think the same," Vher started, "The very idea of Miles pulling a gun on a Hrasi guard battery is more than ludicrous, it's -"
           "I know exactly where he's going," Miles murmured softly, "not as his brother, but as a fellow human. Hrasi can be intimidating even to me. If he knew that every Hrasi on the planet was out to kill him, there's only one thing he'd possibly do: run. As a spacer, he's most likely going for the spaceport. If we beat him there we can catch him, but he's going to still be armed. Maybe I can talk to him." Riehs gave him a brief nod.
           "Alright, we'll go personally. I'll call for military backup. Hey, where's your secretary Raiira?" Vher coughed into her paw.
           "Ah, she managed to escape this entire accident: took his new slave out to lunch. Probably doesn't even know that anything's happened yet. We'll find her later," she promised Riehs. Huri gazed at Miles.
           "I don't want to hurt my subjects; you're a valuable resource. I'll leave it up to you if you want to come." Miles nodded.
           "I want to make sure that he doesn't hurt anyone else. If my brother kills anyone else, then that's blood I've drawn too. You all understand, I hope?" Vher and Eaghera both nodded. Riehs dipped her head and flicked her ears.
           "I admire you. I'd be running away like a fool. Eaghera, help him walk. Miss Vher, keep your weapon ready. You may end up having to use it."
          

---v---

           Rain beat down on them as Aaron and Naia ran up the hill to the freighter hangar. Aaron did his best to stay under the tree and shelter her under his large slave's cloak. The water was freezing, numbing; it would be hail if the weather got a few degrees colder.
           "Aaron, I'm cold and wet," Naia complained, child-like. Well, not exactly child-like. She was, after all, a child again.
           "I know you're cold and wet. I can smell your wet fur: you stink."
           "It feels miserable. Isn't there something we can do?" Aaron sighed.
           "We can hurry," he explained, "nothing more. It's not much farther, I promise." She moved closer, almost leaning on him, and he held her tightly as they trudged upwards.
           A lightning strike cracked, then chain lightning arced up and down on a faraway mountain peak. "Huh. We really ought to hurry, I guess. See that lightning?" he asked, relapsing to English for the unfamiliar word, "It always follows the path of least resistance. Resistance usually mean air, so it likes to hit higher objects more often, and metal especially." Naia moaned.
           "So we're going to a huge metal starship at the top of a mountain?" Aaron shrugged.
           "Not much choice, I'm afraid. This is the spaceport: it's your species' fault that you decided to build your 'port out of metal on top of a mountain. We'll find a smaller ship with a conversion engine and hide out until the storm blows through, then lift off under cover of nightfall."
           For another ten minutes they moved slowly up to the huge mountain complex. It was silent and dark. Naia whimpered.
           "Shouldn't someone be here? This feels wrong. We shouldn't go in right away, Aaron. Let's just wait here. I don't care so much about the rain…" The two crouched down at the edge of the woods.
           "Listen, stay here. I'll go on ahead." Naia opened her mouth to protest, but he'd already gotten up and stepped out of the cover of the woods. Don't leave me here! Don't die. You can't leave me alone here!
           Aaron walked out into the clearing, looking all around. Doing so didn't help much; he couldn't see but maybe twenty feet ahead of him. He took a step forward, listening carefully. There weren't any sounds except the brushing of the rain against the leaves on the ground. After a moment he walked calmly ahead.
           About halfway to the building there was a loud snap to his left. Aaron spun around to be caught in the flash of blinding light.
           "Sykes! On the ground now!"
          

---v---

           Obediently, Kyaruin followed behind a seriously overconfident Raiira. They'd broken into the spaceport to 'borrow', as Raiira had put it, a high-atmosphere plane that they could use to escape the allegedly all-seeing intelligence department's view. Kyaruin didn't really care what they were there for; as long as she could break Raiira's neck while the doublecrossing bitch was trying to get past some security system, she was happy.
           The two walked up a staircase to get to the second floor lobby. Transparent aluminum windows replaced the walls so they could see the raging storm outside and watch as lightning struck city towers in the valley below. Raiira hissed.
           "Damn storm. We won't be able to lift off in anything tonight." She grinned and flapped an ear suggestively. "Ah, I suppose it's just as well. You can get to know me better." Inwardly Kyaruin groaned, but outwardly she bowed her head to hide a thin, faked smile of mischievous modesty.
           "You're suggesting an indoor tempest of our own?" she murred, feeling sick as she spoke. Why do I get the feeling this woman is one of the controlling, abusive types? She ought to be pretty surprised when her playful, love-crazed pet breaks her neck.
           "Something like that," Raiira purred back. Suddenly, a bright floodlight turned on below. Even though it wasn't pointed at them, they both stumbled back. "What now?" Raiira hissed. Kyaruin raced to look out the window.
           Miles was standing directly opposite the floodlight, covering his eyes with his hands, one of which held a gun. Surprised, Kyaruin looked to see who was manning the light. She saw Vher holding a gun up, two women kneeling behind a black van, and Miles, also aiming a gun. Kyaruin blinked. There were two Miles'? What? She double-checked to make sure, but was not mistaken. The Miles in the spotlight was wearing a slave's uniform, while the Miles behind the light with Vher was in the attire she'd left him with. The two were yelling at eachother, as were Riehs and Vher. Raiira walked up beside her. "Interesting. I see there are two Arathchs. Well, the universe is better for it. It doesn't matter to us though. Let's go."
           "Are they dangerous, mistress?" Kyaruin asked.
           "No, Miles is harmless. They're all fools. Let's go, love." Kyaruin set her jaw.
           "Harmless. Good. If that's really true, then we ought to be fine down there." Raiira frowned and gave her a questioning look. Kyaruin looked over at her and smiled, then turned to look back down at the group.
           "Love?" Raiira murred. She leaned into the window and stared at Kyaruin. "You said something?" Kyaruin flicked an ear.
           "Yeah. Bye." She threw her strongest left hook straight into Raiira's cheek. Raiira's eyes went wide as blood flew from her mouth and she fell heavily into the window. Kyaruin launched into her with a bodily slam and the two broke through, spinning down from the second floor in a rage of flying teeth and claws.
          

---v---

           Vher's ears were flat, her pelt was matted, and her tone was scathing. Miles smiled and whispered out of the side of mouth.
           "You don't mean me too, do you?" Her nostrils flared.
           "You stay right where you are and keep that gun trained. You're an Arathch, not a Sykes," she growled. He nodded, focusing on keeping his gun on his sibling's head. Doesn't really matter if I have my gun trained, I can't use it. "You heard me, Sykes! Throw the gun away and get on the ground!" Sykes didn't move.
           "You shoot me, my friend in the woods shoots both of you," Sykes yelled back, "So back off!"
           "You're cornered, Sykes, don't bother threatening!" Miles looked at Vher.
           "He was with an agent; he doesn't have to be lying."
           "Sykes! You're acting like a fool! Put your gun down!" The man didn't, but brought his gun to bear in the general direction of the light: He probably couldn't see too well in the glare.
           "You're kidding, right?" Sykes asked. His voice had the rasping of someone for whom northland Hrasi was a poorly spoken second language. Miles doubted he'd achieved full fluency in basic northland, much less a minor language like Gesjhi or Hirogha. "The only thing keeping me alive is my gun."
           "That's not true!" Riehs called out from behind the van. "I want you alive. You shot through the defense building like the guards there were sleeping. I want the genes that let you do that for my genetics program, the same way I want your brother Miles here for his incredible mental capacities. Put your gun down and I can promise you your life!"
           "Do you think I want to live my life as a slave? I'd rather die! I won't help you kill innocent people!" Miles lowered his gun to snarl at the interloper.
           "The Hrasi are the innocents, vermin! You're feral, untrained, dangerous. Stop thinking with your animal mind and try thinking like a civilized being! You've just killed dozens of people that we've known for years, but they'll still give you your life back. No feral would afford us such mercy, so take them up on it!" Riehs glanced up at him from behind their car.
           "Thanks," she whispered, "I wasn't sure you'd argue for me." He grinned, but when he looked back to Sykes, the man wasn't convinced.
           "I don't care what you're offering. I have to leave. I'm a spacer; I can't stay on this planet. Now drop your guns, damn-" Sykes stopped at the sound of glass cracking. Everyone stared up at the top of the spaceport building, where a window was creaking and hissing above the sound of the rain.
           With a loud burst the window shattered and a furred lump span down, yowling. With the snap and crunch of bones it hit the ground. Two Hrasi untangled and launched into a heated melee. One of the Hrasi, a small white girl in black breechs, kicked her golden counterpart to the ground.
           "Miles!" she yelled, "You can't trust us! The government is working against you! Raiira and Vher are government agents hired to spy on you, not protect you! Their job is to keep you from learning the truth and turning sympathetic to -" The other Hrasi, obviously Raiira now that Miles watched her, tackled who had to be Kyaruin. Sykes looked confused, but Miles ignored him.
           Kyaruin and Raiira rolled in the mud, punching and slashing at eachother mercilessly. Kyaruin rolled atop her opponent and ripped her across the throat with her teeth. Raiira in turn hooked her claws into Kyaruin's shoulder and pulled down, ripping flesh.
           "STOP!" yet another voice screamed, sounding more terrified than angry. God, who now? Miles wondered. A thin, dripping wet, white-furred woman ran from the edge of the woods to stand at Sykes' side. "Aaron," she pleaded, "make them stop! Please, I don't want anybody to die!"
           "Both of you stop it!" Miles boomed. Both Kyaruin and Raiira did stop, rolling off of one another and staggering back, clutching their bleeding chests. Arathch turned to Vher. "Vher," he breathed, "What Kyaruin said. Truth?" Vher closed her eyes for a moment, ears dipping.
           "Truth." Kyaruin grimaced, but Miles nodded. He shrugged.
           "Was that all, Kyaruin?" Her tail thrashed in surprise and uncertainty.
           "You're being manipulated: Raiira told me so. They wouldn't be with you if the government wasn't worried you'd turn traitor. They're blinding you to anything that might sway you. Raiira was going to betray you: she wanted to run away with me! She tried to wipe my memory, Miles! Raiira and Vher don't love you; they don't care about you except as far as you earn their pay. You don't care either?"
           "That's not true," Vher growled, "I love him! I'd follow him wherever he decided to go. You don't know anything about me, or why I'm here." She hissed, enraged. "And you, Raiira! I never should have trusted you. To think that I slept at your side, and then you doublecross Miles and me!"
           "It's alright, Vher." Rain blanketed the scene and matted Miles' hair as he bowed his head. "I know whose side I'm on." He called out hoarsely. "Kyaruin, come here. Just come here: I won't hurt you." Kyaruin looked dismal, but hobbled obediently. Sykes changed his gun sight to Kyaruin tracking her as she ambled. "You shoot her and you're a dead man," Miles shouted, "She's an innocent." His half-brother squinted into the light, looking for him.
           "She's the one person who seems to be making any sense. I'd much rather shoot you, who sells out to the Hrasi. Who the hell are you, anyway?"
           "Miles Arathch, representative of the defense council. You might have known my mother, Rachel Sykes. I've always wondered what she was like, although I think she probably had me under… different circumstances. I don't want to shoot you, as much as you may want to kill me. Why don't you join us? I'd enjoy having a brother." Miles went far so as to walk slowly out of the light, but Vher caught him by the shoulder to pull him back. "Vher," he murmured, and she let him go, ears drooping. Again he began to walk out of the path of the light beam. "Going to shoot me, Sykes? I want to be your friend. I'll put away my weapon." Sykes smiled humorlessly.
           "You don't know how to use it anyway. That handgun would be much more effective if you took the safety off." He changed his target yet again to aim straight for Mile's head. "Listen, bastard, just because some pervert Hrasi had a guy rape my mother does not make you my family. She never loved you, and if she saw you now she'd say it wasn't worth the pain it took to give birth to you. I'd rather see you dead so you wouldn't be disgracing my name, but I have the idea that your furry masters over there wouldn't be very appreciative." He smiled maniacally at Miles. "What you don't seem to understand is that I'm a spacer stranded out of his natural habitat. I can't be planet-bounded, and there are a lot of lives at stake that depend on whether or not I can get off the planet - Hrasi lives, if that means anything to you."
           "Yusuuran rebels, probably," Miles said, "but Hrasi nonetheless. If we let you go, though, you'll kill at least as many others." He sneered. "I don't give a damn about my biological mother, either. That feral was never my mother: My Hrasi matron was. Rachel Sykes was just a whore one clever Hrasi decided to breed with some other feral." Miles looked at Sykes with a smirk, right up to point where it was ruined by Aaron's fist.
           "Stop!" Sykes' friend yelled, but he'd holstered his gun and thrown himself on Miles. The two threw punches at eachother. Miles realized his mistake; he'd never been in the military or been trained well enough to defend himself against someone who was. Aaron parried away Arathch's feeble punches, ignored the hits that got through, and responded with iron blows. In less than thirty seconds Sykes had broken both of Miles' arms and a single leg without breaking a sweat. "Aaron, Stop! Please, for me, stop it! Don't hurt him!"
           Sykes stopped, then everything slowed down to a crawl. Pain-induced adrenaline rushing through Miles' body made each event unfold in painstaking slowness. Across the clearing, Raiira jumped to her feet and bolted to turn the corner around the spaceport. Vher shouted furiously, aiming her gun at her former partner. Sykes kicked him, getting him a face full of mud.
           As Miles lost sight of what was going on around him three gunshots went off from Vher's direction. Raiira screamed, and Miles knew what'd happened even before he rolled over on his back. Vher was reloading her gun, ears stitched down to her skull. On the other side of the spaceport building Raiira lay in a heap, unmoving. At that moment, everything seemed to fall apart.
           "No!" Arathch screamed, but nobody cared. Sykes pulled his gun and opened fire on Vher, who responded in turn. For what felt like an eternity neither hit, both trading metal bolts back and forth. Nine or ten shots rang out, the last from Sykes. Vher yelped pain, dropping her gun to the side as she fell. Sykes emptied another two or three shots into her chest, but Miles forced himself up and tackled the man down. "I'll kill you, you bastard," Arathch yelled, "I'll kill you!" Emotionlessly, Sykes grabbed him by the throat and punched him out, then threw Arathch aside and rolled to his feet.
           "You want this stupid son of a bitch alive?" Aaron screamed, veins popping from his head, "You drop your weapons and turn that damn floodlight off now!" His Hrasi lay on the ground, moaning. "Now!"
           "We'll turn it off," Kyaruin shouted back, "Please, don't kill him! You can do whatever you want to, I don't care, just don't kill him!" She hobbled to the floodlight and ripped out cords until it flickered off. "Let me come and get him," Kyaruin asked, "I won't attack you. I just want him." Aaron blinked, eyes adjusting to the light, then re-aimed at Kyaruin. "Please," she heaved, breathless. Slowly, he lowered his gun, then threw it aside.
           "Get me a spaceship, get me off this damn planet, and you can have my traitor brother." She nodded, then looked back at Vher. There were two women next to her. One looked up at her.
           "I'm Huri Riehs, head of the GE project, and we're both doctors. Vher ought to be fine, but I need Miles." Riehs dug through a back pocket in her breeches and fished out a crystalline data key. She tossed it to Kyaruin. "There, that's my personal key. It'll open up almost any government door on the continent. Give Sykes his ship."
           "They'll lock you up forever if your key lets him escape. You're telling me to do this; that's your treason. They might even kill you." Riehs looked down at Vher, then back up.
           "I know. I'll admit to doing it myself. He often accuses me of caring for nothing but my precious genetic engineering project. But it's worth it. Trust me, you couldn't understand; you don't know me. Just go before Sykes shoots him." Kyaruin nodded.
           If possible, the rain was beating down even harder. Kyaruin walked forward to a waiting Sykes. The mud squelched under her feet as she approached. Her Miles lay in a ball, bleeding from the nose and mouth. She looked down at him as she came within reach of Sykes, then touched her breast. It still bled - Raiira had ripped through chest muscle and taken off a nipple. Calmly, she looked up at her master's almost-murderer.
           "I don't know you, nor do I particularly care. I don't care why you're hurting Miles, either. He's my master, and if you let him live, mister Sykes, I'll get you your ship." Sykes looked down at his sibling.
           "Let's go get a ship, and your friends over there can deal with …Miles." Kyaruin swallowed and nodded, then ran for the spaceport, waving for Sykes to follow. "Hey, girl!" He yelled back at her. She skidded to a stop and turned around.
           "What is it?" Kyaruin asked. Sykes was picking his friend off of the ground. He looked at Kyaruin and frowned.
           "My name is Aaron. My Hrasi friends call me Ahrn. Not that we're friends. I mean, we don't have to be enemies, even though your master is my enemy… I mean, I don't want to have to fight you more than I need to…" Kyaruin froze, slanted back an ear, and wrinkled her nose.
           "Ahrn, huh?" He nodded, and they stared at one another. "…Let's go, Ahrn. The moment my master wakes up, we stop being friends." Ahrn smiled.
           "I thought you'd understand."
          

---v---

           Inside the council chambers the audience clapped furiously. Eaghera smiled shyly, nodding and taking a small bow before sprinting down from the podium. She worked her way through a sea of furry bodies in the aisles below, many of which chuffed a word of appreciation or patted her on the back.
           "I think Riehs would be proud," Kyaruin assured her as she got to them, "you did great." Vher rumbled deep laughter from her slouching position in her chair. The woman's coarse beauty had been ruined: huge, bloody bandages covered her head and chest, while lesser arm wounds had scarred over. Even then, either there were bald patches left on her pelt or the fur there had grown out in odd, twisted ways. She was happier than ever, though. Kyaruin was glad she'd retained her good humor and passive nature.
           "I'm sure Riehs is proud of you. There are televisions in prison, you know. Prison isn't so bad for ex-government Hrasi. Bet you she just saw the whole thing," Vher assured her.
           "There's definitely a reason that she chose you to be her successor," Kyaruin told her, "She left the entire genetics engineering program in your hands after only knowin

you for a few days. She's not stupid, or she wouldn't have been head of the GE project. I think maybe your genius with biology and genetics was apparent early on. You're great at it." Eaghera smiled, stopping to give Kyaruin a kiss.
           "Hey," Miles complained, "why do you two have to act so, so… human?" All three Hrasi chuffed at him.
           "Because we like it. Is it our fault that Hrasi affection is lacking?" Eaghera responded. She took her seat and began sorting through her binder. "Uh, why couldn't Miss Huri have managed to pass that psyche categorization bill? I don't want to fight for it. And what's this? A measure to single out and eliminate one of the human population's blood types? What was she thinking? I can't justify that." Eaghera began mumbling to herself, becoming truly engrossed. "It'd be genocide… ah, I can't believe this…" Miles smiled, then winced when his name was called.
           "Miss Kyaruin, you're sure I have to do this? They're going to kill me if I tell them about the revised budget plan. I raised the budget last time I was here!" Kyaruin gave him a withering glare.
           "Hey, just because I'm not your slave doesn't mean you get to start acting formal with me. I'm still only a secretary. It's Kyaruin or nothing. And yes, I'm sure you have to go." Miles pouted, but pushed himself up, got his walker, and quietly pushed himself towards the podium.
           "'Just because I'm not your slave' she says," Vher laughed, nudging Eaghera in the ribs. "Hey, do you remember the slave speech?" Eaghera grinned, ignoring her new bond-partner, who looked death at the two.
           "Oh, sure," she said, then mimed leaning down on a bar and looking sternly down at someone. "Hey, Miles," she mimicked in a sing-song voice, "You there? I'm not going to be your slave anymore, okay?" Vher grinned, then pretended to be in a drug-induced haze.
           "Uhhh… Oo-kay, Kyaruin. Wha-ever you saaaaay." Both broke up in spasming chuffs. Kyaruin's ears dipped as she growled in frustration.
           "Wouldn't be insulting Miles if I were you. Tell me, are you going to change your name? I think Vher Arathch would be a great name. Besides, the family could always use a few more women." Vher stopped chuffing to scowl at Kyaruin. Eaghera just smiled.
           "Hey, that's not such a bad idea. Clan Arathch is going to be reborn. You and Miles might not reproduce much, but Kyaruin and I are Arathchs now. We might extend from there if we want to. Besides, you can always go ask somebody to give you a kid if you and Miles want babies. I have a public relations officer from my inherited staff that might make a good candidate. He has almost the same temperament as Miles… You could just sort of pretend that -"
           "Yeah, Miss Eaghera, you know what? Shut up," Vher hissed lowly. "You could get your precious specimen hurt."
           "Hey, I'm not going to shelter him like Huri did. That's why I let the two of you -"
           "Were you not listening? I said don't mention it in public, alright?" Vher seethed. Kyaruin looked at the two of them and her ears flicked in annoyance.
           "Hey, Miles is getting up there, shut up!" Both of them quieted as they all focused on Miles, who got up to the podium. There were concerned murmurings from around the room, but they died down as he got to the microphone.
           "Thank you, chamberman. I apologize for my absence during the last few weeks, but I've been recuperating and working on a new plan." He pulled out a small click button and pressed it, killing the lights and bringing up the holographic projector in the chamber's center for a presentation. A collage of graphs appeared. "Here are projections for the last five years of defense budgeting, and specific allocation to space-based planetary missile defense, all superimposed over correlating research and development rates. As you can see, the budgeting increases almost exponentially with a linear increase in what we can do…"
          
Copyright 2002 by VNT. May not be used for commercial purposes without express permission by the author.