WILD THING

Voigt sat at his desk, reading Wally's report and comparing them with the readouts from from the operation room, as well as the report from the Warder. He glanced at the new kid's report and rolled his eyes. 4O or so words and almost half of them misspelled.

Wuzwolf stayed a wolf all nite. Worr awig over his willy.

He let me win a fu times, but lerns alitte more bout choozing forms n pivot point.

He wont eben do it on the downlow, he is so married. Youse gonna have to buy me a whore, i'm so full of the the stuff.

Voigt sighed. He pressed a button on his desk, a good old fashion intercom. "May, please have Chester report to my office." There were almost a thousand people on his base; but there were a few he would ask for by a first name.

"Yes sir." a woman's voice answered. "I have a call from a secured party in NYC, on line three."

"I'll take it," he answered. Wally had mentioned in his report that Yankee Poodle had called him last night about the same time Voigt had been talking with the ancient SuperRabbit. The whole Zoo Crew was a loose affiliation with the Lapine nominally in charge. Voigt was in charge of disposing or securing of weapons and monsters under military commission. Pig Iron and the Lycanthrope were his direct responsibility by governmental mandate.

Capital Hill took that to mean the Zoo Crew worked under him.

Captain Carrot took that to mean that Voigt worked for him.

Luckily, he worked with very little oversight in either case.

"General Voight here. We're on a secured line."

"Thad, this is Alley-Kat Dabrah." A female voice came down the line and not a single bit of electronic scrambling reduced the magic sparkling in her silky voice.

"I know," he said. Her voice reminded him of spring time, fresh linen, and lying naked in the sun. Although, he'd never been attracted to women outside of his ownspecies, the witch had talents and attractions that went beyond merely a good fit. She had a bad fit good. Magic was the least of it, although that was part of it. "What can I do for you?"

She laughed. "I'd tell you, but Hoppy's in the room."

He had to laugh at that. He knew they'd never have sex again; but it was nice being teased. Even if it was likely insincere. "Seriously, I only hear from you when you want something and Captain Carrot doesn't know how to ask for it. Spill, I'm a busy man with too many weirdlings running about like headless chickens." He really did not want to rush her, but neither did her really want to linger on the fun like some lovestruck teenager. She could easily, too easily, wrap a man around her finger.

That made him think of his problem child. She could be a good influence on Chester.

"Well, Yankee Doodle is off to look into the Oil Rig Survivors," she said as if Voigt might know. He didn't have more than an inkling from the Wolf's report; but he knew she wouldn't be looking for the Golem. Until they knew how Tarkas has defeated the Pig Iron, none of them should be going up against the Eco-terrorist. And Yankee Poodle was a pretty smart cookie.

"I'll send Little Cheese out there tonight." Voigt said decisively. "WuzWolf needs to be with his patient 24/7 until he's back on his feet. He can replace YP and give the wolf some rest."

There was a puzzled pause on the other end of the phone that he took to mean that he has surprised the Witch.

That pleased him greatly.

"I hope you don't mind, but he could use some field work and some practical stealth experience...you're still looking into realigning the mystic tipping points and not nabbing bank robbers, right?"

There was a verbal murmur of agreement.

"Good, because I'm this close to shooting him in the forehead and I figure you can deal with him for awhile." Voigt smiled as he imagined the cat looking confused and realized she had called with the plan of asking to have Chester on loan for a few days. Maybe weeks.

"If you could train him until the End of May," Voigt said airily, enjoying his slightly cruel streak, "I would great appreciate it. Hell, I would appreciate it if you could teach him how to write a simple report."

"Reports?"

"Well, unlike some people, he can't ensconce a fairy or sprite to write his report for him."

"It's a magic quill," she said huffily, "But I take your point."

"I'm sorry," Voigt said, "You called me. How can I help you?"

He could almost feel her glaring through the phone.