"Yah, very nice, pretty." The South Afurican accented words were followed by some extra sloppy kissing noises, very much appreciated by one individual.
Paws on his wheel, the fossa glanced over as the springbok next to him took the coffee in his hoof and laid back, sipping it while batting an eyelid at the blushing blue duiker hostess. The small grey furred antelope, her tight collar pinching in tight enough to pull out a small white dewlap of fur, seemed to melt at the wash of affection. "Is it good enough Mr Captain? I put in two sugars, just like you asked."
"Is the second sweetest thing in the room, lady."
The squee that came out of her reminded the large herpetid of one of the chew toys his kids had, and he just focused on sipping his plain black stuff down, the empty night sky spread out in front of him. All just like he liked it.
Almost.
A last flourish of flirting from his side and the opening and closing of the cockpit door, and it was perfect. Eyes closed, rich black stuff in his mouth, the whirr of the engines and skipping of the wings over the air, the rhythm of the air on the flaps feeding back into his stick.
…
"Do you do that with every hostess or what?"
The fossa didn't look back as the pig behind them at the engineers station spoke up, swivelling his chair around to give a gaze at the springbok in the captain's seat. Unlike the big antelope, his voice was straight to the point, tense. The kind of accent you'd expect from the place that built these jumbo planes, and shipped mammals like him out to their customers while training up their own engineers.
Which made the captain's accent, long, rolling, buzzing where it could and with exaggerated r's where there shouldn't even be r's, sound like he was doing it for fun. "What can I say mon," he shrugged. "The ladies love a mammal in uniform."
"I'm in a uniform," the pig said. His accent hadn't changed, but by contrast it just sounded neurotic now. The only thing missing was a thin cigarette, mostly reduced to a trail of ash, sticking out of his mouth. Thankfully company policy banned smoking, by the crew at least. A sniff in the air and they could tell that some passengers had just been lighting up.
"You are. But you ain't wearing it." The captain broke into a chuckle, the pig remaining silent. "Ah, come on boy. You gotta larf, ja?"
There was a long pause. "Ja," he said, before turning back to his instruments. "Only one of us is laughing here."
"Well," the fossa said, taking a sip of his coffee. "Some of us have better things to do."
The captain shook his head and turned his head over to one of the navigation beacon instruments. "Switching our NDB ova to CRS, movin' up to headin' fifty degrees."
They began shifting to the side, the stars outside slowly tilting a little, the fossa letting a little smile grow on his muzzle as he felt the ripples and shakes from the wing work their way up to his paws on the pedals and back on the seat.
"Don' worry Andy," the springbok said, flashing a smile. "We'd only be goin' straight ahead if ja really annoyed me."
Andrian rolled his eyes, before watching as they levelled off. A little sliver out of the corner of his eye and glancing back, he noticed a little chip of the moon in the far corner of the window. His grin faded as a yawn pushed out of his muzzle, and he returned to looking forward, taking another sip of his coffee as he did so. The smell was good, as always.
"Now I thought ja was nocturnal here," the captain said, as he leant over to move the engine throttles forward just a little. A glance up and Andrian noticed that their airspeed had dropped a fraction, headwind coming south west off the continent. He nodded, and laid back, sniffing the air. One of the megafauna passengers and their friends behind them must have been lighting up a few smokes in lieu of sleep.
"Eh. Few days ago they had me on the day-yard shift," he said, in between a sip of his coffee, letting the smell drive off the tobacco.
"Well if ja didn't expect this kinda thing, I think ja in the wrong career."
The pig at the back spoke up. "Not gonna lie, they pinched this one on giving us a backup crew. By a whisker. Bit more of a headwind and, well, sleeping pilots aren't good."
"I'm good," Andrian said. "Less than two hours left, and I can coffee through that."
"Same," the captain agreed. "I'll just ask on the wea-ther, and if it's good…" He pressed the radio on. "Aulon control?"
"Aulon control. Reading."
"This is flight Heiferberg five-niner-two. Requestin' a weather report for areas around our landin' spot at Redsett?"
"Weather fair with light clouds, I believe three okta, and a moderate breeze coming from the north east, but no expected precipitation or change."
"Thank you," the springbok said, signing off.
Andy nodded, giving a cursory glance around all his instruments.
All in order.
He began sipping his coffee again, when a hard rapping at the door came out, startling the engineer. "Huh! Come in." The blue duiker hostess from before, a fretful look on her face.
"Smoke."
All eyes turned to her, the captain speaking out first. "Where."
"Above the airstair," she said, her voice hurried. Andy unclipped his seatbelt and nodded to her, as she began leading him back.
"Are you certain it wasn't in the toilet? Or galley?"
"I checked," she hissed, as they walked down the stairs and onto the lowered floor of the larger mammal area. Ten seats either side for elephant, rhino and hippo, looking at each other across the single central aisle with the backrests leaning back into the widest part of the fuselage.
Seven out of the twenty were filled, relatively high compared to normal, and so Andy easily weaved past huge legs covered in fine cloth. Only the richest megafauna could afford to fly, and cargo ships with added passenger cabins by and large still did the bulk work for the common mega mammal. All of them looked on as they passed, nay a tobacco product on any.
Walking up the steps at the end of their section, onto the raised floor above the baggage hold, the mix of larger mammals was thicker, more varied. At first there was two and two seating, lions and zebra and others of that size. Then further on it was three and three, home to medium sized passengers. And finally, at the back, four and four, mammals as small as regular rabbits, their noses twitching and eyes fretful.
Looking ahead at the drawn curtain at the end, faint trails of mist drifting in under the drapes, he knew why.
He slipped behind it and began to shake, eddies and currents throwing themselves off his fingers and into the thickly laden air.
White.
Lingering.
A miasma, thinly scented for what it looked like, but what it looked like was growing by the second.
"I did look in the toilet," she hissed, pushing it open with enough force that one of the wall panels inside was dislodged out of its fixing, and fell over, pushing a new wave out through the smoke clinging to the floor. "But I'm very certain it wasn't coming from there."
He looked to where she was pointing, and clambered onto the tilted up steps of the airstair, climbing towards the ceiling. "Light."
She walked over and grabbed a small torch, passing it over. He shined it up into a joint in the panelling, and saw the white mist flowing down and through. A few sniffs in.
"It… It isn't hot," she said, nervously. "And doesn't smell that bad. It's almost like..."
"Cigarettes, I know. We all know what burning oil smells like," he said. He got down and began walking back, fast. Back to the front, and back into the cockpit. "She's right, smoke coming out from over the airstair."
"Anything worrying?" the pig asked, taking a heavy set of sniffs around.
"Same scent as up here," he said, as the captain looked back.
"Johnny, get the book out."
The pig went for the manual and began scrolling through it, tracking down what was the right procedure to follow. All while Andy got back into his seat.
"It doesn't smell like oil," the fossa said. "Much more like tobacco, but definately not…"
"Are you sure it's not from the toilets? Or the galley?"
"No," he said, scratching his head. "It…"
"Air-recyc?" the pig said from the back. "Air conditioning fire, in the tubes, air handlers, anywhere through the system. There's a bunch of re-heaters and exchangers by each engine, including the tail."
"She's been flying what, a decade," the springbok mulled. "Enough tar in there to cause that smell?"
Andy grimaced. "Enough to cause this thing? I don't know. But we got smoke coming out from right under our tail engine, and right next to hydraulics, controls, you name it. I don't like it."
"Neither do I," the pig said. "Same instructions as any fire. Get down to the ground as fast as possible. If the smoke gets too bad, try opening a door to bleed it off."
"Drop the tail door?"
"Not after the stunt that raccoon pulled five years ago," the porcine said, shaking his head. "This thing's been fitted with Cooper vanes, like the rest of the fleet."
"Wha…" the captain began, before shaking his head. "Tell me it ova a beer at the airport," he said, before moving his hoof to the radio.
It froze over the button.
Andy looked up, head cocking, as a painful look came over the pilot's face. "We could be down in fifteen minutes or forty. I'm sorry."
"No," Andy said, pulling his eyes away and focussing them hard ahead. "We do our duty." The plane trembled ever so slight and, looking down, the fossa realised it wasn't the plane. It was his fingers and paws.
He closed his eyes and took a breath in and out, making himself grip the wheel tight.
"Avalon control, this is Heiferberg five-niver-two, we, eh, have smoke onboard, suspected fire. Seek immediate emergency diversion to the closest airport."
There was a pause.
"Heiferberg five-nine-two, copy. That's…"
"I know," he said, "but the alternative is too dangerous."
"...Copy. Permission granted. Transferring you to ZAC now."
There was a pause, a fizz, and a new voice came on. "Zootopia air control, do you copy?"
"We copy, Zootopia. This is Heiferberg five-niner-two. We have an emergency onboard, smoke from the rear of the aircraft, and request an emergency landing. We are flying from Johornasburg via way of Ananteaterivo and Tǎpei Lang Kai-Shek."
There was a long pause. "Permission granted, we'll have emergency vehicles on standby. Proceed to runway thirty."
"Copy," he said, gesturing at Andy. He began scrolling through his files to find the approach plan for Zootopia airport while the captain rubbed his chin. "We… Eh… We have a number of predators on this aircraft." He paused. "I'd like confirmation that they will be treated fairly on landing, and for however long it takes to arrange for their exit from your territory."
There was a pause. "I will inform my superiors. Do not worry, we will make arrangements."
"-What arrangements," Andy barked out, not even realising it. He glanced around, the captain looking back at him, before the radio chattered once more.
"Uh, Heiferberg Five-Nine-two?"
"What do you mean by arrangements," Andy said, deep breaths in meeting with deep breaths out, all as his paws were trying to strangle his wheel. "I expect my passengers and crew to be treated with respect and according to international law. That means no…"
"-No collars. We'll be clearing an airport hotel for any potential stay, with low level security measures in place."
"Define low level…"
"-Minimisation of contact between more dangerous and more vulnerable elements of your crew and passengers."
There was a loud pause.
"Copy," the captain said. "We are on approach now, permission to start descent."
"Permission granted."
With that, he ticked off the radio and turned to Andy. "It's the best we're going to get."
The fossa shook his head slightly, as the pig behind them spoke up. "We're going to have to trust them."
"It's not you who needs to trust him," he said, as he found the landing and go-around plans for Zootopia airport and began studying them. "Get the landing checklist out."
The pig started to do just that, as the captain pulled out his intercom and began speaking. "Attention, attention, due to the smoke issue and danger of a fire, we are instituting an emergency descent into Zootopia airport. I have the assurances of the traffic controllers that we will all be treated with respect, and not subject to the tame collar laws. After this announcement I'll be contacting the airline to have a replacement plane flown in as soon as possible to pick us up after. Please familiarise yourself with the nearest exits, including the rear ones for now. If the situation deteriorates though, those at the back should aim for the mid-wing. If you have any questions, please ask the flight attendants. Buckle your belts, and make sure any baggage or clothing is out of the way."
He clicked it off, Andy only then noticing the tense look in his face. Looking forward, trying to fix his eyes on what lay ahead.
There were faint lights in the distance.
And faints wafts of white smoke starting to drift through the air.
"Systems all normal so far," the pig said, hopefully. "Air circulation shut down, but nothing wrong with engine two so far. My gut says keep her running."
The captain nodded, rapping his hooflets nervously. Finally, he pressed the radio button again. "This is Heiferberg Five-niner-two. Continuing descent down to ten-thousand feet. Any further updates?"
"No," the operator said, as a bang came from the cockpit door. "We can provide weather…"
There was a loud shout and another bang, both pilot, co-pilot and engineer looking back at the door. "Eh, just a second, might have an incident," the springbok said.
"Copy," the controller said, as the radio was put back, and the blue duiker hostess came in, panting and flustered.
"One of the passengers became distressed when hearing where we're landing."
"Tell him not to give them the pleasure," the captain said, shaking his head and huffing as he turned forward. Only to snap his head back as a shout came out.
"-They're doing this! They're going to kill me!"
Andy's gut felt an odd twist coil through it. "What was that?"
"He says he's from there," she said, closing the door and cradling her head in her hooves. "He keeps saying that this is a set up to bring him back in."
The twist froze over, Andy feeling a bit queasy.
"Nah…" the captain began to wave off, hoofs up. "That can't be…"
"Let me talk to him," Andy said, unclipping himself and making his way back. The hostess to his side, he stepped down into the megafauna area once more. A different hostess and a host, a warthog and a klingspriker antelope, were trying to hold him back. The smallest of the wait staff, struggling to hold back one of the smallest, if not the smallest, of his passengers.
A weasel. Light brown back fur, dusty orange cream underbelly, an old cut up right ear and feral, terrified eyes. He was shaking, bucking, his body writhing about as he tried to escape. His half feral form froze as he saw the co-pilot in front of him, and with that his knees buckled and he fell to the floor, arms held up in a cross by the two prey mammals to his side.
"Listen," Andy began, taking a breath in.
He shook his head, tears coming out of his eyes. "Please, I got out of there once…"
"You'll have a foreign passport now," he said, kneeling down to try and get close to the fear filled mustelid. "You're a foreign citizen to them…"
"They know who I am!" he croaked. "I hurt them!"
There was a long pause as Andy's ears tilted back. Taking a breath in, the weasel carried on.
"Did you… did you hear about that major bust of their spying rings five years back?"
"No…" Andy began.
"-That was me. That was me. I stole their lists of agents. I…I... -I had friends in a canning plant, part of the resistance, they smuggled me out in a fake can, I… I gave the list out. Z-Zootopia lost all their spies because of me. They had to allow applicable predators to apply for foreign citizenship if they met laws of return criteria… They were forced to allow them to leave. All to get their agents back! I… I hurt them more than any other predator," he said, voice croaking as he forced it out. He closed his eyes and shook his head, looking down. "They want my blood…" And then he looked up, eyes trembling, mouth trembling, fur on end and his body shaking as if he was being thrown in and out of an ice bath. "T-this isn't a real fire! It's a fake! They'll have an agent on the plane, they…"
"Okay, okay," Andy said, closing his eyes. "Just, calm, please. Give me a second." He made sure to keep his composure, even though he could feel bile rolling up his throat. "We can't tell for sure, but…"
"My pocket!" he yelled, eyes almost wide. "In my pocket, please, please…" He began trying to pull his arm out of the grasp of one of the hostesses. "My, my, my pocket. Left pocket, please…" Whether she loosed her grip or he just ripped it out, it didn't matter. The paw was out, then in, and then he scrambled and almost tore his wallet apart as he opened it. Coins and ID cards spilled out, before the entire wallet went, just a small square held in his paw. Almost scrumpled up by the shaking paw, it was thrust into Andy's face, and he felt his stomach knot. The weasel, a jill, and a tiny kit, only loosely dressed in a pair of shortalls that hung off of him, a large pacifier hanging off it on a strap. The little boy had a giant wide toothless grin, and a tiny little button nose.
"I don't want to leave them," he said, his voice barely croaking out. "Please… I lost my mother to Zootopia. Don't… don't make my little boy lose his father."
"I…" Andy began, closing his eyes and looking away. "It has to be a coincidence," he whispered to himself. "It has to be, it has to be, it has…" His eyes jolted wide open, and the gut roiling sickness in him was swept away, replaced with a deadly chill. "Stay there," he said, as he made his way further back. Climbing up the stairs, running to the rear of the plane, past the end of the passengers now that many were moving up and away from the ever increasing smoke. He pulled the curtain away, it wasn't doing anything, and choked a little. The mist had fingers, with a penchant for throats. He pushed a toilet door open and closed it behind him, before kneeling down at the knocked off panel, and looking behind it. Bits of metal work, lines of wires, spaces a small mammal could sneak through, and a faint fog flowing back down. He looked at the screw holes, before seeing the screws, many but by far not all, pointing out of their own holes in the panel.
Out again, past the smaller mammals, were any of them looking at him? Did any of them spend a long time in the bathroom? Did any of them have a strange bit of luggage? Did any have it in them to fake this? Did any have it in them to play with fire and the lives of hundreds of others?
He went down the stairs and saw the weasel there, body bucking back and forth with each big, heavy, stressed breath he took. Ears peeled back, tail pulled down between his legs, faint wafts of white smoke starting the coil around them. Andy looked down at them. He looked up at the mammals around him. His crew. The elephants and two hippo in this part of the plane. A family of four elephants, with two kids. The youngest one was hugging into her mothers chest, scared, holding on tight while her mother cradled her with her arms and trunk.
How many other children were on this plane?
Andy grit his feet and closed his eyes, shaking his head and trying to stop it from bucking up. Dammit, dammit, DAMMIT!
"Please…" the weasel croaked.
"Okay," he finally breathed out. He looked up into his face, he looked around at his crew, he looked at his passengers. "We'll think of something…"
They all just hung there.
"Please," Andy said, rubbing his head. "Someone, think of something!"
…
Finally pulling himself up into the cockpit again, he silently buckled himself into the seat and breathed out. "They'll kill him," he said. "I think there's an agent on this plane. I think this is a set up."
"We cannot risk it," the captain said, grimacing. "One life over…"
"-A hundred. I know," he said. "But I have a plan that'll keep him safe. I hope."
When he finished explaining it they were on the glideslope down and going over the emergency provisions. The runway had an exit near the end that would curve them onto a large apron. Cleared of planes, the emergency services were waiting. A cordon beyond which full Zootopian laws would apply had been established.
Finishing the checklist, the lights of the city growing off in the distance, the captain looked at Andy. "Will it work?."
Closing his eyes, breathing in and out, he nodded. "I hope."
"Flaps."
"Confirmed. Ready for gear soon."
The last few minutes began ticking along painfully slowly, each step in the checklist taking an age.
"All systems still online," the engineer said.
"Flaps to full," the captain said, looking down. "You can be in charge of go-around if you want."
Andy somehow managed a smile. "Appreciated," he said, paws going down onto the throttle levers. A mix of soft and hard lay across it, and he looked to see the captain placing his hoof on his paw.
A deep breath in, he focussed as the runway approached up ahead. A string of lights beading off into the distance, and soon pulling beneath them as they flew the last small distance as…
BUMbumummumum… They rattled as they the touched ground, the nose swivelling down and then the roar of the engines blasting in reverse ringing out. Their shoulder straps strained as the breaks clamped closed and they slowed down and down, the racing lights beneath them beading out from an unbroken line into individual markers..
"Low thrust," Andy said, pulling the levers back before disengaging the reverse thrust and brakes. He could see a ring of flashing lights up ahead to the right, and for one last dreadful, long, never ending, excruciating minute they drove their bird into it before coming to a halt.
The captain pressed the announcement button and spoke out. "Evacuate the aircraft."
They undid their belts and opened the cockpit door, watching as the last of the megafauna jumped out of their extra-large doors, a stream of following large mammals behind them.
"Hey, no luggage!" the captain yelled. "Out, out, out!"
Andy joined in with several of the attendants, helping out mammals large and small. Trapped at the front by the flow, they could only watch as the mammals began getting smaller, yet still scrabbled and pushed and ran, squeezed up against each other as they fled out of the aircraft in a stampede.
And then the last was gone. Andy leapt forward, bolting up the steps and glancing from side to side. A bunny might have gotten trampled, or a cub left behind. Each isle, left and right, the captain behind him. Past the wings, now running, Andy heard a tripping and a curse from behind him but kept going. "I'll take left," he said, as they entered the four and four seating.
"Right!"
The fossa froze in fear as he saw a little face, before leaving the abandoned doll and finishing the last leg. Through the back curtain and into a sudden painful heat, the smoke now a thick clouding mist and suddenly black, choking, poison. The roiling purr of flames crackled around them and at the back drips of plastic were melting and oozing down onto the pulled up stairs, the panels up above falling apart, a sudden flash of hot white and yellow revealing itself. Out the door, down the slide, his paws hit the ground and he jogged away, seeing his captain on the other side.
Panting, he saw a team of firemammals running up, heavy suits worn like armour and bleak masks covering their eyes. Buffalo and moose and hippo and horse, huge hoses dragging behind them. "If you go into the back," he began, only to stop as they all froze and stepped back, some of the hoses pulled down and levelled straight at him. Backing off, sidestepping, keeping a long distance as they circled around, most finally turned back to the plane.
Two kept focussed on him, one of them with a hose aimed straight at him.
He felt his paws tremble, both hand and feet, and looking down at them he tapped on the ground slightly before pushing himself into making his first step forward, and then the next, towards the crowd of passengers and crew, already being directed into a large group and a small group.
A tough looking boar in tactical assault gear walked up to him and waved him on to the latter, gun held close to his chest at all times. He snorted. "Welcome to Zootopia.".
Andy nodded, keeping a long gaze fixed on the heavy built porcine and his weapon, only broken as he saw a spark of light from up above. There was a tremble in his gut as he saw a lick of flame coming out of the rear door. If it had worked its way down there, the chances were it had burnt through the control lines, eaten through oil tubes, taken the hydraulics and even damaged the skin. Were they not on the ground now, they'd be dead mammals flying. He knew it. As he huddled up with the eight or so other predators, he could see they knew it. As he looked over to the mass grouping of prey nearby, at his captain, they all knew it.
He looked down at the smaller mammals. Were any more relieved, or more shaken, smug or satisfied? Were any looking over here, confused?
He hoped so, but couldn't see as a line of tough mammals cut their groups in two. His last glance was at the two young elephant calves, holding each other's trunks, before heavy troops, rhinos and hippos in riot gear, blocked them off. All faced in one direction. The prey were led off first, a loose group walking off.
Andy watched them go, before his eyes turned to a bear couple, holding each other tight. Furs up as they looked around. The noose of mammals around them was tightening, some of the firefighters joining, hoses still in hoof. Looking up, far back, Heiferberg stood there, her back end burning. He said a few words in the old tongue, an old prayer. "God's grace great bird of the free sky," he said, from his prison on the ground.
The cordon split and in marched a tough looking ram, clipboard in paw. His white wool was cast orange and red as the fire began coiling out of Heiferbergs rear engine air duct, climbing up her tail and spiralling up into the night sky. Cold oblong eyes turned red and mad as they scanned. They scanned again. "Is this all of the predators on the plane?" he asked.
"Yes," Andy cut in, the sheep's eyes cutting up to him. They flicked up and down for a second, before turning to the rest of the passengers. The fossa was glad that there were no predator children here, but there was a sixteen year old. Lioness, proud, but the sheep still walked up to her.
"What about you, kitty?" he asked. "Are these all of them?"
Her eyes flicked to Andy's as his turned to her. Her mother though got the words in first. "She doesn't have to answer you."
The sheep snapped to her, hoof deftly flicking to his belt and ripping out a hard black club. It trembled for a second in the night, but he then held it firm. "We almost got rid of cats completely," he said. "Foxes are shifty vermin, wolves brutish hooligans, bears dumb brutes and weasels pure scum. But felids?" He held his truncheon out and poked it under her chin, tapping it up, again, again, again… Until she pushed her chin down to stare at her. They kept pressing against each other. "Felids play with their food," he said, smiling. "They liked to toy, to torture, for their own entertainment. Mammals like you, in power, doing that to all your victims everywhere." He paused, tilting his head. "How does it feel now?"
"I do no harm."
"You really think that?"
"I swore an oath. I'm a doctor."
The sheep stepped back, eyes wide, before he broke off, shaking his head. "And you think we're the mad ones?" he laughed. "We're the lunatics?" He then twisted back, pointing his stick. "Well, we see things for how they are here!" He called it out to all of them. "We see you for what you are, and we remember your sins! And here, we make you preds know what you did and make you pay for it!" He turned to walk away, but not before glancing back at the younger lion. "Your neck looks a bit bare savage. It'd be my pleasure to help with that."
And with that, he went, a rather nervous and meek looking antelope moving in. "Okay…" he said slowly, hooves out. "If we just move along safely, we'll get you into a hotel room. We'll have a bus ready tomorrow to take you over the causeway. Just stay calm, nice and relaxed. Nice and relaxed."
The cordon began moving and, corralled up, they walked the same path the prey had gone before. Andy, breath tense, trekked along, neck always snapping back here and there. Heiferberg was ablaze. He only felt a bitter chill as he silently walked on.
Through a gate in a chainlink fence, along tarmac paths in the middle of empty grass lawns, eerily silent. No insects, no birds, just the roar of a far off jet engine as a plane soared out and away to freedom.
The doors to the hotel lobby were up ahead, but they were led off to the side. Along the verge until they approached a building with a low, steep sided and flat topped roof, windows coloured in with orange light and a pair of patio doors open. In they went, into some kind of function room, the space open and austere with a well worn carpet and tables and chairs stacked in one corner.
Army cots were lined out on the ground, no blankets or pillows supplied.
Andy turned around, the antelope had stepped in but was flanked by four armed police officers. "We'd like proper rooms and beds," he said.
"I, uhhh…" the antelope murmured, before a large bison on his right snorted.
"Listen you…"
"-Enough, enough," the antelope said in a calming tone. Legs shaking, he stepped forward. "I'm afraid I am required to keep you in a place where you can all safely be accounted for during your stay, for your safety as much as ours," he said. "If you were to be willing to take other... precautions, we could offer you your own rooms…"
Closing his eyes, Andy shook his head. "Then I'll settle for proper blankets, proper pillows, and a supply of water."
"That can be arranged," he nodded, before bringing out a business card and pen, writing something down. "There's a phone in the corner, you can use that if you want any help or anything."
"Thanks," he said, before the prey mammal left through the open door. The guards followed, closing and locking the door behind them but staying outside, standing to attention.
Letting out a breath, Andy slumped down, head in his paws. The younger lioness turned to her mother and began crying. The others were silent, sitting down on their cots but remaining tense and alert.
Not long after, the doors opened again and the antelope led in some hotel staff. The first, a bunny, saw what was inside and threw down her pillows before running. The zebra that followed at least put it down neatly, always keeping an eye on them. A ewe came in and handed the pillows to a bespectacled bobcat personally, flashing a smile.
The last three were predators.
A wolf, a vixen, a tiger.
All eyes turned to them and the thick collars wrapped tightly around their necks, heavy shocker unit hanging off the side like a tumour. It almost reminded him of a walkie talkie, or the baby monitor he and his wife had. Thick white ugly cream plastic, boxy in shake, open fins on the bottom edge. Dull green light like a spot on the side.
The tiger handed over his pillows to the lionesses without looking. He walked off silently. The wolf said pleases and thank you's, polite and professional. But his gaze lingered, and it always seemed like he had something on his lips but didn't know what to say. As he turned though, a painted dog spoke. "We howl at the moon as she cries for your pain, packmate. Together may we be free and strong brother."
And with that he froze, ears pulling back and his collar going orange like a giant pus filled boil. From its speaker came a loud beep, the alarm seeming to echo out, like a cannon blast in the night. Looking up, Andy saw the shadows of the armed guards ever outside, but not coming in. The wolf carried on walking towards them, but behind his back his tail wagged, and he held out a thumbs up on both paws.
Finally, the vixen came up to him. Red furred, her belly slightly round, with kit. "Here you are," she said quietly, as she placed it on his cot.
"Thank you."
"Is this real?"
He paused, looking at her. Her eyes flicked up to meet his, then down again, and after a seconds pause he realised she was looking at his uniform. "Yes," he said. "All real. The older lioness is a doctor too."
The vixen looked up, holding her belly, a trickle of a tear flowing from his eye. "They really don't all hate us, do they?"
"No…"
Her collar went orange. "Don't think we're savage monsters."
"No…"
"That we need to pay for our guilt."
"Of course not."
"It's just Zootopia."
"I'm sorry."
The light went red, and a harsh little snap rang out. Andy jolted and felt his gut wrench, but she seemed unperturbed by it.
"What's your name?"
"Andy. It's short for Andrian. Andrian Roaraka."
"That's nice," she said softly. "My name's Marian. Marian Wilde, it's nice… Nice meeting you."
With that, she turned and walked away, all eyes on the room on her. "Tell your kit about us."
She paused, sadly looking back at the nodding heads and proud looks. She smiled, even as a tear ran down her eye, collar orange all the while. "I will," she said.
And with that she was gone, the door was closed, and they settled in for an uneasy sleep.
One quickly broken an unknown time later as the doors were pushed open, a number of guards walking in, surrounding some other official looking mammals, the sheep from before included. "You there," he said, pointing at Andy. "We've got some questions. Follow me."
Fear in his gut that he tried his best to keep off his face, the fossa followed them out into the night. There was a brisk and growing chill, he wasn't sure how long he'd been asleep. He realised he couldn't remember the time here when he landed anyhow. But there was no sign of dawn coming, so he guessed it was still in the small hours.
Time enough had passed for the fire on the Heiferberg to be put out, and looking through the fence he could see her clearly outlined thanks to his night tail looked wrong… "Questions about what?" he asked.
The escort remained silent as he was led back into the hotel, marched down a corridor, and into a large bedroom. The bed had been removed though, and in its place stood a desk and two chairs, one on his side and the other on the opposite.
A massive polar bear, young but tired looking, faced him back, the collar as ever around his neck. Andy's ears went back and he heard a few words of confusion from some of his escorts too.
"I thought you were informed of the nature of this," a quiet, calm voice spoke out. High pitched, yet refined, not the gruff that he'd expect from the bear. Weirdest of all it sounded… Italian? But looking back, Andy saw that it wasn't. Even if the voice seemed to be coming from there.
"We'll… be outside sir."
"Graci," he said, and with that they left, the door closing. "Sit, First Officer Roaraka. We have much to discuss.
And with that the fossa did, the bear slowly looking down at him before unclapsing his paws. There, sitting on a chair in the paw, was a smartly dressed shrew, grey-blue dress suit crisp and clean with small gold buttons and diamond shaped medals shining. He pulled off one black glove with one paw, then the other with another, and slowly handed them over. His bear took them on his other paw and filed them away, calm as always.
"Hello, Mr…"
"Call me Captain Grandi for now," he said, smiling.
"Odd name for a small mammal."
He gave a low, small chuckle. "Some say I have a big reputation. I am the youngest of my family to reach captain status in my organisation, and believe me when I say that the competition for such a title was incredibly fierce."
"Well, I suppose we can make this brief," Andy said, as he sat down.
"Indeed Adrian, indeed."
The fossa paused, looking at him. "It's Andrian actually."
"My apologies. Andrian?"
"A common Mongoosasy name," he explained, only to pause. "I go by Andy most of the time. And you, Mr Grandi?"
"Hmmmm…" He mumbled quietly. "That is none of your concern."
"Then what is?"
There was a pause. "Do you see Anton up here?" He raised his eyebrows. "When he was just a cub, he was doomed to be raised by a family of unrepentant predators. One who did not just selfishly deny the danger, the internal savagery, such mammals possessed. No, they actively embraced it. They were a vicious crime family, causing misery for hundreds. Thousands. And teaching their children to follow in course." He smiled. "We at our organisation are dedicated to breaking that cycle." There was a pause. "Don't you think that's a noble cause?"
Andy studied the bear. A white cliff of emotionlessness. "What do you think?"
"I am proud and happy to serve," he said, his booming voice contained and subdued.
"You see we have our own unique perspective here," Grandi carried on. "Indeed, my father was at the forefront of that when he came to this city. Young, poor, trying to make ends meet at the coal face. Seeing the small, the innocent, the meek… How they suffered and lived in fear. And asking, why does it have to be like that?"
"From what I've seen of your country so far, I could ask the same thing."
The shrew let out a tiny little mirth filled chuckle. "Ah, the one joke. You non-Zootopians, you have such original humour. But coming here, seeing a glimpse of how we do things differently, I'm hoping I'm broadening your perspective on things."
He gave a happy wide smile, Andy just looking back as his mouth went dry. "It has been… unique."
"Of course when you first start seeing things from a new perspective, it is like opening a dam. You see so very much more, and learn to question it," Grandi carried on, holding his finger up together in front of him as he talked. "We asked ourselves not just why the majority should fear the violence of the minority, but why should they accept their dominance? And in a world shaped by that violence and predation for eons, why should they not seek to correct it? Fix it? To educate it and gain justice for it. Now, a mammal like you will claim that you have never done anything wrong or violent to a prey. But ask me… How many did you beat, rob of opportunity, to gain your position?"
"I…" Andy began, almost spitting the question back out before deciding on a better approach. "I presume as many as my captain did when he was at my rank."
"Ah, the springbok," Grandi smiled. "I suppose that projection is a common response when first starting to educate you on your own inherent, collective, predator guilt. It's a fundamental and harmful issue of the predator mindset and predator ideology: the focus above all else on the individual, to the neglect of the collective. Predisposed to a selfish, zero sum, anti-hollistic worldview, you're blinkered to the harm it causes the herd as a whole."
Andy's ears flickered. "I suppose I should be happy that you're not calling me a savage."
"Ah, you see, in a position like mine," the shrew began. "You get to appreciate the whole spectrum of the predator kind. We focus on protection, justice and what's best for society, yes, but I can see, as shown by Anton here, that rehabilitation is indeed an achievable and noble pursuit. Don't you think so?"
"That's very noble of you."
"I like to use the term educated," Grandi said. "While old tales and stereotypes of savagery and rampant fear of such are the common denominator that we tend to be boiled down to, in reality we have made pioneering strides in academia and literature around this issue. Theories and models, concepts, intersections and archetypes. A wealth of intelligentsia and deep, educated thought, that not only justifies our policies towards predators in the pursuit of removing predator ideology and societal predation, but backs it up far more than the shrill, emotional calls against it from the outside world. Blatant misinformation, a tide which we are then condemned for trying to stem. They call us censors, for trying to stop your fake news from misleading and dividing our people. Mr Roaraka? May I ask, how can your society claim that we are the ones in the wrong, when we are the only ones that even aim to acknowledge and research this?"
He let out a pause. "I guess… I guess we both do things our own way," he said.
"Indeed," Grandi smiled. "Though here we are being gracious hosts, putting our own lives at risk to accommodate yourselves. We are giving you and your passengers a generous waiver on one of our most important laws. We also plan to let you leave free, at the end of this. I'm sure your wife and children will be most appreciative of that."
Gritting his teeth slightly, the fossa shrugged, wanting to get away from this. "If you don't like us so much, I thought you'd want to be rid of us."
"Ah, would it be the same if we were talking about a thief?" he asked. "A murderer?" He paused, eyes narrowing. "A rapist?"
"Don't you want to be rid of them too?"
"We wish to serve justice," the shrew said, as he leant forward. "And if any of your passengers and yourself break laws in your short stay here… It will no longer be a short stay."
"We don't want to cause any issues."
"Reckless endangerment is a very serious crime," Grandi carried on, pulling out a tiny file and starting to work on his claws. "One easily stemming from a worldview that only prioritises the motives and actions of the individual acting on them. I heard that the tail engine of your plane was still running as you landed, as it burned. Fueling that fire, almost downing your plane… Why didn't you shut if off?"
"The fire wasn't in the engine," Andy said, nostrils flaring slightly. "It was in the tail, we think it was the air handler. The engineer kept the third engine monitored, it ran with no issue. For all we knew, shutting it off could cut an air draw or something and allow the fire to spread far more rapidly."
There was a long pause, the shrew silent.
"I trust you'll ask the other crew about this?"
"We'll be asking you all a lot of things," he said, leaning forward and crossing his fingers. "Assisting a fugitive is another very serious crime."
Andy felt one of his foot paws grip slightly on the floor. "Pardon?"
"We recently found on the passenger manifest something very interesting. A former citizen of ours, Wilfred Solongboi, a paedophile. A violator of innocent children."
"I don't know of him," he said, shaking his head.
"I'm sure he'll have claimed he was a spy," the shrew pressed. "A mammal who struck a dashing and noble blow against our foreign intelligence networks. Though my duty is to look for the enemy within, the enemy without remains a constant threat, and I can assure you we were made vastly more vulnerable thanks to him."
"So… he was a spy?" Andy asked, head tilting a little. "If so then why a paedophile."
"Do you want the whole story? The truth he didn't tell you?" the shrew asked.
"I don't know who…" the fossa began, pausing as the bear pulled out a picture. The weasel, a number of years younger, ear untorn and with a bulky collar around his neck, the shock unit so big it was like a second head, the skull bare of skin as it grew out to the side. "Who that is…"
"Please don't lie to me," Grandi said, his voice dripping in disappointment.
He looked at it for a few seconds. "You found that picture of, whoever, very quickly."
"Ah, we use squirrels for filing," he smiled. "Magnificent mammals. Librarians, filers, organisers, a true and fantastic talent. It is no small wonder they do well in business. In filing. In intelligence. One of our largest foreign operating companies, still able to get through the cruel restrictions imposed on us by a hostile predator dominated world, is set up and run by a squirrel. He's a good friend of mine, I vouched for him, so that he wouldn't be sent to prison for his supposed 'treason.' Given how his paw was forced, we'd be no better than the evil we wish to rise above if we took action on him."
Their eyes were locked, the shrew then shrugging. "With so many offices in so many countries, and such good relations, his company became a critical route for planting, retrieving and staying in contact with our foreign assets and agents. The delivery agent for our agents, if you will. And though not strictly part of our defensive intelligence organisation, we were open with him. Understandably, he wanted to know who was being sent out in his name, lest a small scandal arise. An inevitability, in reality. And so, like any good squirrel, he had a key list stored in his office. We assessed the security and deemed it safe enough, only he could open it. Do you love your children, fossa?"
He looked up blinking. "Of course."
"Do you like to see them happy? Entertained?"
"Yes…"
"He has a daughter, the light of his life. And for her sixth birthday, he, a progressive and open mammal, invited in a zappy troupe."
"Zappy troupe?"
Another picture. The weasel, now in just blue dungarees, one strap slipped over his shoulder, and a propellor cap on his head. He was joined with a few other predators, some dressed as clowns, others as mimes, others just looking silly. All had giant strained grins on their faces, holding them as big as they could for the camera.
"Silly jokes, lots of slapstick, fun for all the family," Grandi carried on, shrugging. "And helping to let children learn early about how collars are a harmless little quirk of life, something we can all laugh at when the time is right. Now please wipe that look off your face Adrian, is it any different to having a pie thrown at a performer's face? Regardless of your tastes, I assure you they are hysterically funny. Especially when sparkler attachments are used. Now being a progressive family hoping to instill more enlightened views of predators in their child, they invited them in for a part. I heard the weasel gave a silly song about some chickens mindlessly walking into his den, and what naturally occurs"
The shrew smiled so happily that the fossa wondered if he was going to recite that song. Instead his grin faded, replaced with a cold seriousness. "And after her party, after saying goodbye to her friends, after filling herself with cake, she went to bed on that perfect day with a goodnight kiss from her father, who, as always, had some work to do. She was then woken up by our weasel friend who'd snuck back in. Paw over her mouth, she was dragged into her fathers office, where he was ordered to provide the details of those agents he'd helped plant. He could endure the pain and torture if done to him, he was a patriot… But to his little daughter? Well I can't think of many that could hold off against that. Lest he try and give the weasel a fake document, our weasel gave the names of three agents known to him, and the warning that he knew more. If any false planting was attempted, well… That was when he threatened the poor, screaming, terrified, innocent little girl with a parent's worst nightmare. Can you imagine what it was like for her?"
Andy looked back, blinking. Assume everything is a lie.
But what if it wasn't.
"It must have been awful."
"I got far worse when he dithered. Coldly, without emotion, a psychopath, that weasel did unspeakable things to that little girl. Things I will not describe but let you imagine, on your own children, on your own little girl. Things that she will remember, will dread, will be scarred by for the rest of her life. Ruined in that moment, her innocence ripped and shredded as she begged and pleaded on her birthday. When my friend tried to fight him, he was knocked back while that predator doubled down to the point where she ended up needing reparative surgery. Imagine that on your child. Do it, Adrian. Do it right now, feel it."
The fossa felt queasy. He did his best, but the images kept on flicking in his mind.
"Imagine being forced to choose between your daughter and your country. That's how he got that information. He then knocked out the two with a tranquiliser, ran out. A car took him. He and his troupe then vanished, reappearing in enemy countries, their treason complete. They'd already faxed across the list, almost a hundred patriots captured and we forced to kowtow, to humiliate ourselves, to release thousands of predators, their debts to our society unpaid. But you won't care for that, will you?"
Andy just ignored the story. Ignore the words.
More pictures came out. Ones that put a chill down his spine. A poor girl in hospital, bandaged around her... Then a birthday party. A dignified looking squirrel acting very undignified, a cop uniform on and a flag gun pulled out at the weasel, mid impression of 'The Scream'. And then crime scene photos, an office, blood on the floor. So much blood. "The squirrel did get one bit of revenge." The shrew leant forward, beading eyes boring into the fossa. "He sunk his teeth into our rapists right ear, tore a chunk right off." A new picture, a mass of fur lying there. "Do you care about this? About her?" he asked.
He breathed in and out. "I want whoever did this to be brought to justice."
"Then where are you hiding him," the shrew hissed.
"I… I don't know who this is," he fumbled, all as he began wondering. What if the liars weren't lying.
"He was on your passenger list. You have a missing passenger. A weasel."
"He might have got off at the airport, I don't know…"
"If you are helping him, you will be kept here and held criminally responsible."
"I was in the cockpit all the time," he said, defiantly.
"Even when you went to check the fire?"
"Apart from then."
"Even when witnesses saw you talking with the weasel?"
He froze, narrowing his eyes and shaking his head. They were trying to make him crack. Lies, all lies, all stupid lies. "I never saw him."
"You'll see him in prison when we find out where he is. You're the captain, you take…"
"Co-pilot," Andy said, slamming the table. "Are you asking a certain springbok the same questions?"
There was a long pause. "We're asking everyone the questions," he said, looking up at him. "And all it takes is one. I can forgive you if that one was you. If not..."
Andy closed his eyes. "I don't need your forgiveness for anything. Now, I want to get back to…"
"-Obstructing a criminal investigation is a valid breach of our laws," the shrew said.
Andy looked back, trembling in his chair. A look up, the bear was still there, almost vanished from the discussion. The fossa spoke through a cracked throat. "Is using my right to remain silent?"
"All it takes is one," the shrew warned. "We'll talk later. Tell them Anton."
"We are done," the bear announced. The guards came in. He was led outside. Back to the room as before, passing the painted dog being taken the other way. He asked what was going on, but they were ordered to stay silent. They did so as they parted, a roar of a jet ringing out as a plane touched down far off. Andy thought he saw a speck of pink in the sky as he entered the room again. The younger lioness was sitting on her cot, crying. She'd just come back. Her mother had just been taken.
The fossa asked if she'd done what had to be done.
She said yes.
He thanked her and sat down on the cot, unable to sleep. He tried thinking of his son and daughter, but couldn't help but imagine the helplessness and anger of someone grabbing them. Doing those things to them. Hurting them, scarring them for life, scarring them where they should not even be touched.
Was it their views of what a weasel was?
Was it all lies?
An exaggerated?
Or, as he felt an ill chill run down his spine and a turgid bubbling spike up in his stomach…
Was their weasel the liar.
And if he'd done all that was said… Was he an evil mammal who deserved being left here to pay for his crimes and die?
Were they the good guys, or were they the bad, letting him run loose, an innocent jill and new kit at risk.
Why was he taking their lies with a grain of truth?
Why was he forgetting that they would always lie?
Was the plan still working?
Was he still hidden?
Or had someone cracked, and it was all for naught.
Mammals came and went as the dawn came.
All that time, no answers, no sleep.
He guessed it was a few hours later that they came in. There was a definite light in the sky, even if it was still dark, and the prey officials whose eyes he could see wore them red, tired, exhausted.
And angry.
"Get up," the sheep spat, before sneering. "You're all going home."
There was a clatter and rumble as they got up and began walking along the path again, soon reaching the gap in the fence onto the apron itself. A few megafauna were there, blocking their way, all as the prey mammals were herded onto a bus. Andrian saw his captain, their eyes met for a second and he nodded. He glanced at the pig but only saw the back of his head, no gaze shared. The megafauna went on, the elephant family leading the way, children behind holding each other's trunks. Andrian relaxed as he saw it, and watched as the mammals got smaller. In the last group there were a few large rodents, and he felt himself chew his lip as he saw…
Was that hyrax sneering at him?
Or was that hare trying their best to look away?
Did that dik dik have a scrape on her from climbing through something.
All the fossa knew was that someone had set this up. Too many coincidences, too much ready at the airport, just too much for it to be random chance. His gaze turned to see Heiferberg standing there, her tail end blackened and skin ripped. Great bird of the free sky, struck down and forever grounded. With how the timing had been, he guessed there had been a smoke charge first and then a fire one, set off when they touched down, to make sure they stayed grounded and to destroy any and all evidence.
There was a rumble as the bus carried the prey off, and the preds were marched on. The antelope from earlier was beginning to wave over another bus, only for the sheep to march up to him and yell. In the end he tore off the radio and barked into it, the bus turning and moving away.
He looked back and waved them all on. "Do you want to catch your plane or not?"
They looked at each other and sighed, before moving forward, entering the vast tan grey concrete plain of the apron and walking across it in the growing light. They all felt small and empty, ants walking across it, the wasps marching on either side keeping an ever present eye on them. "You know what I always wondered?" the sheep asked out loud. "You can't take a knife on a plane, can you? Taking a weapon on there would be dumb… But you all have teeth and claws far worse than knives. Bigger, larger, sharper… And far more of them. So if those knives are too big a threat, then why out there do they ignore them when you get on, huh? Now we don't let you guys fly, as we're not stupid. We know what would happen if just one of you went a bit loco onboard. Savage pred! Confined space! But out there, where they just… accept that, and say that they're freer as prey have to live in fear… I mean, wouldn't it be reasonable to just clip down your claws. Make you wear a muzzle while onboard. That seems like a fair compromise, doesn't it? Or is it just me?"
On and on he went as their pads began to ache from the long march across the hard surface, until they finally saw the plane up ahead. Same design as Heiferber, but clean and ready to fly. The airline must have sent it in just like they'd hoped, forcing the Zootopians hoof.
The bus was waiting outside, the prey mammals waiting there. He appreciated the sentiment, even if he'd have preferred it if they'd have gone in, safely away from prying eyes.
"You know we were happy to send you off on busses," the sheep carried on. "But no, it seems some mammals really like you. That thing flew in place of a cargo plane or something, I'd have turned them away for that kind of gall. Regulations are important don't you know." His voice was rising. "Some of us have important plans, that certain scatter minded, jump at anythingers, have no cares about disrupting. Well that'll teach us to be generous again."
Another pause.
"Locksteed Marten huh?" he asked, as they came up to the plane. "I'm guessing the Marten built your last one. Hopefully Locksteed did this one. Don't want another accident on your way off."
Andrian looked at him nervously. They wouldn't dare, would they? They did all this to make it seem like a coincidence. Something happening to them on the way out though, they couldn't talk their way out of that.
The sheep was just bitter, wasn't he?
They didn't have their weasel.
The plan had worked, hadn't it.
Finally they reached the plane, the stairs ready. Andy saw his captain there nodding, alongside the relief crew, and as the two groups merged and could mingle he walked over. "Just in case, have the smaller mammals patted or sniffed down."
It was quiet, but his captain nodded. "Ja... But the crew is all prey."
"Are you saying my nose isn't up to scratch?" the pig engineer said.
The new captain, a porcupine, nodded and turned. "Go tell my staff," he said, turning to Andrian. "You passed the explosives scent test too?"
"Yes," he said.
He was waved on up the stairs, joining the pig engineer and a peccary on the new crew too. As the smaller mammals walked up the stairs and turned around, they were given a little memo about how something might be up, and that this was a precaution. Some were irritated, most just tired, and on and on they went, the manifest in the peccari's hoof slowly being filled in as the plane filled up. The mammals got larger and larger, the names getting crossed off, the attendant getting nervous as one name remained oddly unmarked.
All the predators bar one were onboard, then it was just the megafauna. The elephants and their children sat down and, with that, full house. "Close the door," Andrian said, as he felt his suit being pulled.
"There's still one left," she urged, as the door was clamped shut.
He ignored her. "You can come out now."
And with that, the two elephant children unlinked their trunks, and a tail peeked out of the boy's nostrils. Followed by his feet, then his body, then all of him as he dropped out, slimy, gross, disgusting, fur messed up but alive and well as they began taxiing off.
Shaking as he touched the carpet, he collapsed to his knees and kissed the plane's floor, whimpering and sniffing before looking up at the children, still wobbling like a jello dessert. "Thankyou," he whispered, drying a tear from his eye. "You saved my life. Thank you."
"I'm so going to tell my friends about this, you know," he said back down.
Wilfred choked out a laugh, before waving off. "So will my little boy. If you were the same age, I might ask for your address… Pen pals, or…" He waved it off, paw coming up to fuss with his torn up right ear.
Andrian felt his eyes linger on it, a tense worry rumbling through his stomach. One met with the rumble of engines as they pulled off the taxiway and onto the runway. Andy looked down at the weasel. "Come with me, we'll sit on the jump seats and once we're in the air get you cleaned off."
He breathed a sigh of relief. "Oh thanks…" He let off a nervous chuckle. "Aw heck," he said, scratching his head. "I need that. Might need some towels, make a toga, or…"
"We'll see," Andy said, "but I'd advise we hurry, and…"
He shook his head, "Sorry, sorry…"
And with that he followed him off, jumping up into the steps and into the cockpit, to the surprise of those inside.
"So this is our weasel?" the porcupine asked, looking back.
"Ja, he had a very interesting stay," the springbok, sitting in another jump seat, said, chuckling. "I think I've got a new story to tell after this, along with the one about that Cooper fella."
"How did you not know about that racoon before this?" the porcupine asked, as they lined up. "Okay, buckle in guys."
Andrian did just that, Wilfred in his lap. The weasel was panting, a huge grin on his face, that only increased as the throttles were pushed forward and they began racing down the runway. He got up and scrabbled up the side of the chair, getting a view of the runway as the new captain and his goat co-pilot pulled up and they soared into the air, flying into the pink sky again. He breathed a sigh of relief, drying his eyes, while Andrian just felt safe. It was over…
His eyes lingered though on the mustelids torn up ear, and for the first time he noticed a patchy spot of fur on the side of his neck.
He kept himself silent as they levelled off, before walking back into the megafauna sized bathroom at the front. He followed Wilfrid inside, closing the door behind them.
"I'm okay thanks," he said, as he climbed up to the large sink, looking at it. "Gonna be the worst shower I've ever had, but still good…"
"Did they ever suspect a thing?"
"Oh they had boars in who smelt weasel nearby," he said. "From what I gather they didn't have my scent per say, but just weasel was enough…" But they didn't suspect anything when we were coming in… Well, the boar smelt me, but after the girl gave her name she held trunks with her brother just like she'd done on the way over and I shifted into hers. After his parents he answered, they held trunks again, he didn't suspect anything. Thank god. When we got to the room we dislodged the fan and made it seem I'd gone down the vents. They took the mother and son to interrogate first, but they only took the other two after they got back, which made things easier. I was able to shift trunks back again, and then we did the same on the way back."
"So, all worked out," Andy said, eyes lingering on his ear.
"Yeah," he said, shaking his head. "Oh heck… I thought specially modified food cans were crazy, but that. Worst was going back in after being in the vents, I was covered in dust and… Oh you do not want to be in an elephant's trunk when they sneeze. I can tell you that."
"Well, I bet they're sniffing around there, thinking you've run off like a mindless chicken. Off into your weasels den."
"Yeah. Nowhere to run," he said in a slightly sing-song voice. "Nowhere to hide. Some dumb pred chicken at the end of the line."
The fossa's throat began to go dry. "That a song from somewhere?"
"Yeah, stupid birthday thing, or…" He trailed off, slowly looking at the fossa. "Could you please leave, I really want to just get clean."
"I was interrogated by a shrew," he began, seeing the weasel's paws tremble a little at the mention of the species. He breathed in and out, finally letting a little anger start to rise. "I told myself that what he said was nothing but a lie to make me give you in. After all, I looked into your eyes earlier that day, I was ready to risk my life for yours. But what if he wasn't telling a lie? What happened between you and that squirrel girl. That child," he growled.
He closed his eyes slowly, breathed in, opened them and let it out. "Let me tell you everything," he said, "but have the decency to let me get it all out in one go."
"Go on."
"We got the information on over one-hundred spies on that sheet, I hoped we could use it to lever out and free a hundred predators that were too big to smuggle out like I was. The international community levered it to allow thousands, tens of thousands to have a chance to leave that hellhole. Tens of thousands escaped…" His lips trembled. "And dozens would be dead now if they hadn't, that's just the statistics of being a predator living back there. Just like it is that plenty of the kids would be orphaned or taken into care or sent to anti-predation camps where chances are they'd face the same or worse than that girl did, not once but for night after night after night after night without end, getting zapped each time for good measure. And those 'lucky' ones who didn't die or get imprisoned or sent for reeducation, well you know, don't you? Or at least get the idea, because you can't know like I do. And before you judge me, ask yourself if you have the right given what you did yesterday. You landed that plane in Zootopia knowing that it put my life in mortal danger, it put close to a dozen other mammals lives in danger including your own, and you did it anyway because the alternative was to put over a hundred lives in danger. One life for ten, those were your odds."
He breathed in and out before slumping down, sitting on the lip of the wash basin, head in paws. "To be a good predator you must learn to see beyond the individual, beyond that selfishness, and beyond the primitive tribalism of the pack. To be a positive for society, you must evolve to be like prey, and put the herd first…" He snorted. "I did a horrible thing to a little girl for one night as it was the only way, and for that price I saved far more than ten lives, and saved many thousands from living a hell like that day after day after day…" He looked up. "All I did was my 'duty' as a good pred, just like you did yours."
Andy stared at him. "Did you enjoy it?"
The weasel looked disgusted. "Of course not."
"Then you hate yourself for it."
"I hate that I had to do it," he said, looking down. "I hate that it came to that."
They were silent for a second. Finally, Andy turned. "I'll get some towels," he said, as he left the room. Outside, he turned right to see the elephant family there. His gut told him it was a very good thing that pen-pal thing wasn't going to happen. His mind told him that the weasel was doing his duty, and he didn't have the right to judge.
In the end, all he knew was that he hated that it had come to this too.
The announcement came over that they'd left Zootopian airspace, and he muttered good riddance.
