A/N: The mission and world building continue.

Chapter Eleven

Caught With Their Pants Down

With a hissing noise the hypospray deposited its contents into James McCloud's bloodstream. Reflexively he reached up to rub at the spot on his arm, soothing the stinging sensation left behind by the injection. Next to him came another hissing noise, then a second, and then a third and final one. Looking at Peppy as the hare stowed the hypospray in his luggage, James asked, "Alright, so how long does this anti-intoxicant last?"

"Ten hours," Peppy replied. "According to Jackson."

"Good. That should be more than enough time." James nodded in satisfaction.

Vixy raised her hand, a confused look on her face. "I'm sorry, I'm not entirely sure what the hell Peppy just forced into my bloodstream. Explain?"

"An anti-intoxicant drug," Peppy said by way of explanation. "It's a compound of different chemicals that will help us metabolize alcohol at many times the normal rate. You can drink anyone under the table and you won't feel so much as a buzz."

"Ah." Vixy considered this for a moment, then said, "What's the point of going to a bar and not getting drunk?"

"We're not there to get drunk," Peppy said, his patience wearing a bit thin. James knew Vixy had a way of getting under the hare's fur. He'd always liked that about her. "We're there for information. And we'll probably have to go to several bars along the way, hence the anti-intoxicant."

"Uh huh." Vixy frowned. "I guess I'll have to act drunk."

"You don't..."

James held up a hand to stop Peppy. "She has a point Pep. Look drunk, act a little drunk, just don't be drunk. We need to blend in."

"Fair point," Peppy allowed.

"What place are we hitting first?" Archer asked.

James considered it for a moment, then said, "We'll try the places near the transit areas first. If any of the pirates are coming out of Beta looking for a drink, they'll probably go for the first place they see. Pirates aren't picky, after all."

"What do we do if we find the people we're looking for?" Vixy inquired.

"That's where these come in," Archer spoke up, pulling out a box from his duffel bag. He opened it and handed each of them a couple of small, bean sized pellets.

"What do I do with these?" Vixy asked. "Make them a very weak cup of coffee?"

Archer chuckled. "Nope. Just squeeze it in your hand, and get some of it on them. They're tiny nano-trackers. They'll bond with the wearer's clothes, skin, fur, whatever, and we'll be able to track them anywhere on the asteroid."

"Okay, question." Vixy raised a finger, and James smiled as Peppy blew out a breath of frustration. "Why not use these on the Arwing, rather than that radio-power iso-what's-it?"

Crossing his arms and smiling, Archer said, "Because, if I had stolen an Arwing, these would be some of the first things I would look for. And you can kill 'em off with a simple burst of Gamma radiation."

"Oh. Then are you sure they won't just do that to the guys we tag?"

"Would you let yourself get Gamma irradiated?" James cocked an eyebrow at her.

"Okay. Good point." Vixy nodded. "Well, I'm satisfied."

"Good to hear," Peppy muttered under his breath.

Vixy looked like she was going to make some sort of smart remark about that, but then decided not to. James hid a smile. She knew they were going to work, and she was acting professional. She's full of surprises, that's for sure.

"Okay everyone," James said, clapping his hands together. "We've got ten hours. Let's hit the bars, find our intel, and all come home in one piece. Sound good?"

There were nods of agreement, and James led the way out of the hotel room. Vixy hustled up beside him and stood on her toes to whisper in his ear, "Hey, if this stuff doesn't work, I'm down to break that oath."

James chuckled, pausing for a moment and waving for Peppy and Archer to continue down the hall. He pitched his voice to a low whisper as he said, "Are you propositioning me?"

Vixy shrugged, twirling a lock of her blond hair. "Sure. Why not?"

"Just wondering." James moved a little closer and took her hands in his. "I appreciate the offer, but Peppy really meant well when he had me sign that. This is a big mission, and I can't get distracted. Make sense?"

"Yeah. Makes sense." Vixy nodded, then kissed him on the nose. "Your loss."

She started sauntering away, but before she could get out of reach James grabbed her arm and, with a smirk, said, "If you think the minute this mission is over though I'm not cornering you and at least two other girls..."

Vixy grinned and wagged her tail. "Come on James. Gotta earn your puss-puss."

"James?" Peppy called from down the corridor, the elevator door having opened.

"Coming," James called back. "And don't even make that joke," he warned Vixy.

The two of them rejoined Archer and Peppy, and the doors slid shut in front of them. Time to go to work.

Four bars and a few hours later, James was starting to lose hope they would find what they needed. He and his team were being subtle, but sometimes it seemed like subtle just didn't work on drunken spacers and miners. They'd searched around for anyone that looked like they might be Beta colonists, thinking they would have better luck with them, but it seemed Beta colonists didn't like to talk to strangers. Or just about anyone. James was half considering asking Vixy to try seducing one of them.

As they entered their fifth bar, James looked around at the decor. Neon signs displayed the various types of liquid liver failure available (one of the mixed drinks was, literally, called Liver Killer), a jukebox in the back played tunes that were about thirty years out of date, and a haze of smoke covered everything. Next to him Archer coughed and said, "I thought people weren't supposed to smoke inside."

James chuckled. "You really think Crespo is concerned with their employees health? They make money off every doctor's visit these people make."

"Oh." Archer shook his head. "This whole place just...isn't right to me."

James guided them all towards a booth that looked out on the rest of the bar. "What do you mean?"

Sitting down, Archer rested his elbows on the table. "The way these people are being exploited. The way there's absolutely no consideration given to anything but profit. I mean, there's nothing here for them at all except..."

"Exploitation." James shrugged. "Someone has to do this work. This kind of thing, well, it makes the planets spin."

Archer shook his head. "It's still not right."

Tapping the holographic order control, James selected an imported brew and sent it to the bar. He saw their table materialize on the list of those waiting for service. "Yeah. Well, this isn't Corneria."

"What's that got to do with it?" Archer looked confused.

"He means," Vixy said, "This sort of thing goes on all over the Federation. All over the galaxy. Maybe not as bad on Federation worlds, but where we grew up it was always a fight between farm workers, small farmers, and the big Agri Corps."

"Sure," Archer agreed. "Everyone knows that the Papetoonians had to fight for their rights. But you guys got them, and the Federation guarantees them. You get unions, collective bargaining, universal healthcare. What do these people get?"

"Nothing." Peppy ran a hand down his face, then rubbed his eyes. "It ain't fair. It ain't right. But it is what it is. And Cornerians benefit from it. So do Papetoonians, Fortunans, Zonessians, the whole damn Federation. Crespo and the other mining consortiums con our citizens into coming out here, promising them a new life out on the frontier, then they trap 'em, pay 'em a bare minimum with 'profit-sharing' to make themselves sound generous, and you get all your raw materials and rare metals for dirt cheap. Post-scarcity isn't always as pretty as we like to think."

James frowned and said, "True 're not here to solve the galaxy's problems though. Keep an eye on the room, I gotta go take a piss."

Standing up from the table James headed for the men's room, keeping his ears perked for conversations that might fit the bill of what they were looking for. He didn't hear much of anything interesting. Though he did pick up on what he thought might be a compliment directed at his ass. Even out here in the boonies they know a good one when they see one, he thought to himself with a smirk before pushing the door to the bathroom open.

Taking a look around he saw that all the urinals were taken. Shrugging he headed for the first open stall. Despite the sound of urination, and an unpleasant smell in the air, he kept alert. Guys said stupid things in the bathroom.

Unzipping his pants James sighed as he relieved himself. Midway through he heard the sound of a communicator beeping just outside his door. Footsteps that had been going by paused, and he heard, "Yeah? What? At a bar. No, I don't. I didn't look at the name. Yeah. You're serious? With a frigate in orbit? What is she fucking nuts?"

James cupped his ears in that direction, zipping up and flushing the toilet with his foot. He stayed in there just long enough to hear, "Fuck. Fine. Yeah I'll get everyone back." The communicator flipped closed. "Better get fucking hazard pay for this."

With that James emerged from his stall and spotted his target. A wiry raccoon who was just about to walk out the door. James chased after him, adding a drunken lurch to his step. He pulled one of the little tracking pellets from his pocket, smashed it in his hand, and then made himself stumble. "Whoa!"

He grabbed onto the raccoon, smearing the fine, translucent dust on the back of his vest and his arm. "Hey man, what the fuck?"

"Sorry," James replied, slurring his words a little. "You okay?" The two other guys in the room glanced at them, then went back to the more urgent matter of emptying their bladders.

"Sure man. Whatever. Just keep your hands off me, huh?" The raccoon shoved past him and out the door.

James shrugged and went over to the sink. He looked in the mirror as the water ran over his hands, then reached for the soap dispenser. He waved his hand under it. Nothing. He squeezed it. Still nothing. "That's just unsanitary," he muttered to himself. He killed the faucet and shook off his hands before walking back out into the bar.

"That was quick," Vixy said as James slid back into their booth.

"What do you mean?" James asked, cocking an eyebrow at her as he pulled his scanner from his pocket. He pressed the button to activate it, and the screen popped out of the metal body.

"I figured you'd last longer," Vixy went on.

"Huh?" James looked up at her in confusion, then saw her naughty little smile. "Oh ha ha. I will have you know I have never used one of those before."

Archer took a sip of his beer and pretended not to be listening, though James caught the edges of a smirk on his lips. Peppy looked between the two, and then asked, "Do I want to know?"

"I just thought he went in there to use one of the most glorious of all holes." Vixy giggled at her own joke.

Shaking his head, James wagged his tail and replied, "If I ever did, I'm sure you'd be the first to know." Peppy looked mildly nauseated. Archer just snickered and kept an eye on the bar. "Peppy, take a look at this."

Peppy took the scanner from James's hand, keeping it out of sight beneath the table. "You tagged someone in the bathroom?" Peppy whispered. James nodded. "Sure about this one?"

"Positive. I heard him talking on his communicator. This is definitely what we're looking for," James told him.

"I'm inclined to believe you," Peppy said, stroking his mustache.

"Oh yeah?" Vixy leaned over slightly to get a look at the screen. "He's heading..."

"...right for Beta Colony," Peppy finished, smiling. "We got 'em."

Traffic moved sluggishly in Corneria City. Even with advanced public transit systems, sentient kind had never quite found a way to tackle the problem of too many cars in too few lanes. Sitting in the back of the white, Space Dynamics emblazoned SUV, Argus scrolled through data on his tablet. Space Dynamics' stock had taken a plummet with the report of the Arwing theft. It didn't bode well for the future of his company if they were unable to retrieve the prototype intact. Fortunately I never did believe in putting all my eggs in one basket.

Space Dynamics, despite being a newcomer to the field of aerospace engineering and manufacture, had a diverse portfolio. It produced everything from custom yachts to heavy load industrial freighters. The Arwing was, in reality, more of an indulgence than the media was letting on. Argus had wanted to get into the space fighter design sector since he was a child, but in such an entrenched and intensely competitive field, he knew enough to expect setbacks, both large and small. With that in mind he'd ordered all of his division heads to proceed as if it were business as usual, and to leave the matter of the Arwing to him. He would respond to all media requests for comment and take all questions regarding the Arwing project.

The SUV made a turn and Argus looked up to see a sign marking Government Street. The traffic became noticeably less heavy as they proceeded. Argus watched out the window as the tall, imposing metal skyscrapers of Corneria City began to give way to shorter, older looking buildings made of marble in a variety of warm, inviting colors. Gardens proliferated to a degree that made even him, a native born Cornerian, wonder if he was in a forest or a city. These were the offices of all the various branches and agencies for Corneria's planetary government. The Assembly Hall, the Planetary Supreme Court, the Department of Environmental Affairs, and at the end of it, the Governor's House.

They passed all of these, and instead approached a much more modern building at the end of the next street. Road signs changed from Government Street to Federation Way, and the antique marble buildings were replaced by large, sprawling, glass and metal structures. Like the skyscrapers of Corneria City, many of them were almost entirely transparent. Through his window Argus could see staffers and employees going about the daily business of governing and overseeing entire planets, some of them looking out on the street, others with their backs turned and heads down as they labored at workstations, and still more gesticulating wildly as they argued and discussed the finer points of administrating with colleagues and superiors.

The see through design had been intentional, Argus new. The Federation prided itself on being an open and democratic society, and so Federation offices were all made to be both institutionally and literally transparent. Privacy could be counted on when it was needed, but the symbolism was important. Security was tight, but still tourists and civilians abounded, though traffic declined even more as they went on. As part of the security setup, Federation Security didn't allow any unauthorized vehicles on the streets. Citizens were welcome to arrive via public transit, through subways and buses, but cars were a no-no. A good policy, even if certain elements of society still chafe at it. The Federation has enemies, and cars are as much a weapon as a knife or a blaster.

A few minutes later and Argus' driver pulled up to a security checkpoint. The window rolled down and the driver leaned out to talk to a security guard. The guard, a female corgi, nodded as she conversed with Argus' driver, a panther, and then asked for ID. Scandocs were exchanged, scrutinized, and then returned. The guard stepped back and waved them through with a nod, a smile, and good wishes. The entire exchange lasted two minutes, and Argus knew that, despite the friendly and efficient manner in which it had been handled, there had likely been more hidden weaponry and surveillance equipment pointed at him for those two minutes than existed in the entire rest of Corneria City combined. No one could accuse the Federation Council of not taking the very real threat of terrorism seriously. Especially with what's been happening on Titania. The Federation isn't exactly well liked there. By either side.

Darkness descended on the SUV as it pulled into the underground parking structure. Argus closed his tablet, the holographic screen disappearing as the two projecting halves met, and stuck it in his pocket. They descended to sublevel three, the first two levels being reserved for Council members and their staff. "Here we are sir," his driver said, turning to look at him. "Should I wait here for you?"

Argus nodded. "This should be a short meeting."

"Yes sir."

Argus opened the door, hopped out, and shut it. He took a breath of the cool, underground air, shivered, and then headed for the nearest lift. He didn't like cold environments. Even cool could be a bit much for him. His short fur did little to insulate his body, and his oversized ears, large even for a fennec, dissipated heat from his body at a fantastic rate. Argus stepped into the lift and pushed the button for the surface level. The doors opened a moment later and he walked briskly out onto the path leading to the Federation Council Building.

Willow trees lined the path, and Argus' shoes crunched in the gravel as he walked. Reading benches were arranged beneath the trees, and a few small comm terminals were placed alongside the path, showing the time and scrolling updates on major news stories, as well as polling predictions for the upcoming Federal and Planetary elections. Argus paused briefly to glance at them, and noted that Cedwyn's party, Forward!, looked poised for a slim majority, with the incumbent party routed, and a few others looking to make some gains or hold ground. Good for him. I doubt it'll improve his mood though.

Automatic doors with the Federation seal emblazoned on them parted as he approached. Air conditioned air greeted him, along with the trickling of koi ponds situated on either side of the entryway. Argus walked up to the receptionist, scanned his handprint, and then said, "I'm here to see Councilor Llewellyn."

Looking up at him, the receptionist, a male, heavily muscled bulldog who Argus suspected was probably part of the first line of defense for the interior of the building, said, "Name?"

"Argus Phoenix."

"Alright. Go on up," the bulldog said after typing in his name and verifying his appointment.

Argus smiled and walked past the reception area to one of the lifts. He tapped the call button, nodded to a few people lining up with him, and then stepped in once the doors opened with a ping! Everyone pushed for the floor they were going to, and a few people gave him interested glances when he hit the button for the second highest floor, right beneath the Prime Minister's offices. Please don't recognize me. I really don't want to talk to anyone. Last thing I need is some low level staffer leaking the contents of any of my conversations just to prove he's in the know.

The doors opened three times before they reached Argus' stop. When he stepped out of the lift he left behind an empty car. There was another receptionist, and once again Argus had to have his appointment confirmed. Once it was the doors to the offices unlocked, and a guard waved him through.

When the door shut behind him Argus started making his way through the crowds of staffers, lobbyists, and even a few journalists. He dodged the last group, knowing that even if everyone here recognized him, which of course they did, the journalists would be the ones running to get comments and ask him questions. Why does Cedwyn's office have to be so far back?

Contrary to what that might have seemed to imply, the distance from the doorway into the Council offices and Cedwyn's office actually denoted his importance. It meant that, if someone were to force their way through the doors, the people in front of him were more expendable than he was. Macabre, but practical and logical. It helped not to think too much about it.

Rapid footfalls started gaining on him from behind. Argus' hearing picked up the sound of notepad pages being turned, and the sound of a camera being clicked on. His eyes widened. He'd been spotted. He picked up his pace, heading straight for the doors to freedom. The footsteps behind him picked up as well. Argus broke into an almost-run.

Arriving at the doorway to Cedwyn's office, Argus had to once more push his hand against a scanning plate. The plate flashed, read his biometric signature, and then unlocked and opened the door. "Mr. Phoenix! Mr. Phoenix!"

Argus stepped into the door and called, "No comment!" as the door clicked shut behind him. Argus looked across the room to see Cedwyn, his bulky frame resting in a leather chair, expression amused, and said, "For a transparent and democratic government, security here is downright paranoid."

Cedwyn chuckled and motioned for Argus to take a seat across from him. Across the desk, not on the couches. He's not happy with me. Argus walked to the chair and took a quick glance around. There were bookshelves nestled in the corners, replete with volumes on governance, biographies of past political leaders, tomes on the history of every world in Lylat, and even a few on Cerinia and Harcothia. Behind Cedwyn a floor to ceiling window gave a view of the Federation Park, where the crowds of citizens arrived every five years to witness the inauguration of a president. Which I'm sure Cedwyn sees himself as at some point. "I saw the polling downstairs. Looks like you could be on your way to a majority."

"With Farris and Constand on the ticket?" Cedwyn snorted, referring to the current President and Prime Minister. "I'd be embarrassed if we weren't."

Argus nodded. Kinman Farris and Julius Constand had run themselves into a ditch recently after a generally panned debate performance and series of legislative defeats for their Moving Together party, a Zonessian upstart that, ironically, had had trouble uniting its disparate members. "I'm a little surprised you aren't on the ticket."

Cedwyn shrugged. "I've got plenty of elections left. Now, we better talk business. What the hell happened?"

"The Arwing got stolen."

"I know that." Cedwyn shook his head. "The whole damn galaxy knows that. I was talking more about your press conference though."

Argus' ears folded back for a moment. "What about it?"

"You know what about it," Cedwyn growled back. "You trashed the Security Forces."

"I didn't 'trash' them," Argus responded with a sigh. "All I said was I had hired a private firm to deal with this, and that I would be contracting private security to provide additional defense for all of Space Dynamics's interplanetary shipping from now on."

Leaning back in his chair Cedwyn glared at him. "So, in other words, you said they were useless and unreliable."

"I suppose I did. In a way." Argus frowned. "The hell was I supposed to say though? They screwed up here Cedwyn. Big time. And it's going to cost my company a fortune. Not just in money either, but in reputation and standing. Forgive me if I can't help but feel a lack of confidence in them."

"You were supposed to say that you were cooperating fully, and that you had every confidence in their abilities," Cedwyn replied, glowering.

"But I'm not and I don't," Argus replied, straightening in his seat and setting his ears in a way that showed he wouldn't back down. "For an agency with as few resources as they've been given, I don't see why anyone would have much confidence in them."

That seemed to get Cedwyn's attention. "They got their budget cut last year."

"Did they?" Argus arched an eyebrow. "Poor them."

Cedwyn smiled then, looking at the fennec across the desk at him. "Argus. You don't seem to understand. They got their budget cut last year. Who was the Prime Minister last year?"

"Constand." Argus could see wheels turning in Cedwyn's head.

"And who makes the budget?"

"The Federation Council. In consultation with the President and the Prime Minister. And usually based on the majority party's priorities, unless we have a coalition government." Argus began to see why Cedwyn's eyes were lighting up with glee.

"Exactly. And, one more question. Who signs that budget into law?"

This time Argus started to smile. "The President."

"Ex-actly!" Cedwyn sprung from his chair and bounded around his desk. "Argus, would you be willing to do something for me?"

Looking up at the excited snow leopard, Argus shrugged and said, "Depends on what it is."

"I'll book you any show you want, if you'll go on it and say that you think the Security Forces came up short because of the budget hit they took under Farris's administration." Cedwyn's tail lashed behind him in excitement.

"I'm a bit...busy." Argus hated publicity. He much preferred to remain out of the public spotlight.

Cedwyn's face darkened. "Argus. I don't have to remind you what committee I'm on, do I?"

Argus stood up and stared into the snow leopard's eyes. "No. You don't. Call my secretary with the details, and I'll make the time. Deal?"

"Deal!" Cedwyn's grin returned and he shook Argu's hand, placing his other on the fennec's shoulder. "You're doing a great thing for me. And for the Federation."

"Sure Ced. Sure." Argus rolled his eyes. "I assume you give that intimidation look to anyone who gets in your way."

Cedwyn blushed. "Sorry about that. I uh..."

Argus shook his head and slapped his friend on the arm. "Don't apologize. You're good at what you do, and you get things done. And, well, you're a politician, which means you're a spoiled brat," Argus said with a wink.

"Too true. Do you have a few minutes before you have to go?" Cedwyn asked.

"A few." Argus started taking his seat, but Cedwyn stopped him.

"No no. Couches. And have a drink. I met this woman I'd love to tell you about..."