Chapter 19

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AN: So, I'll be away from my keyboard tomorrow and over the weekend... So you lucky guys get an early update today. Yay!

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Skye slowly pulled her jam on toast up, stuck it in her muzzle, took a bite and chewed.

Slowly.

Surely.

Working it with her teeth before swallowing it down and repeating the process. All while keeping a level gaze on the ram in front of them.

He just kept chewing his grass, calmly enough, taking a pause to look at the vegetarian breakfast burrito that Jack was enjoying. "Is that bell pepper in there?"

"Yeah! Guess you can smell it," the bunny said, smiling.

"No, my nasal capacity is significantly worse than yours," he said, carrying on to chew his grass. "I'm certain the fox currently subjecting me to microaggressions has boasted about her vast biological superiority in this one niche and generally unimportant area."

…

He carried on chewing, as did Skye.

Doug looked up again. "Is it redundant to say that's very off-putting?"

"I can say the same thing," she said, crossing her arms.

He carried on chewing, mumbling out through a full mouth. "But I'm not fixating you with a highly intimidating predatory gaze."

"No," she said, "it's more just your general presence."

The sheep's eyes widened. "You know, that's highly interesting," he said, turning to Jack. "I explain that that's how I feel about predators, and oddly enough it makes me the bad guy. But it seems maybe we do have something in common."

Skye just looked at him, tail giving a sweep behind her, before she was pulled off by the sound of a door opening. "Morning, colleagues," Lt Vixen said, walking in. "It seems you've been well fed, though I brought you all some special treats to start off the day on a nice note." She handed over a big coffee cup to Doug. "Soy latte, extra, extra, extra foam." Then to Jack. "A two hour martial arts and improvised weapons trainer video course for later."

One of his ears went askew. "That sounds like less of a treat than his."

She smiled, paws together. "It's personally narrated and directed by a foremost expert on the subject. A one Jackal Chan."

Jack's eyes widened and a stupendous grin grew on his face.

"And as for you, big Sis," she said, smiling. "Well, a certain something for later."

Doug turned to the swift fox. "You do understand she's just roping you along with familial guilt, right?"

Lt Vixen smiled. "Thank you for the opinion," she said, before pausing and pulling out some files. "In any case, we have a certain scent trail I think it'll be opportune for us to follow." With that she laid them out. "A high speed chase, late at night. Full of polar bears, as far as I know. But our reports about Elsa clearly state that they tend to favour wolves."

"Do any of you find it odd that all these involved mammals are ones with sharper teeth, or am I just stating the obvious," Doug said, taking a long and obnoxiously loud slurp of his drink.

"I can see how you got that doctorate, Doug," Skye snarked.

"Regardless," the red fox carried on. "We need to see if there was any lupine influence in this situation. Just keeping our paw-pad on the pulse, if you will. You two will be carrying on with training, Doug and I will be outside on reconnaissance. All good."

"I suppose," the sheep said. "Apart from the fact I'm being directed around by someone who I'm pretty sure is a manipulative sociopath."

"I think I'll find that I'm your manipulative sociopath," she smiled.

Skye's frown just increased further. "How can you put up with him?" she asked. "How can you think this is a good idea, you're playing with fire."

The red fox adjusted her glasses. "A little sense of humour goes a long way, dear sis," she said, glancing at Doug. "And as for playing with fire, I've had a lot of practice. I know to keep a safe distance where it matters."

"While I'm aware that you inherently can't change the way you are," Doug carried on. "It's a natural byproduct of your predator biology and social conditioning, indeed you are the most pure distilled essence of vulpine behaviour I have ever seen. I'd actually recommend you as a case study based on your manipulativeness and cunningness."

"Thanks for the compliment," she winked.

Doug nodded. "Just the same as how your sister is an ugly example of a passive-aggressive judgemental little bunny-abusing…" He broke off, eyes fearfully turning up. Jack and Skye's followed it up to see Lt Vixen giving the sheep a steely death glare, a small device held in her paws. Doug tugged on his shock collar and gulped, the red fox then slipping it away.

"Just because I tolerate what comes out of your mouth doesn't mean you can spew it over my sister or her boyfriend," she said. "Your idiosyncrasies are amusing, so are your personal insults towards me. Towards her, they aren't."

"Yes commander," he said, saluting. And with that, she waved him off.

"Jack, you have an appointment to make. We need you trained up," she said.

He saluted, and followed off after.

That left the two sisters, eyes met but silence between them. Finally, the red fox, pausing and closing her eyes, lines of frustration on her muzzle, spoke. "For your own sake, you should leave."

Skye stepped back, blinking. "What?"

"If you don't trust me fully on this, this won't work," the red fox vixen said. "That's not on you. It's understandable if you don't feel the same level of confidence I feel about myself. I've had practice, I have had experience, I can trust in myself but you never saw that going on. So I'm not blaming you when you don't believe I can handle Doug. It would be like you saying you can repair something vastly more complex than I can comprehend, me not knowing about you designing it beforepaw."

"I…" the swift fox began, only for a red paw to be put on her shoulder.

"Skye," Sweetie said, "Sister to sister, and without all the teasing and snark that we usually enjoy."

"We?" Skye said, managing a tiny smile.

The red fox vixen let a large one grow on her muzzle, tail coiling up for a second. "Trust is everything… Or in the case of Doug, a constant mistrust that you know and can manage. But I don't know where you lie, and I don't think you do too. And in such a case, that's just a danger to both of us. So take this win, you were right. You can go."

There was a long pause, Skye closing her eyes and shaking her head, walking away. Only to turn back again, arms folded. "Is this reverse psychology or something?"

"No," the vixen said, "this is mask-down, honest…"

"Ahhhh, ah ah ah!" Skye tutted, standing up with her finger out. "I see what you're doing here. Clever sister."

"In that case, as I said, I'm happy with you leaving."

"You think you can get rid of me that easily?" she smirked, paws on her hips.

For once, it was Lt Vixen who looked… confused. "But if it is reverse psychology and you don't want me to win, then you're…"

"Oh I can guess it's reverse psychology, and now that I know it is…"

"Which it isn't," she corrected.

"-You actually do want me to leave," Skye carried on. "So in that case I will actively stay, unless you're going to put your paw down and stop me."

"No…" she said, scratching her head. "This doesn't make sense…"

"Ah, of course you'd say that in this specific context," Skye carried on, brushing herself down. "In order to get the little win that you want. One that I'm not going to give you. So with that, off I go, I've got some training to do after all."

"I mean not really, I hadn't booked anything given how dangerously un-onboard you've been…"

"Well consider myself so onboard the ship goes down with me," Skye said, booping her sister's nose and heading off into the secret area of the safe house.

Lt Vixen looked on, her head tilting. "Is my sister trolling me… or is she just broken? How do I work with that?" She trailed off, looking into the mid-distance out of the window, scratching her head as time ticked by. In the end, shaking her head to try (and fail) to remove the very disconcerting feeling from her mind, she brought out a secure iPawd, scanned her eyes with the retina scanner, and checked the internal cameras. At this point, she half expected that her sister was simply trying to confuse her for the sake of confusion, and prepared herself in case she saw her dancing around the halls in a tu-tu.

What she saw was something far, far stranger.

…

Ping…

…

Ping…

…

Ping…

Three marks found themselves on the cut-outs of the targets, poking out from behind cover or making themselves small far away. A small figure darted across the floor, far off, and… Ping… The rat found itself we a silver dot attached to itself. Just like the rest of the targets, the centre mass or head had been left untouched, the marks instead finding themselves on exposed bits of skin. Paws, ears, tail.

And in each case, a second after landing, the sparking had begun.

Doug began reloading the specialist weapon, only to pause as the targets began rumbling again, and… BANG!

…

He turned to see Skye standing next to him, the vixen wearing goggles, ear mufflers, and holding a very real pistol in her paw.

A bunny with a suicide vest leapt from behind a wall, a bullet put through the top left of its chest before it could even make one step forward. Her ears tilting, she heard some movement and re-aimed, punching a hole through the torso of a bat flying up ahead. And finally, looking around, she twisted and fired three shots, two of them hitting the top of a sheep's head as he poked out from behind a wall, sniper rifle drawn in hoof.

Safety on, Skye put the gun down and levelled a glance at Doug.

The sheep's eyes narrowed and, crossing his hooves, he looked back at her. "Subtext noted," he said, before finishing reloading his own weapon.

"Interesting," she said, looking at it. "Let me guess, high discharge cells in parallel combined with a miniaturised AC inverter?"

"...And a burr based gripping system," he informed her, before pressing the button and letting the next round of fake enemies come at him.

"I presume that firing it involves an electromagnetic trigger or such that turns it on…" Skye carried on narrating, thinking for a second. "Maybe breaking a container full of electrolyte and letting it percolate down into a nanoscale matrix of metals. That way you'd get the sudden massive burst of energy you need all at once."

"Don't ask me, I didn't design it," he said, finishing his next set of shots. "Electrochemistry is for dorks anyway."

Skye responded by picking up a high tech looking tranq gun, smiling as she examined one of the darts. "Hmmm, radio system, communicator. Uses a pressure system to work out the targets size from their heart rate and not overdose them, and radio to ensure that if you get porcupined only one will inject." She placed it down and reloaded her gun, pressing for her own round to start. "Someone has gone to a lot of expense to make excellent weapons that don't kill," she said, before firing out a lethal shot.

Then another.

Then another.

"Part of my deal involved no lethal weapons," Doug responded. "Your sister seems to have interpreted that as a design challenge to outsource to the non-consenting mammals of the design bureau."

"Oh, as someone who likes to design stuff," she said, sneering a bit as a torso shot went wide and only grazed an arm. "Let me assure you that those kinds of challenges are what we live for. After all," she said, clicking out the magazine to check the bullet count, seeing that only one was left inside. She clicked it back in and carried on. "You are quite the challenge."

"If that's meant to be an insult it doesn't really work, even though I consider myself to have been very accommodating during all of this."

"No, no, not like that," Skye said. "The fact that you are an unknown, untrustworthy, dangerous mammal with few if any morals who believed he was perfectly justified in darting innocent men, women and even children and turning them into biological weapons against their will to use in your little terror campaign, all for some 'greater good' which I'm pretty sure you still see as a good idea."

He paused, looking at her for a second or two. "I mean, you act as if 'the ends justify the means' isn't a well explored subject."

Skye's eyes narrowed, as the sheep shrugged.

"Though to be fair, being a predator, a solitary predator on top, it's probably beyond your ability to comprehend it. But suffice to say I was only trying to make a lot of people a lot freer, happier and safer in the long run."

"And see mammals like me stuck in fear and misery."

"It's ten against one, so I see that as a healthy win overall."

"Well I'm sorry if I object…"

"-Which you should. Ten against one. Selfish."

"But given all that, you'd have to agree that my sister would have to put in a lot of safeguards to work with you in order to make sure you don't betray us, her, and everyone, all for the greater good."

"I suppose," he said, "though given that I'm working with her to take down mammals who are, on the account of it, far worser guys… It kind of checks out."

"But still, you might see an opening to go free, leave my sister for dead, and run off to pursue your greater good once more, and take it. Would you not? Or at least, try and work to get to that point."

He looked at her and then shrugged. "So what?"

"Do you know what the main difference between my sister and I is?"

"No," he said. "I don't really care either, family dynamics isn't really my thing. Reminds me of numerous uncharitable and cold thanksgiving meetups."

"When my sister sees a problem like you," she began, "she can't help but manage it. That's what she's good at, that's what she enjoys. She doesn't want the problem to go away or be solved, oh no, she wants it to stay. She even wants more problems to appear. So she can juggle them. Show off, challenge herself, keep them up in the air. And trust me, she's very good at juggling problems. And she can juggle them and manipulate them so it all works out for her, so they bend together and buckle, and instead of egg on her face she ends up with cracked and scrambled eggs in the pan ready to eat. She's done it before, she's doing it again."

"Yeeeaaaaahhhh… Textbook sociopath," Doug commented.

"And then there's me," Skye carried on, checking her gun. "When I see a problem, my aim is simple and laser focussed. How to solve it. How to remove it. How to destroy it and make sure it no longer exists and no longer has the mere potential to cause problems in as short a time, and with the least effort, as is mammalianly possible." She turned, eyes narrowing as she looked over Doug, gun gripped tight in her paws. "And you, as we've established, are the biggest problem I've faced. Even if I leave, you still exist and still pose a threat to Jack, my sister, and probably every predator everywhere. And so the question is simple, how do I solve the problem called Doug Ramses as quickly and easily as possible."

BANG!

She glanced over, spotting the hole in the kidney area of the target. She checked her gun was empty, put it down and began taking off her gear. "Hmmm, very out of practice. I guess I'll be coming here a lot." She turned, patting Doug on the shoulder as she went. "See you around, Doug Ramses PHD."

"You understand that I understand the subtext there?"

"Do you, Doug?" she asked, slipping out the door. "Do you?" And with that she was gone.

…

Lt Vixen pulled down her Ipawd and acted casual. Annoyingly, sound wasn't something she had installed as part of this system, though Doug's monitors did include a microphone. She'd ask the tech mammals about filling her in, after…

"Still wanting to be in this thing as you don't want to be in this thing so you do?" the red fox asked, as her sister walked back.

"About the sum of it."

"You're enjoying this."

"Yes," she said, flashing a bit of sass. "Now you know how I feel."

"Hmmmmm," the red fox mused, as she pulled up her tail to fiddle with the end. "I gathered that might be your intention. Complete with collaborating with your woolly enemy."

"About that," Skye said. "Could I have a look on all your files about Doug. Information, background, etcetera."

"Oh," Lt Vixen said, scratching her head. It almost titled over to the side, but she forced it to stay upright. "Well… Normally, data protection would stop that, but based on his deal any members of the team can…"

"So yes."

There was a pause. "If you insist!" she chirped, walking off.

Skye smirked as she saw her go, before bringing up her phone and dialling in. Finding a private place to sit down, she smiled as it went through. "Hi Honey, it's Skye!" There was a pause. "No, no, something new has come up, and given your background and history I think you could be a very big help."

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Skirting past the ticket checkpoint with sirens blaring, Judy drove along the edge of the massed parking lots, lines of cars and trucks there in their queues. Ones that the bunny and her vehicle were going to skip right ahead of, as they turned right to drive along the quayside, fast approaching a looming catamaran. Sleek, low slung, it fittingly reminded all four occupants of the police vehicle of a kangaroo, mid-hop. The pontoons down in the water held up the superstructure above on two sets of columns. One, smaller, thin and angled back, were close to the front, like a macropods arms. The main supports though, in the centre, were thick and heavy likes one's legs. All supported a long car deck and passenger deck that spanned from the tip of the bow to the long tail like stern, currently docked to the boat ramp.

The silhouette was completed by the small raised area near the front for the ships bridge, and the hump of the two funnels in the centre above the main supports. The head of the roo and the centre of its body.

"They've even got a little pouch thing hanging in between the legs," Nick noted, as they rose up the ramp and turned left, driving onto the open end of the car deck, and immediately pulling up into a space.

Pulling the handbrake, Judy glanced back at him, arms crossed and an eyebrow raised. "Let me guess, is there a little catamaran stored in there?"

"No," Nick said, matter of factly. "It's the engine room. Don't be silly, Carrots."

She rolled her eyes and opened up her door, Nick doing the same, but not before opening up one of the pockets on his shirt and looking inside. "You two good?"

"Yes," Dave replied, looking up.

"Though it is a bit tight," Basil noted, squirming up.

"I don't think that's quite the negative you're making it out to be," his husband replied with a smirk, as Nick crossed a paw.

"One, get a room. Two, my pocket isn't a room. Three, should I get anything else for there. Radio, aircon, mood lighting…?"

"We're good," they chirped, looking up.

"Uh-hu," Nick agreed, as Judy locked up and they began moving towards some stairs up to the passenger cabin. Already the rear barrier was closed and with a rumble the boat was leaving for its half an hour dash over to outback island. The fox, taking in a breath of salty air through his nose, flicked his phone open and dialled up the contact known as 'BBBBB'

"Wilde, are you on the boat?" Bogo's voice immediately cut through.

The fox, smiling, immediately put on his 'best' Shane McGrowlen impersonation and doubled down on his ear assault by breaking into song. "In Outback Island I was born. Heave-away, haul away. In Outback Island, 'round your horn! -we're bound for Outback Island. OOOOHHH…"

"I get the picture!" Bogo cut in. "And next time you're up for promotion I'll make sure to put in a no singing clause."

"Awww," the fox mocked. "Even at the Kitmas party."

"Especially at the Kitmas party."

"Oh come on, last year wasn't that bad."

"... Last year?"

Nick shrugged. "Well, I guess you were drunk for most of it."

There was a long pause. "...You son of a vixen! Why did you make me remember that!?"

His eyes narrowed. "Just because…"

"-You did that to one of Gazelle's songs means I'm going to get that clause in come hell or high water."

"Think I'm going to beat you there," Nick said, "Crazy temperature, full of devils, seems like I've got you beat."

"Well," he grunted, "that's the main thing. They said they wouldn't hold that boat forever, and even though the next one is only in an hour, I want you and the detectives dealing with this as soon as is mammalianly possible."

"Then why didn't you fly us across in the helicopter?"

"...Wilde," he said, voice almost blank. Nick's ears went back. "The ZPD used to have a long tradition of sending mammals who got on our bad side to Outback Island. I could always not bring you back."

"Don't worry," Nick said, "we'll get this job done and be back home lickety split. Maybe even see if Carmelita has caught her bear."

"Yes," he said, sighing. "Annoying timing, but I support her decision. Hopefully she and a few mammals from there can sort this out for us. And hopefully you two with your experience can do the same. Now get out of my earshot."

"Yes sir," Nick said, as he hung up.

And with that, he and Judy walked up the steps and into the crowded cruise lounge. Filled with multiple seats, various mammals, many marsupials, many not, were sitting back, taking some time to do some reading, or eating snacks from the dispensers. With little to no data sent about the case, they couldn't use the time to catch up, so instead just rested back as they watched the water begin to fly past. Judy's nose began to twitch, especially as she looked around, her eyes resting on a small info-screen, showing them cruising at sixty-eight miles per hour. "Carrot sticks," Judy said. "That's… fast."

Nick looked up and nodded. "Yeah," he said. "What's really crazy is that's probably faster than the hovercraft they used to use for the passenger only journey. I remember going on them as a kit when holidaying out here once." He chuckled. "And if you think 'the big ones' they still use in the marshlands to carry half a dozen trucks over waterways and reedbeds are big, they have nothing compared to the old boys."

"Uh-hu," Judy mumbled.

"Of course," Dave said, popping out of Nick's shirt pocket, "magnificent as they were, the SR Z4's had a critical flaw that meant, once these boats were being built, the days of hovercraft running the outback route would end with them."

"I guess problems in high seas, or…" Judy began, only to cut off as Dave shook his head. He instead pointed down to a small stand, with an info brochure about the boat service and the ship they were on.

The bunny picked it up and began reading it. "Following thirty years of previous experience running high-speed ferries, twenty-fifteen saw the newest and world record holding fastest introduced on the Outback link. Powered by two natural gas burning jet turbines, the three boats of the Z-O class were built by the world leaders in the technology, Speed-cat, at their shipyards in Hoofbart, Tasmania-Laguntrawita…"

"And there it is," the three guys chorussed together.

Judy put the thing back. "Are Outbackers really that predictable?"

"Forgive me if I'm wrong Officer Pot," Basil said. "But don't you bunnies have a weekend long festival called 'Carrot days'?"

"Yes, but…"

"And many of your institutional and private buildings have a carrot style inbuilt into them wherever possible."

"Well…"

"And isn't carrot print entirely in existence due to the demand of one major demographic…"

She crossed her arms, tapping her foot.

Nick smirked at the sight and turned down to the mice. "Quick question chaps, what's your favourite cake?"

"Cheesecake," they both replied, before realising they had just been got.

"Good fox," Judy said, looking up to him. "I'll buy you some blueberries."

…

"Dammit," she mumbled, as Nick's grin only increased. "Stupid smug foxy."

His smugness increased a notch or two, as she tapped her fingers and looked around. "Okay, okay, but I mean if that company is the world leader in this kind of boat, it's pretty obvious they'd choose it, right?"

"Yes," Nick began, "but that still doesn't change the fact the Outback Island is like the Falklands. One is more British than Britain, the other is more Australian than Australia. And I mean it, literally. I bet you a nickel that if you play 'Land Down Under' through a PA system or something, they'll stand up and salute."

"Ha, ha," Judy waved off.

"Question." Basil asked. "Have you wondered why a mammal could be found with nighthowlers in his locker at school, during the summer holidays?"

She paused. "I… uh…"

"Their holidays don't start on the island until next week," Dave filled in. "They have shorter summer holidays and longer winter ones, so both are the same size. Or, more to the point, the winter ones better fit in with the long Australian summer ones, allowing more mammals to fly back for long breaks."

Crossing her paws, the bunny rolled her eyes. "That doesn't sound that dumb. Might even be a bit clever, who knows." She paused for a second. "Though now that I think of it, how come Zootopia even has an 'Outback Island'. Couldn't you just… you know, divide the species up between the climate districts?"

"Ah, fluff," Nick said, "let me introduce to you the fun world of loopholes, international politics, and using the political system to screw over the lives of the vast bulk of mammals. You know how Zootopia was set up as an independent state, seeing as it was on a really useful but also a bit awkward bit of land that both Mexigat, the States, and British Canidea really wanted… or rather didn't want any of the others to have?"

"Yes…" she said.

"Well," Nick continued, "a war to the south and an agreement to the north quickly meant that only one country was on, or anywhere close, to our border. So, most new mammals were coming in from there. And, as part of the agreement for setting Zootopia up, after a certain period of time they'd be able to vote to join any of these countries. And, as that date came up, guess which country had the most immigrants settling in the big Z."

"I can see where this is going," Judy said.

"Uh-hu," Nick agreed, "it was never anything official. After all, part of the agreement said that none of these countries could import people straight to Zootopia from their homeland. But, if a guy from out west decided to up sticks, well there isn't anything stopping them. Something a large number of British and Mexigat sympathisers still in power noted. They saw that in twenty or so years the limit would run out, the articles for the vote would eventually be triggered, and Zootopia would drop the city from city state and be its own little star on that spangled banner. Something they just didn't want happening, simply out of the principle of it."

"So," Judy followed on. "They found a loophole and imported a bunch of super Australian mammals here who'd vote no."

"Almost," Nick said, finger up. "But not quite. They did that, and with a bunch of other mammals from across their empires. Those schemes are why we've just got so many wild and varied species in the city. But with the Aussies, it also helped that not too long ago a lot of them had come over to Califurnia on hearing that there were gold in them there hills. Spoiler, there was! But it soon ran out, and the locals weren't exactly nice to the large numbers of unemployed pouched mammals lying around their cities. Or in the case of dingos, the city we now know as San Dingo. Heck, the term kangaroo court actually comes from all this and, spoiler, contrary to the popular image, those roos weren't the ones holding the little hammer."

"So they told them that they could have their own little homeland out here, right?" she asked.

He smiled and nodded. "Right. A large island that just happened to have some very rich metal deposits that needed mine workers, and those clever clogs trying to play the sneaky game were able to have it pre-declared as its own autonomous district while still empty. Those looking forward to a unification vote, and who'd agreed to this, had just happily assumed that it would be filled with a normal mix of mammals like everywhere else who'd vote in their favour when the time came. Fun spoiler, but a few clever mammals in charge of its development encouraged it to fill up with mammals who had a less than stellar opinion of the States, and would then tell all the new guys arriving about their less than stellar opinion. They got the snowball rolling, and before anyone knew it it was an avalanche that would firmly vote no when the time came."

"And let me guess," the bunny said. "There was some dumb voting rule where all districts had to agree with it."

"Fun fact Judy. There was a dumb voting rule that meant if deciding to join a different country, all districts had to agree to it. And just one could veto it for everyone. You could change that by changing the constitution, but that needs a lot of mammals everywhere, and more than would want this anyway. So, despite around sixty-percent of the population voting yes when the time came, this little island out here kept Zootopia its own thing until pretty much everyone decided they liked it that way. The end."

"Are you sure these are marsupials we're going to see, and not foxes in suits with springs on their legs?" Judy asked.

Nick waved her off. "Ha-ha, thankfully not. Nope, it's as I said, we will soon be entering 'Australia: the parody'." He looked down to her utility belt. "Hope you've been practising your boomerang arm."

She crossed hers. "Nick, what happened to the fox who thought speciesism was 'super bad?'"

"He's making fun of a culture that actively invites it. I mean, check out an information booth. Be my guest."

He waved off to one nearby, Judy going in and drawing the curtains behind her. Pressing the screen, she was met with a bunch of options, hovering over an overlay of the island. It was a long rectangle that then bent upwards at one end, into a large mountain rising up out of the sea. Three quarters along the rectangle ran the 'Outback wall', a prototype for the climate systems running in Zootopia proper. Drawing in most of the heat from the seawater rather than air, it blasted a dry heat to the left and along the majority of the island. Near it was sandy desert, then large red outback with sparse trees and large rounded sandstone hills, large areas carved up by huge open mining pits. This soon gave way to far more temperate wood and grassland, ending in a smallish hill covered island on the far end, linked to the rest by a bridge and apparently home to 'Taz-town'. On the other side of the wall, warm humid air was blown, that corner completely covered with rainforest, some of it climbing up the mountain. However, at the top of the peak was a satellite chiller, linked to the main wall and supplying some of the heat. It blew out the resulting cold in all directions, leading to the snowy peak of 'New Phalanck Gerya' and the odd mix of climate areas going down it and into the rainforest below.

All the different areas had one thing in common, they were almost entirely uninhabited, the residents instead living on a thin strip of land along the entire nearside coast, thick with skyscrapers right by the water and lowering down into suburbia behind that. All linked by the same long motorway and metro line travelling from one end of the island to the other, with just one diversion, a spur leading to the ferry port.

On top of all that were info signs pointing her to touristy areas. Bilby Beach, the Museum of the Climate Works, the Museum of Outback Island, the Museum of Mining and Industry. "Okay…" she said, scrolling through the lists. "Nothing ridiculous at all." She paused at Taz-town, reading about tours of the old 'Van Devil's Land' Penitentiary, formerly the place where the city as a whole held the worst of the worst, stuck on a remote island in a remote bay of an island off an island. Back to the densest part of the urban strip, about two thirds of the way to the left and bordered on the back by eucalyptus woodland, was 'Dunnart-Dale', their answer to Little Rodentia. Nearby was… Her ears went down as she saw the information for the 'Devil Facial Disease Memorial' clicking off it.

"Okay," she chirped. "Completely not a stereotype."

She was about to leave, only to pause as she saw a new pop up. 'Only one week to Outback Day! Learn about it here, with the ten year running winner of the 'Make an Outback Day video' competition, as chosen by Outbacker's themselves.

Shrugging, she pressed it and watched as the screen went black, the music to 'Advance Outback Fair' began playing, rising up in a proud orchestral swell, and a title in white appeared.

'A patriotic message for Outbackers.'

It switched to a silhouette kangaroo against the setting sun, bouncing along a beach, the red title above reading 'Outback Day'. And then, in a solid accent, the narrator began, the images changing to relevant pictures (such as a glass of Outback Bitter or rusted out truck) as he went. "Hey Inters, listen up. It's outback day. Cussin… district pride ya cuss, have it in ya. Know I'm gonnoo. Get some mates, case of OB, get mi' howlden with my mates and mi' OB. Gonna get some cussin plastic flags, crazy clarks, gonna stick 'em out the windows of mi Howlden! Gonna leave 'em there till cussin' October. Outback day, cussin' host, look at this inter!"

It switched to a picture of a hippo.

"He isn't Outback… He's... cussin... I dunno! Outback day! Get out mi' district. I'm gonna beat up this inter."

And then to some massive drumsticks. "Eat emu! I dunno why… It's cussin' district pride, don't ask questions. Just roll out the barbie and fry those cusses till they turn black. Get some flags, put them on ya, hang out with a… cussin koala. Outback day! Greatest district in cussin world ya prick."

And then it switched to a picture of some pandas. "Get out mi' district." Then some partying striped hyenas. "Get out mi' district." And then another glass of Outback Bitter beer.

"Gonna cussin' glass some cusses. Gonna get a glass, smash it on some inter, I don't give a cuss. Outback day. Don't cussin overtake me, double centre line. Scratch mi' Howlden, I'll cussin cut ya! Crack open mi OB, fire up the barbie, watch some cussin' telly…"

...

"Footies on. What's the score…"

…

"Ten nill!? Cuss off!"

It flicked over to a picture of an ibex. "Oi! Get out mi' district! It's full. -Still got mi kitsco hamper, still half full. Cuss! I oughta go to Saharra Square! Outback day! Cuss Outback, spend Outback day in Saharra Square! Just as long as they don't come here!"

And then a picture of a tiger. "Oi, get out mi district, inter! Cussin'... our tigers are cooler! Got mi wallabies, got mi dingo, not goin' to work tomorrow cuss that gonna get smashed, beat some cussin' plassies, get cussed up! District pride! Hey, don't be un-outback, crank up the triple J top 100, pick up chicks, put em in my howlden' I don't give a cuss! Go out inta town, wear mi' cussin good shirt, pop the collar. Outback day! Cussin' celebrate ya inter!"

And then, as the music reached its end and faded, a proud titled card finished the video off.

'Outback Day'

Cussin' Celebrate ya inter.

Stepping back, nose twitching, Judy gently pulled back the curtain, finding herself nose to nose with a radiatingly smug fox.

She drew the curtains back.