Just happened to notice: this story is now at 130 Favorites! It took some doing, but to thank you all I have this 31st chapter up just barely in time for Christmas - along with the final chapter of Santa Clawed and the debut chapters of two new stories: the Balto continuation "Shattered Memories" and the second of my Road Rovers Rebooted series, "Out of the Blue." How, do you ask? Thank lousy wifi, a slow weekend job, and an overactive imagination.

On a side note, in case I neglected to say it earlier, I'm formally withdrawing the request to PM Easter Egg answers. It's easier to find and credit the ones who get them if they're in the reviews, and hardly anyone messaged them in anyhow, so it'll just make it easier all around. If you don't want spoilers, don't read the reviews.

Last but not least, a couple of artists on DeviantArt kindly gave me some gift art for Christmas. Two pictures by Elimmc can be found on my DA page, DragonTamer2000, and another by DragonSnake9989 can be found on his own gallery. Feel free to check those out.

Merry Christmas, everyone!

Proofreading by Hawktooth

"(Trumpkin's) as true as steel, but he's deaf as a post and very peppery. You could never make him see that now might be the time for making an exception to the rule."

Glimfeather, The Silver Chair by C.S. Lewis

It had been years since Officer Catano even bothered to think of what she did or didn't like when it came to working conditions or settings. She'd played live bait for internet predators, negotiated with a drunken rhino for his family's safety while he held a gun on her, and generally spent her career dealing with the worst society had to offer in the worst places that the worst could find to stow itself.

If her likes were to be truly known, though, she never had been fond of tunnels. Damp tunnels were worse – especially after that time chasing after a very large anaconda down in the sewers under this self-same district. Riding through said tunnels on top of a small electric vehicle towing a load of very smelly chicken waste… well, if it hadn't been official business even she might have drawn the line there.

Also, the fact that they had tried two likely areas already and found nothing was not helping.

"Okay, looks like we turn left here," Nick announced. He and Judy were inside the vehicle, which was too cramped for Catano to fit inside. Catano had allowed him to manage the navigation under the guise of a magnanimous gesture… but mostly, in truth, because she had a feeling he knew something about these tunnels.

The plan outlined by Officer Hopps was quite simple, actually – or at least, like most puzzles, simple once you understood it. Chicken manure, like various other offal substances, made excellent fertilizer… with a caveat. Too-fresh compost had a nasty habit of 'burning' plant roots (whatever that meant) and effectively acting as an herbicide. That knowledge, and Judy's background as a farm girl, gave them the perfect way to wipe out the plants and – they hoped – leave the culprits thinking it was all a mistake.

Amazing how the most trivial knowledge can be such a game-changer, thought Catano to herself. Officer Hopps and Ni… Wilde were full of surprises. The fox had potential, but...

Realizing where the train of thought was taking her, a twinge rose up in her stomach; barely noticeable, but definitely there. This was exactly what she had been discussing with Chief Bogo earlier.

Bogo shuffled some papers, then looked up at Catano. "Any word on the fox?" he asked pointedly.

Despite being no particular fan of Nick herself, Catano did feel an ounce of misgiving as she reported her observations and suspicions. Normally she would just say outright that Nick was dirty and be done with it, but now she hesitated if only for an instant.

"He's proving to be very helpful," she answered diplomatically. "Hopps wasn't exaggerating about his skills and connections."

The cape buffalo's brow lowered. "And his history?"

Again, Catano hesitated. It's Hopps, she thought to herself. She's a good colleague and I don't want to throw that out the window.

"Well, he obviously wants his records sealed for a reason," she allowed.

"So you haven't turned anything up," Bogo pressed.

"No proof, sir; no."

The Chief nodded once. "Alright. Keep your eyes open. You can go now."

A guilty feeling washed over Catano. Investigation was her job. She was doing her job. Nick might be an asset, and even bearable to be around. That didn't mean he was officer material. Few mammals alive knew better than she what a tall order it was to be officer material, and still more how demanding it was to go from potential to actual.

Still, something built up in her chest that had never done so in all her years on the force. The unthinkable was welling up inside her: a question of orders.

Bogo frowned in confusion at her peculiar stasis. "Officer Catano?" he queried.

She nodded, tamping down the inkling of disobedience. "Yes, Chief." And with that, she left.

Catano pushed away the memory. Nick Wilde's a crook, she told herself again. I already knew the one incident, but now he's admitted it… because he trusted me. Mistake on his part. I can't go getting sentimental now; I have a job to do. She had made deals with crooks before; even met some who talked about going straight. Once in a while she saw them walking around as normal citizens and wondered if they were sticking to their word or just staying under the ZPD's radar. It was worse when she spotted a past criminal strolling along with a spouse and offspring in tow. Sometimes they would notice her watching them and draw the nearest loved one closer as if afraid she would snatch them away – as if she were what they needed to fear. She'd never forget the time she'd been dispatched to a call for help from a former con, only to find that his former associates had been too quick even for her. Just like the mammal who…

More recollections, she snarled inside, shaking her head. Stay in the moment, Catano.

"Whereabouts are we?" she asked to distract herself from the dismal thoughts.

"Don't you know?" asked Nick.

She snorted. "Do I look like a burrowing animal to you?" she argued. "I adapt, but I don't mutate."

"Amazing," Nick uttered under his breath. "She just admitted a weakness."

"Ah-hem," the cheetah called down. She thought she heard a similar sound from Officer Hopps, but it was hard to tell with the interfering sounds.

"Which I respect," Nick added, though his voice remained expressly calm. "Gotta stay true to yourself. I understand completely."

Catano raised an eyebrow. "And which self would that be?" she inquired.

Judy sighed. "Callie, don't do this now. Nick risked his life to save mine. He had nothing to get out of sticking around for me. Besides, we've got a job to do. That's what this is about, right? Eliminating threats to public safety?"

That much was true, but it wasn't lost on anyone that Judy had used the cheetah's first name.

"Nick," she heard Judy whisper down below, "we should probably try not to annoy her."

"Okay, okay," he relented. "Turn down the charm. Got it."

Catano did her best not to think about the exchange, mentally preparing for whatever might lie ahead. Vanya was another factor to consider, and one that left plenty of cause for unease with this lead. It had to be pursued, of course, but it could easily be a decoy or a trap. Much was unknown until they got there, but she could put time into considering the possibilities from what she had seen in schematics. An enclosed space could lend itself to entrapment, suffocation, or even toxic gas. She considered and accepted these possibilities, doing a few breathing exercises to calm herself and prepare in case she had to conserve oxygen. Mechanical traps were also a possibility, against which her reflexes either would or would not work. Whether she or Hopps would go in first could not be known until they got there, so there was little point giving that too much thought. In this manner her brain churned away for fifteen minutes' riding.

"Well, this is our next stop," Nick announced. "Let's hope the third time's the charm."

There was little of interest about the passage. Except for the floor and areas where the doors were set, the walls were generally curved and covered with cement, almost like a bunker might be. Patches of mold and lichen presented themselves here and there, taking advantage of the damp. Most of the doors looked rather disused, as the pumps were hardy and rugged enough to run for years without much major repair work.

"That door looks fishy," Nick announced, pointing to one.

Catano studied it and saw nothing out of the ordinary, but she was willing to trust that someone with a sketchy record would know a thing or two about such things. Besides, for most of the trip Nick had wandered at random; outside of reading the chart and comparing it to their surroundings, he had showed little if any sign of confidence. So she strode up to the door and tried the master key with which they'd been supplied.

It didn't turn.

"Well, that's not at all strange is it?" asked Judy ironically, elbowing Nick. "Pretty slick there."

"How did you know?" asked Catano, frowning slightly.

Nick shrugged. "It just didn't seem right. We weren't getting very far, so I went with my gut."

"Sloppy installation," Judy supplied. Under looks from the other two, she added, "We had to do root cellar repairs a lot when I was a kit. I learned to spot a careless job on a door. Those bolts are angled, and whoever did this left cracks at the corners. I've got siblings half my age who could do better."

Catano gave a sardonic pairing of these two for this assignment was almost enough to make one believe in some kind of higher force. Pushing the question of odds and intelligent orchestration aside, she fished in her pocket for her lock picking kit.

"Whaddya want to bet that vent over there leads to the same room as that door?" asked Nick, pointing a thumb down the hall. Sure enough, a grate stood… right about at a sheep's eye level. The fox's eyes flicked back to Catano. "Less risky than the chance of a lock pick breaking off."

"Well, you're just full of helpful ideas, aren't you?" asked Catano, weighing possibilities. Wilde's knowledge of the situation was rather questionably spot-on, but then she reminded herself that so far as they could tell he had no object for trying to trick them.

"It's small enough for me to slip through," Judy declared, going up to it. "Help me get this thing off."

The vent cover took some doing to extract; a likely sign, they surmised, of either recent maintenance or recent installation. Catano's whiskers twitched as her pulse quickened ever so slightly. She was on the hunt. They were closing in.

"Got it," she announced at last, undoing the last screw and pulling the cover away. It was about the size of her face, but the duct was large enough for Hopps to crawl through; even Wilde in a pinch, most likely. It was, however, too small for most sheep. Hopefully that meant they hadn't thought to safeguard it.

There was a paper-like filter a short way in; close enough that it was easy enough to reach inside and pull it out. Once that was gone, their hopes were confirmed by a slight breeze coming out carrying the unmistakable floral aroma.

"Nice," Judy approved, cheerfully punching Nick on the arm.

"Ow. Thank you," he replied, rubbing.

Catano didn't spare a smile at the exchange. "Alright," she directed, jerking her head towards the opening. "Hopps, you get inside and unlock the door. Wilde, you wait here."

"And here I was all set to take a walk," Wilde quipped. "I mean, yes ma'am."

They watched as Judy disappeared into the vent.

"There's a fine line between smart and smart-mouthed," Catano advised, pointing a claw. "You should remember that."

Inside the duct, Judy crawled through a couple of months' worth of dust augmented by the Night Howler pollen. Funnily enough, she had never really noticed the pollen back when she was on her farm. Here, gathered in a confined space and trapped by that filter, it was way more potent.

Eugh, she thought, wrinkling her nose at the thick, dusty air. At least the vent couldn't be very long. Turning a corner, she saw light coming through a grate with a slowly turning fan set in it. At first she thought she might have hit a snag, but then she saw that the fan's wiring was very sloppily assembled – most likely from scraps and spare parts, if she had to guess. Grinning with satisfaction, she reached up to where someone had spliced on a small alligator clip and detached it from its contact. Bingo. The fan's motor stopped, and the blades slowly coasted to a stop.

Sliding through the gap left by the fan blades, which had no protective grate on the room side, she looked around at a room somewhat larger than her apartment.

Whoa, was all she could think. This was way, way bigger than she had expected. The subway car had housed a pawful of raised beds full of the flowers. This place; this place had shelves and shelves set up with lights. The beds were smaller individually, but there had to be at least twice as many plants in this place.

Her awe and mild horror turned to triumph in a moment, though. Somebody, she thought, is going to have a really bad day when we're through here.

She slid the rest of the way out the opening, and that was when things began to go really wrong.

As Judy dropped into the room, she stumbled over a wire. "Aauh!" she yelped as the thin metal cord dug into her, catching on her kevlar and slicing through the less sturdy blue part of her uniform. At the same instant, there came a loud clack followed by a whooshing sound.

Uh-oh, she thought, quickly freeing herself of the cord. Something told her the noise wasn't just the ventilation kicking in. A hasty look around revealed several tanks of gas, locked in a little cage at the back of the room, with white vapor pouring out of them. Her eyes flicked down to the labels: Carbon Dioxide.

At first she guessed that the gas must be to enrich the atmosphere for the plants by slowly leaking into the room. Almost as soon as she thought of that theory, though, she realized the significance of the wire and the noise.

"Oh, sweet…" She didn't bother to finish the thought, racing instead for the door and jumping for at deadbolt. She grabbed the doorknob in one paw and tried to turn the lock with the other, but the lock needed some serious WD-40. Even with all the force she could muster, it wouldn't budge.

On the other side of the door, Nick and Catano heard a strained grunt from their partner.

"Hopps?" called Catano. "What's going on in there? Hopps?!"

"The room's rigged," came Judy's answer. "There's tanks of carbon dioxide flooding..." her words were cut off by a coughing fit.

Catano's heart leaped into her throat. "Abort. Get out of there right now!"

"I'm… I'm trying, but the lock's stuck."

"What about the vent?" asked Nick.

Catano relayed the question, but there was no answer. The cheetah swore and fished in her vest for a moment. "Get away from the door."

"Wait, what?" asked Nick.

"Thirty-eight caliber lock pick," Catano answered, clicking off the safety and putting the weapon's muzzle to the keyhole. "To heck with subtlety."

Nick's eyes fell on the vent through which Judy had entered, and he had an incredibly stupid idea. "Hold it!" he called. "The lock's not that high! If I went in there and gave her a boost, she might be able to get a good grip!"

"Not happening, Wilde," Catano snapped. "It's bad enough Judy's in danger. I'm not sending in a civilian. JUDY, GET AWAY FROM THE DOOR!"

"If you blow the lock, Obearon's going to launch another attack. What about those civilians?"

This reality pulled Catano up short, and for the merest moment she looked down at Nick. Seeing the expression on her face, he dashed for the vent and scrambled in.

Catano put her face to the door. "Judy, if you can hear me, get as high as you can and try to breathe at the crack in the door." No answer. "Hopps, do you copy?!"

When silence was all she got, the cheetah bit her lip and readied herself for the task. If they don't get this open in two minutes, she thought, already mentally counting one-thousands, I'm going in my way.

She waited, listening intently as the fox clambered through the vent. It was slower going for him because of his greater bulk. Catano was already at the eightieth one-thousand when his voice sounded on the other side of the door; two feet away that might as well have been a leap to the moon if anything miscarried.

"Wilde, if I give you the word you two drop flat," she called through the door.

Nick coughed and gasped out a "Gotcha." The lock rattled, but there was no telltale click.

Eighty-eight one thousand.

This was a mistake, Catano thought to herself. She'd seen civilians hurt before, but never on her orders; never.

"Come on, Carrots. Hup hup, quick like a bunny ra…" Gasp. Choke. Cough. "…bit."

Sending Wilde in there had been nothing short of insanity. It was like telling a bystander to charge into a gunfight.

Ninety-five one thousand.

There was the sound of struggling, groaning, and more coughing. "Up on my back, Judy. Get some leverage."

Criminal or no criminal, Wilde was under her protection; he was her duty.

If anything happens to him it's my badge, she thought.

For twenty-five agonizing seconds, she held one paw on the knob and the other with the gun pointed dead into the lock. Nick's words about the civilians who would suffer if their sabotage was known rattled through her brain. She knew that to shoot the lock could be to shoot several or even several dozen innocents.

She reached the fateful number. One-twenty-one one thousand.

"Wilde, get down!"

Click.

Her paw, involuntarily twisting the knob, suddenly jerked to the right. Startled, she lost her grip and fumbled, twisting and yanking faster than even she could see. Amid a wave of acrid air so thick one could taste the suffocating gas, Judy tumbled out as limp as a used rag. Nick, bent over on all fours, fell on her legs like a stone.

It took a minute or two of heavy breathing several yards from the door before Nick or Judy felt like moving. Catano busied herself examining them for any signs of serious harm, focusing on Judy for her smaller lungs and longer exposure. Pulse is slow, but stable, she noted. Seems to be coherent, skin is returning to normal…

The results satiated her a little. At the very least, the rabbit did not seem to have suffered any brain damage from the lack of oxygen. There was a long, thin cut across her midsection from falling on the tripwire, but it didn't look too serious. As the doe's breathing eased from raspy gasping to a steadier, deeper rhythm, Callie Catano felt her own fears subside.

"Looks like you'll make it," she told Judy.

Nick coughed. "I'm fine too, since you asked."

Catano whipped her head towards him. "She's the canary," she snapped coldly, pointing to Judy. "You're the miner."

As the two scratched their heads over this puzzling analogy, Catano rose to her feet. "Stay put. I should be able to hold my breath long enough to get a look at that room."

"But…" Judy protested, trying to rise.

The cheetah's expression left no room for debate. "Stay there," she ordered. "Nick, hold her down if she tries to go anywhere. Sit on her if you have to." Then without further discussion, she turned and disappeared into the vapors.

Stupid, she thought, mentally beating herself all about the head. How could I be so careless?! Of course there was a trap! She had known the minute she saw Nick's informant that the slinking vixen couldn't be trusted. She should have expected some kind of setup. She'd gotten sloppy; distracted.

And I almost killed Judy, she thought as she entered the haze of gas. Chilled by its compression, it lowered the air temperature at least ten degrees. Holding her breath, she followed it as best she could to its source. A cage of chicken wire prevented it from being easily reached, but using her height she was able to get over the barrier and turn off three tanks before her aching lungs forced her to withdraw.

I never should have agreed to the vent, she thought as she withdrew. That's what I get for trusting…

The sight of the pair looking worriedly after her stopped her cold. Nick had been the first to jump into harm's way when things went wrong. Why would he set something up that would put him in danger, and why would he rush into danger if he had set a trap for them? True, she had seen criminals engineer scenarios to make themselves look like heroes; the Good Ramaritan Scam came readily to mind – but this… she couldn't suspect Nick. Not the way things stood right now.

The truth was, there was only one mammal she could blame: herself.

'He's seen what can happen when cops get reckless,' her words came back to haunt her, 'and he's assigned me to make sure it doesn't happen on this case.'

With these thoughts on her mind, she rejoined the two and asked if anything had changed.

"Breathing easier," Nick reported, apparently speaking for himself and Hopps. "How's it in there?"

"I managed to disable three of the tanks. Looked like four to go. Once that's done we can give the air a while to clear and finish this job."

Well, how about that? I got one more chapter out just in time for Christmas.

My thanks as always for everyone's support - and particularly for the factual information that fed into this chapter. The booby trap set for Judy would realistically work; Carbon Dioxide gas is like a breath of fresh air to plants, but deadly to animal life, so enriching and potentially flooding the lab with it would be a clever strategy - as would using a tripwire thin enough to cut someone's flesh. Copper wires have long been a bane of animals (rabbits in particular; see Watership Down if you have the stomach), and an injured interloper would be less capable of disabling the deadly trap.

Catano's response - for which I can't really take any credit to speak of - is equally shrewd, however. The CO2 trap would be especially dangerous to a small mammal like Judy because such gas is heavier than normal air and would flood the room from the bottom up. Standing as tall as possible and near the door might buy Judy only a few extra seconds, but that would be a few seconds alive. The signs she looked for in Judy and Nick afterward are also true to what a trained first responder such as a cop would look for in someone who had just escaped suffocation.

I stretched things a bit with her intended method to get through the door, as I'm told the idea of shooting off locks is mostly Hollywood. Under most cases calling for forced entry, a shotgun to the hinges would actually be more effective. However, since Catano lacked a shotgun and wouldn't want the door to fall on Nick and Judy if it somehow fell in instead of out, I figured she would probably go for the lock.

The remark about miners and canaries might be a bit dated for those unfamiliar with the history of mining, so here's a quick explanation. One frequent problems in mines and other underground passages is the buildup of toxic or unbreathable gasses which, being odorless and colorless, are often silent killers without some kind of detector. In the days before mechanical or chemical warning systems existed, miners often brought caged canaries into the mines with them. The birds, being much smaller, would often pass out well before the gas was severe enough to harm people, allowing the miners to get themselves and their feathered friends out of harm's way. Lest this sound abusive, I should be unjust if I did not add that the birds were pretty much always revived without any permanent harm. Catano's metaphor about Judy being the "canary" and Nick the "miner" is rather fitting, since as previously stated Judy would be more quickly and severely impacted by a buildup of Carbon Dioxide.

Guest: Yep, and in this chapter Catano got another look at what Nick is made of. I'd like to think this installment is an eye-opener for everyone, inside and out.

There's one Easter Egg in this chapter; a reference to Lost Tapes (bonus points if you can tell me which two episodes I melded for it).

Easter Eggs in previous chapters:

Chapter Eighteen:

Nick's reflection that his prank on Judy was immature and ill-timed is a nod to a line in Home Alone 2 concerning a prank Buzz plays on Kevin.

There was also an Easter Egg I forgot to mention when I posted; the reference to mammals having more courage or more madness than sense echoes a similar - albeit more cordial - remark about Matthias in Redwall by Brian Jacques.

Judy's comparison of Killrahb's immunity to knockout darts to a "black sunrise" echoes a line in C.S. Lewis' The Last Battle when the characters are trying to fathom the concept of Aslan coming and not being as they had always heard.

Chapter Twenty:

The Ice Age reference is, as everyone guessed, the two squabbling hat's off to dispix, The Mr. E, and Hawktooth for catching that one. Incidentally, the thing about possums hanging by their tails is a myth like they said. Don't ever try dangling them that way - especially since they will probably bite you and their teeth are no joke.

I guess the references to Stuart Little 2 and The Mouse and the Motorcycle were pretty vague. Both of them appeared in Xavier's sporting goods store with the diminutive equipment - specifically shin guards (soccer equipment) and bicycle helmets (correlating to motorcycle helmets).

Thanks again for all your interest, everyone. It's been a great pleasure working on these stories, and I'm looking forward to continuing them in the coming year.