Chapter Nine

Swinging Hatches, Cads, and Navy Brahms

The call came, as usual, in the middle of the night. The chime from the intraship woke Nadira Hatch from a warm, comfortable sleep in her bed. Raising her head from her regulation rock/pillow, the lioness groped in the darkness for the comm panel. Nadira managed to find it without knocking over the wine glass on her bedside stand and tapped the control to respond. "Hatch. What is it?" Her voice came out a bit slurred from sleep, and maybe the residual effects of the now empty bottle on the floor. I'll be paying for that in the morning. Doc is gonna really love it too.

"Commodore, you have an incoming message from Corneria. It's marked urgent."

She recognized the voice of Ensign Duval, a recent transfer to the communications and signal division aboard ship. "Is it my wife?"

"Ma'am?"

"Nevermind ensign. Send it down here to my terminal." Nadira swung her legs out of bed and reached for her uniform shirt where it lay, discarded, on the deck. She pulled it down over her chest, stood up, and looked affectionately at her current bedmate, a civilian consultant named Carissa Encheva, assigned to the Autumn at Dawn, Nadira's flagship, for the duration of their current patrol assignment. She worked for the Fortunan Cargo Service, and she was out here to report on security conditions along local trade routes. Nadira didn't really care. Her first officer was in charge of dealing with civilians aboard ship during the day to day, and she tended to leave him be. Of course when the consultant is a smoking hot panthress with a rack that could capsize a yacht...

Resisting the urge to ignore the communication and just slip back in bed with her, Nadira walked out of the room and into the small office in her quarters. A holographic painting of the Lylat System adorned one wall, while the other showed her real time tracking information on all the ships under her command. Nadira sat down in front of her terminal and touched the flashing button to open the communications channel. A face appeared on the screen, brown fur, long jowls, and a tired look in his eyes. "Pepper. How are things back on Corneria?"

"Well enough." Pepper did his best to smile, but Nadira could tell a forced gesture when she saw one. "I hope I'm not disturbing you."

"Maybe a little," Nadira said with a shrug. "Comes with the life. What's going on?"

"Haven't you heard?" Pepper looked at her as if she should know what was happening.

"Pepper," she called him by his last name, knowing he preferred it over his first name of Cornelius, even with friends. "I've gotten about two hours of sleep since going off shift, you're gonna have to spell it out." After saying that she reached up and rubbed her eyes.

"Lucky you," Pepper said, a note of bitterness in his voice. "I've gotten exactly zero hours."

That got Nadira's attention. "Zero hours? Come on Pepper, you were legendary for being able to get your beauty sleep no matter the circumstance."

"Maybe." Pepper shrugged. "Back in the day."

Nadira pursed her lips at Pepper's subtle reminder that they were both older, more experienced, and shouldering a lot more responsibility than when they first joined the military. "Alright, what's going on that has you burning the midnight oil?"

"You really haven't heard." Pepper shook his head. "Might not be the worst thing."

"Pepper."

"Sorry, I'm rambling I know." Pepper yawned and reached for something out of range of the camera. It was a coffee mug. The hound took a long drink from it, then grimaced and put it away. "Cold and stale. The Arwing was stolen."

Nadira stiffened. She recognized the name. How could she not? The next generation space superiority fighter that was expected to revolutionize not just space combat, but space travel in general, with the invention of the G-diffuser. "What?"

"It was on en route to the Katina testing grounds when a pirate ship ambushed the freighter. They boarded and stole the prototype before anyone knew what was happening," Pepper informed her. "It was a clean job."

Nadira stared at the screen in shock. Things like that didn't happen. Corneria to Katina was a safe travel zone. At least it had been. "Where the hell were the Federation Security Forces?"

"On regular patrol." Pepper frowned. "They thought the route would be more than safe enough that they could keep an eye on it from a distance."

A low growl rumbled in Nadira's throat. The Lylat Federation Security Forces were, for all intents and purposes, cops. They didn't have military training, and they were run by civilians. For the most part they did their job well, keeping the space lanes secure, and dealing with law enforcement issues to big for local police. "Civvies," Nadira spat. "Should've had a military escort."

"Not possible. Military doesn't have jurisdiction in the civilian travel zones," Pepper reminded her. "You can't have warships in civilian lanes when it isn't war time."

"Maybe we should think that over again after this," Nadira said, flexing her claws. Pepper was about to say something, but Nadira held up a hand. "I know. I know. The military patrols the Federation borders and interplanetary space, the planetary lanes are a civilian matter. You're never going to convince me it isn't a stupid arrangement. Security Forces have always been lax, understaffed, and lacking in firepower. Believe me, now that this has happened once, it's going to happen a dozen more times."

"I don't disagree." Pepper leaned back in his chair. "But there's nothing you or I can do about it. People don't like the idea of military ships watching their every move while they travel from place to place. So, like it or not, we're stuck with the Security Forces."

"Fair enough." Nadira knew what Pepper meant. The Federation had done a lot in the past decades to secure a stable and lasting peace here in Lylat, and even in other parts of the galaxy. Part of that had involved a level of demilitirization that, in Nadira's opinion, bordered on foolhardy. "Benefit of not having anyone in the galaxy willing or able to stand against us."

"I think we're getting a bit off course here, Nadira," Pepper said, gently steering the conversation back to the more immediate matter at hand. "The Arwing."

"Right. You know if I'd been informed of the route I could have had a frigate or two in the vicinity. We'd stay in our lane, but we'd have been able to help. Which, by the way, how the hell did the route leak? Bribery?" Nadira suggested. Fatigue made her cynical. And though rare, that kind of corruption wasn't unheard of in the Federation. Though they had a central, federalized government, local planetary and regional governments could be something of a mixed bag. Cornerians demanded their elected officials maintain a level of scrupulous honesty that was hard to find anywhere else in the galaxy. Katina though? Colonies tended to struggle the most with corruption, and Katina was no exception.

"Actually we think it was a data breach," Pepper said. "Space Dynamics hasn't found any evidence of one, but that doesn't necessarily rule these things out these days. Hackers always seem a step ahead of cyber defense when it comes to covering their tracks."

"Either way that's no good." Nadira glanced at the clock. She was on duty in four hours. I think I'll give up on sleep. It'll be one of those coffee fueled days. "Well, you wouldn't have called me if you didn't need me. What can I do to help?"

Pepper seemed to brighten a bit at that statement. "We've put together a plan back here and, suffice it to say, we think it stands a good chance of succeeding."

"Alright." Nadira leaned forward, her interest piqued.

"We've located the Arwing. Phoenix had a very special transponder installed. A radiolytic isotope that's baked into all of his prototypes. It's unique, and can be easily tracked within a solar system," Pepper explained.

"Impressive." Nadira had heard wondrous things about the head of Space Dynamics. He'd have to be some kind of genius to have taken the Space and Aeronautics industry by storm the way he had. It came as no surprise that he had come up with the idea of imprinting his prototypes with a tracking device no one would be able to get rid of, and that only he and whoever he shared the knowledge with would be able to track. "So, what do you need from me?"

Nadira sat back as Pepper explained the plan. She nodded throughout. It wasn't a bad plan, though a bit subtle for her tastes. She would've much preferred to simply take her entire battle group, blast any resistance they met, and send in the Marines, diplomatic considerations be damned. Oh well. Even we swingers can't have everything they want in life.

"You'll understand then if I tell you I need someone capable of being diplomatic?" Pepper said, hands clasped in front of him.

Nadira smirked. "I have just the man." She glanced up at the status board for her battlegroup, eyes searching for and finding one ship in particular. "A frigate will suffice, correct?"

"A cruiser or destroyer would be too obvious." Pepper paused for a moment, looking considerate. "Whitefur?"

"For an assignment as delicate as this? I wouldn't trust anyone else." Nadira told him. "He knows how to deal with people just as well as he knows how to shoot them down. And believe me, with those Brahmin sensibilities he'll be more than capable of getting Crespo wetting their pants without saying a word about why he's really there."

"Alright then. I don't suppose I have to tell you to keep this quiet. Technically the Security Forces should be working this case but..." Pepper trailed off.

"Phoenix doesn't want anything to do with them after they botched the escort for his prototype." It was a guess, but by the look on Pepper's face it was a good one. "Don't worry. I'll log Whitefur's ship as breaking off for an emergency resupply. You know logistics, they get things wrong all the time. Ask for winter gear and they'll send you mosquito netting."

That got a chuckle from Pepper. "Sounds about right. Logistics will make a stink, but they know the drill. I'll let you get back to your sleep. Oh and, before I go, when do you think you'll be back on Corneria?"

"What? You don't know?" Pepper gave her a long suffering look. Grinning, Nadira said, "Four, maybe five weeks. I'll drop you a line when I get back, we'll have a drink."

"Looking forward to it. Pepper out."

The screen went blank and Nadira yawned. She tapped the intraship for the bridge and requested a line for the Clad in Amber, Commander Whitefur's frigate. A loading wheel appeared on her screen then as the connection was being made and routed. Nadira looked up and saw Carissa standing in the doorway to the bedroom, pushing a lock of raven black hair from her eyes. "You coming back to bed?"

"In a bit. Just gotta work some things out. Ship's business." Nadira eyed the loading screen, then helped herself to an eyeful of Carissa's outrageous chest. Tail flicking behind her, Nadira said, "Why don't you go back and warm up? I think we still have a few things to go over before morning."

"Mm. I'll be waiting." Carissa turned on her heel and sauntered out of sight, her tail arched to give Nadira a view of her backside as she retreated into the bedroom. Nadira gave a low rumble of appreciation.

Once Carissa was out of sight Nadira turned back to the screen where the image of a similarly sleep deprived arctic fox appeared. Every ship in the Federation Space Corps operated on Corneria City Standard Time, so it was as late on Whitefur's frigate as it was on her Hyperion-class battlecruiser. "Captain," she said, using the honorific used to address anyone in command of a ship, no matter their actual rank. "I'm sorry to wake you."

"It's no problem Commodore," Whitefur replied. "What's going on?"

Smiling, her sharp teeth on full hunter's display, Nadira said, "I have an assignment for you."

Sirens wailed in the distance, heard through the window of Cadman Dane's apartment in San Caruso. Cadman, a Great Dane, put a finger through the blinds and pulled down, taking a look outside. A few people were passing by, but none of them looked suspicious, or interesting. Just a couple with their children, and a pair of zoned out druggies on the street corner. Nothing at all unusual for San Caruso, a monument to excess and crime in the Lylat System, all of it happening right under the noses of Federation officials. When the Feds united the system they said this kind of shit would go away. Cadman snorted. Fat fucking chance. There's too much money to be made. And I've made a lot of it.

"When will I be seeing you next?"

Cadman looked away from the window at the tiny, thin, white furred wolf who stood by his bed, wearing attire that could only charitably be called clothing. Cadman, lying on the bed without a stitch, took a drag of his cigarette and then nodded. "Not sure, but I'll let you know a few days ahead of time."

"My other clients book months in advance, you know." The girl, Arla, glared at him.

"Don't really give a shit what your other clients do," Cadman replied. "You know me, I'm good for double your usual rate. Pencil me in on your lunch break and I'll make it worth your while." When he said the last bit he looked at her knees, still a little wobbly, and then smirked at her.

"Fucking animal." Arla crossed her arms, but her tail wagged and gave her away.

"Come on babe, you know how life is. Work with me?"

Arla groaned and then nodded. "Sure. You got anything special you're gonna want?"

Cadman considered it for a moment. He was expecting a call soon from his boss, and that meant work. And after work came celebration. "Bring a friend next time. And..." Cadman smiled and added, "Better clear your whole day."

Arla's eyes lit up. She had a special rate for that kind of thing, and it was one very few clients could afford to pay. "Well for that I'm more than willing to cancel a few clients at the last minute. Any idea who you want me to bring? Species preference? Girl? Boy? Something in between?"

"Doesn't matter. Just make sure whoever it is likes it rough." Cadman set his cigarette down in the ashtray by his bed and leered at the girl. "Knows what they're doing. Like you."

"Uh huh."Arla nodded, then held out her hand. "Cash."

"Right." Cadman grabbed his wallet, stretched for a moment, then pulled out a wad of hundred credit bills. He handed them to her, watching as she counted, drinking in the sight of her. Petite. Tiny breasts. Tiny ass. Tiny everything. He liked that. He also liked that she was independant. No pimp to worry about. And, judging from how fast he'd moved up her client list, she enjoyed his company. And even if she doesn't, it's not like it matters. I'm not paying for her to enjoy it.

She finished counting, then stuck the bills in her purse. "Pleasure doing business with you."

"Same." Cadman crooked his fingers at her then, beckoning her closer. She complied, a look on her face that said she didn't mind giving him a little freebie. Just a little one though. He was just reaching out to grab hold of her middle to pull her in for a good, thorough grope, when the comm unit on his desk started flashing. "Shit."

"Shame." Arla said, leaning over to kiss him on the nose. Muzzle inches from his, she whispered, "I'm still a little wet for you."

Cadman chuckled, smacked her on the ass, and then said, "Get out."

Arla didn't argue, and she didn't look back. She just walked right out the door, five thousand credits richer, and her legs a little wobbly. Cadman waited for the door to click shut and for the sound of her footfalls to disappear before he got up and walked the short distance to his comm unit. The apartment he was staying in was one of dozens he owned throughout Lylat. Cheap, small, and in the lower class, criminal areas of towns. His work, and his boss, valued maintaining a nondescript exterior. So, Cadman lived in the "bad" parts of town, in tiny little apartments, but he had enough money to indulge in the highest class hookers, and whatever else in the galaxy he wanted. "Who says crime doesn't pay?" he wondered aloud as he sat down, his tall, bulky frame making the wooden chair squeak in protest. He tapped the comm unit, and a hologram appeared. "Sir."

"Good evening Cadman." The hologram looked him up and down, the sharp feline eyes of Darius Vesper noting everything the camera allowed him to see. "I trust I didn't call at in an inopportune time?"

"Not at all, sir." Cadman continued using the formal honorific. Darius Vesper was not a man to be trifled with, and he'd earned Cadman's loyalty, saving him from a life in prison on Zoness ten years ago. "Just concluding some business."

"What business?" Darius looked interested. Cadman had learned long ago that everything, everything, interested the feline. If he had the time he knew that Darius would learn the history and personal details of every living being in the galaxy.

"Personal, sir. Nothing that would impact our working relationship."

"Ah." Darius nodded. "Whores will be the death of you, you know."

Cadman chuckled, leaning back in his chair. "I've had my vaccinations. And, if I end up dead balls deep in some bitch, I'll have died happy."

"Mmm." Darius chuckled back. "Good. I like a man who knows, understands, and has come to terms with his vulnerabilities. Now, I have an assignment for you. Shouldn't be too difficult."

"What is it?" Cadman leaned forward again, his ears perking.

"I presume you've heard about the recent theft of the Arwing prototype?" Darius asked.

"It's all over the Corneria based newsnets. Though I don't think people around here care much." Cadman shrugged. "People in San Caruso have more practical problems."

"True," Darius agreed.

"I assume you were behind it, if you're calling to tell me about it," Cadman surmised.

"Naturally." Darius looked off screen for a moment, and Cadman heard him tap a few buttons. A set of coordinates and a datafile appeared on the small, inset screen on the rim of the holoprojector plate. "The Arwing is currently in Beta Colony on the mining asteroid BR-558, being kept by the same pirates I hired to steal it. I need you to go there, verify that they do indeed have it, and then make arrangements for it to make its way back to me. Coordinates for where to send it are included in the file."

Cadman nodded, scrolling through the file. "Shea Etcher?"

"You know her?"

"Know of her." Cadman went through his mental database. "She's about the only lowlife this side of Lylat ballsy enough to take on a mission like that. And the only one skilled enough to come away breathing, and with the target intact."

"I came to a similar conclusion," Darius stated. "Do you think she'd be worth recruiting?"

"Couldn't hurt." Cadman shrugged. "I can feel her out, if you want."

"Do so. But be discreet. If you find her suitable, make an overture, but do not mention my name, or your relationship with me beyond what is necessary. Understood?"

Cadman looked directly into the camera and said, "Understood. Anything else?"

"One other thing. The Macbeth operation?" Cadman nodded, signaling that he remembered. "I believe we have our candidates. The diamond theft went off with barely a hitch. There will be a case waiting for you in a secure locker at the spaceport. Take it, and give it to Shea when you meet with her. Her payment is inside. Once you have concluded your work on this assignment, please would you be so kind as to meet with them on their homeworld, and brief them on the job I'd like them to take?"

"Of course." Cadman asked, "Did they meet your estimation?"

"If they hadn't, they'd already be dead. One of them, the Harcothian, is, according to our good friend Chuck," Darius said drily. "You can expect your usual compensation, for both missions. I trust you will spend it wisely?"

Cadman smirked. "For the most part."

Darius returned the smirk. "Part of wisdom is knowing what one enjoys, and availing yourself of it when convenient. I'll be in touch. Vesper out."

The projector switched off, and Cadman leaned back in his seat, the front legs tipping into the air. He felt a surge of energy then, and stood up to reach for his go bag. He dressed, threw on a coat, and then exited and locked his apartment. Vesper had given him a directive, and Cadman found that as always, he couldn't wait to fulfill it. Another small payment for the life I live now. And I'm only too glad to pay it. BR-558 and then Macbeth. Should be good fun.

The silver grey shape of a Ceres-class light frigate cut through the tumbling fields of asteroids that made up the Meteo belt. Small and boxy, with a long, rectangular main hull, and three engine pods mounted on the rear of the hull in a trapezoidal formation, the Ceres-class had been in service with the Lylat Federation Space Corps for roughly fifteen years. A solid, if somewhat under armored vessel, it fared poorly against larger ships, carrying less firepower and weighing in at less tonnage than its destroyer cousins, but thanks to its cheapness, combined with its stunning effectiveness at patrol and escort duty, the Ceres-class, along with two other, slightly heavier variants, were the most numerous vessels in the Federation fleet.

Sitting in the small ready room just off the main bridge of his ship, the L.F.S.C. Clad in Amber, Commander Paul Whitefur sipped at his morning tea, a datapad in one hand as he read over the latest duty roster. His ship had been ordered into Meteo to a mining colony on BR-558, a large, moonlet sized asteroid owned and operated by Crespo Mining Industries. The orders had been relayed to him by his flotilla commander, Commodore Nadira Hatch, onboard the L.F.S.C. Autumn at Dawn. The imposing lioness had cracked a smile as she'd told him he was, officially, just there to take on some fuel and resupply, but that he should request shore leave for his crew, and feel free to hang about there for as long as he wanted. Paul could read between the lines. Command had something going down on BR-558, and they wanted Marines and Navy on the ground in case things got messy. They also wanted his ship in the area to show the flag, and maybe flush out whatever game they were hunting.

The comm panel on his desk lit up and beeped at him. Paul tapped the button and said, "Whitefur."

"Lieutenant Commander Henderson on the bridge sir," came the husky voice of his first officer, Erika Henderson. "We're entering Crespo space. Control there would like to know why we're here."

Paul smiled a bit. "Do they sound nervous?" he asked, in his clipped, aristocratic, Grantham Isles accent.

"Mostly bored, but this is a low level tech, sir."

Paul nodded, even though he knew she wouldn't be able to see it. "Tell them we'd like to resupply and refuel. And that we'd like permission for the crew to come ashore."

"Aye sir." Paul kept the line open and waited a moment. "Sir," said Erika. "I've got a corporate suit on the line, he wants to talk to you."

Paul smiled a predators smile and said, "Put him through to my ready room."

The holoprojector on his desk flashed and Paul swiped his hand across it. A male simian face appeared in the air above the projector, the collar of his shirt and the knot of his tie just visible. He looked rumpled and worried, though trying to hide it. "Captain Whitefur, my name is Allen Figaro, to what do we owe the pleasure of a Federation visit?"

Paul made sure his smile looked a bit more benign before he answered, "Just what we asked for, Mr. Figaro. I'm afraid there was a bit of an issue with the quartermaster and we've found ourselves short stocked on some of the essentials. We'd like to assume orbit and begin resupply and top off our plasma reserves."

"I'm certain we'll be able to accommodate you," Figaro said, his face a study in blankness. "Will there be anything else?"

"One more thing. My crew hasn't had shore leave in quite some time. We're between assignments right now, and my flotilla commander has given me permission to offer shore leave to anyone who wants it. Would you be willing to accommodate us there as well?" Whitefur leaned in a bit towards the camera. Not much, but enough to add just a hint of intimidation to his posture.

Paul watched as Figaro grimaced, his face turning red around the edges. "Well, we don't exactly encourage visitors."

Arching an eyebrow, Paul asked, "Is there some problem I should be aware of?" A bit obvious, but then Paul wasn't trying to be too subtle. He was here to scare the piss out of this guy and the rest of the asteroid's governing board, not to start some sort of clandestine investigation.

"No. No of course not!" Figaro's face turned purple. "We are completely above board in every way!" he blurted out.

"Relax Mr. Figaro," Paul said, holding up a hand. Methinks you doth protest too much. "I'm sure you have nothing to hide. Is there, by chance, some other reason you prefer to turn away visitors?"

Figaro tugged at his collar and explained, "Our...security situation is not the most stable at the moment. Our Beta Colony has been having crime problems and, well, there are rumored attempts at unionization in Alpha. Things could escalate into a crackdown."

Paul nodded. Privately he called BS on unionization. Crespo would never be stupid enough to arrest people over that. Even if they weren't technically under Federation jurisdiction, any violence over workers rights would lead to swift and punishing trade sanctions. The Federation looked out for its citizens, even if they weren't living at home. "Well, criminals are one thing. But I feel confident the Marines can handle themselves. And us Navy types are quite capable too. If there's no other reason?"

Figaro looked both defeated and panicky as he took a deep breath and tried to hide it all behind a calm mask. It didn't fool Paul for an instant. Having grown up an Old Brahmin, he'd learned at a young age how to read even the most subtle of visual cues, something considered essential in a society where gossip, scandal, and intrusiveness were the norm. "No. No other reason. However I seriously recommend avoiding Beta Colony. It is simply not safe, and Crespo would like to avoid being held responsible for any avoidable mishaps."

"Of course." Paul nodded. How kind of you. "I'll let my people know. We'll be arriving in orbit in about two hours," Paul added, glancing at the chronometer on his comm panel. "My first officer will handle any further arrangements. Good day, Mr. Figaro."

Paul cut the line and leaned back in his seat. After a moment he tapped the comm panel again and said, "Commander?"

Henderson's voice responded immediately, "Yes sir?"

"You can start forming shore parties. Just make sure and avoid Beta Colony."

"Yes sir," Henderson replied. "Anything else?"

"No. That'll be all."

The channel closed and Paul blew out a breath. Now we wait.

A/N: If you think Cadman is disgusting...good. He is. He is a despicable individual in every sense of the word. Just throwin' that out there. He's kinda of a...wait for it...CAD! AHHHHHHH! Sorry, but seriously, he's gross.

And yes, more character intros. Cadman is the important one, but I had an opportunity to intro Nadira here and I took it. Consider it a cameo with purpose. She won't be appearing again. And Papa Whitefur!

Next chapter will be up in a week, and it'll be a stunning representation of a spinning rock! I'll let you guys figure out what I mean ;)

-furdurhurfurfur