Wait For No One - Chapter 8 - The Tide Turns
#8 of FOX Academy 4 - Wait For No One
FOX Academy** :**
Book I - The New Breed
Book II - The Werewolf of Odessa
Book II.5 - The Love Who Spied Me
Book III - The Curse of the Yellow Monkey
Book IV - Wait For No One
Chapter 8 - The Tide Turns
Bardo Gaya-Dari looked up at the large electronic clock mounted in the Project operations room. It was almost four pm Greenwich Mean Time, just coming up on nine am locally and all was going well. The control measures, legal as well as illicit, were functioning well. The flow in the pipes, culverts, canals, channels and ditches was within the estimates. Everything was set to come together at three pm GMT the next day, eight am Saskatchewan time, and in another couple of hours it would be irreversible.
Gaya-Dari wanted to be right here for the 'Big Spill' as he liked to call it. That meant getting some rest, because he had been awake almost forty-eight hours already. But all the final preparations were made, and the tiresome issue of the security officer had been dealt with. Or had it? If she was still alive she sould be nearing the labyrinth's exit in another hour or so. He would dearly love to be the one to dispatch her there.
The platypus did a quick time estimate. He typically got by on six hours of sleep or less, and even in his current weary state eight hours would refresh him nicely. That meant that he had about twelve hours to kill. He chuckled at his own pun. I have been working too hard, he thought, I could use a little break.
Before leaving the operations room Gaya-Dari picked up one of the Project radios from the rack by the door. The storm was interfering with cell phone communications, which were intermittent out here at the best of times. But he had created a digital radio network as part of his computerized control system, and there were enough of his private towers around the hunting grounds to ensure good communications. As long as the central processor kept running he would never be out of contact or control. He switched on the radio and confirmed that the set was functioning properly. Then he left.
Fifteen minutes later one of the technicians noticed something strange. A large number of control commands were being sent out all at once. The computer was designed to react to the feedback signals and adjust the controls automatically, so some commands were always being processed, but an adjustment of this scale could indicate a system-wide failure. But none of the alarms had gone off, so rather than shut the system down immediately he started to run a diagnostic program. By then it was already too late.
Immediately after the new commands were issued the data bomb went off. It flooded the processor with self-replicating code that would take days, weeks even, to sort out. Behind the screen of electronic activity Kain's code closed the command channel and reset all of the access codes. Now only someone who understood the entire system, and who also knew the emergency security passwords, could change them back. And the only creature that fit that description was in a car on his way to the hunting grounds.
The lead technician grabbed his radio and keyed the switch. He should have heard the soft hiss of an open channel, but he heard nothing. He tried calling Gaya-Dari anyways, but it was obvious that the signal was not being processed. Calls on the security channel likewise failed. Suddenly he realised why any further attempts were futile, the same processor that was locked up trying to deal with the bogus data was the one that handled the radio network.
"Quick." he shouted at one the junior technicians, one that happened to own a fast car. "Go after the boss and bring him back here. We need him to unlock the processor."
"No can do chief." His subordinate answered in a worried voice. "We can't swipe out. The locks are controlled by the same system."
The senior technicians shock his head miserably. "Then we better figure this mess out before he gets back. Otherwise he will skin us alive and make a rug of our hides."
* * * * * * * *
From the Appalachians to the Rockies, from the Arctic Circle to the Gulf of Mexico, things were happening quickly.
Bill Hanlan's calculations had taken a lot of things into account: population density, the value of the industries and resources, how a sudden influx of water would affect either. But at first there had been no acceptable solution. Hanlan soon realized that was because the program was only using existing drains and portals to redistribute the water. But large amounts of it needed to be stopped well before reaching those holes. The solution, he realized, was to make new holes, and what better to use than the force of the water itself.
A quick recalculation had produced satisfying results in the simulation. In real life, the results were spectacular.
Valves closed, drains were plugged and pumps whined as they went into reverse. Along several thousand kilometres of pipeline and underground conduit the pressure suddenly increased. The build-up was calculated, the distribution deliberate. When they went, they went everywhere at once. Fountains of water shot into the air in Wisconsin. Artificial geysers erupted in Colorado. New rivers ripped through the ground in Kentucky.
There were casualties. A farmer in Nebraska was in the middle of a low field that would hold enough water to save Fremont from flooding was drowned in the enclosed compartment of his John Deere. A half-stoned sentry at a marijuana grow-op hidden in the Gatineau Hills decided to investigate a rumbling noise and was blasted into a whole new dimension when twenty four million litres of pent-up water blew out the side of the escarpment. But the fatalities were far fewer than one might think. Just before the waters came, the old civil defence system had gone off unexpectedly. Sirens wailed, electronic church bells rang, television and radio shows in the affected areas were replaced by a toneless voice advising everyone that this was not a test, and to tune to the emergency broadcast channel. Only the citizens in their fifties and older knew what the voice was talking about, but to their frustration discovered that the new fangled digital radios did not indicate where the civil defence channels were, or if they even still existed.
Whether they recognized the signal or not, the populations of isolated towns and cities poured into the streets, and thereby most of them saw the water rushing down the mountainside, racing up the valley, or creeping across the prairie towards them. The majority were able to flee, and many more made it to the roofs in time to survive. Those that did blessed the accident that had tripped the alarms just in time.
"Nice touch." Kain noted with admiration as the story repeated itself on dozens of local news feeds brought into the Ops Centre by satellite.
"Thanks." Geno replied. "But you didn't think I was spending my time playing with myself did you?"
An image flashed though Kain's brain, and just as quickly was routed down to another organ. He forced himself to concentrate on the news of the sporadic flooding that was occurring across the country.
I really need to get away and see Cass, he thought.
* * * * * * * *
It was hard to estimate the time. Dongo's watch had been destroyed in the leap from the truck and the clouds were still too thick to make out the sun. He figured that it must be getting on toward noon because his stomach was rumbling so. He had tried to eat some of the cookies Gus's spouse had baked but quit after chipping a fang. Even soaking them in the artificial lake for twenty minutes did not soften them. At least the weather seemed to be lifting.
The stalking game had continued along the top of the dike that surrounded the hunting grounds. But now it was the alligator Micco Holata chasing him.
At first Dongo had headed south simply in hopes of finding a homestead outside the dike area that might have a phone. Then he had seen the alligator up ahead on the bank, too exhausted to swim further. Dongo had attempted to sneak up on him. Maybe he could suffocate him by shoving the bag of cookies down his reptilian throat. Unfortunately the ground was too open for even a trained sniper to cross unnoticed and the gator had slipped back into the water and escaped.
Holata kept ahead of him, also heading south, but why Dongo did not know. Maybe he thought that the FOX agent still had his gun. Dongo did nothing to indicate otherwise, but an unfortunate incident gave him away. He came upon the gator unexpectedly and was caught with his empty paws in the open. Since then Holata had grown bolder, and must have figured out that his opponent was unarmed by now. Dongo was using all of his skill to keep moving forward unseen, desperately hoping that something, or someone, would turn up that would help him.
He had come within sight of the south-west corner of the large square that contained the hunting grounds. There was a landing there, and a ramp leading up from the highway for vehicles. A small boat was pulled up on shore. There were no cars parked there, but there was a hut with a line running to the nearest utility pole. Maybe there was a phone in there, Dongo wondered.
Now that the light was better and the rain had stopped he could make out something in the water, a narrow trail just above the waterline. It ran from the landing to a small node of land a few hundred metres away, there it branched and continued onwards to other nodes, with more trails leading off from some of them Others were dead ends. Like a maze, he thought.
Dongo had not seen any sign of the alligator for a while. Maybe he had lost Holata. Maybe the gator was waiting inside the hut. Even though there was no cover at all beyond the bush he was hidden in, Dongo had to risk it. He needed to report what he knew and what he suspected. A rescue team had to be sent into the Project headquarters to find Vikki as soon as possible.
Dongo broke cover and headed for the corner, keeping to the high ground on top of the dike even though he would silhouetted. It was the only safe area should the gator erupt from the water again. From here he could roll downhill into the dense brush on the highway side and try to work his way around, but for now speed was of the essence. He kept a close eye on the water, looking for the first ripple or bubble that would signal an attack.
Halfway to the hut he froze. There had been no sign of the gator nearby, but something moving on the trail had caught his eye. It was nearly the same colour as the reddish brown soil of these parts was approaching the last node of land before the exit. It stood erect when it reached the centre of the node and only then did Dongo recognize Vikki. He could hardly believe his eye. He lifted the patch from the overdeveloped, but easily tired, right eye and confirmed what he thought he saw. The tall, slim vixen was naked, except for some kind of barbarian warrior harness they had dressed her in. She had a dagger in her right paw, and some sort of flail in her left. What perverted game were they forcing her to play?
His fascination with the scene cost him his arm.
Despite his exhaustion Micco Holata had hidden in the brush on the dry side of the dike and waited patiently for the fox to appear. As Dongo stood with his back to the highway the alligator gathered his strength and duplicated his earlier feat by racing up the steep slope in less than five seconds. He spread his jaws wide and leapt as he reached the crest, aiming for the fox's fleshy right arm. He snapped his jaws shut with all his remaining force when he sensed that he had the target in range.
Dongo was alerted by the clatter of pebbles knocked lose by the alligator's scramble up the side of the dike. Realizing his error he spun on his heels. His left arm was now where his right had been an instant before, and the gator hit it with his full weight behind him. His jaws closed on the metal appendage, momentarily overloading the sensors and sending a shock through Dongo. Then the force of the strike and the reptile's weight pulled the arm from his shoulder, snapping the harness. Dongo was knocked to the ground by the force. He slapped at his pockets, desperately seeking a weapon, but the tools were too small to damage the gator, and the cookies did not look like a good option at the moment. He struggled to his feet.
Holata stood and opened his mouth. The metal arm dropped to the soft ground with a dull thud. Dongo could see the dents the gator's teeth had made in it. Holata stepped over the arm and advanced on the helpless fox. "This ends now." He snarled, and then he leapt.
Dongo did not have too many moves left in him, but desperation gave him strength and agility. He managed to duck and roll under the gator, narrowly avoiding the ivory claws and the flailing tail. He came to rest half reclining, his remaining arm behind him, facing back to where the alligator was just gathering for one last leap. He felt something hard and smooth under his paw, it was his artificial arm. If only it was attached, he would wrap it around the gator's snout and squeeze until his neck broke. He would put him in a half-nelson from hell. Then he would reach down the reptile's throat and grab his balls from the inside and ... wait a second.
Holata leapt. Three hundred pounds of scaly green and grey arced through the air and came down on the hapless fox, teeth first. His jaws were stretched as wide as they could go, the powerful muscles that could bring them together hard enough to snap a tree truck were straining. A roar that could scare the dead issued from the black hole in the centre, and death came down.
The sheer force of the huge reptile should have driven Dongo halfway down that throat. And ir would have, had he not brought his metal arm around and, holding like a spear at the end of his outstretched right arm, aimed it at the bellowing hole. The metal fist went in without touching the rim, and the forward momentum of the gator did the rest. Holata tried to open is jaws even wider to avoid chocking so his mouth was open almost one hundred and eighty degrees when he hit the ground.
Dongo saw two white eyes approaching fast, wide with pain and shock, before the air was knocked out of him. He was knocked flat and lost his grip on the metal arm in the last instant, and that probably saved his life. Holata passed over Dongo to crash face first on the ground, driving the metal arm down his gullet and blocking the air passage like a cork in a wine bottle. Holata thrashed and clawed at his neck but the arm was wedged in good and solid. He hooked one paw into the remnants of the shoulder harness and started to pull the appendage out, his eyes fluttering as he reached the limit of his oxygen.
Dongo scrambled to his feet and stamped on the paw that was pulling his arm out. When it released the strap he brought his foot down on the gator's nose to seal the jaws and prevent him from spitting the arm out.
"This ends now." He advised Holata.
The alligator's eyes bulged once as he gagged, then they fluttered and closed. Holata seemed to deflate, and Dongo smelled the evidence of his passing as his sphincter let lose at the moment of his death. Evidently Holata had not had time for a potty break in a while.
Dongo pried the slack jaws open by standing on the lower jaw and pulling on the upper one with his good arm. When it was open he pulled on the broken strap and inched the metal arm out. It was an expensive and unique piece of machinery, and he didn't want to lose it. Maybe if it wasn't too damaged he could use it until they built him a new one. It came loose with a pop and Dongo, too weak to continue for the moment, sat down with it on his lap.
He pulled out the tool kit and selected a small flat tipped screwdriver. He used it to probe the inner workings of the robotic arm. Two digits were jammed. The elbow was locked and it could not bend. But battery power was good and all the electronic seemed to working fine, including the short-range locator beacon, but another agent would have to be within a few dozen kilometres to pick up on its weak signal. Even Rusty's aiming stabilizer was okay. Dongo sighted along the arm, pointing to the node of land where he had seen Vikki standing. What he saw startled him so much he accidently activated the stabilizer.
Vikki was grappling with a tall, muscular platypus that was wearing nothing more than swimming trunks. She was trying to stab him with the dagger while he concentrated on keeping her bionic paw away from his throat. He was trying to kick her, or rub his ankles on her. What was up with that?
Dongo stood. He turned to run toward the landing, where the trail started, but his arm jerked him back around as the gyroscopes and servos in the stabilizer pulled it back to point to the node where Vikki had just broken free from her duck-billed attacker. She and the platypus were looking at Dongo. No, he realized, not at him, past him. Keeping the arm pointed her way he twisted his body and turned his head to see what they were looking at.
The horizon had gone dark, with a thin undulating line of white on its upper edge. It took him a moment to realize what he was seeing. This was the prairies after all, the last place one expected to see a tidal wave. Dongo did not have a lot of experience estimating these things, but it sure looked like it was higher than the dike he was standing on, a lot higher.
There was no sense in running. He heard a splash and looked around to see that Vikki was now alone on the knob of land. She was on her knees, her head down. Dongo turned back to watch his approaching fate with morbid fascination.
The wave was close enough to see the foamy water falling off the leading edge. He could hear the roar and fell the air being pushed ahead of it now. It seemed to be getting lower as it approached, but maybe that was just because the perspective was changing. Dongo estimated that the crest would still be above his head, and it was moving faster than the gator had. It was going to hit hard, really hard.
Then Dongo saw something that made him rub his eyes and blink, doubting his own vision. But when he looked again the apparition was still there. There was only one thing he could think to do. Tucking his metal arm, still pointing steadfastly at Vikki, under his good arm he lifted his paw to shoulder level and stuck out his thumb as the wall of water closed in on him.
* * * * * * * *
Marcel was getting impatient. The C-17 had arrived in the target area over an hour ago but the storm below was too dangerous for them to descend. Marcel was not an expert parachutist and would need to see his target in order to land anywhere near it. Still, he had donned the parachute and the special gear they had brought so to be ready at a moment's notice should a window appear in the weather. As it approached noon he thought that he could see just such a break in the cloud cover moving their way.
The door to the rear cargo compartment opened and the co-pilot, Captain Beight appeared. Marcel was sure that she had come to tell them the good news about the weather, so he was doubly disappointed when she announced that they were turning back to Ottawa.
"We just received an emergency recall notice, boys." She said with a shrug. "Looks like the mission is cancelled."
"No." Marcel exclaimed. "We can't turn back now. The clouds are just about to break."
"Let me handle this Marcel." Joel took the Air Force muskrat by the arm and led her to the opposite wall. There they had a short, but animated, discussion. She finished off by poking him several times in the chest and striding out of the compartment with a worried look on her face.
"Okay. We're going in now." Joel informed Marcel as he made a last minute check on the straps, buckles and control lines of the gear he had provided.
"You know that Silver will ream your ass for disobeying the recall." Marcel said.
"That will make three times in one day then." Joel mumbled.
"Sorry? What did you say, Joel?"
"Nothing. But I had to make a deal with the co-pilot to get her to cover for us. So you owe me." Finished with the adjustments, he helped Marcel to turn to face the ramp. They both hooked their safety harnesses to the line. The plane was descending on a steep angle. Suddenly it veered left. A ping announced that the intercom had activated.
"We're picking up a couple of signals on that frequency you gave us." The voice of the muskrat came through clearly. "They are close together, but about twenty kilometres south from where you wanted to be dropped."
"Go to the signals." Marcel shouted. "Drop me close to the signals."
"Roger." The intercom went dead. The plane straightened out and levelled off. The light changed from red to yellow as the ramp lowered. Joel ad Marcel shuffled forward to stand near the edge. The light began to blink, still yellow at first but soon it changed to green. Thirty seconds to target. Joel unhooked Marcel's line and held his shoulders, ready to push him out when the light glowed steady green.
The light stopped blinking. "Remember," Joel shouted over the screaming wind as he gave Marcel a mighty shove, "it's just like skateboarding ... but without the ground."
* * * * * * * *
Vikki was glad that she had been able to conserve her strength while lying on the board all night because the morning was proving to be very tiring. Sneaking around naked in the chilly rain was sapping her strength, as were the constant attacks.
The first attacker had been a young unarmed bull frog. He probably thought that a female was so easy to kill that he could just strangle her. He had looked surprised when she stood up to him wearing nothing but leather harness. He was even more surprised when she snapped his neck with only one arm.
The second was an Otter with a club. He had been more difficult to dispatch. The club extended his reach and would have broken her arm if she tried to block it. She evaded it instead and slipped under his arm to get inside the arc. A knee to the groin took care of his will to fight. Unfortunately he was just bringing the club back for another swing when she connected and let go of it at the apex. It sailed out over the water and disappeared with a 'plunk'. She dragged him to the lake and held his head under water until he stopped gurgling.
Vikki needed a weapon to help even things up, but there was nothing to use on the small piles of dirt where the trails connected. The bushes were too short and their branches too fragile. There were no stones bigger than a pebble. But she filled the plastic bag with the largest ones that she could find and wrapped it with the end of the longest strap she had. The resulting flail weighed about two pounds and extended her reach by another two feet. It would have to do.
She had been trying to turn left each time she had an option, having read somewhere that that was the way to solve a labyrinth. But she seemed to be going in increasingly tighter circles as she moved from node to node. She came to several with no exits, and had to backtrack extensively. A line clawed in the dirt at the start of each branch in the trail kept her from recovering old ground. Eventually she found herself at a dead-end in what must be the centre of the labyrinth. Her bionic paw stood upright on its wrist on a large rock in the middle of the last node.
All was quiet. Vikki had slung the home-made flail over her shoulder and tucked the ball under her arm so that it looked like part of the harness. She strode down the last trail toward her paw. As expected, the attack came at the half-way point, where the slippery trail was narrowest and the distance to solid ground the longest in either direction.
It was a platypus this time, but not Gaya-Dari. It was smaller, darker brown, and younger. It burst from the water and reached for her legs. Vikki stepped back and set her feet in the soft mud. The platypus had a knife between its beak, and it snarled wickedly around it as it approached. An amateur, Vikki thought as she pulled on the strap and the ball of packed gravel swung over her shoulder and around to strike him square in the face. No professional would hold a knife in his mouth, especially with the sharp edge in. She pulled the blade from the lacerated cheeks of the dazed and disabled platypus and dispatched him with it quickly.
Vikki examined her detached paw before touching it. It would be just like Gaya-Dari to bobby-trap it and she didn't relish having the other one blown off when she picked it up. It seemed okay, but she used the flail to knock it off the rock, just in case. Then she poked around inside. There was no obvious damage, the battery indicator was green, and all of the digits moved when she pressed the appropriate controls. She checked the short-range locator. It was still there, but it was turned off. She turned it on. No one had mentioned any suspicions about Dongo Fett to her and she thought there was a possibility that he might be driving around trying to find her. She slipped the forearm cup over her stump, adjusted the straps and the contacts and flexed her digits. They appeared as strong as ever. She switched her flail to that paw, took the knife in her right, and headed back the way she had come.
Since then she had concentrated on finding the exit. The way the nodes were connected seemed to follow a pattern, and she followed it outward and south, killing as she went. The next would-be attacker, another platypus, was shocked to discover that she had a knife. A second Bullfrog managed to overcome his shock and block the blade, but not the knot of leather with two pounds of gravel inside. Her first alligator got as far as knocking the knife from her grip and tangling her flail in its jaws before she crushed his throat with her artificial paw.
But she grew wearier with each encounter, and the attackers were getting bigger and better armed. The last one had been the biggest frog that she had ever seen, and it had a spear. She would have liked to capture that weapon, but the idiot had thrown it at her instead of using it to jab with. It had shot past her and disappeared into the water with hardly a ripple.
The rain tapered off and the clouds began to lift after what she estimated must have been several hours or more. The light grew and the mist that had been hanging over the deep water lifted. Vikki could see for a good distance now, and she was surprised to see that she was coming to the end of the maze. She was only a few hundred meters from a corner of the dike where there was a landing with a hut and a small boat.
She wanted to hurry, but she forced herself to go at a slower pace, checking both sides and ahead as she went. She was not out of the woods, or in this case the lake, yet. There was one last node between her and the landing, then a hundred meters of narrow trail. Then what? Freedom? Time to warn Silver to get himself and Leslie out of Ottawa? She hoped so. Then she and silver could come back together to kill the platypus. But if she was too late to save them she would turn right around and track him down before she slept again.
She paused on the knob of land and looked around. It had a large flat-topped rock, much like the one she had found her paw on in the centre of the maze. Other than that it was the same as all the rest, a few metres across with a trail connecting it to other nodes, and in this case, the mainland. She scanned the shore. Wait! There was movement on the dike! Someone in a sniper's gilly suit. A sentry to ensure that no one escaped the hunting grounds? Her heart sank. The knife and flail were useless against a high powered rifle. The sniper stood and lifted an eye patch to get a better look at her. Pervert, she thought. Then she realized that the sniper did not have a gun. It was Dongo! She drew a deep breath to call to him.
Before she had finished inhaling the alligator she recognized as the Project's head of security and Dongo were locked in combat. The distraction almost spelled the end for her too. But her ear caught the sound of dripping water and she reacted with reflexes honed by two years of Academy training. She ducked and rolled, a brown blur passed by and she had a quick glimpse of a webbed paw tipped with wicked claws. She turned to face her attacker, knife up, flail ready, but all she saw was an expanding circle of ripples on the far side of the node. She backed up to get as far away from that edge as possible and watched attentively, listening for indications of who was winning the fight on the dike behind her.
There was a splash from behind, too close to be one of the combatants falling into the artificial lake, but she had no time to turn. Something heavy landed on her back and drove her to the ground. She lost her grip on the flail by opening her paw to break her fall, but she held on to her knife. The only problem was that arm was pinned to the ground under a furry brown knee. An arm snaked around her throat and she felt her head being forced back, her neck straining to the breaking point.
"Welcome to the hunting grounds Miss Beausoleil ... and au revoir." It was the platypus, Bardo Gaya-Dari.
'Go with the flow' had always been Rusty the Combat Instructor's motto. Since she did not have the leverage to fight back against his pull she pushed up instead, twisting out of his grip as he struggled for balance. She was on her feet in an instant, but so was he. He stood there, almost as tall as she, wearing only tight swimming trunks. He did not appear to have any weapons, but a small black device hung from a cord around his neck. His waist was trim, his stomach flat, but his shoulders and thighs bulged with swimmer's muscle. Vikki wondered how he had managed to get behind her. There must be tunnels underwater, allowing him to cross the trails without coming up. She had to keep him from getting back in or he could attack from any direction at will. Vikki screamed a challenge as she threw herself across the knob of land, knife raised, bionic paw open and ready.
Gaya-Dari jumped to meet her and they locked together as they returned to land in the middle of the node. She had to dance to keep from tripping over the rock in the centre. He had her right paw by the wrist, keeping the knife away, and his other arm wrapped around her left arm. She twisted that arm to bring her mechanical paw up between them and reached for his throat. The platypus twisted his head, spit at her and tried to get her snout between the rubbery halves of its beak, but her paw inched slowly closer. He grabbed the wrist, tried to pull it back, but she was pouring the last of her reserves of strength into it. She saw the digits spread around his neck, felt the feedback from the sensors in their tips. She planed the palm against his larynx and positioned her thumb.
"It's not 'au revoir' when you will never see someone again Bardo, it's 'adieu'." Why was he grinning, she wondered?
He let go of her fur-covered robotic wrist and squeezed the black box hanging at his throat. Vikki sensed the power draining from her bionic paw. She flexed her arm felt the signal that should have crushed his larynx pass through the sensors, but the digits did no more than twitch. The power to the servos that gave them their strength had been cut. He had sabotaged her paw.
She was locked against him, unable to break free. A moment ago she had thought of it as an advantage, but not she knew that he had sucked her in. She felt his leg come up and remembered the glistening poisonous spur. There had not been enough poison to kill the big rottweiler, Corporal O'Malley, but she was much lighter, and almost exhausted. She twisted her body, tried to bend and coiled her sodden tail around his leg, anything to keep him from jabbing her with that spur. But he just tightened his grip and waited for her to tire. It did not take more than a moment. She was spent, and he was too strong.
"Have I complemented you on your attire?" The platypus grinned through his black beak. "The warrior priestess look suits you. Maybe we'll preserve your body like this for our trophy room." He raised his leg again, like a dog by a tree, and paused for a final farewell. She tried to back away, but came up against the central rock. "And since I will be hunting your sprit in the afterlife it really is 'au revoir', you know." He tensed, preparing to strike she thought, and she mouthed a final prayer for her son and mate.
The blow did not come. There was no strike, no sting of the spur violating her flesh. His leg slid down her shin just as his lower jaw drooped. He was looking over her shoulder, toward where Dongo Fett and Micco Holata had been fighting. His arms went slack, freeing her. Stunned at the reversal, she turned to see what it was that had stopped him from killing her.
The knob of land that they were on was the same height as the top of the dike. Because they were standing they could see over it to the prairie beyond. There was a patch of blue sky in that direction, and a large grey aircraft was just climbing up through the hole in the clouds there. But that was not what had caught his attention. It was a dark undulating wall with a line of foam along the top that fascinated him. A wall that stretched from one end of the horizon to the other. A wall that was approaching fast. His expression changed from wonder to horror, and he stepped back toward the edge of the node.
Vikki knew that she was dead. This apparition might not be part of Gaya-Dari's master plan, but it was going to kill her just the same. But she had some unfinished business to take care of before she went. She could not survive in an endless sea of churning water, be he might be able to. She reversed the knife in her paw and lunged at the retreating platypus.
Gaya-Dari yelped and tried to avoid the blade, but it sliced through the fur, skin and muscle of his chest, but he had managed to turn enough to prevent it from penetrating his ribs. Before she could bring it around for another slice he had fallen back into the water, leaving only a reddish stain behind.
Vikki did not know if the blow would be fatal, or incapacitate him enough that the approaching tsunami would finish the job for her. She could only hope for the best. Tired beyond endurance, she slumped to her knees and leaned against the large rock. The fight between the alligator and the fox on the dike forgotten, the fate of the platypus out of her paws, she lowered her head and prepared to die.
* * * * * * * *
Marcel dropped off the end of the ramp and floated for an instant before the turbulent winds hit him. He started to tumble and fall as the C-17 pulled away. There was no turning back now. He had to get stabilized, get his feet under him, and prepare for the chute to open automatically. He twisted and turned, trying to get a feel for how to work the air as he approached terminal velocity. He spread his arms, flattened his body, and looked straight down. That helped, but the board strapped to his feet was still fluttering back and forth.
Joel had rigged one of his composite fibre surfboards with a set of snow board bindings. The plan was for Marcel to air board toward his target until he was close to the ground, then to ditch the surfboard and parachute the last few hundred meters. On the ground he could release the parachute and let the winds carry it off. It was made of a super-thin transparent material and would be invisible from more than 20 metres away. That was the plan, but Marcel could already see one problem, a thirty metre high wall of water that was racing across the prairie in the same direction he was headed. Right toward the artificial lake that Vikki and Dongo's signals were coming from.
Marcel snapped his body back, bringing the tip of the board into the slipstream. The board caught the air and he was jerked upright and almost over before he corrected. His natural talent and expertise with the big air shreds on the skateboard saved him from going into another tumble. The ride was starting to feel more comfortable, if not actually enjoyable. The signals had been coming from the south-west corner of the lake so he aimed the board that way. He leaned the tip down slightly to increase speed and forward motion.
He had quick release straps in his paws to dump the board with, but now that it was obvious that the terrain would soon be covered in water he was reluctant to get rid of Joel's 'unsinkable' board. He bent down and removed the release straps, locking the bindings in place. The next problem was where to land, in front of the breaker or behind it? Marcel had a vague idea that surfers started out in front of a wave, and somehow ended up on top, but he had no idea of the specifics. In front was a bad idea he decided. But if he landed behind it, how was he supposed to get there in time to rescue the others? There was only one wave, one big wave, and he would be stuck paddling the board along by paw behind it. Unless ....
Marcel's wrist display beeped. The parachute would deploy in a moment. He had taken just enough training with Silver to be able to control his descent, but that was not the extent of his experience. On his first-ever vacation Marcel and Geno had gone to an all-inclusive resort in the Caribbean, where Geno had convinced him to try para-sailing. The experience had been a dismal failure. The wind had come up behind him and Marcel could not get off the ground. Worse, the strong breeze had dragged him down the beach parallel to the shore. He had kept upright, riding through the soft sand on his heels, jerking the lines left and right to avoid beach chairs, umbrellas and the mini-bar. The parasail operator joked that he should try parasurfing instead. Marcel had suggested that he stick his tail up the hole below it and ... and he stuck to snorkelling for the rest of the week.
Now he wished that he had been more adventurous. Then the chute popped open, jerking him back and nearly pulling the board off his feet. He was swinging around in circles, but he knew how to correct that. When he looked down again the crest of the wave was just catching up to him. He was only a few dozen metres above it, and still moving forward. He positioned the board at what he hoped was a good angle for impact and gritted his teeth. He tried to match his forward speed with that of the water.
The touchdown was smoother than he anticipated. The fins mounted on the board's underside cut into the water cleanly and the drag brought the rest of it down, The tip dipped under but it came right back up, proving the board's buoyancy. It cut through the turbulent water easily. Joel had mentioned that the computer saw had cut the edges razor-sharp for maximum performance, something too dangerous for use in completion where there would be other surfers present. Joel had not had a chance to grind it down yet. Marcel had been warned to keep his paws away from the tip.
Marcel slowed down as the water dragged at the board. The parachute drifted ahead of him, then tugged at him as the strengthening westerly wind pushed the canopy eastward. Marcel swayed his hips and shifted his balance to get the feel off the board. Joel had been right, it was sort of like skateboarding. He was tempted to try an ollie but then remembered that his feet were strapped to the board. Instead, he pulled the cords to maximize the area of the canopy and let the board speed toward the leading edge of the giant wave.
The pull of the wind and the force of the water pushing him from behind allowed him to catch up with the crest. Once there. Marcel dumped air to match velocities and looked to see where he was. He had no problem seeing through the transparent canopy, and from this height he could see a great distance, but the site he wanted was dead ahead. In fact, he was bearing down on the dike a t a great rate of speed. His wrist display had been pinging softly, but now the interval shortened and the volume increased as he drew near to the source of the signal.
There they were! He could see Vikki kneeling with her head down on a small knoll, she looked like she had already given up hope. The guy holding the metal arm pointed at her must be Dongo. The wave was going to be at least two meters taller than the dike and the surface of the artificial lake when it hit, he estimated. The two of them would be swept away and held down by the tumbling water if they did not fight back. He had to get their attention somehow so they would know that rescue was possible and thus have the will to fight to the surface.
Marcel wanted to make some noise to let them know that he was coming, but he did not dare let go of the control cords. Dongo was looking back his way, so he risked a wave of one paw. He saw Dongo turn all the way around, tucking his metal arm under his live one. Does he see me Marcel wondered? Doubt was dispelled when the battered fox stuck out his thumb in the traditional hitchhiking pose. He wanted a ride, and Marcel was happy to oblige. He let the board advance to the face of the wave, just below the crest, where he could grab Dongo just before the face of the wave hit him. He was coming straight toward Fett, so he angled the surfboard more to the right. It would not do to impale his fellow junior agent in the attempt.
The canopy passed over Dongo like the whisper of a ghost. The red fox tensed, prepared to leap, but still holding the other arm against his chest. "Drop it! Drop it!" Marcel screamed. It would be easier if he dropped it, FOX would buy him another. But Dongo just shook his head and stood his ground. Beyond him, Vikki's head had come up at the sound of his voice. Marcel had to let go of the cords, and the wind pulled up on the chute, but that helped offset the extra weight as Dongo threw himself into Marcel's arms and swung in behind him.
Marcel barely had time to grab the reins and look down for Vikki before they sped past her position. But she had seen Dongo's rescue, and had wrapped her arms around a large rock in the centre of the node, away from the wave. Good, now all he had to do was turn around and find that spot in the middle of an endless sea.
Marcel experimented with the parachute and discovered that while the surface winds were blowing in the same direction the wave had been heading the current just above them was blowing southward. He eased the canopy up while shifting his weight back to increase the drag of the water. The board slipped back over the crest and fell behind it. Then he angled both chute and board to come about in a wide turn. That's when they were almost capsized by a sudden jerk that forced them to return to their original track.
"What the hell was that?" Marcel called back to Dongo. "We hit a rooftop?"
"No. It's my arm." Dongo called back over the wind. "It has an aiming stabilizer in it. I accidently set it when it was pointing at Miss Vikki and it wants to keep pointing that way. When you tried to turn the gyros kicked in and pulled it back into line, and us along with it."
Marcel thought hard. "Hold it up over our heads." He demanded. "Hold it loose, like a beer tray." When Dongo complied Marcel eased the board around again. This time they turned easily, and the arm, balanced on the pads of Dongo's paw, kept its aim like a compass needle while they rotated below it. When Marcel could see the extended digits pointing in the same direction as the nose of the surfboard he let it run.
* * * * * * * *
Vikki held on to the rock in desperation. Just seconds ago she had given up, said her prayers and made her peace with the world. Then she had heard Marcel's cry and looked up to see the impossible sight of the little black fox on a long green surfboard scooping Dongo up a millisecond before the wall of raging water crushed him. She half expected to see Geno in a string bikini following behind on a boogie board. But there was no Geno, and Marcel was not going to pass close enough to her to repeat the rescue, so she had to think fast. Wrapping her arms around the rock she clamped her real paw around the frozen mechanical one and tucked her head in. This was going to hurt.
Despite having the large rock to soften the blow the water hit her like a runaway truck. Vikki's arms were nearly pulled from their sockets. He head was driven into the ground and then buffeted around, striking the rock several times. Chucks of debris being carried along by the water scraped her back and legs. The remnants of the leather harness was ripped from her body. Worst of all, water was forced up her nose and down her throat and she felt like she was drowning. She gagged, loosing some of her valuable air. She wanted to let go of the rock and head for the surface but she did not dare attempt it until the turbulence had passed and the waters had calmed. She forced herself to hang on.
Vikki almost passed out from the lack of oxygen before she noticed that the tug of the water had diminished. She let go, planted her feet on what was formerly dry ground and pushed up with all the strength that remained. She did not have far to go, her head broke the surface almost immediately, and she gulped fresh air as she paddled to stay above water. Turning slowly, she scanned the horizon for sign of Marcel and Dongo. They could not have gone too far, unless the wave had swallowed them. There, on the horizon to the ... east? Was that ...
The water erupted between her and the object on the horizon. A slick brown head and shoulders emerged, a black duck bill opened and Gaya-Dari sucked air into lungs that were starved. He shook the water from his fur and opened his eyes. Seeing her before him brought a hideous grin to his rubbery beak.
"Look at this! Better than I expected!" He swept his arm back to indicate the endless expanse of water. "Too bad about the Project headquarters and all the creatures inside, but less to share now eh?" He threw his head back and laughed with glee, his insanity obvious. The platypus was moving toward her as he spoke, paddling with his webbed feet. There was no sense try to out swim him, and outfighting him in the water was unlikely. She saw that the black box that was interfering with her bionic paw was still hanging around his neck. If only she could get her paws on that device, she thought, she might have a fighting chance.
"Look what I found Vikki!" He lifted a paw, displayed the dagger she had taken from the younger platypus. The one she had dropped when she saw the massive wave approaching. "It was right beside the tunnel I hid from the wave in." He waggled the blade playfully and giggled, but he was not as far gone as she had thought. His eyes were not smiling, they were focused on hers, reading her mood, alert for the first sign of a trick. He must have seen her eyes loose focus, like they often did when a victim was overwhelmed, but when they snapped back to his an instant later his own narrowed in suspicion.
Bardo Gaya-Dari drifted closer. He scowled and gripped the dagger properly, ready for business. She guessed that he was the type that liked his prey to cower before he killed them.
"Just think how this blade is going to feel going into you." He snarled. "Slicing through fur, flesh and bone. Do you know how much that is going to hurt?"
Vikki could not help smiling when she answered. "You tell me."
Something struck him hard on the back of the head. Gaya-Dari was temporarily stunned. The impact was quickly followed by another in the shoulder and one in the neck. The last projectile rolled down his chest after losing its momentum and he grabbed it. I looked like a cookie, but it was as hard as a rock. The engineer in him wondered if it was some type of new concrete, but the warrior in him turned instinctively, and he rose up out of the water to meet the challenge. Thus the pointy end of Joel's unsinkable surfboard caught him square in the chest, just below his sternum. Blood sprayed as the board bit into the surprised platypus like a shark on a tuna. Gaya-Dari's eyes went blank, his arms went limp, and his head dropped forward.
"Now, that must have hurt." Vikki commented.
Marcel tugged the lines to dump the air from the canopy overhead. The added weight and drag of the impaled corpse slowed the surfboard drastically, and they drifted to a halt close to Vikki. She could see just the tip of the razor-sharp board poking through the platypus's back, dripping gore. There was turmoil in the water around it, and Vikki tensed, sensing another attacker, but when she looked down she could see that it was just fish. Hundreds of little fish, greedily sipping the platypus's blood and nibbling on the edges of his wound.
Marcel reached down and loosened the catch on his bindings. He lifted his feet out and planted one in the chest of the platypus. With a grunt he pushed the corpse off the end the board. It floated face down, rocking slightly as bigger fish joined the minnows to pick at it. Vikki splashed water on the end of the board to wash away the blood and bits of fur. Marcel offered her a paw and she climbed on board. They stood looking at each other for a moment, the tall slim vixen and the short stout fox. Then she grabbed him and swept him in up in a hug.
Marcel was embarrassed. Vikki, who he had desired and longed for before committing himself to Geno, was buck naked. His snout was pressed between her breasts and he was not sure where to put his paws. To complicate matters Dongo moved up against his backside and wrapped his good arm around the two of them, joining in the hug.
"Marcel, how is it in Ottawa?" Vikki asked tentatively. "Do you know if ...?"
"Everybody's fine." He answered. "Now that the storm has passed I'm picking up messages from Geno and she says that they managed to save Ottawa. She says Leslie is with Ms. Brown but that he wants his mother."
A tear came to her eye, but Marcel pretended not to see it. He explained how he had come to drop out of the sky on a floating guillotine and how they had used Dongo's arm to find her.
"It must have been difficult driving the board into him." She remarked. "Why didn't you just shoot him?"
"I was too busy steering and Dongo had his arms, uh, arm full." Marcel explained as he motioned for Vikki to sit at his feet, holding Dongo's metal arm and looking forward. Dongo stood behind Marcel again and held on with his good paw. Marcel took up the canopy cords in his paws and tugged them to fill the chute with air once again. Allowing it to rise he caught the southerly winds and they began to move. "Let's go see if there is anything left of Prince Albert." He said as they picked up speed. "Giddyup"
* * * * * * * *
Back in Ottawa the FOX duty staff was watching the status boards with trepidation. No longer a simulation, the blue areas on the map of North America now represented real flooding, and the lights that disappeared under them were real towns. Real people were dying or losing their homes and livelihoods, and the water was spreading.
Kain heard the door to the Ops Centre buzz as someone came in. He looked around and saw that Silver had returned. He would want a report on the situation. Kain touched Bill Hanlan and Geno to get their attention and motioned to the approaching fox.
Silver did not speak when he stopped in front of the display. He just looked at it and waited for them to begin. Because he was officially in charge, and responsible for the decisions that had been made in Silver's absence, Kain began. He told the new Chief of Staff about the results of the Professor's analysis and the choice that they had to make between flooding the location where the two agents were operating or wiping out fifty thousand citizens. Silver nodded as Kain talked, silently indicating that he understood, but Kain saw Silver's shoulders slump when he told him that he had authorized the flooding of the Project's territory. Kain finished his report by noting that so far the Professor's plan seemed to be working. Damage and lose of life would be minimal, less than hurricane Katrina, thanks to Geno's quick thinking in sounding the civil emergency alarms.
"What's that dot?" Silver was pointing at a flashing red dot over Manitoba that was moving very slowly eastward.
"Sorry, which dot?" Kain knew exactly which one Silver meant.
"The one you don't want to tell me about." Silver said dryly.
"That would be the rescue mission."
"And who authorized that?"
Kain's mouth opened but no sound came out. Geno started to speak but stopped before she could produce a syllable. Suddenly, in the middle of the blue stain that covered the area north of Prince Albert a green light appeared. An alpha-numeric designator appeared beside it an instant later. It was one of the Academy's long-range locators, signalling that an agent required pick up.
"That is Marcel's identification code." Bill Hanlon commented. The red dot that marked the C-17 was turning, heading back towards Prince Albert. The local airport was still dry and the giant transport aircraft could land and take off on amazingly short runways.
A smile spread across Silver's face. "Good." He said.
Kain was puzzled. "Why good?
"Because he would not come back without Vikki." Silver explained patiently. "Marcel knows that I would kill him if he showed up here without her."
"They should be back in five or six hours." Kain said. Beside him a phone buzzed. Geno picked it up. She listened, occasionally injecting a word.
"Yes." She looked puzzled. "No." She frowned. "He's here right now." She looked over at Silver. "I'll send him right over." Geno replaced the handset on the receiver without looking down. "Silver," she said, "W is calling for you."
* * * * * * * *
Sir Wilbur Wadsworth Withersby, affectionately known as "W" to members of the Academy, was almost ninety years old. His career in espionage had begun almost seventy years ago, during the Second World War. And while he might have shown signs of senility in recent years, it was the clever fox that remembered how many enemies had underestimated the walrus in the past. Sir Wilbur may have forgotten more secrets than the next three spymasters ever knew, but he remembered the things that were really important, and that is why he fought to stay alive long enough to assemble the last of his friends and colleagues.
Vikki, Joel and Dongo had been able to clean up on the C-17, but for some reason he would not explain Marcel declined the opportunity to shower. A muskrat wearing captain's rank had kindly found a flight suit that was almost big enough for Vikki. Her ankles and wrists stuck out, but it was better than nothing.
When they arrived in Ottawa Vikki and Marcel ware asked to go immediately to the Academy infirmary. When they arrived they were escorted into the restricted section, where VIPs and important defectors were treated. They were hustled into sterile gowns and slippers, facemasks and bonnets, and then led into a crowded room. Marcel recognized Silver, Tancred Williams and the Director's secretary and bodyguard, Mademoiselle Chienne-Caniche. Williams and Ms. CC looked like they had been crying. Silver looked sad, but thoughtful. On the single bed in the middle of the room, covered by a white sheet that outlined his emancipated frame, lay the Director. Seated beside his bed was an old nun, a scarlet fox with patches of grey on what little fur was visible under her wimple. She was holding his paw in hers.
Vikki ran into Silver's arms without a word and hugged him tightly. When she took her head off his shoulder and got a good look at him she noticed the heavy frame glasses with their thick lenses and gave him an inquisitive look. Silver just shrugged and nodded his head toward the bed. Everyone, including the dying Director, was waiting patiently for them. Vikki mumbled and apology and turned to stand beside Silver. He slipped his paw into hers and gripped it firmly.
"Ah." The ancient walrus croaked as they settled down. "We are all here then. There are a few things that I would like to ..." He began to cough convulsively. Williams and Ms. CC leaned in to help, but the nun waved them away. W's coughing fit passed, and he continued.
"I wanted you here to witness the passing of the mantle from myself to Young Tancred." He gestured Williams closer. "I should have retired years ago, but there was a risk that the council would choose some bureaucrat to head the Academy until you had enough experience under your belt to claim the position as your right. You have that now. You have fought suspicion and prejudice all of your life, Tanner, and kept your dignity while doing so. You will make a fine Director." The rest mumbled congratulations and some patted the large golden fox on the shoulders, but the celebration was muted.
The Walrus coughed again, but not as badly, before continuing. "Silver, you are the last of my personally selected senior agents. The last of the cold war breed. You have grown to be the heart and soul of the Academy. The junior agents we have now are your creations, your children. Treat them as such now that you are Chief of Staff." Silver bowed his head in acknowledgement. Williams put and arm around his shoulder and shook his paw.
The old pinniped paused, breathed deeply several times. "Of course you will need some senior agents to take your place, and that is another reason I have called you two young foxes here today. Normally the probation period for junior agents is five years, but these are extraordinary times. For the courage and fortitude you have shown Victoria Beausoleil, and for the initiative and passion you bring to your work Marcel, as my last official act I hereby promote you to senior agents. You will have to decide what colours you want to use later. I've lost track of what's available. And Marcel," the walrus leaned toward the young black fox, "what you did in Saskatchewan is exactly the kind of stupid, heroic stunt that a certain former senior agent I know would have pulled." He winked at Marcel and jerked his head toward Silver. "So don't let the Chief of Staff ride you too hard about it."
"I won't sir." The new Director and Chief of Staff congratulated the new senior agents. Then Vikki took Marcel's paws in hers.
"My Saviour. You deserve this. Congratulations." She smiled at him, just like he imagined a big sister would, and that was enough for him.
"You too, Viks. First dibs on junior agents for my crew."
Vikki flexed the digits of her bionic paw. "Arm wrestle for it?"
The old walrus smiled at them, but he was soon wracked by another coughing fit. The old nun stood and motioned them to leave. "You've all said your goodbyes," she said with authority, but not unkindly, "now it is time for him to make his peace with God. Off with you now, all of you." She whooshed them out the door and into the observation room. Through the window they saw the old walrus weakly wave one last goodbye. The nun indicated that they should leave them alone.
Sir Wilber and Scarlet watched as they filed out of the anteroom. As they left Williams pulled the curtains closed on the observation window, so that the dying walrus and his former lover could have some privacy. When they were alone he held out a shaky paw. She took it in one of hers and patted the back of it with the other. She was crying silently, tears rolling steadily out of the corners of her eyes, but she smiled for him, and pretended that everything was all right.
The light was fading from his eyes, but he struggled to speak. She leaned in closer. His voice was barely above a whisper.
"Scarlet, How about a quickie for old time's sake?"
"You are incorrigible Wilbur."
* * * * * * * *
Tancred Williams suggested that they all go to the Chief of Staff's office for some stiff drinks. One to remember W by, another to toast the success of the mission, and a third to celebrate their relative promotions. Miss CC declined, she wanted to clear out the former Director's personal papers, to shred those he wanted destroyed and package the rest up for the archives. Tancred thanked her on W's behalf and invited her to join them and the rest of the staff in the lounge later. She turned and walked ahead to the executive wing, her high-heels making her ass roll provocatively under her tight mini-skirt. Even Tancred's eyes followed the undulating globes until she disappeared around the corner.
"That reminds me." Williams said as the pretty party poodle sashayed away. "As Chief Of Staff you share the services of Mademoiselle Chienne-Caniche."
"The hell you do." Vikki interjected, jerking Silver's paw so he was facing her. She had heard about the poodle's 'services'.
"She'll be too busy trying to straighten out Gold." Silver replied as they headed for the hospital exit. "And just to let you know boss, I intend to keep my old codename." He said to Williams. Then he turned to Marcel and Vikki. "Have you two given any thought towards your codenames?"
"I guess the field is wide open." Marcel said. "I was kinda thinking of 'Black'." He twirled the pitch-black fur on one cheek to emphasize his choice. "And 'Red' would be a natural for you Vikki."
"Well, we do have some reserved colours." Williams informed him. "Red, White and Blue are reserved for the CIA, Academy and MI-6 liaison officers. We were also hoping to avoid reusing colours, to honour those agents who have gone before, and we already had a Black."
"Oh yeah, I remember." More specifically, Marcel remembered what Geno had done to the poor fellow. "What did you have in mind once the main colours were used up? I don't want to be Agent Orange or nothing."
"How about Sable?" Silver suggested. "It is the word they use for black in heraldry. 'a chevron argent on a field sable' and all that."
"Sable." He tried it out for size. "Yeah, that works." Marcel flicked his puffy black tail. He had always felt that he had a lot in common with the sexy Siberian minks.
"What about me Silver?" Vikki squeezed his paw. "What variations do you have for red? I know that Scarlet was taken already, but how about Burgundy, Cherry, Crimson, Copper, or Rose?"
Silver winced behind his glasses. He couldn't imagine a secret agent named Cherry, not outside of some yiffy porn story anyway. Copper would fit with the metal theme that he and Gold had going, but it was lacking something. He looked into her shiny, emerald green eyes, and he knew.
"Ruby." He said.
Vikki thought it over. It went well with the deep red hue of her fur and was a more exotic than Rose. "Ruby it is." She agreed.
They were just passing the support building, where Joel's document section was housed. Williams turned up the walkway and suggested that they get the lemur working on the paperwork right away. He entered his personal code, which gave him access to every room in the Academy, and they entered, but the forger's lab was empty. The laptop he had carried in the plane was back, but he was not there.
"Maybe he is in his workroom," Marcel guessed, "putting the surfboard away. I'll go check." He left the others in the lab and went down the hall, looking for the cluttered room that Joel had shown him just a couple of days ago. Since it was not part of the secure area Marcel was able to get in with his own code. He swung the door open and looked inside. A moment later he stepped back and closed the door as quietly as he could. He retuned to the forgery lab alone.
"Joel not there either?" Silver asked.
"He's there, but he, uh, can't come, I mean can't help us right now." The image of Joel strapped facedown to his workbench while the C-17's naked co-pilot lowered a two-litre soft drink bottle toward his raised backside that was burnt into his mind was making it hard for Marcel to think. He decided to just give an honest, if concise, answer.
"He's tied up at the moment."
* * * * * * * *
Epilogue - 25 years later
Marcel arrived back at the house in a foul mood. It was hard enough trying to teach these young pups some discipline without a constant string of bad examples being flaunted before their eyes. He was thinking specifically of his mate, Geno, and her latest exploits in the field.
Five years earlier, Marcel had taken the position as Chief Instructor at the FOX Academy spy school. It had been a good fit at the time as his injuries were starting to slow him down. Twenty-two years in the field takes its toll, especially when one was as reckless as he was in his early days, and the pro skateboard circuit had been no cake walk either. He had survived some narrow scrapes and learned self-disciple along the way, which he applied to a degree that others found frankly annoying. But it had helped get him promoted to 'White', the most senior agent and disciplinarian of the rest, younger than anyone before him. Since then his major headache was, and continued to be, his mate. She had never settled down and was as wild as ever. Geno was now the most senior of the full-time field agents, having given up her analytical duties some time ago.
Today Marcel had been trying to explain why restraint and assessment was necessary when faced with an untenable situation when one of the students had brought up her latest exploit. Geno had seen the arch-villain 'Big Toe' dragging one of her junior agents through a ballroom and had pounced on him without hesitation. The fact that she saw him from a tempered glass skylight ten metres up in the ceiling and had to shoot the glass out as she leapt through it, did not seem to have deterred her. Fortunately for her the master criminal had taken a shard of glass in his oversized phalange, preventing him from dealing her the deadly kick that he was famous for. "This little piggy went to market, but you're going to hell." She had reportedly quipped when she shot the deformed digit off, just before following up with a bullet between his eyes.
Marcel pulled into the laneway of their five-bedroom home and immediately had to hit the brakes. Access to the three-car garage was blocked by a collection of toys, bicycles and a regulation height mobile basketball net, the latter folded for storage but parked in the middle of the driveway none the less. Marcel put the Mercedes in park, got out and started to clear a path while trying to keep the top of his head from blowing off. When he succeeded in reaching the garage door he entered the code to open it, only to find that their oldest had parked his four-by-four in Marcel's spot again, and on such an angle that it blocked the other spaces too.
"Aldwin!" Marcel shouted, his patience rapidly running out. He was answered by the sound of running feet. Many running feet.
"Daddy!" Several of the approaching hoard squealed as they bore down on him. Marcel braced himself. A moment later he was buried under a wiggling heap of children aged four to twelve. Three more older ones wandered in behind them, followed by Aldwin, the eldest at twenty-two.
Aldwin was a red fox that Marcel and Geno had adopted after discussing it for several years. Geno had brought the subject up right after Marcel had come back from Saskatchewan. Frequent sessions babysitting Leslie while Vikki and Silver were away had helped to make up his mind. Watching Leslie grow and seeing the affection he displayed for 'Auntie Geno and Unkie Marc'l' had convinced him that procreation was not a lost cause.
Aldwin had been followed by Belinda, a puma who was now twenty and a sophomore. Next came seventeen year old Charles, an Arctic hare that they had first fostered, and then adopted. Dwain, just turned sixteen, was a cougar, abandoned at birth and confined to a wheelchair because of a birth defect, but as sharp as a whip and a wizard at sledge hockey. Marcel had hopes for him to make the next winter Olympic team.
Marcel and Geno had decided to stop after that, partially because they could not think of any names beginning with 'E' that they liked, but mostly because their work schedule made it difficult for one to handle all four of them. But fate had stepped in thirteen years ago. A fertility research institute had developed a way of fusing the DNA of one species with sperm of another. Interspecies couples could now have children that bore the genetic code of both parents. Geno had immediately enrolled Marcel in the project. She even helped collect the sperm samples, although the first batch was rejected because it was contaminated with saliva.
Eleanor was born naturally the following year. She had her father's colouring but her mother's frame. People often mistook her for a panther. Freddy on the other paw, looked like a red fox with a cheetah's narrow tail. He disarmed the bullies that teased him about it with an innate sense of humour, and a few moves his Dad taught him. Gail was all fox, except for her mother's jade-green eyes. Harry was a cheetah with pointy tufted ears and a long snout. The twins, Isla and John, looked like miniature copies of their parents. Marcel had insisted that they stop there; the constant pawing off was getting tedious.
Marcel tried hard not to discriminate between the four they adopted and the six that followed. It was easy because he loved them all more than he could have imagined. Even now their exuberance was threatening to ruin the funk he had worked himself into. Not that he could stay mad at them even if he had wanted to, but he needed to be in the proper mood to confront Geno. The mentally weak and unprepared did not last long against her acerbic wit.
After extracting himself from the various sticky lips and clutching paws he confronted Aldwin about his parking job.
"Mom said to park there until the kits cleaned up their toys." The tall red fox explained to his diminutive parent.
"Oh, did she?" Marcel's voice was calm, always a bad sign Aldwin thought.
"We were just coming out to do that before you got home, but you're early." He hoped that by shifting the blame from his mother to Marcel's inconvenient arrival time they could avoid the storm he felt brewing.
"I had to dismiss the class early today." Marcel said. Because they were too distracted gossiping about her latest stunt, he added to himself. "I suppose she's the one that let them play in driveway when we have a perfectly good patio out back, where it's safe." Marcel had managed to recover his bad mood.
"Is your mother inside?" Aldwin nodded worriedly. "You keep the kits out here." Marcel ordered. "Your mother and I need to talk."
"Oh-oh." Aldwin didn't need to be in a double honours program to figure out what was up when Dad referred to Mom as 'your mother'. He turned to Belinda with a worried look on his face. "Dad's got an issue with Mom. You know what that means."
"Uh-huh." She replied. "I'll get the van out. You round up the little ones."
The inside of the big house was Geno's territory, as much as the garage, lawns and basement workshop were his. It was spotless. It figures, he thought, that she would have them clean up her favourite space first. He found her in the kitchen, leaning down to check something roasting in the oven. She was wearing a pair of ragged cut-off jeans that had no legs at all, just a narrow strip of denim that almost disappeared between her legs. Marcel faltered as he momentarily lost concentration. She looked over her shoulder when she heard him approach, and then turned, holding the pan with a large turkey down at stove level for him to see.
"How about that eh?" Geno said, proud of the way her roast was turning out. Having a house full of children had forced her to learn how to cook. "Just look at those golden breasts!"
She was wearing a loose low necked top and as usual, no bra. The only breasts Marcel was interested in were swinging freely behind the bird. Marcel drooled. He had to admit Geno still looked great at fifty, even though she still dressed a like a teenaged hooker, and got away with it. She did not follow any particular exercise regime, but demanded an exhausting and almost daily yiffing whenever she was home, and that seemed to be enough to keep her body toned, her breasts firm and her .... Marcel remembered that he was supposed to be mad at her.
"What the hell did you think you doing in Vienna?" He demanded, his voice raising a little as it seemed to do only while arguing with her. "Practicing to join the Cirque du Soleil? You could have killed yourself jumping from that height. Worse, you could have killed a member of your team." Now his voice had become a shout.
Geno slid the turkey back into the oven and slammed the door on it. She turned, stepped up to Marcel and stood at the save time, bringing her cleavage up so that his muzzle rested between the soft globes. She knew he hated that when he was trying to argue. "I had it all calculated, buddy. The trajectory, the speed of the target, where the glass would fall. It was only natural for him to release our agent and look up at the noise. It was worth the risk." She accentuated her argument with a pointy claw to the chest as her voice became shrill and loud.
"He was deaf, you idiot! It was probably the look of horror on your agent's face when he saw the ceiling collapsing on him that alerted him. Otherwise you would have missed him altogether." He yelled. He also grabbed her by the forearms and pulled her hard against him. There was something growing between them.
"Oh yeah, peckerwood, and who died and made you my supervisor?" She screamed as she put her paws on each side of his head. With digits tensed to crush, barely restrained, she delicately traced the inside of his ears. She felt a shudder go through him, as it always did when she caressed his ears like this.
It was a pattern that they had followed since that first meeting in the alley behind the video store twenty seven years before. Vikki and Silver would have recognized it instantly, and most of the rest of the Academy staff would have caught on by the time their voices passed the ninety decibel range. Even the older children recognized the signs of impending yiffing; loud, violent, passionate yiffing. At times like this it was best to either run or just hunker down and wait it out.
In the garage, Aldwin and Charles had gathered the minors and hustled them into the family transport, a fourteen passenger van converted to hold eleven passengers, one wheelchair, and hockey gear. Charles, the artist of the family, had painted the words 'Foxx Clan' on both sides when they had purchased it two years before. Belinda backed the van out of the garage and Charles hopped into the shotgun seat. The noises coming from inside the house had changed from yells to something less angry, but no less loud. Charles covered the noise by loudly proclaiming that they were going for ice cream, and the screams of delight did the rest.
"You coming?" Belinda addressed Aldwin and Dwain through the open window.
"No." Dwain replied, wheeling to the basketball net and retrieving a ball from its base. "We'll stay here and shoot a few hoops until they get it out of their system. We'll call when the coast is clear."
"You'll be okay?"
"Sure." Dwain occupied a room in the first floor that had originally been designed to be a home office. It was right below his parent's bedroom, and the builders had not thought of installing extra sound insulation. Dwain had thought of it, often. "I'm already scarred for life from their energetic, uh, performances. I swear porno stars can't keep at it as loud or as long as those two."
"Dwain Foxx!" Belinda said in mock shock. "Don't you say such things." She was going to add more but the windows of the house were beginning to vibrate and the noises coming from inside were threatening to overwhelm the cries for dipped cones and ice cream sandwiches. She had to close the widow before the little ones noticed and started asking what the wailing and panting was about.
Dwain laughed as she retreated. He dribbled the ball expertly as he swung his chair around. His older brother had wheeled the net to the top of the driveway but was still turning the handle to raise it. "Come on Aldwin. Get that thing up so we can sink some balls already."
Aldwin laughed as he cranked harder. "That's probably what Mom's saying to Dad right now."
The End
Kain Algorath © Marcus X Light
Ophelia Cassidy Sommer © Devil Kitty
Joel the Lemur © Joel the Lemur
Geno © Coyotek
The rest of the FOX Academy gang are © Dikran_O