Hoenix

Copyright

©2004 Ted R. Blasingame

Revision Edition ©2020

All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without written permission from the author.

Cover art © by Elizabeth Jackson.

Used by permission.

Published by Lulu Press

http://www.lulu.com

Visit the Author's website

http://trblasingame.com

Dedication 

To Ian Spurlock

Never lose your sense of wonder and imagination.

It's okay to pretend.

HOENIX

by Ted R. Blasingame

Aramis Thorne was a genetic anthro wolf with no memories of a possible past life of piracy. When he is approached with an old starship of questionable reliability, his life takes a turn for discovery and tragedy with the legend of an ancient city's treasure snapping at his heels. 

Chapter 1

The cloaked figure almost did not see the rugged stone the size of a grapefruit hurling toward his head as he stood his ground, feet firmly planted and fists ready to fight. He was fast, however, and managed to dodge it just as he slammed a fist into the belly of the rangy body closest to him. The stone bounced harmlessly off the leg of a granite statue behind him, but his assailant doubled over from the blow to his middle. The cloaked figure whirled around with an upraised leg and planted a heel against the snout of another enemy beside him.

He dodged another thrown rock and spun toward the one who had hurled it. A large muscular foe reached for another fist-sized stone, but he rushed him, knocking back the hook of his cloak, revealing a pair of triangular ears and the lupine head that had been hidden. The genetically-engineered anthro-wolf growled low in his throat.

His assailant, another anthro Fur engineered in the form of a bipedal leopard, laughed at his tenacity and turned to face him, the rock forgotten. He grinned to show his own teeth as the wolf’s fists ineffectively pounded his middle, and then reached down to grab the lupine by the neck with both hands.

Struggling to free himself from the iron grip, the wolf could feel his windpipe start to collapse. Never fight fair when you’re fighting for your life, he remembered from somewhere. The wolf brought his knee up hard into the leopard’s crotch and the claw-tipped hands around his throat released him.

He staggered away from the writhing feline and gasped for breath. Two more anthro-cats jumped out of the shadows of the ancient ruins and the wolf shook his head quickly to clear the fog from his eyes. He bared his teeth and growled as he dove toward the nearest one.

The two wrestled to the ground, the wolf’s dusty cloak tangling around them both. The lightweight, weatherworn fabric ripped as the other cat’s claws fought to contain him. The wolf butted his head against the nose of the bobcat he grappled with and lashed out with a booted foot at the other. The tawny cat went down with a dislocated kneecap and the wolf scrambled back to his feet.

Four more felines surrounded him in the courtyard of the crumbling desert city and the wolf assessed his situation quickly with keen amber eyes. He heard the unmistakable click of a revolver’s cocked hammer and he suddenly dove for the nearest thug, a scruffy orange cat with a face full of scars and half an ear missing. The wolf caught him by the left arm and swung him hard in an arc that surprised the feline. He hurled the cat into one of his cohorts in a squawling, wild flailing of arms and legs.

Taking advantage of the confusion, the wolf hurled himself at the feline with the revolver, but the lanky male lion was prepared. He whipped the gun around swiftly, but decided not to shoot, instead choosing to drive its hardened steel barrel across the wolf’s snout.

The wolf spun around before he hit the ground, but he was only momentarily dazed. It was enough, however, for the lion to pick up an ancient clay pot and bring it crashing down upon his head. The pot, which by itself would have commanded a high price on the archeological market, crumbled into worthless fragments as the wolf’s head reeled from the impact. The lupine fighter dropped to the ground and rolled over onto his back. The last thing he saw before blacking out was the smug expression of the lion standing over him.

The felines who had fallen from the wolf’s attack slowly got to their feet, rubbing their abused limbs and wounds. The lion looked up at the sound of footsteps and saw his leader descend a flight of weatherworn stone steps into the small arena. A bare-chested, broad-shouldered cougar scowled darkly and then scratched absently at an old scar that ran across the bridge of his nose and his left eyelid.

“It took you long enough to bring him down,” the cougar growled at his anthro-humanoid lackeys. “No matter, we have work to do.” He looked toward the leopard that was having trouble standing and shook his head. “Take him out and dump him into the pit, and then get back here to help load up the carts with these relics. If we can’t find Thorne’s gold, at least we won’t have to go back completely empty-handed.”

“Randon,” the leopard said through clenched lips, “I can barely walk…” The cougar fixed him with an icy stare, but said nothing.

“Right...” the leopard muttered with a hard swallow. He shuffled over to where the wolf lay and then kicked him in the ribs as compensation for his pains. Out of spite, he kicked him again across the back of the head. The wolf’s head bounced once and then he lay still.

As the cougar barked out more orders to the others, the leopard grabbed the collar of the wolf’s cloak roughly. With a muted grumble, he dragged the unconscious form across the sand and scrub brush toward the side of the mountains surrounding the weather-blasted, archeological ruins that had served as their hideout for the past week.

Chapter 2

All was black, but multicolored sparks soon appeared before his eyes. The wolf sat up swiftly, but the motion made his head spin and he fell over onto his side. He groaned and held his head in his hands until the sudden nausea passed. It was only then he noticed his other aches and pains. He rolled gently onto his back again and slowly opened his eyes. There was a pale illumination directly above and it took him a moment to realize it was the soft glow of lunar light just out of view. All thoughts escaped him for an indeterminate time as he lay there staring at the glow, but eventually he began to wonder where he was.

A circular shadow framed the moonlight several meters above him and he finally realized that he lay at the bottom of a hole or pit. He surmised that either he had fallen or someone had pushed him into it, and he wondered why he had not broken his neck from the drop; his snout certainly felt like he had either been beaten or he had landed on it from the fall. Fitted stones were barely visible in the wall beside him, and as his eyes traveled downward, they fell upon a nearby dark mass. He held his breath and tried to identify it, but he could not see much detail in the pale light.

He sat up slowly and then scooted backward so that he could lean up against the wall. His forehead ached and he put a hand on the lump that decorated his brow just above his right eye. There was dried blood matted in the fur there and he decided that it accounted for his dim eyesight. He brushed at it gingerly and managed to get enough of the caked blood free that he could open his eye a little more. His throat felt sore, and it was a little difficult to swallow, but it was manageable. A spot at the base of his skull was tender and it was painful to rest his head on the wall behind him.

His head throbbed and his body ached. He felt dirty, thirsty… and very hungry. He put a hand on the ground beside him to gather leverage to attempt to get up, but his fingers fell upon something odd. He picked it up and discovered in the moonlight that he held the leg bone of a skeleton that lay scattered within the tatters of rotted clothing. He found himself studying a canine skull whose empty sockets stared lifelessly back at him in the shadows, and after a moment, he quietly set the leg bone back on the ground.

The wolf cleared his throat quietly. “Were you someone I knew, my friend?” he asked the skull in a low voice. “I don’t remember…”

He tilted his head as he tried to identify this place in his memory. He remembered neither the pit nor what had happened to him prior to waking up. He thought hard, which only served to strengthen the throbbing in his head, but the memories eluded his grasp. After several long moments, he realized that not only did he not know where he was, nor know how he had gotten there, neither could he remember his own name. He felt a sudden annoyance when this information refused to come to him, and he rubbed the soreness across the back of his head with a deep frown.

He looked up again and considered calling out for help, but something in the back of his mind cautioned him to remain silent. No sounds from above indicated anyone else was near, but he decided he did not want to take the chance of attracting the attention of someone who might want to finish him off. He was cognizant enough to realize that his predicament was likely no accident.

Despite his aches and pains, he leaned over and got up onto his knees. Gravel and bone fragments dug into his kneecaps and he winced from their sudden bite. He reached out to the wall to steady himself and slowly eased himself upright. He stood up a little shakily, but his legs seemed strong enough to hold him up. He leaned against the wall and then looked down at himself.

The loose tan breeches he wore were in sad shape; the torn material on one leg hung from the knee down and there was a rip along his thigh on the other leg. A pair of travel-worn, soft-sided black boots covered his feet, and a shirt that might have been white at one time covered part of his upper body. The front of the shirt had ripped from the collar to his navel and his chest fur was filthy with dust. Over it all, he wore a long grey cloak that had seen better days. The dusty, lightweight material had tears in several places and the hood was hanging on only by mere threads.

“Whoever I am,” he muttered to himself, “it certainly looks as if I have enemies.” His muscles complained when he wriggled out of the cloak and turned it over in his hands for a better look. A full moon was slowly moving directly over the pit and it provided him with better light. Unfortunately, the garment gave no indication of his identity. There were only a few small coins in his pants pocket and a folded bit of paper.

Unfolding the paper showed it to be a sales receipt for one item labeled only as a ‘scarlet scarf.’ He scratched an ear absently and then refolded the paper. The words meant nothing to him, but he decided to keep it in case it might later provide some sort of clue. There was no other identification of any kind on his person.

He looked up at the moon and knew that the walls of the pit were too steep for him to climb. The sides were made of closely fitted stones filled in with some kind of mortar, and he knew he would find no purchase there.

He glanced back across his enclosure, which probably measured no more than three meters across, and his eyes fell once again upon the dark mass near the opposite wall. The brighter moonlight illuminated the object a little clearer and it appeared to be a dark grey tarpaulin covering something lumpy. He stepped away from the wall, tentatively checking his balance, but he remained upright without further support as he stepped across the bones.

When he laid his hands on the material, it felt tightly woven, but even standing next to it, the color of the dirty fabric was hard to see in the darkness. There was something solid beneath, so he pulled the covering away and let it drop to the floor beside his feet. Underneath were two small crates and a metallic suitcase.

He knelt down on the discarded tarp to protect his knees from the stone floor and then reached for the suitcase. The latches sprung open with an echoed snap in the pit and he slowly raised the lid. As expected, there were several articles of clothing inside. The suitcase seal had worked well enough that the garments were neither dusty nor smelled stale. He picked up a neatly folded tan shirt and held it up in the moonlight. The short-sleeved garment appeared to be his size, and there were large pockets across the chest with epaulets across the shoulders. For the first time since he woke up in this place, the wolf smiled.

Even after generations of genetic manipulation for interstellar colonization, the various species of anthro-humans still wore articles of clothing, now more often as a means of individual expression than for the need of protection. The fabrics, by necessity, were light and airy to allow natural fur to breathe properly without making them feel stuffy or confined.

Considering the condition of the clothing he wore, the shirt was a welcome gift. He shrugged out of his tattered cloak and shirt, and then slid the new shirt around his broad shoulders. The buttons came together in a size that suited him with only a little looseness to the fit. Encouraged by this, he peered into the suitcase again. What looked like a pair of tan riding breeches was next, and as before, the garment fit him well. There was just enough play in the material that he could not be sure if the tailoring was for him or someone just a little larger, but at least the tail flap was at the right height for his anatomy.

A floor-length trench coat of dark grey filled the bottom of the suitcase, and the garment draped over him with room to spare. It also had a convenient split in the back to allow his tail out into open air. It had no hood like the ratty garment he had worn, but was lightweight enough to wear for protection against the sun during the day or warmth during a cool night. There were two large pockets on the outside of the new cloak and four more of considerable capacity on the inside. It was while he explored the inner pockets that he found another small slip of paper: a receipt itemizing the purchase of the garments he had just donned. The sale was to a name he could barely read in the receding moonlight.

Aramis Thorne

“Is that my name,” he asked with a glance back at his skeletal companion, “or yours?”

The empty eye sockets betrayed no reply, although in his current frame of mind the wolf would not have been surprised if the skull had answered him. He stared at it a moment longer and then shrugged. “As I can’t seem to remember my own name,” he said quietly, “Aramis Thorne sounds as good as anything else I might have come up with. Do you mind if I use it?” Again, no reply. The wolf smiled to himself in the darkness and nodded. “Well then, since you have no complaints, I thank you.”

Turning back toward the crates and tossing his torn and worn clothing into the silver suitcase, he repeated the name several times to get used to its feel. He closed the suitcase, set it aside, and then reached for the first plastic crate. A small padlock locked the top of the left box so he turned to the remaining crate. Its lid came up easily and his face brightened at the sight of food packets. They looked like standard survival rations, but he did not care. His stomach had been growling ever since he had regained consciousness. There were also two jugs of what appeared to be fresh water and several plastic containers of other oddments.

He tore one of the food packs open with a claw and found several pieces of dried jerky. He popped one of them into his mouth and began chewing on it as he looked over the other articles. He found waterproof matches, a small sewing kit, an empty canteen, something that looked like small bricks of compressed dust and a thin canvas backpack.

Despite the sealed packages, the jerky was disappointingly bland and almost tasteless, not spicy as he preferred. Opening one of the jugs of water, he took a long swallow before remembering that he should drink sparingly of the equally stale liquid. He still had no idea where he was or how long he might be there, so he recapped the jug and put it back inside the crate. However, his stomach told him that he was still hungry, so he continued to gnaw on the jerky from the package he had already opened. The grey tarpaulin made a passable seat, so he relaxed on it and stared up at the opening above him as he chewed. By this time, the moon had all but disappeared from sight and the gloom within the pit deepened.

He thought long and hard about his condition, but all it did was intensify his headache. There were no memories prior to his awakening. For the life of him, he could not remember who he was or what had brought him to be sitting at the bottom of a bone-strewn pit next to a suitcase and a box of provisions.

Glancing over at the old and dusty traveling cloak he had tossed aside, he swallowed the last of his jerky. He had neglected to put the cloak into the suitcase with the rest of his clothes. Picking it up, he started looking through the pockets again. Nothing of any importance had shown up the first time he looked, but he thought it worth another try.

Within an inner pocket, he felt a small seam that he had not remembered noticing before, and there appeared to be something hard underneath; it would have been easy to miss. He worked at it with a claw tip and the material parted slightly. Inside was a small brass key. He pulled it out and examined it closely.

Thorne got up on his knees and faced the plastic cases. He tried the key in the padlock of the sealed crate and the mechanism tripped with a small click. Curious as to what might need to be locked up, he raised the lid and peered inside.

The first things to meet his gaze were the barrel of a modern automatic handgun and a sheathed knife. The pistol seemed well oiled and in good condition, and there were several boxes of ammunition lying beside it. He looked it over and was impressed with the ridged alabaster handgrip that fit comfortably into his hand. He set the gun back down and picked up the knife. He pulled the wide, curved blade from a simple leather sheath and knew it would be sharp without having to test its edge. Even in the gloom of the pit, the razor edge glinted from the overhead starlight.

He held up the knife and examined his reflection in the dim light. Weary amber eyes peered back at him with uncertainty over a black nose at the end of a lupine snout. The fur of his face was a mixture of grey and white with the darker guard hairs predominant. Oval patches of lighter grey fur surrounded his eyes, giving him the appearance of wearing a mask. Pure white fur adorned the lower half of his face, as well as the fluffy area covering his throat. This went well with the darker grey patterns that carried over to his arms, the fur lighter on the underside of his arms, chest and belly. Aside from dried blood, grass and dirt in his fur, the wolf thought with pride that he might be a nice specimen for his anthro-human race when cleaned up.

It had been generations since mankind spread out into space, planting itself on other worlds capable of sustaining their fragile lives. Over time, genetic manipulation gave the colonists the strengths and attributes of other species from mother Earth to assist in their survival, creating various sub-species that were mostly human, but often resembled animals in human form. The geneticists were choosy at first, preferring only certain predatory species, but over time they created others solely because it was possible. As a result, colonies seeded by mankind throughout the stars were now veritable zoos. Pure humans still existed on Earth herself, but the anthro-humans, or furs, as the term they preferred, populated most of the colonies now. It had been thus for many decades, and with standard LightDrive engines bridging the interstellar distances, the species blended and mixed with one another throughout the worlds of the Planetary Alignment.

He looked into the reflection of his eyes a moment more before he lowered the blade. He had hoped looking at himself would trigger his memory, and there was a minor spark of recognition, but ultimately it was an expectation unfulfilled. Aramis Thorne was still just as much a mystery to himself as the name was. He heaved a heavy sigh and then looked down at the open crate.

The weapons lay on top of rotting burlap bags and all it took was a light pass of the blade over the material to reveal the contents within. The wolf picked up a large golden coin that looked to have been hand-stamped with the image of an indistinct face on one side, and a planet with two moons on the other. Both sides bore tiny markings similar to hieroglyphs that he could not read. The crate contained several bags, all of them full of identical coins.

Although his memories eluded him, he realized that a small fortune lay before him. He looked back at the canine skull that shared his imprisonment and shook his head. “It looks like we hit it big, my friend,” he said in a quiet voice as he sheathed the blade, “but I don’t think it will be of any use to us in here.”

The wolf got to his feet and looked up at the overhead stars. “You have not caused me any trouble, but I would prefer not to remain here.” He had no belief that the skeleton could hear a thing he said, but the silence was overwhelming and it felt good to use his voice. He looked down again and picked up the rough-woven cloth at his feet.

“The suitcase and crates were not tossed down here; someone covered them over so they couldn’t be seen from above. I have no way of knowing if it was me or you, my friend, or someone else altogether. Either way, I don’t want to be here if someone comes looking for it.”

Thorne looked around the bottom of the pit again, even though he had examined it several times already. There were no ropes, no ladders and no handy vines hanging down inside for him to climb.

Moving stiffly due to his injuries, he crawled up on top of the crates and steadied himself to reach upward on the wall. He studied the bricks that made up the vertical sides of his circular prison. The mortar was cracked and broken in some areas, but nothing provided enough of a handhold for him to use. Unfortunately, the pit was deep enough that even with something to stand upon, the upper ledge was simply too high to reach.

It only took twenty minutes before he gave up and sat down on the tarp in frustration. His night sight was keen, but the gloom of the pit had been too dark to see much detail. He remembered the matches in the crate and quickly retrieved them. He looked around in the darkness and picked up the skeleton’s fibula. He felt self-conscious disturbing the bones of the dead, but his sense of self-preservation was stronger. He wrapped one end of the bone with strips of its owner’s clothing remnants and tied the end tightly. He struck a match on the stone wall and it flared instantly, momentarily blinding him. He recovered quickly and set it against the makeshift torch. The old fabric caught fire instantly.

He glanced upward with the realization that if there were any enemies about, they might see the light from the pit, but it was a chance he would have to take. He held up the torch and then studied the walls around him. A crack in the mortar in front of him caught his eye after a moment. It was no different from other cracks he saw, except this one was too linear to be a random weakness in the mortar. The imperfection was vertical and he could trace it from the floor upwards of two meters. At that height, it took a sharp turn to the left. Less than a meter across, it turned back down toward the floor and he knew without following it further that it would intersect with another horizontal line at ground level. He looked over the rectangular area he had traced out and then he noticed something he had not seen before. Halfway up the crack’s length was a very faint, practically indistinct handprint on the wall.

Thorne looked up again. He saw no one hovering at the top of the pit and surmised it would be safe to test his theory. He put his hand up to the print and then applied pressure to the wall. As he expected, a section of the wall pivoted inward. The sound of stone scraping against stone sounded loud in the confines of the pit, but he no longer cared about silence. He thrust the torch into the opening and the light revealed a series of steps leading upward, carved out of the stone floor. The steps were wide and the incline was a shallow grade.

He began to ascend the stairs, but halted. If the passage led him out as he hoped, he would need a few things. He turned back toward the crates and set the burning torch upright against the wall. He pulled out the thin canvas backpack and filled the bottom of it with two handfuls of the gold coins, and then he put in several food packets and the other oddments he had found. He filled the canteen with water and shoved it into one of the cloak’s inner pockets. He had no way to carry more water, so he opened the remaining jug and swallowed as much of the lukewarm liquid as he felt he could drink. It might be a while before he found another source to fill the canteen. He removed the cloak and then donned the backpack. Once in place, he put the cloak back on. There was no holster for the pistol, so he shoved it into his waistband and then stored extra ammunition into a pocket after filling the gun’s clip. He took another handful of coins and split them up with half going into each pants pocket.

He slipped the sheathed knife beneath his belt at the small of his back and then locked the crate of gold. He covered the suitcase and two boxes with the dark grey tarpaulin and tried to arrange it all in the same manner as he had originally found them. He picked up his torch and then took a last look around his circular prison. He nodded quietly to the grinning skull and then turned his back on the pit. He stepped inside the stair chamber and then gently pushed the door closed behind him. Thankfully, there was a handhold carved into the backside of the door so that if he needed to return to the pit, he would be able to reopen the door from the inside.

He took a deep breath of the musty air inside the small chamber and then looked up the stairs that curved around a bend above him. He took a step and then stopped once more. Deep carvings covered a good portion of the walls from floor to ceiling. They were hieroglyphs of a sort, and seemed familiar, but nothing substantial came to mind. Was he in a museum? Thorne thought quietly to himself, or was he in some archaeological dig? He felt drawn to the carvings in a sense of fascination, but he had no time to study them in length. He did not yet feel safe.

He shook himself from his musing and then started upward. He followed the shallow steps around a softly curved passage, idly looking at the carvings and then stopped after a moment. He pulled one of the golden coins from a pocket and held it up to the left-hand wall. He held his torch close and nodded to himself when two of the markings corresponded with larger duplicates chiseled into the wall.

Putting the coin back into his pocket with a grunt, he began climbing again. Before the passage had a chance to wind back up over itself, he found himself facing a blank wall. A slight depression revealed that another carved handhold had once adorned the stone door as it did on the panel he had departed, but there was not much of anything to grab onto now. It had broken off at some point in the past, and fragments of the stone crunched beneath his boots.

He tried to pull at the stone with the fingertips of both hands, but there just was not enough of a purchase to make it move. He thought for a moment as the light from the makeshift torch began to flicker. The old cloth was dry and he knew it would not take long to burn up, so he had to think quickly. He pulled out his knife and then set the torch aside so he could use the blade with both hands. He stuck the tip into the visible crack in the stone near the worn handhold and then twisted it slowly.

It took an effort to pull at the knife without sliding it out of the crevasse, but the blade tip had just enough purchase that the stone doorway began to move. The knife slipped off the stone when it had moved only a half-inch, but Thorne was encouraged. He slipped the blade back into its sheath and then grabbed the now-exposed edge of the stone door with the fingertips of both hands. He braced one foot against the wall beside it and felt one of the carved hieroglyphs crumble beneath his heel as he put his weight against it.

The door swung inward reluctantly, but soon he had it open enough that he was able to squeeze through. He picked up the dying torch and then held it up cautiously into the new opening. He found himself in another small antechamber and his eyebrows lifted at the sight he beheld. The walls were devoid of hieroglyphs, but they were stacked with more bags of the same gold coins he carried in his backpack. He estimated that each bag would have contained around five hundred coins, and there had to be well over two hundred bags stacked against opposite walls.

The wolf swallowed in spite of himself, but his waning light crackled and brought him out of his reverie. There was another door panel on the other side of the chamber, but it was only a meter high and low to the floor. Like the others, there was a carved handhold in the stone, and this one was still in good shape. Thorne sat on the ground and then tugged at the rock, hoping he would not have to go much further. It was getting harder to see in the diminishing light.

The small panel swung toward him easily, but there was something just inside that barred further progress. He pushed his torch toward the opening and saw the passage make an abrupt turn to the left. He got onto his hands and knees and crawled around the corner. He stopped briefly to pull the small door panel closed behind him, and then grunted in the close quarters. The passage was a meter square on all sides, but stretched forward into darkness. He thought he could see an end to the chamber ahead, but was unsure in the dim light. The backpack full of gold and oddments was hard to balance on top of his horizontal back, but he managed to keep it in place.

The stone floor was hard on his knees as he scuffled forward and suddenly his torch burned itself out. He cursed mildly in the darkness, although he could do nothing about it. He considered lighting a match, but knew it would only give him illumination for a moment or two and he wanted to conserve them as long as possible. The dry cloth of the bone-torch had spent and there was nothing more to wrap around the fibula to fashion another torch.

“The exit is just ahead,” he reminded himself. The air inside the passage was stale and dusty, and there was a slight odor of something foul that tasted rotten; he coughed several times before he began crawling in the pitch-blackness, the leg bone forgotten behind him. He crawled for several minutes before he butted his head hard on a stone wall in front of him. He put a hand flat on the rock and pushed. As he had hoped, the stone moved forward a few inches, but then stopped. He shoved harder, but the rock would not budge. It felt like it wanted to slide sideways, however, so he grasped the right-hand edge and pulled it to the left. The stone slid out of the way and a strong, foul air suddenly assaulted his nose.

He was still in complete darkness, but he sniffed the fetid air and detected several different odors. He could smell stale cigarette smoke and burned wood beneath the remnant scent of rotted flesh. He hesitated as he sorted out the implications, but he decided to see where his passage would lead him. It was possible that his enemies were nearby, so he would need to move as stealthily as possible, but he could hear no movement other than his own breathing.

He extended a hand through the opening and his fingers encountered cloth. Beneath the fabric was a cold leg, and his disturbance renewed the odor of rotting flesh. He curled up his lips in sudden fright and forced himself not to cry out. Have I escaped my prison in the pit only to crawl into another one? he thought to himself. From the smell in the air, the unfortunate he had just found had not been dead for centuries; this was a recent decomposition.

Thorne swallowed and decided to do the unthinkable. He eased out of his passageway and crawled over the top of the corpse, straddling it as best he could in the cramped quarters. If he could just get past the body, he thought he could go on. However, when he bumped his head against another wall, he suddenly found that his crawling was over. He searched quickly for another sliding panel, but there was nowhere else to go. He had ended up inside a stone burial vault.

The wolf laid his ears back at the thought, but refused to relax against the deceased individual beneath him. Instead, he braced himself against the bottom and pressed his back up against the top. He grunted and his arms quivered from the effort, but the stone lid moved a bit. The rotting odor nauseated him, but he was not about to let that stop him.

He exerted his strength and pressed upward with all his might. With a sense of relief, he felt the lid slide sideways. New air poured into the vault through the opening and the odors within and the aromas without fought his olfactory senses in a fierce battle. He had to rest, but he would not let himself be soiled by his late companion. He pressed upward again and the lid moved aside some more.

For Thorne, it was enough. He moved to the right so that both his knees were on one side of the corpse, and then he reached up with both hands to grasp the open edge of the lid. He put his back against the wall and then heaved at the lid. The sound of stone grinding upon stone echoed in the chamber beyond as the top moved slowly. He grunted, panted and struggled, but his strength was about to give out.

He felt of the opening and decided that he had moved it far enough that he might be able to squeeze through. Desperation provided him with will power; he gathered himself beneath the aperture and slowly eased himself into it. His backpack caught the edge and he had to squirm about to mobilize his frame through the opening, but in doing so the lid pushed open a little further.

In getting out of the vault, Thorne slipped and stepped on the body within, but he no longer focused on avoiding it; he was determined to get out. It took him several minutes to wriggle his way out, but he eventually found himself sitting on top of the vault lid.

He was unwilling to rest just yet, even though his body screamed for a moment of peace. He eased himself down off the vault onto the floor beside it and was relieved to be able to stand up fully. His legs were cramping from being too long in the crawlway.

The chamber he had entered was as dark as the vault, but he would chance a match to see where he was. His aching muscles complained when he struggled out of the backpack. Going on touch alone, he located the matches and then struck one on the side of the vault.

He had had the foresight to close his eyes before lighting the match, so he slowly opened them to see if he could make out his surroundings. The first thing he saw made him smile. A torch holder embedded in the wall beside the vault contained what looked to be an oil-saturated cloth bound tightly around a bundle of small sticks.

He leaned forward and touched the match to the oily rags to the reward of a satisfying blaze. He dropped the match to the floor in a shower of sparks and then pulled the new torch from the wall iron. He examined the holder briefly and momentarily hesitated when he saw its lupine design, a wolf’s head with bared fangs. The figure triggered a wisp of memory, but nothing concrete.

Thorne held up the torch and looked around the room. The chamber appeared to be a cube, with the walls, floor, and ceiling each approximately four meters across. More hieroglyphs covered the walls, and even the sides of the burial vault. Low tables sat empty against the walls, recently plundered. There were numerous footprints in the dust of the floor as if the chamber had been busily trafficked. The only other artifact left in the room was a dusty hardwood pole an inch in diameter and four feet long, that lay across the floor near a closed stone door panel. A carved wolf’s head similar to the torch holder adorned one end of the staff; it had either been forgotten or deemed of little value by whomever had looted the chamber.

He leaned over the coffin and peered down at the body he had discovered. Despite the decomposition, he could tell that it had been a female canine, but which breed he could not determine. She was dressed in a full-length red dress with short sleeves, a white bodice and a crimson scarf about her neck. There were footprints across her chest – his footprints – and he immediately felt regret for having been so disrespectful. At her feet was the opening he had crawled through, apparently a tiny, secret entrance to the treasure room he had seen earlier.

Knowing the wealth contained in the hard-to-reach antechamber, Thorne set the torch back in the wall holder and then retrieved the wooden pole. He extended it inside the vault toward the female’s feet and then worked the trick door panel back into place. He set the pole against the wall near the torch and then walked to the edge of the vault. He did not have much strength left to him, but with better leverage, he managed to reposition the stone lid back over the coffin.

He doubted the body was the original occupant of the tomb, but it was likely to be her final resting place; there was a bloodstained gunshot hole in the fabric of her garment over her heart. If he ever had the opportunity to return, Thorne decided he would arrange a rope or ladder back down into the pit to retrieve the gold, rather than disturb her further.

The torch issued a sharp pop, but after a quick examination, he did not think it was in any danger of going out soon. The wolf decided to give himself a few moments to rest from his exertion. He chanced a swig of water from his canteen, but resisted the urge to drain it dry.

He leaned back against the wall with the backpack beside him and then closed his eyes. He was tired and he ached all over. Given the opportunity to examine himself in better conditions, Thorne knew that he had bruises beneath his fur in many places. It still surprised him that the fall into the pit had not broken anything. He pulled the trench cloak over him with a heavy sigh and then grew still.

***

Aramis Thorne awoke several hours later, unaware than he had even drifted off into a dreamless sleep, but when he opened his eyes, he saw a faint glow in front of him. The torch had burned itself out, but he could see a diffused shaft of light on the wall before him.

Rolling over, he got up onto his knees and picked up the backpack. He moved quietly as he gathered his things and then grabbed the hardwood pole after shrugging into his trench cloak. He walked toward the door of the chamber where the light seeped between the cracks and put his eye up to the slit. He could see little beyond the door, but a beam of sunlight poured in from an opening in the ceiling of the next chamber.

He pushed on the door, but discovered it would not move. The opening the light came through was a little wider than an inch so he put the end of his staff into it and worked the door open. A moment later, the wolf stepped out into the fresh air of a great hall.

The chamber was large enough to have housed a fair-sized crowd and there was a raised dais at one end. More of the hieroglyphs decorated the walls as carvings, and the four grand columns that held up the ceiling had more of them hand-painted around their curved surfaces. Previous looters had stripped the room of anything of value, like the small chamber he had just departed. Boot tracks were everywhere in the dust, accompanied by a number of cigarette butts.

Thorne frowned at the scene and then looked up at an old, ragged hole in the ceiling where sunlight streamed in from the outside, with the broken remnants scattered on the floor below. He could hear the faint sounds of insects in the air and a few chirping birds, but nothing else. A pair of large double doors were partially open in the wall across from him, so he took his new walking stick and made his way to them. The doors were open enough that he could get through without having to touch them, and he found a corridor that led out toward the glow of sunshine.

When he emerged from the structure a moment later, his lips parted in wonder. He was on the top elevation of what looked to be an oval amphitheater of stone built into the side of a hill. Surrounding it was a small city of elaborate buildings made of large, hand-cut stone blocks fitted with precision. From the condition of weathering, everything looked as if it had been abandoned for centuries. Scrubby brush grew at random and the haphazard areas where grass had made its purchase had gone unchecked for ages.

The city was nestled up against the bend of a mountain range that stretched as far as the eye could see in two directions. Huge storm clouds were building on the far horizon, but over the city itself, the morning sky contained only a few lazy clouds. Stretched out away from the mountains was a flat, open plain dotted with nothing more than dry grasses and scrub brush.

Thorne stood very still and took in his surroundings. His eyes watched for movement and his ears strained for sounds other than the buzzing of insects and the singing of birds. To the best of what his senses could tell him, he was alone in the ancient city. It appeared that whoever had been there, leaving behind footprints, cigarette butts and a body, had gone.

He was in awe of what he saw around him, but the impression that the city was familiar was strong in his mind. He thought about it for a moment and then his eyes lit up.

“Hee-nicks…” he pronounced aloud when his memory yielded a tiny scrap of information. “The name of this city is Hoenix.”

This revelation surprised him. Why could he remember the name of an ancient city, but not his own name? It was puzzling and it bothered him. He walked to the first tier below him in the stone seats of the amphitheater and sat down. Who was he? He did not feel like an “Aramis Thorne,” but then again he did not know whom he felt like at all.

He mused over the events of his awakening and knew he must have enemies. That much was certain, but who was it? He did not know that any more than he knew his own name. I must be careful, he thought to himself. Anyone he might meet could prove to be a foe, and until he could resolve his memory, he decided that he would be on his guard at all times.

The wolf looked up at a new sound, but before he could identify it, he darted back to the building he had emerged from and hid himself in the shadows. His ears swiveled back and forth as he listened to the sound that echoed faintly off the stone walls of the amphitheater, and then he looked up into the sky.

There, far overhead, was the vapor trail of an aircraft that had come over the top of the mountain ridge far to his left and was gaining altitude as he watched. He narrowed his eyes, but the vessel was too far out of his range of vision to identify its make. He recognized the faraway sound as the whine of atmospheric engines, and he watched it until it had disappeared. He determined that from its angle of ascent, the craft was heading for orbit above the planet.

He nodded to himself quietly, and with his eyes traced the diminishing vapor trail back to its beginning over the ridge of mountains. It was possible that it had only passed his area, but if there were any settlements in the region, that was the probably the best direction he should take to find them. As awe-inspiring as Hoenix appeared, he did not intend to remain there in exile. He had neither compass nor a map, but if he followed the line of mountains until he could find a pass through them, he would at least have something of a guide.

The sun was getting warmer in this dry climate and Thorne knew he would fare better if he limited his travel time to the cool darkness of night. Having just rested, however, he was in no frame of mind to retire back into the shadows to sleep, so he decided to explore the city. Whoever had been there might have left something behind that could be useful on his journey.

Chapter 3

Aramis Thorne set his walking staff against a granite boulder and took a sip from his canteen. He had been traveling for two nights along the base of the mountain ridge, but had seen no one. The occasional vapor trail in the sky kept him on his chosen course, but he knew he would have to find water soon. His canteen was nearing empty, even though he had only taken occasional sips from it.

The gold weighed down his pack and pockets, and his feet were sore from crossing over rock fragments on the grassy plain beneath the mountains. By day, he had curled up in the shadows of large boulders with his trench cloak pulled over him, but the heat of the sun had made it hard to rest. He figured he had about another day’s worth of small sips of water, but he still had plenty of food rations. The trouble with the rations, however, was that they were dry and made him thirsty. He had decided that he could do without the food longer than he could without liquid, so had taken to ignoring the rations in favor of conserving water.

As he looked out across the plains, a faint noise to his right caught his attention. His ears swiveled to home in on the sound of tiny feet scrabbling over rock. His movements were imperceptible as he turned just enough so that he could locate the small wild rabbit that had made the mistake of coming near a hungry predator.

Beneath his trench coat, Thorne’s hand reached the knife in his belt and then eased it forward in perfect silence. The non-sapient rabbit peered out into the darkness, aware that danger was nearby, but the dark grey cloak made the wolf nearly invisible with the shadows of the night.

In a fluid motion, Thorne threw the blade with precision from his left hand and impaled the small animal through the neck. He moved forward quietly and then knelt down to retrieve his prize. He was elated to have fresh meat, but his mood quickly dampened when he realized that he did not have enough water for a stew; his caution would not allow him to make a fire anyway, even with the fire-brick in his pack. He had two choices. He could wait until daybreak to build a small fire, or he could eat the rabbit raw. Unlike his feral ancestors, he preferred his meat slightly cooked to sterilize it against certain diseases, but the urgent rumbling of his stomach made the choice for him.

The wolf sat down with his back to a large boulder and began to skin the animal. He glanced up into the sky and noted pale wisps of morning sunlight begin to color hazy overhead clouds. He would soon have to find a crevice between the strewn boulders for his daytime rest period.

A half hour later, the wolf had finished his meal. Despite being raw, he had enjoyed the taste and his stomach no longer rumbled. He felt as if he could eat another two or three rabbits, but with the approaching sun, he would not have time to hunt for more. He cleaned up as best he could, but would not allow himself to use up precious drinking water to wash the blood from his hands and muzzle. It was his tongue or nothing.

He sheathed his knife and returned it to its place in his belt at the small of his back. He distanced himself from the carcass remains with a ten-minute walk. He did not feel like having his sleep interrupted by whatever scavenger might appear to lay claim to the remains.

Three large boulders had fallen from a high wall of the mountainside at some time in the past and had come to rest against one another at the edge of the plain. Between the three of them was a small area that would be in perpetual shadow throughout the day. Thorne left his staff on the ground beside an opening and then crawled inside to find room enough for him if he curled up. With the cloak as his blanket and the pack as a pillow, the wolf was soon asleep.

He awoke hours later to the sound of voices. His eyes snapped open and his ears twitched. As quiet as he could, Thorne slipped the pack across his shoulders and then shrugged into his cloak. His fingers immediately fell upon his handgun, but he decided not to show that card yet. If the newcomers were enemies, five of them from their voices, he wanted the element of surprise. If not, he did not want to frighten them away from giving him possible aid.

Easing out from beneath his shelter, he blinked several times from the bright morning sunlight to adjust his eyes. He picked up his walking staff and then crept around the curve of the boulders. He peered out, but saw no one in his line of sight. Someone laughed and he realized that the rock wall behind him had reflected the voices. He took a furtive glance back to make sure he had not crawled out in full view, but there was no one there.

His ears swiveled for a moment at further discussion, but he could not yet distinguish anything said. However, he believed he had a fix on the location and then moved silently toward the end of the rock wall.

“Janden, you have far too many kits as it is,” he heard someone say clearly as he neared a weathered boulder that had split in half. More laughter followed the words and then he could see them.

There were four desert foxes – fennecs, from the look of their oversized ears – gathered beneath a flimsy awning erected beside a pool of spring water. The grasses near the pool were greener than those further out in the plains, and several short trees with wide leaves grew near the water source. The wolf licked his lips at the sight of the clear pool. The sun was already warming the top of his head.

All of the tan foxes were dressed in traveling cloaks with hoods, each one a different muted color fabric, but they wore little more than shorts beneath them. Six non-sapient ponies were tethered to the trees near the water so they could drink, and dusty travel packs were at their feet.

Thorne did not see any weapons, but he dare not assume they were unarmed. One of the foxes, a fellow in an orange cloak, plucked several blades of grass and tossed them at a companion in green.

“My mate doesn’t mind,” Janden replied with a grin. “She likes making them as much as I do!” More laughter from the group. Thorne remained perfectly still and continued to watch. If he could make himself known without startling the travelers, they might let him refill his canteen and point him the way to civilization.

He did not have long to wait. Someone jerked the walking staff from his hand, and then it was used to knock his legs out from beneath him. He looked up in alarm at the fifth fox that had come up behind him and he silently cursed himself for not detecting his approach.

“Rothlen!” the red-cloaked fox called without taking his eyes from the wolf. Thorne heard the other four scramble toward them and a moment later, they had surrounded him. Aramis remained where he had been knocked down, but sat up to face the group.

“What’s this?” asked a fox wearing blue. He looked angry, but in a frightened way. No doubt, the smaller foxes viewed the larger wolf as a threat.

Thorne raised his hands slowly to show his submission. “I’m just a traveler seeking water,” he said truthfully. “I heard your voices.”

“And you thought to rob us?” asked Janden, the one in orange.

“That was not my intent,” he replied in a quiet voice.

“Look at the blood on his hands and nose!” said another in alarm. “He’s already killed someone else!”

“I ate a small, wild rabbit last night,” Aramis explained quickly. “I didn’t have water to spare to clean up.”

“Rothlen, take a look at this!” said the one who had discovered him. He tilted Thorne’s walking stick toward a fox wearing a tan cloak that matched the color of his own fur. Rothlen examined the carved wolf’s head at the end of the staff and his eyes grew wide in apparent recognition.

“Where did you get this?” he asked the wolf.

Thorne tried to appear innocent. “I found it among the rocks two days ago,” he lied. Other than his staff, he had seen no other weapons among the group, so he stood up slowly, his hands still partially upraised. The foxes eyed him suspiciously, but made no sudden movements.

“It looks old, but not weathered in the sun,” one of the foxes commented.

“I don’t know how long it was there before I found it.”

Rothlen exchanged a few quiet words with his companions and then took the staff in his hands. “I wouldn’t take a lone traveler’s walking stick,” he said with a slight bow to his head, “but I will keep it until you’ve had water and rest.”

“Thank you, sir.” Thorne duplicated the short bow in appreciation, but when he lowered his head, Rothlen struck him hard across the back of his neck with the staff. The wolf stumbled, but he had been alert for something like this. He lurched forward and tackled Rothlen to the ground. The others jumped him immediately, but he kicked the one in green aside with a well-placed foot to the chest and drove his elbow into the stomach of the other wearing red.

He wrestled with Rothlen over the staff, and when one of the others got too close, Thorne wrenched one end hard to catch the fox across the face or stomach. Rothlen was wiry and tried to turn Thorne around to get over him, but the wolf would have none of that. He snarled fiercely and twisted the staff to snap his opponent’s left wrist. The fox cried out in pain and let go of the stick. As he cradled his arm, the fox in blue jumped on Thorne’s back.

Aramis lurched backward and pinned the fennec hard against the large weathered boulder, and then he felt the backpack beneath his cloak give away. The fox slumped to the ground, golden coins raining down on him, but he was too dazed to realize it. Thorne whirled around to see the fox in green lunging for him and he slugged him under the jaw as he put his other hand in the fellow’s gut.

Janden’s eyes grew wide at the sight of the gold and he leaped for the coins, but Aramis had seen him. He whipped out his knife and threw it into the fennec’s leg. Janden yelped and dropped to his knees, holding onto his calf in agony. He pulled the blade from his flesh, but the pain was too intense for him to use it as a return dart.

Thorne leaned down and jerked the blade from his hand, nearly severing one of the fox’s fingers in the process. The fox in green had recovered enough that he approached Aramis with the wooden staff, but he dropped it immediately when the wolf produced a pistol from his waistband and aimed it between the fellow’s eyes. The fox turned and ran, followed closely by the one in red. The guy in blue stirred, realizing that gold coins covered him, but he lost all interest in the money with the barrel of the gun in his face. He got up slowly, letting the gold fall to the ground, and then backed away.

When Thorne did not shoot him, he felt he would take his chances and then bolted in the opposite direction his other companions had taken. Left behind were the injured, Rothlen and Janden. Thorne stood over the vulpine leader and glared down at him.

“I had no intention of robbing you,” he said with a growl. “All I needed was water and directions to the nearest settlement.” Rothlen tried to scramble away, but Thorne kicked the fox’s foot and sent him sprawling into another rock.

The wolf returned to his gold. He kept an eye on Janden as he scooped the coins back into his bag, thankful that only the snaps had come loose. He refastened the pack and then attached it to his belt beneath his cloak. He picked up his wooden staff and then turned to Janden.

“Who are you?” the fox asked him between clenched teeth. “What band are you with?”

“The name is Thorne, I’ll give you that much, but my band is my business,” the wolf said.

“Thorne!” the orange-clad fox exclaimed. His eyes grew wide and he swallowed at the lump that had formed in his throat. “Captain Thorne!”

The wolf tried not to let surprise show on his face. Instead, he scowled and leveled the pistol at the fox. The fennec had been wrapping the belt of his cloak around his leg wound, but he froze as he stared up the barrel of the firearm.

One of the others tried to sneak up on him from behind, but Thorne whirled around and fired off a round. The bullet struck the rock beside the fox in blue, spraying his face with shards, and he leaped back with a cry of surprise. The echo of the shot bounced around the mountainside and then Aramis turned back to face Janden.

“Get up,” he said in a gruff voice loud enough to carry to the other foxes still in hiding. “Gather your friends, get on your ponies, and then take off across the plains. If you look back, you might meet up with a bullet. If you try to come back, I will be wearing your pelts!”

Janden swallowed and nodded. “Nobody crosses Captain Thorne,” he said, sounding as if it was a well-known quote. “We will do as you say, sir…”

Aramis gave him a dark look and then stepped back several paces to allow the others to collect their wounded companions. Rothlen looked at him with a sick expression as the ones in blue and green picked him up from the ground. “Heard you were dead…” he said in a voice barely above a whisper. “It’s all over Castelrosso…”

“Get on your ponies and ride,” Thorne told him. “Leave the food and water.”

“The water, too?” asked one. “It’s getting hot!”

 ”You want the same thing you gave me when I asked for water?” He kept his pistol aimed at them with one hand and then raised the staff with the other. The foxes cowered together against the split boulder.

“No,” Rothlen answered quickly. “We will leave, as ordered.”

Thorne lowered his weapon, but kept an eye on them. Their companions helped those injured back to the pool. Within moments, the five of them mounted their ponies and stared back at him with mutual frowns.

“Leave the other pony,” Thorne said of the sixth that they had previously used as a pack animal. No one argued with him as they drew their reins around and kicked their mounts into a trot out across the plains, away from the mountains. It was not yet noon, but the sun was climbing higher overhead. The closest wellspring was several hours’ ride out across the grass and they made for that as quickly as their ponies would take them.

Thorne sat down in a folding canvas chair under the awning and kept his eyes on them until they had blended with the horizon. Convinced that they had stayed their course and had not tried to double back, Aramis finally allowed himself to collapse against the chair. He picked up a thin metal cup from the ground, dipped it into the cool pool of water, and took a long drink. It had a sweet taste and he had to force himself not to chug down too much as he dipped the cup for a second and third time.

He got back up and went to one of the packs left behind. He rummaged through it and found a veritable feast inside. He grabbed several items greedily as hunger took over and then he stood up. He took his edible treasure back to the chair and sat down with relief upon his face.

When he had finally satisfied his hunger, he washed his face and hands in the pool and then dried off with a discarded towel. Only then did he allow himself to relax in the chair and stare out across the plains in the direction the foxes had taken. He sat for a long while, quietly musing over many thoughts while he watched their figures dwindle in the distance.

Since awakening in a dark pit in the ancient city of Hoenix, the wolf had experienced a number of revelations, though he still had no memory of who he was. Was he the Captain Aramis Thorne that had caused fear in the foxes when they heard his name? They had apparently never met Thorne, as they had neither recognized him nor discounted him when he spoke the name. Thorne was rumored to be dead. The wolf had obviously been left for dead in the pit, but then so had the canine skeleton that he found down there with him. He had no memory of Aramis Thorne; for all he knew, he could have been Thorne’s lackey, rather than the captain himself.

However, he had exhibited several surprising talents he had been previously unaware of having. He could throw knives with accurate precision with either hand, and he knew how to fight well, even when the odds were against him. He had been unafraid facing the foxes, so there was some amount of courage within him, and even when confronted with news that Captain Thorne was well known and believed dead, he had reacted as if it was of no consequence.

He had been arrogant with the foxes, but attributed that to being attacked and getting back at him, but his gut feeling was that he was normally more tolerant than that. He closed his eyes and shook his head with a heavy sigh. If Captain Thorne was well known and someone discovered that he was not this individual that nobody crossed, he could be in serious trouble.

He wondered if he should continue to play the part of Thorne or if he should adopt a different persona until he knew for certain whom he really was. He narrowed his eyes and smiled to himself. He had rather enjoyed having others respectful and somewhat afraid of him by name. He decided that no matter what he could or could not remember, he would not be afraid of the opportunity facing him. If Thorne was really dead, he had knowledge of a golden treasure hidden in a secret room in Hoenix. He could go back for it later and set himself up nicely somewhere. However, if he discovered he really was Aramis Thorne, the wolf vowed that he would hunt down whoever it was that had tried to kill him. If he was as well-known as the foxes made him out to be, he apparently had been a person of some power. Nobody crossed Captain Thorne….

Captain… A captain of what? He wondered. Did he have a ship or was Thorne a part of the local military with a bad reputation?

The wolf yawned and began to realize just how tired he was. He looked around at the day camp and then back out across the plains. There was a warm breeze blowing along the mountain ridges and he could hear the lazy buzzing of insects in the air. Despite the harsh greeting he had gotten from the fox clan, Thorne was tired of being alone. Although he was missing his personal history, he was still a wolf - and a wolf needed a pack. Lone wolves never fared well and he knew that one way or another, he needed to be around other people. The only way he could manage that would be to find his way back to civilization.

From the direction and frequency of the vapor trails he had been watching in the sky, a port or launch facility had to be nearby, though on the opposite side of the mountain range. He had to find a pass or trail between the peaks soon. He would bypass it altogether if he continued along the plains as he had been doing. He had no doubt that the foxes knew the way to… what was the name of that place? Castelrosso, Rothlen had called it, but he had neglected to get any information from them about it before he had sent them away.

Castelrosso. The name sounded familiar, but like so many almost-memories, he could not quite make a connection. Nevertheless, Castelrosso was now his objective, no matter who he was. Despite unknown hidden talents popping up to surprise him in times of need, he would not survive long wandering the mountains and plains without a way to renew his supplies. He could not rely on meeting other groups to steal from, so he had no choice but to attempt to reach Castelrosso. At least his goal now had a name.

He looked over at the tan and white pinto pony that had watched him impassively and gave her a warm smile. She had not seemed frightened by the presence of the predator and he took that as a good sign. They would likely be traveling companions for a day or two.

Aramis walked out into the sun to the animal and felt the sudden heat of the day as he rubbed her nose lightly. The pony leaned into his hand and he chuckled at how friendly she seemed. He untied the pony’s tether from a scrubby tree and led her to a spot underneath the shady awning the foxes had erected. He refastened the reins to one of its poles and made sure she would be able to drink from the pool if she got thirsty. He found a grain bag inside one of the other packs and set it open on the ground at her feet. She looked at him with soft brown eyes when he ran his hands along her neck and snorted softly in appreciation.

The wolf had no way to detect whether or not the foxes might return to finish him off, but he knew he had to rest. He had traveled all night and a full stomach in the heat of the day made him drowsy. He would try to rest again before he and his new companion would set out to find the pass they needed to get to Castelrosso.

He walked to the other side of the split boulder and looked around as he listened for anyone who might be in the area. After several moments, he decided they were alone and then relieved himself against the rocks.

He returned to the awning and stretched out on the grass in the shade. It was surprisingly soft and he was grateful as his body relaxed in the warm air. Despite the bright sunshine, he was asleep in moments with only a pony to look over him.

***

Aramis Thorne looked up at the narrow opening in the sheer rock surface and twitched his tail in thought. It was a little past midnight; he and the pony had traveled a night and a half along the foot of the mountains. He had been constantly alert to the sounds around them, but had detected the presence of no one beside themselves along the way. The vapor trails were practically over their heads now; the crevasse looked to be the only opening into the mountain that could possibly pass through to the other side.

A waning moon floated high above them and illuminated the entrance in a soft glow. It was wide enough that two ponies could have ridden side by side through it, but the inward curving stone wall overhead would barely allow a rider on top without leaning. The signs were hopeful; horse tracks and other footprints decorated the soft sand that covered its floor, and he could hear the sound of trickling water.

The wolf slid down off the saddle blanket and patted the pony’s nose affectionately before leading her into the opening by the reins. As a precaution, he kept one hand on the butt of his pistol and searched the shadows with night eyes. He neither saw nor heard anyone else as they moved along the trail. Moments later, they emerged into a wider area. The ceiling disappeared completely and the moon was visible again.

Aramis led his pony into a teardrop-shaped box canyon, its sheer granite walls streaked and worn from erosion. They had entered the canyon at the narrow end of the teardrop and the wolf stopped for a moment to look around. He saw signs of prior encampment in various spots within the ravine. There looked to be a small, natural spring to the left that pooled into a small natural basin, then overflowed and disappeared into another crack in the stone wall.

Thorne frowned. He had hoped the passageway would have been a way through the mountain, but instead it was a secluded spot for travelers to stop, rest and refill their water supply.

He sighed in frustration and started to turn back to the passage, but the pony tugged on the reins he held in one hand. Aramis pulled back on the leather straps, but once again, she resisted. Out of disgust, the wolf dropped the reins and started to walk out on his own, but the horse snorted to get his attention. When Aramis looked back to the pony, his equine companion began walking toward the far wall.

“If you want water, it’s over there,” he said in a whispered voice that echoed quietly around the canyon. He pointed to the spring, but the pony ignored him and continued on. Thorne growled lowly and then followed with the intent to retrieve the reins. Every time he drew near, however, the pony trotted forward a few steps to stay out of reach.

It was only when she had arrived at the far end of the canyon did she stop. Aramis grabbed her reins irritably and tugged to lead her back to the passage, but as before, she resisted and bobbed her head up and down.

“I don’t have time for this,” Thorne growled. He made a grab for the pony’s mane, but she trotted a few steps to the side, causing him to stumble. He caught himself and looked up at her disdainfully, but when she twitched her ears at him, the wolf finally saw it.

There, almost hidden by the weathered streaks in the muted night colors of the rock wall was an opening. It was not quite large enough for the pony to get inside comfortably, but the wolf would have plenty of room for passage. As with the trail before, he could see footprints in the sand leading up to the opening, showing clear signs of use. He looked up at the pony with a nod.

“You have been here before, haven’t you?” he asked in a whisper. “Thank you.”

He took a tentative step inside the gap and saw a weathered wooden box on the floor of a passage that stretched on into the darkness. The box contained a number of small oil lamps with strikers, as well as several bottles of fuel oil. This was further proof the entrance had been frequently traveled.

Thorne stood very still and listened intently, but after a few moments, the only sound he could hear within the new passage was the occasional drip of water somewhere inside. He turned back to the pony and nodded appreciatively to her.

“I’m afraid you won’t be able to go any farther with me,” he said quietly, “but if you have been here before, you already knew that.” He took her reins, led her toward the spring, and this time she followed willingly. At the water’s edge, he dipped a hand into the cool liquid and took a drink of water just as sweet to the taste as the pool had been at the foxes’ camp. He pulled his canteen from his pack and refilled it after drinking to satisfaction.

After he put his things back in order, Aramis reached up, pulled the pack, his walking staff, and blanket from the pony’s back, and then set them down in the sand. He removed the reins and bit from her mouth, and patted her gently on the side of her broad neck.

“I have appreciated your company,” he said, “but now we must part.” He looked around the box canyon and nodded to himself. “I am sure your previous companions will find you again soon. This place looks well-visited, so you shouldn’t have long by yourself.” He then opened the pony’s grain sack and set it on the ground next to the well.

The pony rubbed her nose against the side of his head and he got the impression that she would be all right without him. Aramis gave her another pat and then took off his cloak. He strapped the pack to his back and then put the garment over it again. He took another glance around the canyon when he bent down to retrieve his staff and then walked back to the new passageway. This time, the pony did not follow him, but watched him enter the tunnel with large brown eyes.

The lantern Aramis picked up was full of fuel oil. He spread his palm across the striker wheel and gave it a grinding whirl. A spark ignited the saturated wick after his third try and it bathed the stone passageway in cool amber light. He lifted it and studied his surroundings. The floor was sandy and level, but littered with broken rock. The walls were close enough together that he could have touched both sides at the same time, but the ceiling above him was higher than he could tell in the dim light. There was a faint, constant breeze blowing through the tunnel, a good sign there was another exit somewhere ahead.

He fitted the handle ring of the lantern into the jaws of the wolf at the top of his staff and then held it out in front of him as he started up the passageway. The way was straight for a hundred paces and then it began to twist and turn. At times, the passage became narrower at head-level so that he had to duck his head down and walk a few steps hunched over. He noticed a steady incline to the walkway, and despite the meandering of the tunnel, it maintained a relatively straight direction into the heart of the mountain. He could hear an occasional squeaking overhead, but no bats dropped into his path to bother him.

He walked for a little over two hours before the floor became level again, but he saw no sign of the opposite end. He checked the fuel oil and was pleased to find that very little of it had burned away. The liquid was a slow-burning fuel for which he was grateful. Footprints were plentiful in the sand, and he maintained vigilance throughout his hike, but he detected no other travelers along the way. Twice he crossed over underground streams filled with pale white fish, but his walk had been pleasant in the cool passage and he maintained a full canteen without the need to sip from it.

As he neared the completion of his fourth hour, Aramis saw the soft glow of yellow light up ahead. He slowed his pace and strained all his senses to detect the presence of anyone who might lie in wait for him at the tunnel’s exit, but for all he could tell he was still alone. The scent of salt water touched his nose and the curl of a smile crept onto the edges of his lips. The Herdantian Sea!

Aramis stopped and swished his tail in puzzlement. How had he known that? He had no memory of a Herdantian Sea, but the name had leapt forward in his memory, just as the name of Hoenix had come to him in the city where he had awakened. He concentrated hard for several moments, but there were no more surfacing memories. Apparently, they would come to him in trickles. He frowned and started forward again, but within a few steps, the beginnings of a smile crossed his face once again.

There was a bend in the passage and he could feel warmer air across his nose. He lowered the lantern to the floor, extinguished its flame, and then moved forward with the staff ready in front of him. There was no one there to accost him, but he slipped a hand onto the pistol in his waistband beneath his cloak as he stepped out into the first rays of light. The morning sun had peaked above a range of mountains to his right and he smiled widely at the sight that lay below him.

He had exited out onto a trail halfway up a mountain that overlooked a small valley on the edge of the sea. A sprawling city occupied a crescent shaped valley, with a seaport on the northwest end of the bay and a launch facility paralleling it on the northeast end. As he watched, a cigar-shaped vessel with old-style rocket fins launched from the spaceport and angled off across the mountains, a condensation trail following in its wake.

His eyes followed the ship until it disappeared behind a large stone cliff to his right; it looked like a natural rock formation of rose granite and red sandstone, but its shape reminded him of a castle that towered over the city below.

Another name floated up out of his memory as he peered at it: Castelrosso, otherwise known as the Red Castle in the language of the Terrans that had first settled the area. There were still humans about, but a greater portion of the population was a mixture of the genetically-created Furs that Terran scientists had originally created for space exploration and colonization centuries earlier.

The foxes had mentioned this place, Castelrosso. He squinted and focused on the top of the castle rock’s parapet formations, but saw no movement as he would have with an actual fortress. Weatherworn caves dotted the cliffs of the mountains that bordered the sea, and hills covered mostly with grasses and shrubs, but very few actual trees surrounded the city. He could see that plant life was plentiful in the valley and he could hear various birdsongs in the temperate air. The position of the morning sun told him the bay faced due north.

Aramis glanced at the trail at his feet and saw that it meandered down the mountainside directly toward the city, intersecting with other trails across the terrain. With a lighter heart, he repositioned the pack on his back beneath his cloak and began walking down the trail.

Sounds from the city reached his ears as he descended the mountainside. The town was waking up with the morning. Another ship took off from the spaceport and he could see a huge tanker moored out in the bay as a small watercraft made its way toward it from a distant pier. Automobiles moved along the streets and he could see people beginning their day.

He stiffened when he noted a pair of canines walking up a side trail toward him. The teenage boy and girl were dressed in shorts and hiking vests, and armed with nothing more than a canteen each. They both gave him a polite smile as they passed and then resumed their idle chatter. Aramis watched them out of the corner of his eye, but neither seemed further interested in him. He eased his finger from the trigger of his pistol and released the breath he had been holding; he had to remind himself that not everyone he met was suspect for foul play.

As he neared the closest of the buildings to his trail, he noted there were many different species among the increasing activity along the streets. He was comfortable with this knowledge, although many of those he saw appeared a little rough around the edges. He had the distinct feeling that he had arrived in a seedy part of town. Due to the growing number of people in the area, he removed his hand from the pistol in his waistband beneath his cloak and instead held onto his staff with a firm grip.

The trail emptied out onto a sidewalk between two buildings made of large tan bricks and grey mortar. Weathered shutters folded back beside barred windows covered by torn awnings suggested occasional strong storms, understandable for a city beside a bay. He moved out to the main street and several people stared suspiciously at his desert garments and walking staff, though they kept moving. He glanced up and down the thoroughfare. Now that he had finally reached civilization, he had no idea what he should do next.

A rumbling in his stomach answered that question for him. He needed food and then a place to stay until he could form a course of action. He appeared to be in a residential section in serious need of urban renewal, but the smell of morning cooking was becoming stronger in his nostrils. He crossed the street toward another side road and decided to follow his nose.

He walked for two blocks and then came out on a major avenue where the breakfast aromas were strongest. He looked to the right and saw a combination restaurant and hotel several doors away. It looked to be as good as any other he might find, so he made his way past opening storefronts toward it.

He walked into the lobby of The Crusty Barnacle Hotel and Restaurant and decided he needed to clean up before he had breakfast. The scuffed, wooden floor echoed his booted footsteps in the otherwise quiet room as he made his way around furniture that had seen better days. Several canines, a coyote, and a pair of rabbits watched him as he walked through the room, but he paid them no more than a glance to mark their positions.

A black cat with one white ear and a rotund middle behind the counter took a drink from a beer can, belched, and wiped his sleeve across his mouth before he got up from his chair. He looked up at the taller wolf and grunted.  “What kin I getcha?” he asked. “Food or a room?”

“Both.” Aramis said in a low voice as he leaned his staff against the counter. “First the room so I can clean up.”

“Right-o,” said the feline. “The room is ten credits a night, first night in advance.”

Thorne fished a coin from his pocket and set it on the counter. “I don’t have any credits on me,” he said quietly. “Will this do?”

The cat’s green eyes widened when he saw the gold coin. He leaned forward for a closer look, but did not touch it. He looked up at the stranger with sudden fear and he swallowed hard. Thorne frowned at him and rested both hands on the counter.

“Well?” he asked.

The cat swallowed again and then slid a pen and an open register book toward him. “Sign in, p-please.” Aramis wrote his borrowed name on the first empty line and then set the pen down.

When the cat read the name, his eyes grew even wider and his twitching tail began to fuzz. He reached for a box mounted to the wall behind him and plucked a key with a plastic tag on a string from a hook. He set it on the counter next to the coin. “R-room number n-nine,” he said shakily. “Up the stairs and t-to the right.” Thorne picked up the key with a nod of his head, but was curious why the clerk had not taken the coin. He left it on the counter where he had put it and then turned back toward the lobby with his staff.

The coyote watched him with steady eyes, but the others pretended to be interested in other things. Thorne scowled at him and then moved to the stairs. The steps creaked as he ascended to the second floor. Room number nine was the first door he saw to his left. An antique bench decorated the hallway beside his door, its long cushion upholstered in a faded flower print.  He unlocked the door and then switched on the interior lights.

The small room contained only two pieces of furniture, a bed that looked too short for his length and a lamp table beside it that was missing its lamp. The bedding on the bunk appeared to be clean, at least. He stepped inside and locked the door behind him so he could look around. The closet was empty save for a single hanger, and the floorboards beneath it looked loose. The room did have its own toilet, shower and sink, but it would be close quarters in the closet-sized area. Two threadbare towels sat folded on the edge of the sink.

He walked to a barred window and opened the shutters to the outside. There was no glass in its frame and the view only faced the wall of the next building across a dark alley. He closed the shutters and latched them tight.

Thorne moved back to the closet and set the staff in a corner. He removed his dusty cloak, hung it on the single hanger, and then knelt down on to the floor. The wolf pulled out his knife and set its point at the edge of a floorboard that minutely stuck up above the others. He worked at it for a moment and then the board lifted up with a light creak of small nails.

He hooked his fingers beneath the edge of the wooden plank and pulled it free of the flooring. As he expected, there was a space between his floor and the wooden ceiling of the room below. He removed his small pack of provisions and eased it into the opening. It filled up the space completely and then he put the floorboard back into place. He still had some of the gold coins in his pants pocket. From the reaction of the clerk downstairs, he felt sure he could trade a few of them for standard currency at a local bank or coin shop, but he knew it would not be wise to carry his entire stash with him.

When he stood up again, none of the floorboards looked out of place and he sheathed his knife. His stomach growled again, but he first wanted a shower to clean the dust from his fur before eating. He yawned widely and stretched his arms. He had been traveling all night and was in need of rest. Once he was clean, fed and had some sleep, Thorne would decide what to do next.

Chapter 4

Aramis yawned and stretched lazily, his feet dangling off the end of the short bed. Despite the firmness of the mattress, and that he was longer than the bed itself, he had slept peacefully and felt reasonably rested. After he had showered and groomed his fur, Thorne had stretched out on the bed to relax before finding something to eat. Despite his hunger, sleep enticed him and he had not resisted.

His slumber had not been without dreams. He had dreamed of a lovely red wolf in a soft white dress, with a red scarf about her neck and a yellow flower tucked behind her left ear. She stood at the bottom of a large underground shaft of rock with walls carved in relief of canine kings. She sang softly in words that echoed in the chamber and moved her hands in the air as if to accentuate her message. A bright beam of light shone down from the high ceiling beside a falling river of crystalline sand that fell into a circular pit ringed with fitted stones in a knee-high wall. Thorne walked down stone steps carved around the perimeter of the shaft.

The vision of beauty beckoned him to join her, and when he had reached the bottom and moved to her side, they had touched their fingers, entwined their tails and nuzzled one another gently. He felt calm and peaceful, and the soft scent of cherry blossom perfume was strong in his memory. They had not kissed, but nuzzled and touched in gentle caresses as she sang.

When he finally awoke, Aramis could remember neither the melody of the song nor its words. As he lay in the small bed contentedly, he mulled over the dream and tried hard to burn it into his memory so he would not forget it. He could not remember who she might have been to him, nor even her name, but he felt certain it was a remnant of the elusive memories somewhere in his mind. He did not feel she was merely a phantom of a random dream, but felt strongly that he had really known her.

Sometime later, the grey wolf sighed and finally sat up. Dwelling on the dream had not satisfied his hunger and his stomach was making rude noises at him. He stood up, walked to the small water closet, and then reached for his clothing that hung from the shower curtain rod. He felt of the material and was satisfied they had dried completely during his sleep. They had been dirty from travel and he had washed them in the sink after he had cleaned his fur in the shower. He would need more than one set of clothing and decided to buy some the first chance he got.

He dressed quickly and fluffed up the fur of his right cheek that had flattened during his nap. Without a watch, he did not know how long he had slept, so he opened the window shutters and peered out into the alley. From the position of the shadows on the ground below, he surmised that it was late afternoon and was confident he should have no trouble getting something to eat at this time. He looked around the room to make sure everything was in order and then opened the door after slipping into his cloak. He stopped abruptly and gripped the doorknob. Sitting on the bench seat right outside his door was the coyote he had seen in the hotel lobby, dressed in baggy purple pants and a white tank top. He looked up from the paperback novel he had been reading and gave the wolf a smile as he stood up.

“Good afternoon,” he said with a slight accent.

“Hello…” Thorne replied cautiously, locking the door behind him.

“May I speak with you a moment?” the coyote asked. “My name is Goro Harada.”

“Not now,” Thorne answered. “I am on my way out to eat.” As if to validate his words, his stomach growled loudly.

Harada chuckled and gestured toward the stairwell. “If you don’t mind a little company, I can talk as you eat,” he said.

Thorne sighed. “Very well, then. After you.”

Harada instantly recognized his companion’s caution by not letting him behind him. With a nod, he led the way down the stairs and was pleased when the wolf followed him into the small hotel restaurant. Dark wood paneling covered the walls and ceiling, but the indirect lighting in recessed grooves in the upper walls kept the place well illuminated. The room was practically deserted, but they took a table in the corner anyway.

The coyote kept his silence as Thorne picked up a menu from the table and began to look it over. A short beagle in a cook’s apron came through the kitchen’s swinging door and whipped a pencil and a small notepad from his pocket. “Tyler?” Harada asked, “Where’s Lady Margaret?”

“Hi, Goro,” the beagle said with a smile before turning to face Thorne with a short bow. “She had to leave early today, so I’ll be taking your orders instead.”

“What happened?” the coyote asked. “Did she trip and drop more dishes?”

“No,” Tyler said with a chuckle. “Calvin’s principal called again. It seems he deliberately set fire to the science classroom again.”

“That’s three times this term!” Harada exclaimed with a shake of his head. “Either that boy’s going to be a pyromaniac or a mad scientist when he grows up. His father should—”

Thorne brought his hand down hard on the table, making Harada and Tyler jump. They both looked over at his look of impatience and the beagle cleared his throat. “Uh, right then,” he said. “What can I get you from the kitchen?”

Thorne picked up his hand from the table and revealed an old golden coin. “How much of a meal will this cover?” he asked in a low voice.

Tyler’s eyes grew wide with a wagging tail as he reached for the gold, but Harada snatched it up first. “Hey!” the beagle complained.

Harada closely examined both sides of the coin and then whistled in surprise. He held it out to Tyler and then looked over at the wolf as the cook took it from his hand. “Where’d you get this?” he asked in amazement. “Is this the same thing you gave the desk clerk this morning?”

Thorne narrowed his eyes at him, but did not reply. He looked back at the beagle when he set the coin back down on the table. “I am sure this would cover everything we’ve got in the kitchen,” Tyler said, clearly impressed, “but we aren’t set up to handle this kind of currency.”

The wolf sighed. Eating would have to wait a little longer, it seemed. He pocketed the coin and then got to his feet. “Where is the nearest exchange?” he asked.

Tyler gestured toward the front door. “There is a bank two blocks to the left outside our door, but I don’t know if they can help you.”

“Isn’t there an antique shop near there?” Harada asked the beagle.

“I think so,” Tyler replied.

“I will try the bank first,” Aramis said. “I will be back to eat shortly.” Harada started to get up, but Thorne shook his head. “You can wait for me here,” he told him as his stomach growled again. “I will be easier to talk to once I have eaten.”

The coyote sat back down and exchanged glances with Tyler. “Right, then,” he replied.

Ten minutes later, Thorne stepped up to the door of the Eastland Street Bank and then went inside. The lobby was small. There were only three teller windows on the left side of the room and two loan offices on the right. Two of the windows were busy with customers so he walked to the third. A pretty Border collie looked up at him with a smile, but the expression faded when she took a good look at him.

“Ohmigosh!” she said aloud. She backed away and hit a button; metal shutters came down quickly to block the opening. The other tellers looked over at him suddenly and then shut their own windows in a panic. One of the other customers grabbed his money and ran out the front door, while the other, a rotund orange cat, merely fell back against the counter, his knees week and his eyes wide in fear.

Thorne narrowed his eyes in frustration, but made no move to accost anyone. Instead, he turned and walked back to the door without a word, his hands in plain sight of the frightened manager who watched him from behind the safety of his office door.

When he stepped back outside in the late afternoon sun, he sighed and looked up and down the street. He wasn’t angry with anyone and he had not intended to rob the bank as everyone seemed to think, but he was getting awfully tired of the apparent fear he presented everywhere he went.

Who had he been to invoke such responses?

He half-expected guards to come out of the bank after him, but no one seemed to be moving inside, no doubt because they could still see him through the glass door. He tried to ignore the rumbling in his stomach and began walking.

Moments later, he looked up at a fluttering brown cloth banner that hung from the doorway he approached. Antique Trader declared the sign in gold letters. Hoping against hope, Thorne opened the shop door and stepped inside. Small jingle bells on the inside of the door announced his arrival, but he saw no one behind the glass counter. He assumed someone would come out of the back momentarily, so the wolf decided to look around.

Most of what he saw appeared to be little more than junk, but that was the thing with antiques. The items were probably valuable to somebody, or had been at some point in time. He saw ornately carved wooden flutes, chipped cups and saucers, jewelry, paintings, old slateboard units and lamps. Inside a glass case was the preserved tail of a ringtail cat attached to the back of a cloth belt. He assumed it had belonged to a human wishing he had been born with a tail of his own. No Fur would wear something like that.

He picked up a blue and white nautical captain’s hat and placed it on his head. If he was supposed to have been a captain, perhaps he should get it. He walked over to a wood-framed, full-length mirror and looked at himself.

“While I would love to sell that to you,” a voice said from behind him, “I don’t think it really suits you, sir.”

Thorne turned to look down at a short badger wearing a short-sleeve plaid shirt over black pants, with a pair of round-rimmed glasses perched on his nose. He smiled at the elderly proprietor behind the counter and removed the hat from between his ears. “I think you’re right,” he admitted in a pleasant tone. “People who wear them generally look stupid.”

“Some folks can wear them just fine,” the badger countered with a grin, “but mostly I have seen them worn by tanker skippers and freighter captains. So, how may I help you this afternoon? My name is Tavish.”

Thorne walked over to the counter and then pulled one of the gold coins from his pocket. He set it on top of a red velvet mat next to a pencil and a small pad of paper. “I have a few of these,” he said, “and wondered if they were of any value.”

Tavish picked up the coin and examined it with interest. He made a few grunting noises, but Thorne could not quite make out the guy’s attitude. The badger took the coin to a lighted magnifier at the end of the counter. He held the coin beneath its light and peered at it closely.

“My, my…” he said after a moment, sounding impressed. “I didn’t think I would see one of these in my lifetime.”

“You recognize it, then?” Thorne asked.

“The image on the coin’s reverse side is a depiction of our planet and its two moons, Tomalos and Chelan,” Tavish explained. The names stirred some memories for Thorne, and they sounded right. “They’ve been stamped upon every major coin on this world ever since the Terran Furs first colonized here, but I have never seen the images on a coin from the early days.”

“How old?” Thorne prompted.

“Three hundred years, I would guess,” Tavish muttered as he turned the coin over to examine its other side. He did not see the wolf’s nod of agreement. Thorne had found them in an abandoned stone city, so their approximate age had not exactly surprised him.

“I can’t read the symbols, but the image on the coin’s face is interesting… interesting indeed…” the old badger continued. “I would probably have to do some research, but if I am not mistaken, I think this is King Chaaq, first true ruler of Hoenix.”

Thorne looked at him sharply. Hoenix had been the name that had surfaced in his memory when he had seen the city in the sun. Until that moment, he had not been sure that it was the actual name of the place, but now he had no doubt.

“I won’t ask you how you came in possession of this,” Tavish said in a quiet voice without looking up, “but knowledge of the existence of Hoenix has been long sought-after.” He nodded to himself and then switched off the magnified lamp. He held the coin in one hand and silently weighed it against his fingers. “You said you had more?” he asked with genuine interest.

“That’s right,” Thorne admitted. He pulled more coins from the pockets of his breeches and gently set them on the velvet mat. Tavish licked his lips and then set the coin in his hand on the counter next to the other nine.

“I tried to exchange them at the bank down the street,” Thorne said, “but…”

“You were not successful. I’m not surprised,” the badger scoffed. “Most banks wouldn’t know the exchange rate for such a rare coin. That you have ten of them is a tremendous find!”

“I never got to show them to the bank,” Thorne muttered. “They closed up their windows as soon as they saw my face.”

The badger wrote down a figure on the paper pad on the counter and then realized what his customer had said. He squinted through his glasses and leaned toward the wolf. “Captain Thorne!” he said with a sudden intake of breath. The short proprietor dropped his pencil and backed away from the counter until he was up against the display case behind him.

Aramis sighed and leaned casually on the counter. “Relax, mister,” he said with an amused expression. “I am here for your expertise. Just do your job.”

Hesitantly, Tavish took a tentative step toward the counter. “Wh-what do you want of me?”

“I am here to sell these coins, if you will have them. I need usable credits.”

The badger swallowed. “Please don’t hurt me…” he said in a quiet voice.

Aramis stared at him for a long moment, but there were no wisps of recognition here. “Have I hurt you before?” he asked in an emotionless tone. The old guy shook his head slightly. “Your family, Mr. Tavish?” Thorne pressed further. Again, the badger shook his head. Aramis gave him a patient look and then stood up straight. “Give me no reason to do so and you’ll be fine.”

The proprietor swallowed again and then picked up his pencil from the countertop. He gave Thorne a furtive glance, marked out the number he had written earlier and wrote another one below it. “T-twelve hundred credits for each of your coins,” he said nervously. “That’s ©12,000 for the set, but I don’t have that much cash on the premises. I will have to run down to the bank.”

Aramis plucked the pencil from the badger’s hand and shook his head. He leaned over and circled the number that had been marked through. “Nine hundred fifty credits for each coin, as you originally figured, Mr. Tavish. ©9,500 for the set will be satisfactory.”

The badger blinked twice and stared at the note pad. He licked his lips and then looked up at Thorne with appreciation in his eyes. “Are you sure?” he asked in a near whisper. Aramis nodded quietly and then Mr. Tavish heaved a sigh of relief. “Right, then,” he said in a business-like tone. “If you will wait for me, Captain, I will jaunt down to the bank and make a withdrawal for you.” He locked the coins in his register and picked up a small briefcase from under the counter.

“Mr. Tavish.”

“Yes?”

“Tell no one,” the wolf said with a low rumble in his voice.

The badger saw the look in Thorne’s eyes and nodded. “Not a word,” he reassured him. “I will be right back. The bank is only a few doors from here.”

Tavish pulled a floppy hat from a hook on the wall behind the counter and then departed through the front door with a jingle of tiny bells. Aramis put his hands into the pockets of his trench cloak and idly walked around the small room, again examining the oddments scattered about the counters and shelves. Inside a glass case was a pair of throwing knives with alabaster hilts very similar to the handgrip of his pistol. Each had a blade the length of his hand with a tooled leather scabbard lying beside it.

As he looked into the case, the glass reflected movement behind him. Moving nothing but his eyes, Thorne saw a red fox and a terrier slink by the storefront window. They had not seen him; their attention was up the street in the direction that Tavish had gone. The expressions on their faces told Aramis they were up to no good, and as soon as they had gone, he moved across the room to the door and picked up what looked to be two heavy wooden bowling pins from the floor.

Stepping outside, he draped his cloak around his shoulders, hiding the pins in his hands. He quietly watched the progress of the two guys as he leaned against the building. The fox and the canine stopped outside at the bank entrance and pretended to be engrossed in a newspaper the terrier pulled out of his back pocket. They stood there for several long minutes until the door to the bank opened again.

A lithe Irish setter stepped out with her toddler and she smiled at both when they looked up at her from their shared newspaper. The fox gave her a polite nod and then went back to his paper. The mother and her son turned and walked away along the sidewalk, but the males’ apparent innocence did not fool Aramis.

Several minutes later, the door opened again; the terrier put away his paper. Mr. Tavish stepped out with his briefcase and looked up in surprise when the fox jumped him. He tried to get back through the bank door, but the fox wrapped his arms around the old guy’s shoulders as the terrier stepped up to him and put an elbow into the badger’s middle.

Tavish dropped to the ground, the wind knocked out of him, and the terrier snatched the briefcase from his fingers. He and the fox ran back the way they had come, straight toward Thorne.

Aramis watched patiently as the pair of thieves approached, but when they rushed past him, he threw back the edges of his cloak and whipped up the bowling pins. He hurled both of them hard at the same time with both hands. One pin hit the canine just beneath his left ear and the other struck the fox near the base of his skull. Both guys tumbled to the pavement and came to rest in a heap against one another.

Thorne walked quietly to the dazed pair, picked up the briefcase, and then both pins. He nudged the stunned fox with the toe of his boot and nodded with satisfaction. He left both of them where they lay stunned and then moved quietly back to the antique shop. He set the pins and the briefcase inside the door and then went to check on Tavish.

Helping the old badger to his feet, he saw that other than having the breath knocked from him, he was okay. Tavish coughed several times and allowed the wolf to escort him back to his shop. The terrier began to stir, but he was still dazed and held his bruised head in both hands as he sat back on his tail.

Tavish locked the door behind them when they were back inside and turned a sign on the door to read Closed to face the outside. He then turned a thin rod at the display window and closed the blinds. When he turned around, Thorne leaned against the counter with the briefcase beside him.

“Thank you for helping me back there,” Tavish said gratefully as he returned his cap its wall hook. “Those two have harassed me before.”

Thorne raised an eyebrow and stared at the badger with a piercing gaze. “It was my money those two tried to steal. I was protecting my interest.”

Mr. Tavish frowned and nodded wearily. “Right,” he muttered. He pulled the briefcase around to face him and then thumbed the small dials of its combination lock. He lifted the lid and then turned it to face the wolf. Inside were several rolls of local coins, a few straps of bills and a small metal device no larger than a stubby cigar case with one end flattened into a computer interface.

“Not everyone around here trades in PA Credits, so here is a combination I thought would be helpful to you,” the badger said in a renewed business tone. “There is a thousand credits worth of bills and change in jules of local currency, with the remaining eighty-five hundred secure on the credicard.” He picked up the device and plugged it into a slateboard tablet he pulled out from under the counter. He tapped a green button and then turned its readout toward Thorne, who could see “Credit Balance: ©8,500” on the display screen.

“Excellent,” Aramis said with a nod as the antique dealer unplugged the credicard and handed it to him.

“Good,” Tavish replied. “Your personal code is 90215.”

Committing the number to memory with a nod, he took the cash from the briefcase and divided it up among the pockets of his shirt and breeches. “Captain,” Tavish said after a moment, “if you… acquire… any more of those coins, I know someone who might have an interest in buying them – likely at a higher price than I can afford myself. I know a gentleman who has in interest in all things related to the Hoenix civilization. He lives on Earth, but has contacts here in Castelrosso.”

Aramis looked up at him and twitched an ear. “I will keep that in mind,” he said in a neutral tone. “I appreciate your help, Mr. Tavish.”

“Glad to do business with you, Captain. Please let me know if I can do anything more for you.”

Aramis glanced around the room and his eyes fell upon the glass case he had peered into earlier. “How much for those two throwing knives?” he asked.

Mr. Tavish brightened at his words and moved quickly to the case. “Those are very fine quality antiques.” He sounded as if he were in awe of them himself. He pulled them out of the display rack and set them in a tray on top for the wolf to examine. “They’re made of Damarian steel from Hestra, and will retain an edge even under a lot of abuse.”

Thorne picked up one in his left hand and was surprised at its weight. It had a good balance and he had to resist hurling it toward the opposite wall just to watch its flight through the air. He tested its edge with a ginger fingertip and found it remarkably sharp. He set it down and picked up its brother. A brief examination gave him the same impression of its quality.

He looked down at the badger as he set it back down in the tray. “Very good,” he said. “How much?”

Tavish licked his lips and suddenly became nervous. “Well, they’re worth a… no, they… I was, uh, I mean…”

“Relax, old badger,” the captain said with a disarming smile, his amber eyes twinkling. “Pretend you don’t know who I am and make your sales pitch.”

Mr. Tavish swallowed and nodded. “Due to their rarity and exquisite workmanship,” he said in a voice that was still a little shaky, “I really can’t let them go for less than ©500 each.”

Aramis nodded and held out his credicard. “I will take them both,” he said calmly. Tavish looked at him in surprise and gratitude. He nodded with a sudden smile and took the credicard to transfer the funds. The transaction was completed moments later; Thorne slipped the blades into their scabbards and then hid the knives in separate areas on his person.

“Thank you,” Mr. Tavish said. “Was there anything else I can get for you?”

The wolf shook his head, but then stopped. He reached beneath his cloak and pulled the pistol from his waistband. The fear immediately returned to the badger’s face, but Aramis shook his head and set the gun gently upon the counter between them. “Do you have a holster?” he asked calmly.

Tavish licked his lips. Thorne had not threatened him with anything since walking into his shop, but just knowing the wolf had been armed sent a shiver down his spine. He swallowed back his fear and nodded. “I have several,” he said hoarsely. With a furtive glance at the firearm, he walked around the counter to a case on the far side of the room. He picked up three holsters from a small shelf near the floor and then returned to the counter.

“One of these may fit,” he offered.

Thorne picked up his automatic handgun and one of the leather holsters. The fit was too deep, so he tried another. This one was too shallow, having been made for a smaller pistol, but the final option seemed to have been made for his gun. The leather was worn in places and could use a good cleaning, but it fit snug without binding.

“Price?” he asked calmly, strapping it around his waist. It would still be hidden beneath his cloak, but the pistol would have a better home than in his belt.

“You may have that one free of charge,” Mr. Tavish said with a smile. “If you look closely, it’s not in the best of shape, but it’s the only one I have that will fit your firearm.”

Aramis looked up at him. “You don’t have to give away your merchandise. I’m willing to pay you for it.”

Tavish chuckled, pushing his round-rimmed glasses up onto his nose. “I appreciate that, Captain, but I’m serious. I would have likely tossed that one in the dustbin during my next inventory, so I’m not losing any money by giving it to you. Please, take it.”

Aramis gave him a smile. “Well then, I’ll not refuse a generous gift. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, sir.”

His business completed, Thorne turned toward the door. His stomach was growling again and he finally had some cash in his pocket to buy enough to feed his appetite. He put a hand on the doorknob and turned back toward the badger before opening the door.

“I will remember your help, Mr. Tavish,” he said with a nod of his head.

“Have a good day, Captain. Your transactions are confidential with me.”

“Thank you.” Thorne opened the door and then stepped out into the evening sun. The fox and terrier were nowhere in sight. He did not think either of them had actually seen him or knew who it was who had beaned them senseless, but he had no doubts they would go after Tavish again at some point to make up for the small fortune they lost today. He felt no particular loyalty to the old badger. The antique dealer was only doing his job, but he would rather not see him roughed up because of him. He decided to keep an eye out for those two.

He made his made his way back to the Crusty Barnacle without incident and then walked inside. There were a few more people seated around the tables in the restaurant than there had been earlier, and every one of them looked up at him as he entered the room. He did his best to ignore them and walked to the table where the coyote still sat.

Harada looked up at him and closed his paperback novel when the wolf sat down. “Have any luck?” he asked.

Thorne nodded quietly while he picked up a menu and gazed around the room. He saw the beagle Tyler taking the order of a female Papillion dressed in a red and white striped top with a matching pair of red shorts.

“Do you know everyone around here?” he asked.

Harada smiled. “Not everyone,” he replied, “but I’m familiar with a lot of the faces of those who frequent the area. That gal Tyler is talking to has been in here a number of times. I’ve heard her name before, but it’s something I don’t know how to re-pronounce.”

Thorne looked at her curiously and then back to Harada. “Her name is a tongue-twister?” he asked.

“Not really, but it’s longer than she is,” Goro said with a chuckle. “I just don’t remember it. I think she’s a nurse.” Tyler touched the female’s hand gently as he gave her a short bow and then turned away from her table. He darted into the back with his pad to put in her order. Harada gestured toward a canine Chow across the room that appeared to study each bite of his food disapprovingly. “That’s Hugo,” the coyote continued. “He’s an out-of-work mechanic, but a good one. If you ever need someone to work on either atmospheric or interstellar systems, I would put my money on him to go a good job for you.” He started to point out another individual just as Tyler came out of the kitchen and walked over to the table.

“Good to see you again,” the beagle said with a grin. “May I feed you now?”

Thorne looked at him in amusement and nodded. “I do believe I’m ready, Mr. Tyler,” he said in a light tone.

“Tyler Ringo,” the cook said with a chuckle as he pulled out his order pad and a pencil from his apron pocket. “I’m not a “mister” – I’m just Tyler, Ringo or Tyler Ringo, sir.”

The wolf nodded again with a smile. “Okay, Tyler, here is what you can get me.” He named off several items he had chosen from the menu and then sat back in the seat when the beagle had finished writing everything down. “Make it extra spicy,” Thorne added. Tyler gave him a short bow and then moved back to the kitchen.

Once he had gone, Harada started to point out others he knew, but Aramis shook his head. “You wanted to talk to me?” he reminded him.

Goro looked over at him and nodded with a serious expression. “That’s right,” he said as if he had forgotten and suddenly remembered. “I wanted to let you know that my services are available if you need them.”

Thorne looked at him with suspicion. “What kind of services?” he asked warily.

“I’m one of the best pilots you’ll find in Castelrosso,” Goro said as he straightened up in his chair. “I can fly anything ever made, aircraft or spacecraft, from any world in the Planetary Alignment, whether I’ve even been in one or not!”

The wolf stared at him dubiously. “That’s quite a claim,” he stated.

Harada nodded, but did not seem taken aback. “I have quite a knack for figuring out piloting controls and I’ve rarely ever been wrong.”

“That’s interesting. Why would you think I need a pilot?” he asked. “My own pilot is pretty good,” he lied.

Goro raised his eyebrows. “Really? I thought Duster was killed when you lost the Silverthorne.”

Thorne tried to maintain a neutral expression. Duster? Silverthorne? Aramis could remember neither of these names without more than a tingle to his memory and he was growing frustrated. Did he dare admit to Harada that he had no idea what he was talking about, or that he may not be Captain Thorne at all? The wolf was beginning to suspect that the canine skeleton in the Hoenix pit might have been the real Thorne that everyone seemed to know had died. Harada apparently knew more about Captain Thorne than he did.

He might have been tempted to do something to disprove everyone’s assumptions that he was Thorne to avoid further trouble, except that without even revealing his borrowed name, the tellers and customers in the bank had mistaken him for Thorne, as had the proprietor of the antique shop. Until he could find an actual photograph of this Captain Thorne, Aramis doubted he would be fully convinced if this was his true identity.

The wolf did not know who Duster was, nor what the Silverthorne might have been, although he suspected it might have been a ship and Thorne had been her captain. He liked Harada, even if he had only just met him, and he knew that he needed a friend. Without his memories, a friend could be handy indeed. He was hesitant, however, without knowing if Harada could actually be trusted with the truth.

Tyler returned with a tray of food, sparing Aramis from making a quick decision. The coyote graciously let him eat and remained silent even after the cook returned to the kitchen. The wolf had to force himself not to make a spectacle of himself. He felt as if he wanted nothing more than to bolt down his food as quickly as possible.

Fifteen minutes later, Aramis pushed away his empty plate and reached for his glass. He glanced over at Harada, who had entertained himself by reading his novel. He was about to speak when Tyler approached the table.

“Was everything satisfactory?” he asked.

Thorne nodded and said, “The portions were smaller than I would have liked, but the food was excellent. You’re a good cook, Tyler.”

Ringo grinned widely and gave him a short bow. “Thank you very much, sir. If you like, I can make you another order, free of charge.”

Harada glanced up from his book in surprise. So did Thorne. “I appreciate the offer,” the wolf replied cautiously, “but why would you do that? I can pay for the food I eat.”

“Because I want you to know that if you’re in need of a cook for your ship, I want to sign up.”

Thorne looked at him strangely and then shot a quick glance at Harada. “For my ship…” he muttered. Tyler nodded and continued to smile at him. “Why would you want to sign up to my ship? Do you even know who I am?”

Tyler and Harada both chuckled at the same time. The beagle continued grinning as he leaned in close to the table and lowered his voice further. “I’ve heard the rumors,” he said. “Everyone thought you were dead, but now that you’re back in Castelrosso, some think you’re about to start a war.”

The wolf was finding it harder to keep surprise out of his eyes. “Start a war…” he repeated. “Who do you think I’m out to fight?”

Tyler gave him and wink and then sat down in the seat opposite him without bothering to ask permission. He put his elbows on the table and leaned forward with that ever-present smile. “Well…” he began with a glance at Goro, “I would wager it’s Randon. It was one of his men who boasted that you were gone for good.”

Randon… Aramis mulled over the name. Something about it seemed familiar, but nothing surfaced. He reached into his pocket, pulled out a bill of local currency, and then set it on the table in front of the cook. “Where is Randon?” he asked in a low voice.

The beagle flashed another grin at Harada and quickly palmed the money. “I knew it!” he said excitedly. He leaned forward conspiratorially and lowered his voice further. “He’s no longer on Brandt. He and his crew launched from the spaceport two days ago for a rendezvous on the mainland before heading to Earth, but the scoop is he will be back in Langlop’s Outpost over on Lone Island in four months. I figure that if you’re going to prepare to fight him when he gets back, you’ll need a cook on your ship. I have other skills besides cooking that could come in handy,” he added in a whisper. “I’m fairly versatile. Let me crew with you.”

“Me, too!” Harada interjected. “I want in.”

Aramis stared at Tyler long and hard for several minutes. The beagle’s smile began to fade and he started to get up. Thorne held up a couple of fingers and motioned him to sit back down. Until he knew more, the wolf decided to play along.

“I don’t have a ship,” he said quietly, “but I will consider your requests if the situation changes and I find myself in command.”

Harada nodded and replied, “Tyler and I know several others who would jump at the chance to work under your command, Captain. All you have to do is say the word when you’re ready and we’ll help you hire a crew.”

“Right!” Ringo agreed. “You can depend on us!”

Thorne gave both of them a dark look. “Say nothing to anyone,” he said with an underlying growl in his voice. “I don’t want anyone else coming to me for a job unless I have something for them to do. I will choose to trust you two with this for now. If I find a way to get my chance at Randon, you two will get your opportunity if you don’t cross me.”

Harada sat back in his seat and nodded soberly. “Nobody crosses Captain Thorne,” he quoted. “As Tyler said, you can depend on us.”

Aramis returned his nod and then looked over at the beagle. Ringo replaced his grin for a serious expression and merely gave the wolf a nod of his own.

“Very well, then,” Thorne said and he sat upright. “Tend to your lady’s needs across the room and I will accept your offer of another round of food. Extra spicy.”

Tyler glanced over his shoulder at the Papillion and saw that she had been trying to get his attention to refill her drink. He flashed a wide grin to her and then gave Thorne and Harada a quick bow before he stood up and left.

“Is there anything else I can do for you?” Goro asked the wolf. “You said you didn’t have a ship, but if there’s anything else I can help you with, don’t hesitate to ask.”

“If I need something, where do I find you?” Thorne asked before taking a drink from his glass.

“I have a room here at The Crusty Barnacle, same as you,” the coyote replied. “I’m in room fourteen.”

“Convenient,” Aramis commented with a twitch of his ear. “Tell me something.”

“Anything you wish to know,” Goro answered.

“Tyler said that there are rumors going around that I’m back in town. I have only been in Castelrosso a few hours, so how is it that everyone seems to know already?”

Harada leaned closer again and replied, “Five fennecs were found out on the plains two days ago by a passing private aircraft and brought back to the spaceport. They said you had accosted them and took their supplies. According to them, you were heading toward Caplan Pass into Castelrosso. Since Randon’s lackey had already claimed to have killed you, word of your return has spread quickly.”

“How easily details get twisted. I asked the fennecs for water and they jumped me; I merely fought back.” He mused for a moment and looked at his companion again. “Does Randon know?”

“I don’t think so,” Goro replied. “The Cliffhanger was gone before the fennecs got back with their story.”

“Cliffhanger?”

The coyote looked at him oddly. “Randon’s ship.” Thorne did not respond to his expression, but just nodded and drained the rest of his glass.

“May I ask you something?” Harada queried.

Thorne gave him a steady gaze with his amber eyes for a moment before responding. “I am not open to revealing my thoughts right now,” he said carefully, “but go ahead and ask your question.”

Goro swallowed. The wolf’s piercing gaze made him uncomfortable. “What did Randon do to you?” he asked quietly. “Despite all the boasting his guy made, no one could get him to detail just exactly how he had supposedly done the deed.”

Aramis thought about that for a moment. He wanted an answer to that question as well. Even with the sporadic memories that seemed to flicker in his mind, he had no recollection of an actual fight. Everything prior to waking up in the pit was a mystery. He looked up at the coyote and shrugged his shoulders. He decided to give him a small bit of the truth.

“I don’t remember, exactly,” he told him as he peered into his empty glass. “I woke up three days ago in a… uh, among the mountains with a pounding headache and bruises all over. I don’t remember the fight itself, but they must have hit me hard enough for them to think I was dead.”

“How do you feel now?”

“Stiff, sore and in need of some exercise,” Aramis admitted, “but still well enough to fight if someone tries me.” He looked at a clock on the wall and frowned. “I need to buy a few things before the shops close; basic supplies and several changes of clothing. I’ve lost everything and have to start from scratch.”

Harada sat up straight and pulled a small ink pen from a pants pocket. He grabbed a paper napkin from the table dispenser and then looked up at the wolf. “Tell me what you need and I’ll get them for you.”

Thorne hesitated, but then nodded. He named off the things he wanted, including items of personal hygiene for grooming his thick fur, and was about to give the coyote his clothing sizes when Tyler returned from the kitchen with another tray of food. “If you will get those things for me,” he said of the items already listed on Goro’s napkin, “that will get me started. I need some extra clothes, but I will need to try them on myself first. I always seem to have trouble getting the tail-flap to fit right.” He reached into a pocket for his money when Tyler set three plates on the table, but Harada held up a hand.

“You don’t have to trust me with your money,” the coyote pilot said as he stood up. “I’ll pay for these things myself and then you can reimburse me when I bring them to you.”

Thorne looked at him thoughtfully and nodded. “Very well, then. If I am not in the hotel by the time you return, hold them in your room until I send for you.”

“Right, Captain,” Harada said with a smile. He patted Tyler on the shoulder and then departed to attend his task.

“Is everything all right?” Tyler asked as the wolf watched Harada cross the room. He filled the captain’s glass from a pitcher on his tray and then set it on the table next to a plate of food.

Thorne looked over at him and nodded. “You two have given me some things to think about,” he said as he reached for his fork. “It looks like I have some careful planning to do.”

The beagle glanced at the clock on the wall and wrote down something in his notepad. He ripped out the page and set it on the table. “My shift ends in an hour,” he said. “If you need anything, Captain, this is the number where I can be reached. I live in an apartment complex just a few blocks away.”

Aramis glanced at it with a frown. “My room here at the hotel doesn’t have a com unit,” he said, “but if there is a house terminal, I can—”

“I’ll talk to Gus and make sure he provides you with a unit,” Tyler said with a grin. “After that coin you gave him this morning, I am sure he’ll be willing to help you out any way he can.”

“Gus is the fat cat at the hotel desk?”

“Yeah, he has more fat between his ears than anywhere else on him,” Ringo laughed, “but he’s basically a good guy.”

Thorne started to eat and did not reply to the beagle’s last comment, so Tyler picked up his tray and turned back toward the kitchen. Before he had taken two steps, Aramis cleared his throat after taking a drink from his newly refilled glass.

“Where is the closest library?” he asked.

Tyler looked up in thought and then smiled. “That would be the McClellan Library up on Dakota’s Ridge. It’s two blocks north and then six blocks to the East. You can’t miss it. It’s the largest building in that area.”

“How late is it open?”

Tyler frowned as he looked back at the clock. “I think it closes in a half hour. I don’t think you have time to eat and make it there in time to find what you might be looking for.”

Thorne nodded. “Are there any bookstores open late?”

“There’s one called Another Word across the street from the bank I sent you to earlier. I believe it stays open later.”

“Thanks,” Aramis mumbled around another mouthful of food.

“I’ll leave you to eat,” Tyler said with a short bow. “Let me know if I can get you anything else.”

***

Aramis looked at himself in a trio of mirrors and nodded at his reflection. He had tried on several shirts and trousers in the first clothing shop he saw and had been pleased with most of what he had found. He doubted he could disguise his face from those who seemed to know him, but he figured that if he did not dress like Captain Thorne, he would not get as many stares. The tan desert breeches and shirt covered by a dark grey cloak was rather conspicuous, so he had chosen garments in varying shades of green, light grey or blue in light and airy fabrics. He stared at his reflection and nodded again.

He wore a pair of light grey walking shorts that had a tail flap large enough for his brush, and a nondescript, dark-green short-sleeved shirt. In addition to the soft-sided boots he had picked out earlier, he’d also chosen a comfortable pair of sandals. It had not been easy finding them to fit his large feet, but the Spaniel helping him had located some on a top shelf in the back that were just his size. He picked out two more pair of regular shoes to go with his other garments and then left the store after an hour of browsing.

When Thorne stepped outside, he glanced up at the evening sky and frowned. With the library already closed, he decided to visit the small bookstore Tyler had told him was across the street from the Eastland Street Bank. He hefted his garment bags over his shoulder and took his time walking up the avenue. The tropical night was cool, but comfortable.

As he approached the bookstore, a voice called out to him when he passed an alley. “Hey, mister!”

Thorne turned to see three young bulldogs that looked as if they were all barely over twenty. The trio stepped out toward him and Aramis set his packages on the ground. “Yes?” he asked with the hint of a smile.

“Hand ova yer credits and jules,” one of the canines said in a menacing tone. Thorne stood motionless and did not do anything more than look at him with an amused expression. Two of the bulldogs looked at one another and then bunched their hands into fists.

“You ‘eard ‘im,” said one of them. “Empty yer pockets onto da sidewalk, rat now.”

Thorne made no move to comply, but his ear twitched at the sound of footsteps. He turned slightly and saw another bulldog rushing him from the shadows. He whirled around and snared the canine’s wrists just as he lunged toward him, and then hurled him over his shoulder. The would-be assailant flew past his cohorts and bounced off the brick wall of the alley behind them, where he collapsed to the ground with a groan. Enraged, one of them brandished a knife just as another of his buddies rushed the wolf with a growl.

Aramis barely dodged the canine’s fist and put one of his own in the dog’s stomach for his effort, but then had to twist sideways to evade a gleaming metal knife blade that had gone for his ribs. He brought his arm down hard and drove his elbow into the knife-wielder’s chest, and then lashed out at the remaining canine that had just grabbed him around the neck.

He stomped on the fellow’s foot to a satisfying crunch; the bulldog yelped in pain, but did not let go. Thorne stepped on the injured foot again and then twisted around when the guy’s pain forced him to release his hold. One of the others jumped up on his back and began to bite his left ear, just as another belted him in the jaw with a fist.

Thorne growled loudly as he decked the guy in front of him with one hand and reached up for the throat of the dog on his back with the other. He whirled around quickly and the flailing legs of the guy on his back struck the first fighter’s shoulders hard, knocking him to the ground. Aramis moved backward quickly as the bulldog tried to squeeze his windpipe. He slammed him into the corner of the building fronting the alley and the canine fell stunned to the ground. The knifeman got to his feet, took a quick look around at his fallen friends, and then turned to face Thorne again. Without waiting for an attack, the wolf rushed forward and slugged him hard. The bulldog’s eyes rolled up into his head and then collapsed to the ground.

Aramis panted as he looked around. Those who had fallen, but were still conscious, merely looked at him with grimaces of pain. He snorted at each of them in turn and straightened his clothes before he picked up his garment bag. Thorne continued on his way, assured that none of them would come back for more.

He stepped inside the bookstore to a gentle electronic bell tone and closed the door behind him. The room was silent, the outside noises of the evening blocked out by the building’s construction. Polished wooden shelves lined the walls and towered up to the ceiling, all stocked with books of various sizes and color bindings. Electronic books on slateboard tablets were the standard, but some of the worlds across the Planetary Alignment still preferred printed text. Many of the paper leaves were synthetics, though some still used wood pulp depending upon the publishing houses.

Small round tables in the center of the room displayed popular or new releases, and softly padded carpet covered the floor. Comfortable looking chairs were here and there for customers who wished to browse. Soft music turned so low as to barely be audible came from a small multimedia unit behind a compact checkout counter topped with a computer screen. An aromatic candle burned dimly beside the monitor, gently tickling Thorne’s nose with its floral scent.

“Hello?” he asked. He startled himself, his voice sounding loud in the quiet of the room.

“Hello,” replied a muffled voice from a back corner. Aramis walked around the displays until he saw an elderly Siamese cat sitting on the floor amidst a stack of books.

“Are you okay?” he asked her in concern.

The feline smiled up at him and nodded. “No problems here, friend,” she replied as she slowly got to her feet. She pushed her half-moon glasses in place over her nose and then straightened her dress patterned with blue periwinkles. “I rarely get any customers this late in the evening,” she said, “so I was doing a bit of sorting to pass the time. It was easier sitting on the floor since all of these go on the bottom shelf.”

“Ah,” Aramis said with a smile.

“What happened to you, if you don’t mind me asking?” she asked with a disapproving glance at his scuffed and wrinkled clothes. Aramis frowned and shrugged his shoulders.

“I was jumped outside your store a moment ago,” he replied as he held up his garment bag. “I guess they wanted my new clothes, but I didn’t want to part with them.”

She looked at him over the top of her glasses. “Are you okay?” she asked. “Your ear has been bleeding.”

“I am in better condition than they are,” he said in a quiet voice as he gingerly touched the ear one of the bulldogs had bitten. She stared at him hard until he began to fidget and then gave him a pleasant smile.

“Well then, now that you’re in my store, what can I help you find?”

“Do you have any books on Captain Aramis Thorne?” the wolf asked as he absently rubbed his sore jaw.

Pursing her lips, the Siamese walked around the counter to her computer. She tapped out a few search commands and then nodded. “One moment, please,” she said. Aramis watched the cat as she walked to a shelf near where she had been sitting and then lifted up on her tiptoes. Her fingertips tapped out the spines of several books before it came to rest on one thin volume. She pulled it down and then moved to another nearby shelf. She grabbed another thin book and then moved across the room to one of the display tables near the front display window. The feline woman brought the books she had selected back to the counter and set them out for him to see.

“Both of these,” she said as she indicated the two thin books, Local Celebrities and Castelrosso Today, “only have a paragraph or two on him. If he is all you’re interested in, I won’t make you buy the whole books. You may read the articles here.”

“Thank you, I appreciate that. What about this one?” Aramis asked as he picked up a thicker volume, Spirits of the Sea and Sky.

“That one was released just yesterday morning,” the Siamese replied with a smile. “There’s a whole chapter on him that includes his recent demise.”

“Oh really?” the wolf asked with a smile. “Is your database that detailed on new books?”

“No, but I wish it were,” she replied. “I read all newly published books I receive, and I actually finished that one about an hour ago. It was the first one I picked up from the new shipment.”

“Speed reader?”

“Yes sir, I am,” the feline answered with a nod.

Aramis briefly fanned the pages of the book and then closed its cover. “I will take this one,” he said.

The proprietor nodded and then moved to her register. “If you don’t mind my asking, what’s your interest in Thorne?”

“Just curious about his background.”

“No one knows much about him – he was fairly secretive about his personal life, but that one should cover what is known about him. That will be ©15.” Aramis handed his credicard to her and thumbed through the largest book. He stopped at the tenth chapter with the title, “Captain Aramis Argent Thorne”. There was a fuzzy photo of a sleek, flying wing starship with an indistinct wolf standing near the gangway on the first page under the title, but the picture was not very revealing.

“Here you go, sir,” the cat said to him pleasantly. She handed him his credicard plugged into a slateboard for him to enter his code. Once he had tapped in his number, a green light flashed once in response; the Siamese removed the credicard and handed it back to him. Thorne set the book he had purchased on the counter and she put it inside a flimsy yellow bag with his receipt.

“Thank you,” he said to her as he picked up the bag and the two smaller books. He sauntered over to one of the store chairs and sat down to read the entries in the other publications.

“Thank you for your business,” she said to him. He looked up and smiled at her as she added, “Let me know if I can be of further assistance.” When he nodded, she locked her register and then returned to her sorting at the back of the room.

The cover of Castelrosso Today sported a wide-angle photo of Castle Bay, the area of sea the mountains wrapped around as the backdrop for Castelrosso. He flipped past articles and advertisements related to local attractions. Without his memories, Castelrosso was a new place to him and he had no doubt the book could provide other information, but for now he was interested only in the paragraph the bookstore clerk had mentioned.

Near the back of the book, he found an article on the spaceport that listed long-term docking bay tenants. Most were just names, but some had small paragraphs denoting people of interest. Halfway down the page, Aramis saw:

“For the past five years, Platform 61 at the Minniti Spaceport has been home to the SS Silverthorne, PA Registry 65559, a Myotis-class cruiser with a crew of eight. Her captain is A.A. Thorne, a Dennieran wolf whose modified LightDrive engines are well known for outrunning the Spatial Police Force and pirates alike. Ship and crew are for hire. Contact Castelrosso-549 for business details.”

Aramis raised an eyebrow. The short blurb did not tell him much about Captain Thorne, but confirmed that the individual was a wolf like himself and had owned a ship called the Silverthorne as he had recently heard. He would not bother with it tonight, but he decided to check if the contact line was still open to see if he could find out more through that source. Goro had mentioned the loss of the Silverthorne and its pilot, someone named Duster, and so he doubted that Platform 61 would still be assigned to Captain Thorne. Still, it would be another possible place to pick up clues to his past.

He committed the contact number to memory and then flipped through the rest of the book, but found no other mention of Thorne. He set it on a nearby table adorned with a steaming potpourri pot and then picked up the other small book from his lap. Despite its name, Local Celebrities had even less to say about him.

“Aramis Argent Thorne, owner and captain of the SS Silverthorne, PA65559, a Myotis-class cruiser from Brandt. He is currently residing on Castelrosso Island in the Herdantian Sea.”

The wolf closed the book with a sigh. He had not really expected much, but had hoped for more. Perhaps the larger tome would provide some details, but he would read it back at the hotel. He stood up with both small books and then walked to the checkout counter. He set them next to the register and called back to the Siamese cat. “Thank you for your help.”

“You’re welcome, and have a good evening. Thank you for coming to Another Word.”

He gathered up his garment bags and then left the store after taking a quick look out the window for his prior assailants. None of the bulldogs had lingered in the vicinity, likely seeking aid for their injuries. No one else accosted him when he stepped outside, but he remained vigilant on his walk back to the Crusty Barnacle. There were plenty of people about in the evening air, including other wolves, so no one seemed to notice this particular wolf as he passed them. Castelrosso was far from quiet after the end of a standard workday. He resisted the temptation to go into a lively bar already in full swing and continued back to the hotel.

The sky was red as the sun dipped below the western ridge of mountains and a gentle salty breeze blew in from the bay. The Crusty Barnacle was located too far from the bay to be of convenience to the beaches, but he wanted to get out of his hotel room for a while. The lobby was rather small, but had several comfortable-looking chairs placed about that he might relax in to read.

As he crossed the room toward the staircase, an Afghan behind the check desk motioned for him. Aramis walked over to see what he wanted and set his purchases on the counter. “Yes?” he asked.

“Sir, my name is Jarrett Mohan. I’m the manager here.”

“Is there a problem?”

“No, no,” the canine assured him with a smile. “I wanted to welcome you to the Crusty Barnacle with an offer to upgrade your room.”

Aramis raised an eyebrow. “Appreciated. What is the reason?”

Mohan leaned forward and lowered his voice. “The coin you gave to my clerk for payment on your room turned out to be worth considerably more than the lodging you were given. I had it appraised today and was quite surprised at its value. If you would consider the full worth of the coin as payment, you may have my best suite in the hotel, paid up for a full year.”

The wolf looked amused. He had actually forgotten the coin he had given the fat cat after discovering its worth at the antique shop. “I accept your offer,” he told Mohan. “I have a few things to retrieve from the other room.”

“I can have someone get them for you,” the Afghan offered.

Thorne’s expression grew dark for a moment. “I will retrieve them myself and then return the room key to you.”

The hotel manager nodded. “As you wish, Captain.” He grabbed a key from the wallboard and set it on the counter. “You will be in room number one, sir. It’s down the hallway beside the stairs and all the way to the back. You’ll be next to the pool with a nice view of the bay.”

Aramis pocketed the key and picked up his items from the counter top. He slung the garment bag over his shoulder and gave the canine a pleasant smile. “Thank you, Mr. Mohan,” he said. He took his bags to the new room and found it straight away.

He unlocked the door and pushed it open. He expected a room only slightly larger with more furnishings than the other one, but he was surprised to find a suite of rooms that was spacious and quite nice. Decorated in white wood with dark green trimming, the room was bright and the main room’s bay window would let in more light when the sun was up. The front room held an L-shaped couch that faced an entertainment center and two sitting chairs with a floor lamp between them. The tan carpet looked freshly cleaned. There was a small kitchen, if he decided to cook, and a round table that would seat four. He set his book on the table and then walked to the bedroom. Inside was a King-sized bed that was large enough for him and looked comfortable. An overhead fan mounted on the ceiling spun gently to circulate the air. He took his garments to a walk-in closet and hung them up in the spacious compartment.

He moved to the lavatory and saw a large, raised bathtub beside an all-species squat toilet. Above the sink was an ornate shelf stocked with towels and washcloths. He looked at himself in a wall-mounted, full-length mirror and grimaced at what he saw. His clothing was wrinkled and smudged, and dirt and leaves were in his fur. There was also dried blood on his left ear. He looked like he had been in a fight, but Thorne wanted to retrieve his belongings from the room upstairs before anything else.

He locked the room as he left. A few moments later, he was up the stairs and inside room number nine. After a quick search of the room and lavatory to make sure he was alone, Thorne knelt down in the closet with his knife. He pried up the loose floorboard and was relieved to see his stashed pack was still in place. He pulled it out with a little difficulty and then strapped the pack onto his back. He worked the board back into place and then stood up. He pulled his cloak from the closet hanger and put it on as he had when traveling. It might seem odd wearing it from one room to the next, but it would conceal the pack from anyone in the lobby who might see him with it on his back otherwise. He picked up the wooden walking staff and then exited the room.

He locked the door behind him and turned around to see Harada sitting on the bench seat outside the room, just as he had earlier. A grocery sack sat next to him on the seat.

“Hello, boss,” he said with a smile.

“Hello,” Thorne replied. He felt ill at ease knowing he carried several hundred thousand credits in Hoenix gold on his back.

“You look terrible,” the coyote commented, looking at the caked blood near Thorne’s wounded ear and then at the scuffed clothing beneath the cloak.

“Four dogs jumped me,” Aramis replied.

“Are you all right?” Goro asked. “What happened?”

“I’m fine, but as for the curs that attacked me, they’re probably holed up somewhere licking their wounds.”

“Ahh…” mused the coyote. Changing the subject, he said, “I heard Mohan upgraded your room.”

“That’s right,” Aramis said uneasily. Without waiting for further talk, he headed toward the stairs. Puzzled at the wolf’s aloofness, Harada picked up the sack and followed him down the stairs and through the hallway.

Outside room number one, Thorne turned to face the coyote. “Is that my stuff?” he asked in a stiff voice. Harada nodded quietly. “Let me see the receipt.”

Goro dug in the sack and pulled out a plastic slip. He handed it to the wolf. Thorne examined it and reached into his pocket for his cash. The purchases had come to twenty-eight jules in local currency. Aramis counted out forty jules and handed them to Harada.

“Thank you for getting the stuff for me,” he said as he took the sack of items, “but I want to clean up and rest a while. I will talk to you later, Harada.”

“Oh, okay,” the coyote replied as he looked at the extra cash in his hand. “Let me know if you need anything else.”

“There is one thing.”

“Yes?”

The wolf set his staff against the door and then dug into a pocket. He removed the key to room number nine and handed it to Harada. “Give this to Mr. Mohan.”

“Right away.”

Thorne unlocked the door to his suite and moved inside quickly. He set the walking staff in a corner beside the door and then bolted the lock behind him. He then moved into the bathroom, switched on the light and closed the panel behind him before he removed the cloak. He pulled off the pack stiffly and set the heavy bundle on the floor beside the tub. The flooring in the room was tiled and he doubted he would find anything loose to hide the pack beneath, but the air conditioning vent in the ceiling looked like a temporary cache. He balanced himself on the side of the tub and worked loose the grating over the vent until it came out in his hand. He was tall enough to put his head up inside the duct and examine the area. The rectangular duct was too small for anyone to crawl into, but large enough for his pack without completely blocking the air flow. Until he could secure a safer hiding place for his gold, he would conceal the pack there.

A half hour later, Aramis exited the bathroom feeling much better. He had not felt like having an immersion bath, but the old tub was equipped with a showerhead on a stem so he had cleaned up using the provisions the coyote had bought for him. He toweled himself dry, thankful for his double layers of fur, and then walked to the closet. He selected a pair of blue swim trunks and a large, matching blue tee shirt. He was starting to feel slightly hungry again, but did not feel like going out. His curiosity needed satisfying, so he grabbed his book from the table and took it to one of the reading chairs with an ivy motif on a beige background. Before he sat down, however, he walked to the door that faced the pool and opened it to allow fresh air inside the room.

He glanced out at the lighted patio and saw two laughing teenage Labradors swimming in the pool. A Siberian husky lay on her stomach on a lounge chair near his door, dressed only in a pair of blue shorts similar to his own. The sun had already set, but the air was warm and pleasant. The land between the hotel and the shoreline sloped downward from the mountains so that he had a nice view of the city and the entire bay. Sparkling illumination of all colors denoted the areas of congregation, and spots of light out in the bay marked seafaring vessels.

The wolf changed his mind and took his book outside. He selected an empty lounge chair beside his room’s window and then settled in to read within the light. He immediately turned to chapter ten and studied the fuzzy black and white photo of a sleek, flying wing starship that he assumed was the Silverthorne. The indistinct wolf standing near its gangway could have been him, but there was no way to tell from the grainy photograph. He was anxious to read what the book had to say about Captain Thorne, but curiosity prompted him to flip through the chapter to see if there were any other pictures associated with the article.

He turned several pages of text without actually reading them, but when he leafed past the fifth page, he stopped still. A full-color photo filled an entire page and there was no mistaking the personage. It was him. It was his picture. Captain Aramis Argent Thorne. It was like opening the book only to find a mirror.

He sat there for a long while and examined the photo, letting the realization sink in that he actually was Aramis Thorne, not just a name he borrowed from a tailor’s tag found in some clothing. Finally, he closed his eyes and let his head rest against the back of the chair. The discovery lifted some of the burden of uncertainty from his mind, and while his memories still eluded him, he now felt satisfied in knowing who he was.

He still had a lot to learn about Captain Thorne, but that would come in time, hopefully with the return of all his memories. His current dilemma was deciding what to do about this person called Randon who had apparently tried to kill him. He assumed the two had a history of hostilities, but unless he knew the situation between them, he could not know how to react. All he knew is that when Randon found out he was still alive, the faceless enemy would likely come after him again.

Aramis wanted to be prepared, but he could not even remember what species Random was, let alone knowledge of any weaknesses he might have. He opened his eyes and looked out toward the bay, letting his mind continue. He was reluctant to admit his memory loss to anyone. Thorne apparently had an infamous reputation, judging by the reactions that he had gotten just on this one day in Castelrosso. He likely had other enemies who would greatly take advantage of his current situation, and he figured his lifespan would be considerably shortened if word got out. He would have to be very particular with those he might decide to trust.

The wolf sighed inwardly and set his jaw. Until he knew more about the person he had been, he would have to remain guarded at all times and try to portray someone of authority. As strange as it may be, he would have to assume the identity of his own personality until it came back to him naturally.

He looked up when the two young labs swam closer and clung to the side of the pool near him. Both were looking lustily at the Siberian husky and one of them even crawled out of the water to sit on the edge.

“Hey baby,” the young canine said with a grin, “why don’cha turn over and let us see the other side of the mountains?”

The husky opened one pale blue eye and stared at the lab in annoyance. “Go back to your momma, pup,” she muttered.

“Aw, c’mon,” said the other youth. “If you’re out here without a top, you must not mind others seeing you. Let us see you too.”

“Yeah,” replied the first lab. “The big wolf probably wants to see you too.”

Thorne kept his expression completely neutral when the husky’s eye looked around until she spotted him in his chair with his book. Her eye widened briefly, but then she snorted and closed it again. The Labrador on the side of the pool got to his feet and walked over to her, dripping water with each footstep. He knelt down next to her lounge chair and put a hand on her fluffy tail.

Thorne was not exactly sure what happened next, as it had been so quick, but the lab abruptly splashed down in the shallow end of the pool. He hit the sloped bottom, lost his air, and came up gasping and sputtering. The husky was sitting up on her chair, her expression cold as she mentally dared the other lab to come forward to examine her now-bared chest. The youth swam away quickly to check on his friend, muttering obscenities beneath his breath.

 Aramis watched the exchange in amusement, but he suddenly dropped his smirk when she turned toward him. Unexpectedly, she walked over to him and then sat down in another chair beside his.

“Hello,” she said to him.

Thorne surreptitiously flipped a page of his book with a thumb to hide his photograph. “Good evening,” he replied with a simple nod.

“I would like to ask you something,” she said in a pleasant voice.

Despite her topless state, Aramis found himself fascinated by her pale blue eyes. “What’s your question?” he asked.

“Are you hiring for your new crew yet?”

Thorne’s eyes darkened. “A lot of people have been asking me that today,” he replied after a moment. “I have not put out the word that I am looking for a crew.”

The husky looked at him in surprise at his response. “The word out is that you’re back from the dead and are without a crew,” she said. “I want to sign up. My name is Karla Crandall. I’m an experienced gunner.”

“Crandall, I have no need for a crew,” he told her. “I don’t have a ship.”

“Yeah, I heard about the Silverthorne,” she replied, “but I’ve heard you always provide for a backup.”

Thorne stared at her for a moment. “For most things, yes, but not this time.”

“Okay, what’s your agenda, then?”

“My agenda is my business,” he growled irritably.

Both of them looked up at the sound of wet footsteps. Both Labradors had crawled out of the pool and approached Crandall looking quite put out. The one she had thrown leveled a finger at her angrily.

“Listen lady, now you’re gonna –” He promptly slipped on the wet pavement and stumbled over his own feet.

He sprawled rather ungracefully onto Thorne’s chair that collapsed beneath them both. The lab rolled off to the side and Aramis discovered that the wet canine’s fur had drenched his open book. Several torn pages lay in puddle water and the wolf felt a growl deep in his throat.

Thorne got to his feet and grabbed the canine by the neck and shoulder. Without warning, he picked him up with both hands and then hurled him at the other Labrador. Both hit the deck hard and then slid on the wet pavement back into the pool with a splash. With another growl beneath his breath, Aramis retrieved his book and pages from the puddle and then stormed back to his room without a look back.

The husky watched him shut the door to his room behind him with a frown, and then looked back at the sputtering dogs as they resurfaced. She gave them a dark scowl and then moved off toward her own room.

Back inside his suite, Aramis cursed beneath his breath as he tried to dry off his book with a towel. He daubed at the pages gently so they would not tear, but the book had been open to his chapter so it had received most of the moisture damage. He grabbed the floor lamp and removed the lampshade. He plugged it in near the table over the book and then held the bare bulb close to the paper. The bulb was a low-heat variety, however, but steam rose from the pages after a time in close proximity, though it was difficult to read the pages with type bleeding through from both sides of the paper.

Thorne growled and cast dark thoughts back toward the door that led out to the canines in the pool. He had potential information about himself that he could not remember there in a book before him, but he could not read it now. Perhaps he would have been better off buying a digital version of the book instead.

He made sure the lamp would remain stationary and then moved to the com unit. He keyed up the number for room service and placed an order to have some food brought up to him. While he waited, he returned to his closet and changed out of his dowsed clothing.

There was a knock on his door just as he was clipping the tags off a new pair of trousers and he heard a small voice call out “Room service, sir. I have your order.” He opened the door and a short brown rabbit smiled up at him nervously. “Y-your order, sir?” she said again as she offered him a receipt.

Aramis gave her a pleasant smile and took the small slip from her hand. He dug the price from a pocket that included a decent tip and then handed it to the teen bunny. “Thank you,” he told her.

“Y-you’re welcome, sir.” She looked up at him with wide, round eyes as she reached down and picked up a white paper sack on the floor at her feet. She handed it to him, but continued to stare up at the wolf.

“Yes?” he asked in a quiet tone. The doe was just a little too nervous and he did not want to startle her, but he was starting to become suspicious.

“May I a-ask you a question?”

“You just did,” he quipped, but then gave her a nod. “What is it you wish to know?”

She swallowed and then asked, “Are you really the famous Captain Thorne?”

Aramis put on his best innocent expression. “I’m not sure,” he said with a grin. “Everyone seems to think so.”

The edge of the rabbit’s mouth curled up in the beginning of a smile and her eyes lightened up. “You’re teasing me! Are you really him?” she asked again.

“What do you think?”

“You sure don’t act like the Captain Thorne I’ve read about,” the rabbit said with a finger up against her chin, “But you sure look like his pictures.”

“What’s your name?” he asked.

“Nita,” she replied.

“Well, Nita,” he said, “maybe I’m him and maybe I’m not, but I am hungry and would like to get to the supper you have brought me.”

She looked embarrassed. “Of course, sir,” she said. “Good night.”

“Good night, Nita,” replied. The bunny gave him the short bow that seemed to be a local practice, and then she turned and walked back up the hallway. He shut the door, locked it, and then took his food to the table.

Before he sat down, however, he saw a scrap of napkin on the table among the things he had removed from his pockets earlier. He moved to the com unit to call both Harada and Ringo, but was only partially successful. Goro did not seem to be in his room, but when the beagle answered his line, Aramis spoke quietly to him for a moment before hanging up. He returned to the table and began to unpack his meal.

***

An hour later, Aramis locked the door behind him and walked up the hall toward the hotel lobby. There was no one else in sight, not even the coyote. A short raccoon tended the check desk and she watched him with interest when he came in to view. He wore a pair of dark green trousers and a tan short-sleeved shirt with epaulets on the shoulders and double pockets across the chest. The wristwatch that Harada had purchased for him was a simple design in colors of silver and blue and was on his left wrist.

He walked out the front door and then looked up the street. Goro had not been in his room so he had arranged to meet Tyler at Cohan’s Pub, a personable little place five blocks from the hotel. The Crusty Barnacle was far from downtown Castelrosso, but close enough to an entertainment district to keep folks occupied.

Although late in the evening, Thorne was unmolested on his long walk to the pub. He arrived at the door and was greeted by a dingo lass in matching jeans and blouse. Live music issued from the room and cigarette smoke filled the air.

“Hello there, stranger,” said the dingo with a smile. “Looking for some company?”

Aramis smiled down at her but shook his head. “Sorry, I am meeting someone,” he said.

The dingo winked and turned back toward the main room. She looked at him over her shoulder with a grin and said, “If you change your mind, handsome, just ask for me. I’m Lily.” She sashayed across the room to the counter and struck up a conversation with the barkeep, a rotund black bear in a white apron.

Thorne stepped into the room amidst the music and quiet conversations and looked around. The place was dark with polished wood everywhere and indirect lighting gave the place a soft glow. Lit candles were on every table, and despite the live music and a full house of customers, everything seemed quiet. No one seemed to notice him, but he detected movement against a back wall and recognized the waving hand of Tyler Ringo, the cook from the Crusty Barnacle’s restaurant. He was dressed in denim jeans and a bright yellow, flowered shirt. Thorne made his way around the tables to the back and then sat down in an empty chair across from the beagle.

“Hello, Ringo,” he said pleasantly.

“Hi, Cap’n,” Tyler replied with a smile. “Thanks for inviting me to join you.”

Thorne nodded and moved his chair so that his back was to the wall. “I needed to get away from the hotel for a bit,” he said as he motioned toward the barkeep. The ursine bartender nodded and then gestured toward one of his waitresses. “What are you drinking?” he asked.

Tyler lifted his mug and took a sip of the pale amber liquid before him. “Ganisan Brew,” he said. “It’s not very strong, but I like to keep my head clear.”

Thorne tilted his head slightly. “Good thinking,” he said.

The waitress stepped up to their table and Tyler’s face brightened. He had served the Papillion earlier in his restaurant. She wore a casual blue dress with a short skirt and a white apron. “Dallas!” he said gleefully. “I didn’t know you were working here.”

The short waitress looked embarrassed. “I needed some extra money, so I’m moonlighting. Please don’t tell anyone at the hospital!”

Tyler shook his head. “No worries, your secret is safe with me.” He looked at Aramis and gestured toward him. “Dallas, this is Captain Thorne. Captain, this is Elsaniti D’allesantarino. She is a nurse at the Quantel Hospital.”

“Pleased to meet you, Captain,” she said timidly.

Thorne gave her a pleasant smile. “Nice to meet you as well, uh… Elsa…”

The Papillion grinned at him, long used to people stumbling over her name. “Elsaniti D’allesantarino,” she said. “Elsa, if you like, but nearly everyone calls me Dallas.”

“Well then,” the wolf said as he leaned on the table, “it is nice to meet you, Dallas.”

“What can I get you from the bar?” she asked.

“Let me try the Ganisan Brew,” he replied.

“I’ll have it out to you in a moment,” she answered. She gave Tyler a smile and then headed toward the bar, her tail wagging gently.

After she had gone, Aramis sat back in his chair again and studied the others in the room. “Is she your girlfriend?” he asked the beagle.

Tyler grinned, but shook his head. “No, we’re just friends,” he said. “She’s treated me a number of times at the hospital.”

Thorne looked at him in amusement. “Are you accident prone?”

The beagle chuckled. “Not really,” he replied after he took a sip from his mug, “but when you’re a small guy like I am, you naturally get picked on and harassed… especially when you live in the section of Castelrosso I do.” Dallas brought Thorne’s drink to him with a smile and then moved across the room to attend another customer.

The wolf picked up the mug and held it up to his nose. He sniffed the liquid and was not sure he liked what he suspected. He set the glass on the table without tasting it.

“Something the matter?” Tyler asked.

“It just occurred to me that I seem to have plenty of enemies who would take an opportunity like this to poison me,” Thorne said quietly.

The beagle looked shocked. “I hadn’t thought of that,” he said with wide eyes. He looked at Aramis for a moment and then reached across the table. He picked up the wolf’s mug and then took a large gulp from it. He set the glass container down and then looked back at Thorne with a solemn expression. Aramis’ lips parted in amazement at what the small cook had just done.

Tyler’s face took on a strange expression and he leaned forward slightly. He put both hands on the edge of the table and curled his fingers beneath his palms. Then he opened his mouth and his eyes wide as if he were trying to say something.

“Ringo!” Aramis exclaimed. He started to get up, but the beagle held up a finger. Aramis froze in a half-standing, half-sitting position and then Tyler let out a loud, drawn-out belch. Customers at other tables turned to look at them in amusement and annoyance, but then went back to their conversations.

The beagle took a deep breath of air and then leaned back in his chair, his eyes partially glazed over a silly grin. “Cool…” he wheezed, “I haven’t had one that good in a long time!”

Aramis laughed and sat down. He picked up his mug and wiped off the edge where his companion had drank from and then took a sip of it himself. The amber liquid tickled his throat down into his stomach and gave his head a slight buzz that lasted only a few seconds.

Tyler looked over at him and grinned widely before picking up his own mug.

“You’re either very brave,” Thorne told him with a smile, “or you’re very foolhardy. How did you know my drink was safe?”

Tyler shook his head. “I didn’t,” he admitted. “I was testing it for you.”

Thorne leaned forward on crossed arms and shook his head. “I appreciate it, my friend, but what if the drink had been poisoned?” he asked.

“Then I suppose Dallas would be trying to resuscitate me about now, probably without much success,” Tyler said in a serious tone. He looked at the wolf with a steady gaze, his deep brown eyes clear and alert.

“I keep finding out that there are a lot of people in this city who know I’m back in the vicinity,” Aramis said with a look around the room. “I suppose I should probably avoid public places like this for a while.” He looked back at Ringo with interest, fully realizing what the beagle had done for him. “I’ve been thinking about your request,” he said in a low voice. Tyler’s familiar smile returned, but he remained silent. “I don’t have the Silverthorne anymore, but I may be in the market for another ship very soon. If you’re still interested…”

“Count me in!” Tyler said in an excited, but hushed voice.

Aramis studied him for a long while. “I think you have just proven that I can trust you,” he said in a whisper almost too faint for his companion to hear. “I have some things I would like to tell you, but not here, not now.”

“Ringo!”

Tyler and Thorne turned at once to see who had shouted. It was a large German shepherd. He pulled a long-barreled pistol out from under his black jacket and leveled it at the beagle, even as he stormed across the room. People at tables scattered, and several bolted out the front door, no doubt using the distraction to skip out on their tabs.

There was an audible click as the shepherd released the safety on his gun. He shoved its blue barrel up against the beagle’s nose and snarled at him. “I warned you to stay away, you mangy cur!” he shouted.

Thorne was suddenly standing next to the shepherd, his left hand gripping the newcomer’s wrist, forcing it up toward the ceiling. “Careful,” he growled with a dark expression. The shepherd glared at him, but the wolf did not release the grip on his wrist. “Now,” Aramis continued, “what is this about?”

“Shove off, you idiot! This is not your concern!” Aramis tightened his grip, his claws beginning to break the skin beneath the guy’s fur. The canine grimaced, trying not to drop the gun. “Let go of me!” he squawked. Thorne tightened his grip further, but then released the fellow’s wrist. He reached up and snatched the firearm from the assailant’s numbed hand before he had a chance to recover. The shepherd pulled his aching hand to his chest and glowered at Thorne. Faces around the room watched from behind tables and counters.

“Ringo’s my friend,” Aramis said in an almost casual tone as he set the pistol on the table beside him. “If you plan to harm him, I will make it my concern. Now that I am involved, tell me what is going on.”

“Captain…” Tyler said in a small voice, shaken from having a gun shoved into his face.

The wolf’s eyes did not leave those of the shepherd who began to squirm under his penetrating gaze. “Yes?” he asked.

“I don’t want to be shot, but Mr. Feeney has a right to be angry,” said the beagle in a subdued voice.

“Explain,” Thorne said to the shepherd.

Feeney rubbed his wrist to get the feeling back and faced Tyler enraged. “I told you to stay away from my daughter, ya little squint!” he shouted. “She’s pregnant because of you!”

Tyler swallowed, but returned the shepherd’s gaze. “That’s not my fault! She’s past legal age, Mr. Feeney, and she’s just as much a part—”

“Don’t give me that!” Feeney growled. “You took her innocence!”

Ringo laughed without thinking and said, “Innocence? She hasn’t been innocent in years!”

Feeney roared in anger and grabbed for the gun on the table. Aramis snared the canine’s arm, but not before Feeney got his hands on the firearm. There was a deafening Blam! and a cloud of blue-white smoke suddenly appeared over the table. Tyler hit the wall behind him hard, fell to the floor and began to wail.

Thorne slugged the shepherd hard across the temple and then wrenched the gun from his fingers, breaking one. Feeney went down and the wolf scrambled over him to the beagle. People in the bar were shouting and screaming. Someone knelt down next to Thorne.

“Don’t move him!” ordered the figure just as Thorne was about to pick Tyler up off the floor. He looked over at Dallas and then moved back to let her work. She did a quick visual check and then unbuttoned the cook’s flowered shirt.

Two ursine bouncers flanked Feeney and hefted the dazed canine roughly to his feet. They dragged him toward a back room with only a cursory glance at the downed beagle. Tyler moaned loudly and kept his eyes clenched tightly shut. Dallas looked him over with a worried expression.

“Easy now,” Thorne said in a calming voice when Tyler began to struggle from Dallas’ examination. She tsk’d as she looked at his shoulder.

“Hurts… I’m dying…”

Dallas gave him a strange look. “Tyler…”

“I see angels… coming to take me away…” the beagle gasped with a grip on the wolf’s arm.

“You overgrown puppy!” Dallas snorted. “You were only grazed.”

“G-grazed?” Tyler sat up slowly and leaned against the wall, his eyes wide.

The Papillion shook her head with the hint of a smile and reached for the medical purse she had retrieved from behind the counter at the sound of the gunshot. Thorne glanced up at the wall where Ringo had been sitting. A splintered bullet hole decorated the paneling near where the beagle’s left shoulder would have been. There was no splattered blood, only the slight odor of burned fur mixed in with the smell of gunpowder.

“Clear off, people!” someone grunted to the gathered crowd. “If you’re finished with your drinks, settle up with the barkeep before you leave. If not, go back to your tables!”

Thorne looked up at the manager who pushed his way through the spectators. The kangaroo looked at him disapprovingly before squatting down next to Dallas. “He going to live?” he asked her.

“Yes, Mr. Arnett, it’s just a flesh wound,” the Papillion replied as she pulled out a small white bag and popped it between her hands to activate the chemicals within. She placed the cold compress up against Tyler’s shoulder and he hissed from pain.

“I had to have been shot,” Ringo complained. “My whole shoulder hurts!”

“You probably bruised it when you hit the floor, silly,” Dallas said.

Mr. Arnett grunted and then stood up. “What happened?” he asked Thorne.

Satisfied Tyler would be okay, Aramis got to his feet. “A disagreement got out of hand,” he replied. “I am sure you’ve seen plenty of those.”

The kangaroo nodded. “That I have. I think you and your friend had better clear out after you’ve paid your tab. I’ll hold onto the other guy for a while to make sure he doesn’t follow you.”

“What will you do with him?”

Arnett smiled and gave him a wink. “I’m sure my boys are already convincing him not to fire a weapon in my place again,” he said in a low voice. When he did not elaborate further, the wolf nodded in understanding. The kangaroo wrung his hands together and then went back to the counter to talk with the bartender.

Dallas pulled out a pair of scissors and cropped the scorched fur around Ringo’s wound. Then she opened a bottle of green gel and squeezed a bit of it onto a sterile gauze cloth she pulled from a sealed plastic bag. She daubed the gel onto the burn abrasion and felt her patient jerk at the touch.

“Ouch!” Tyler complained. “That stings!”

“It’s just a disinfectant,” Dallas chided as she put away the bottle. She picked up a bandage and began to bind his wound.

“It still stings…”

“The manager wants us out of here quickly,” Aramis said a moment later when he helped Tyler up to his chair. He watched the nurse gather her things back into her small bag and then asked, “If you will tally our bill, we’ll be out of your way.”

“You may have to help me walk,” Tyler muttered to Thorne.

“It was your shoulder that was injured, not your feet,” Aramis remarked with amusement. “You can walk on your own.”

“You’re on foot?” Dallas asked.

“Yeah, I don’t live far from here,” Tyler said as he buttoned up his shirt. “Just a few blocks.” He glanced at the wall beside him and stuck a finger into the bullet hole. It did not fit so he tried a smaller finger and promptly got it wedged in tight. Dallas set her medical purse on the counter and then pulled her order pad from a pocket of her apron.

“Seven jules,” she said. “I get off work in fifteen minutes if you want to wait for me out back. I can give you a lift back to your place.” Aramis reached into his pocket to count out his payment while Tyler tugged frantically at his finger; it was now stuck firmly in the bullet hole.

“We would appreciate that,” Thorne replied.

“Good,” said the waitress. “My car is a white Chariot. It’s unlocked, so you can wait for me there.” Dallas saw Tyler tugging at his stuck finger and reached out with a smile. She grasped his finger gently and then forcibly yanked it free.

“Yeow!” Ringo exclaimed. He picked two splinters from his finger and gave the nurse a hurt expression.  She chuckled and then turned away.

Twenty minutes later, the Papillion walked out the back of the pub through a narrow hallway, past a closed door through which she could hear the sounds of shouting. One of the voices belonged to Feeney. She walked quickly outside to a small parking lot and went straight to a white, four-door convertible with finned fenders. She was not wealthy enough to afford an air car version that levitated on gravity repulsors, so she drove a typical ground car that ran on four solid-rubber tires. The Papillion opened the door and then eased into the seat behind the control wheel. Ringo was already in the back; Thorne sat in the front passenger seat.

“Where to, guys?”

“I live at the Marco Porco Apartments,” Tyler said. “The captain’s staying at The Crusty Barnacle. You can take us both there.”

“That’s easy enough,” Dallas remarked. A moment later, the car leaped out onto the main street.

They rode for several moments before Tyler leaned forward onto the back of the front seat. “I don’t suppose I was very smart back there, huh?” he said.

Thorne looked over his shoulder at him. “You need to learn some diplomacy if you’re going to have a conversation with someone waving a gun in your face,” he said, “or have a backup plan to either defend yourself or to escape.”

“Have you ever run from a fight?” Tyler asked.

Aramis could not remember if he ever had or not, but he nodded anyway. “If the odds were against me and I knew I could not win, yes. However, all that would mean is that I would come back later with a greater advantage.”

Tyler sighed and looked up at the wolf with a crooked smile. “What’s worse is that I’m not even the one who got Eibhlin Feeney pregnant,” he said. “I’m the one who introduced her to the guy who did, however.” He grimaced and held his shoulder when the car hit a rough spot in the road. “I caused you some trouble tonight, Captain, but I still want to crew with you,” he said.

Dallas glanced over at Aramis with a look of sudden realization before returning her attention to the light traffic. “You’re the Captain Thorne?” she asked in a raised voice to carry over the rushing wind.

“Is there another?” the wolf asked with a smile.

“Aramis Thorne?”

“That’s right.”

Dallas fell silent as she drove. The wolf thought she might be reconsidering taking them to the authorities rather than to the hotel, but she stayed on her course. He could see the gleaming lights of the hotel about a block up the stretch of road.

“We appreciate your help this evening, Miss Dallas,” Thorne said when she pulled the car into the hotel parking lot. “It would be my treat in the restaurant if there’s something you would like.”

“I would like that, thank you,” she replied as she shut off the engine. “Before we go inside, I have something I would like to ask you.”

Aramis could feel his hackles wanting to rise at her words. He knew what she was going to ask.

“May I join your crew?” she asked in confirmation of his thoughts.

Thorne briefly closed his eyes with an audible sigh and then looked down at her again. “It seems like I am going to be saying this over and over,” he muttered. “Dallas, I appreciate you volunteering, but I don’t have a crew and I don’t even have a ship. I lost my last one along with everyone aboard.”

The Papillion looked at him with hopeful eyes. “But… you will be getting another ship, right?” she asked. “If you’re going to let Tyler crew with you, I want to also! You’ll need a nurse… and someone to cook for you.”

“Hey, that’s my job!” Ringo said indignantly. “The kitchen is mine!”

“Wait a minute, you two,” Thorne protested. “I’m not handing out jobs. I don’t even have a car, much less a ship! I’m on foot, remember? Joining me right now would mean absolutely nothing.”

“But you’re looking for a ship, right?” Dallas persisted.

Aramis sighed and looked at each of them. “Yes,” he admitted, “I will probably be looking for another vessel soon, but I haven’t started asking around yet. There may not be anything available here in Castelrosso, and I might have to buy passage on a transport somewhere else just to look.”

Dallas looked crestfallen and stared at her hands in her lap. “Captain,” she said in a quiet voice, “I want to get away from Brandt, and I am willing to do anything to leave.” She looked up briefly and locked eyes with him. “Anything at all. Anything you want of me.”

“Dallas, what happened?” Tyler asked gently.

She looked back down and clasped her hands together beneath the steering wheel. “I was a registered nurse on Mainor before the Siilv War,” she explained slowly and reluctantly, “but I was off-world at the time the Kastani destroyed it. I got involved in a bad relationship and was then stranded here on Brandt in pirate country when he got tired of me. I have… I’ve had to do things I am not proud of in order to survive, but I will do anything if you will allow me to join your crew. Anything.”

Aramis did not say a word for a long while, but finally sighed again and looked up at the stars twinkling overhead. “All right,” he said at last, “you can tag along.”

“Really?” she asked. When she looked up at him, there was moisture in her eyes.

The wolf nodded, but held up a finger. “As I said, this doesn’t mean anything at all right now. Until I have another ship, don’t quit your job at the hospital.” He looked at Tyler and added, “Don’t quit yours at the restaurant, either. I can’t say how long it might be before I need your services. It could be weeks or even months.”

Dallas leaned over, put her arms around his neck, and then hugged him. “Thank you, sir,” she said. “Just having the hope of someday leaving will help.”

“Me, too!” Tyler agreed.

“Just one thing,” the wolf told them. “Don’t spread the word that I am looking for a crew, because I’m not! I have already been approached four times today by complete strangers, so don’t encourage anyone else to look me up, okay?”

Tyler and Dallas grinned at one another. “Okay!” they both said in unison and then laughed at their blend of voices. Aramis shook his head and looked up at the stars again, wondering if he might have been better off staying in Hoenix.

Chapter 5

Aramis looked up at the sound of laughter. He took a sip of his morning coffee and listened to the giggles and shrieks of children splashing and playing in the swimming pool outside the bay window of his suite. He sat lengthwise along the comfortable couch, his head propped up on one of its arms and his knees bent to provide his book something to rest upon while he read the now-dry pages. He was not yet dressed for the day, lounging instead in a pair of dark blue walking shorts and a white tank top.

He smiled at the childish giggles and set his coffee cup on the floor beside the couch before he resumed reading. He had been up for an hour and had just finished his room service breakfast. He had checked on the condition of his book almost as soon as he had gotten out of bed and was pleased to know that, although wrinkled, the pages had dried out well enough to read without fear of the paper dissolving beneath his fingers.

As told the previous night, the chapter inside Spirits of the Sea and Sky did not contain much personal information about Captain A. A. Thorne. It was a generalized account concerning his notoriety with the people of Castelrosso, but that fame did not seem to extend beyond the Brandtian islands of the Herdantian Sea. According to the article, Captain Thorne’s biggest claim to local fame was his arrogance and short temper, as well as an appreciation for spicy food, antiques and histories of all the worlds of the Planetary Alignment. He was a skilled fighter, and had little patience with those who irritated him, but had never been known to kill anyone outright, although he had been in many fights.

It was said that he had personally modified the LightDrive engines of his Myotis-class cruiser after obtaining Silloni plans for a faster prototype engine not yet available to the market. The Silverthorne had been a legitimate business with ship and crew for hire, but it was rumored that Captain Thorne often entertained jobs of piracy and other covert operations under the table, although this had never been confirmed. While it was believed that Thorne had also been involved in acts of industrial and political sabotage, there had never been any proof to convict him of anything. Although he was an arrogant individual, the legitimate business of the Silverthorne had never failed in a job it was hired to do, whether escorting personalities of importance as protection, shipping goods from one world to another or performing manual labor for jobs no one else wanted. His fees were high, but he always seemed to maintain a clientele.

There was little of the chapter that meant much to him, but one thing of interest was that the Silverthorne had operated from Platform 61 of the Minniti Spaceport until the ship mysteriously exploded just after takeoff, not more than two months ago. Wreckage from the vessel fell into Castle Bay, and the only survivor of the eight-person crew was Captain Thorne himself. When questioned during the investigation, it got out that he and his vessel had been hired to escort the Alabaster, a small political transport to Ganis. There had been no warning before an explosion within the engine pod reduced the Silverthorne to scrap metal. Three hours later, the Alabaster fell to a similar disaster as it left the mainland. Several Brandtian and Ganisan dignitaries were lost in the destruction of the small transport the Silverthorne had been hired to protect. Sabotage was blamed in both cases, although no one claimed responsibility.

Little was seen of Thorne after the loss of the Silverthorne, but the word on the street was that he had allied himself with known pirate Zef Randon in a search for some archeological discovery at the behest of a dealer in antiquities. It was believed that Randon’s resources combined with Thorne’s historical knowledge provided a partnership that increased the chances of their objective being found.

As early as a week before the publication of the book, rumors of Thorne’s demise at the hands of Randon’s crew due to a dispute spread around Castelrosso amidst claims that the lost city of Hoenix had been discovered. Its location had always been rumored to be on an island somewhere in the Herdantian Sea, but no one had ever been able to locate it. Captain Randon refused all attempts to interview him over the matter, so there had been no proof to substantiate either of these reports.

The book had given him a few tidbits to think about, but as a whole, there was little information for him to go on. Aramis closed his eyes and draped an arm across his forehead. Despite the clear photograph that identified himself to the Captain Thorne in the book, he still wondered if he really was Aramis Thorne. An arrogant, short-tempered bully? While it was true that he could fight well, he certainly did not feel like someone who went out of his way to cause others distress. No wonder the people at the bank and antique shop seemed to fear him at first nod.

The wolf let out a loud sigh and shook his head beneath his arm. This Randon was supposedly a business partner. He still could not picture this person in his mind, nor did he specifically remember anything about working with him. However, he suspected that the Hoenix gold he had found in a secret cache might have had something to do with the rumored dispute. There had been enough gold in the antechamber he found to provide a substantial fortune to its possessor.

He had looked up Zef Randon in the book’s index, but there was nothing more than the short reference in the chapter that focused on himself. Aramis set the book on the floor and stretched. Some of his muscles were still a little stiff and sore from his ordeal, and he knew if he did not exercise, they would give him trouble. He got up, went to the poolside door, and opened it to a cool breeze. He stepped out into the sun and looked around.

There were four youngsters playing at the shallow end of the pool, a canine, two cats and a rotund little panda. The kittens huddled near the water’s edge as if afraid to go in, but clearly wanting to be a part of the play. The parents of the children were scattered around the poolside, most drowsing from sun-warmed fur. The father of the panda cub looked up at the wolf when he emerged from his room and watched him closely.

Thorne gave him a pleasant nod in greeting and then picked out a place away from everyone else. He began to stretch his arms and legs to loosen them up. He pushed and pulled his muscles against one another and worked the kinks out of his neck and shoulders. The panda continued to watch him, as if afraid the large wolf might go for the children in the pool, but Aramis paid them all little attention.

He exercised vigorously for another twenty minutes before he felt he had done enough. He panted lightly in the morning sun and looked at the pool with a smile. He pulled off his shirt and dropped it onto a chair. He walked to the deep end of the pool and dove in, slipping into the water at such an angle as to barely cause a splash. He went straight to the bottom and then turned a slow somersault before breaking for the surface. He smiled as he took in some air and then swam to the far end of the pool with powerful strokes. Without looking at him, Aramis was aware of the adult panda’s apprehension at his proximity to the children, so he turned and swam back to the deep end without breaking his stride.

Once back at his starting point, the wolf closed his eyes and floated on his back, enjoying the water and the sun with a satisfied smile. He lay there floating for some time and felt his hand bump the side of the pool. Without opening his eyes, he lazily grasped the edge to keep himself in place. A moment later, he heard running feet and a sudden voice call out in apparent distress.

“Kevin, no!”

There was a simultaneous splash and thud. Something landed in the middle of Thorne’s chest and drove him partially under. He opened his eyes beneath the water and he coughed and sputtered for air when his nose broke the surface again. He was still floating on his back somewhat, but there was now a young white and tan Sheltie sitting on his chest. The boy looked no older than five or six and was grinning down at the wolf’s face.

“Hello there,” Aramis said with a gasp of air. “You must be Kevin.”

The pup nodded at him and then looked up when his father appeared at the side of the pool near them. “The woof floats, papa!” the boy said with a giggle at the elder canine. The look on the adult’s face was one of cold fear.

“I-I am sorry, Captain,” the dog said biting his bottom lip. He looked as if he wanted to pluck his son out of the water, but was hesitant to get near the wolf. “He does th-that with everybody.”

Aramis gave him an amused smile. “It’s okay,” he assured the father. “He didn’t hurt me.” He looked back at the boy and asked, “Are you all right?” The boy nodded again, but the adult did not look convinced. Aramis sighed inwardly. He reached up and grabbed the child gently before upending himself in the pool. He clung to the side with one hand and held the boy up against his chest as he pulled himself to the water ladder.

He handed the child up to his father when he had gained the bottom rung and the adult canine took him gladly. “I’m sorry he b-bothered you,” he said.

Aramis climbed from the water and held up a hand to dismiss his words. “It’s okay,” he repeated, strongly resisting the urge to shake the water from his fur. “No harm done to either of us.”

The Sheltie looked unconvinced. “Really?” he asked. “You aren’t mad?”

Aramis chuckled. “No, sir,” he replied with a smile. “You can take it easy and go relax in your chair. I didn’t bring a towel out with me, so I will be going back to my room now.”

“You can use mine,” said a familiar voice from behind him. The Sheltie nodded appreciatively and then took his son back to the other side of the pool.

Aramis turned around and saw the smiling, blue-eyed husky holding out a large green towel toward him. She wore a loose-fitting, pale blue tank top with matching jogging shorts. He took her towel with a smirk and then she followed him back to the lounger where he had dropped his shirt. “Thank you,” he said as he rubbed the cloth over his face.

Crandall took a chair from a nearby umbrella table and set it next to his while he moved his shirt to a dry spot on the ground. They sat down together and the husky merely watched him until he had dried off the excess pool water to satisfaction.

“After last night, I was surprised how well you reacted to getting jumped on in the water just now,” the husky said when he finally reclined back in the lounger.

Aramis draped the green towel across the back of his chair and then stared out toward the ships in the distant bay for a moment before he looked over at her with a shrug. “I have nothing against playful children,” he replied, “plus I’m in a better mood.”

“I am glad to know Captain Thorne has a better mood. Your temper is well known,” she added. “Even that boy’s father knows about it.”

The wolf looked at her and let a smile slip across his lips. “Captain Thorne is dead, Crandall — everyone knows that. I’m only a decoy… a doppelganger.”

“Nice try, but I know better than that,” she said with a grin. “You may not remember me, but we’ve met before and I recognize your fur pattern. No double could copy you that well.”

The smile disappeared from the wolf’s face. “We’ve met before?” he asked her. “I’m sorry, but should I remember you?”

Karla laughed and her eyes crinkled. “No, Captain, I wouldn’t expect you to remember me. I am not a lover that you’ve forgotten, if that’s what you’re wondering.” Despite his attempt to cover up his reaction, she could tell she’d hit the mark from the relieved look in his eyes. “First of all,” she told him, “I have no use for lovers. I think it’s all a colossal waste of time and energy, so I warn you not to attempt anything with me.”

“You’re warning me?” he asked with a dark look.

Crandall nodded, but did not lose her smile. “That’s right, Captain. I respect you and I know your reputation, but I have my personal boundaries.”

“Fair enough,” Thorne said with a nod.

“In answer to your question, we met last year when you crashed a party I was holding down by the shore. You roughed up one guy, but got the information you were after and left without breaking his legs. Tinsel made a poor informer. No one was surprised when he gave it up amidst threats and left Castelrosso a few months later. That locked you into my memory.”

Aramis closed his eyes and laid his head back against the chair. It was getting easier not to show surprise when he was told of something he could not remember. “Well, Crandall,” he said, “I still don’t have a job for you. I don’t know where you heard that I was actively looking for a crew, but –”

“Goro Harada told me you were back in town,” the husky replied. “He said –”

Thorne opened his eyes and looked at her furiously. “That coyote has no concept of following orders!” he growled as he got up from his chair. “I told him not to spread word that I —”

The canine woman stood up and waved her arms quickly. “Hold on, Captain,” she said in a rush. “Goro told me about you before you’d met him here at this hotel!”

Aramis looked at her in disbelief. “Then, how…?”

“He was piloting a private transport out on the plains when he stopped and picked up several fennec foxes who said that you had attacked them,” she explained. Aramis snorted, remembering Goro’s recount of the fennec’s tale, though he had omitted the fact that he had been the pilot.

“What makes everyone think I want a crew for a ship I don’t have?” he asked in frustration.

“If you’re out to repay Randon for trying to knock you off, you’re going to need a crew and a ship.”

Thorne narrowed his eyes at her and crossed his arms. “Listen, Crandall, I don’t —”

The panda across the pool suddenly turned up the volume on a small com unit he had on his umbrella table. Interrupted, Thorne and Crandall’s ears perked up at the emergency news report.

“Hello, listeners, this is News Around the Alignment and I’m Holly Harken of the Interplanetary News Network. At the top of the news this hour, Planetary Alignment member Nalirra has been attacked by their neighboring, non-PA world, Oe’tanata in a first strike that resulted in some eight thousand casualties. The sneak-attack by small, stealth Tanatan flyers were able to penetrate Nalirran space without prior detection and were able to cause devastation with never-before-seen weapons of destruction.

“Already under an alert for such an action by their neighbor, Nalirran General Duular of Kardon immediately launched a counterattack upon Oe’tanata, using conventional fuel-air bombs over several major Tanatan cities. As INN has been unable to get anyone safely into Tanatan space, we have been unable to ascertain the death toll there.

“Fierce fighting has erupted upon the surface of both worlds and in the area of space in between. Nalirran officials have advised that all private and commercial spacecraft avoid the Roppa star system. Although well within their right to call upon other worlds of the Planetary Alignment to assist an ally in a time of war, Nalirra has not requested assistance, preferring instead to fight their own battle.

“Word has it that Nalirra had already been gearing up to draft thousands of off-world ex-military personnel for such an effort, but during the first-strike by Oe’tanata, several key records facilities were destroyed before many recalls could be sent out.

“Nalirran Spokesman Messala Golgoh has asked us to announce that anyone with Nalirran military experience still capable of fighting should return at once to defend their homeworld.

“Not much else is known at this point, but Nalirran Command has promised the Legislature to keep the council abreast of conflict events. We at INN will relay what news we can, as we get it. You can count on Holly to keep you informed.”

“Well, that was certainly unexpected,” Crandall muttered. “I know some people from Nalirra.”

“Duster was from Nalirra,” Aramis muttered and retrieved his shirt from the ground beside his chair. “Thanks for the loan of the towel,” he said as he gestured toward the back of his chair.

“Where are you going now?”

Thorne looked at her in annoyance. “Where I go is my business,” he growled as he stormed off. Crandall watched him until he disappeared into his suite and then silently shook her head at his attitude.

Aramis closed the door behind him and walked straight to his com unit. He did not want to sit down until he had changed out of his wet walking shorts, so he leaned against the console while he thumbed the dial for the operator.

“Red Castle Communications, how may I assist you?” said an electronically modulated voice.

“Connect me to Castelrosso 549,” he said, remembering the number from the thin book he had glanced through at the bookstore.

“One moment please.” He waited several seconds before the electronic voice spoke again. “We’re sorry, but Castelrosso 549 is no longer a working connection.”

“Okay, thank you,” the wolf replied. He closed the call and then headed to the back room. After all that he had discovered since the previous night, he had not expected his old business number to be in service, but he would not have been satisfied until he tried.

He undressed quickly and then stepped into the shower to wash the pool chlorine from his fur. He wanted to look into a few things today and was ready to get started. Goro, Ringo and Dallas were all at their respective jobs, so he would have to find his way around town alone. He briefly considered hiring the husky to drive him to his destination, providing she had transportation, but he dismissed it quickly when another thought crossed his mind.

***

“Thank you for doing business with Clark Motors,” intoned a diminutive raccoon. He held out a set of silver keys to Thorne. Aramis took them and the sales receipt for his new motorcycle and gave the small fur a pleasant smile. He had seen the dealership during one of his outings the day before and decided a motorcycle would be an efficient transport around the city. He separated the keys, put two in separate pockets, one with the invoice, and then hefted the remaining key in his hand.

The heavy Treyata was a sleek machine, sporting a quiet engine despite the power it promised. Its fairings were emerald green with lighter highlights, and the seat cushion was comfortable. It was not a unit equipped for antigrav travel, but relied upon standard solid rubber wheels. It did come with a digital mapping display to help him find his way around the city.

Thinking his old desert garments were more durable than the new clothing he had purchased, Thorne was in his tan shirt, breeches and dark grey cloak again. He straddled the heavy bike and plugged its electronic key into the ignition. The engine came to life and Thorne smiled in appreciation of its power. He consulted the map display for the coordinates he wanted and then pulled out a pair of lupine-designed sunglass goggles from a shirt pocket.

He looked at the raccoon again, saluted with a finger to his forehead, and then put the machine into motion. The midday traffic was heavy, but he jumped into the eastbound current with ease and then leaned into the bike to weave around the other vehicles.

Although the Spatial Police Force of the Planetary Alignment no longer had jurisdiction on this world of Brandt, and Castelrosso was known to harbor pirates and other criminal elements, local cops were still active to maintain a semblance of order. Aramis was mindful of safety and traffic laws, but pushed the speed envelope as closely as he could. His tail fluttered in the breeze behind him like a grey and white banner, and the ends of his cloak crackled and popped in the wind.

He kept an eye on the bay whenever it came into view. The winding route took him ever closer through business sections of the city full of office complexes, entertainment venues and restaurants. An occasional aircraft or space transport launched into view over the buildings as he neared an open stretch of road. The traffic had grown lighter past the business district and he found himself increasing speed as the vehicles around him thinned out.

He glanced at a side mirror as the road skirted the edge of the mountains surrounding the bay, and he made note of an orange utility ground van that followed a quarter mile behind him. He had seen it earlier when he had left the Crusty Barnacle, and again near the dealership where he had purchased his motorcycle. Either the driver wanted notice or the individual was lousy at tailing a quarry.

Thorne smiled wryly and consulted his onboard mapping system. Despite being unfamiliar with the layout of the city, he had had no trouble getting around Castelrosso. The Minniti Spaceport was just ahead.

The wolf dropped his speed when traffic thickened again near the spaceport. To the side of the entrance was a sign that displayed a curvaceous pair, one canine and the other feline, beckoning travelers with coy smiles through large gates of granite pillars. Tropical trees lined the road, heavily laden with their fruit, as well as numerous non-sapient tropical birds of many colors. Vehicles congested the entrance and progress slowed to a crawl, but continued to move. Aramis kept a watch on the animated traffic signs that pointed the way to various concourses and saw the one he wanted after a few moments. He had to jockey for position over two lanes for his turnoff, and was satisfied when he saw that the van had not been able to follow.

Five minutes later, he pulled into a parking spot near a weathered rock building and then cut the ignition. A rusted sign at the corner of the structure read: Platform Master’s Office, Launch pads 60-65. It was dark inside the quiet, air-conditioned office when he stepped through the door, despite having taken off his sunglasses.

An aged cheetah was listening to a radio broadcast warning of an approaching late-afternoon thunderstorm forecast to be rather severe. He looked up at him from behind one of five desks that filled the small room. The feline was the only individual in the place and wore strapped eyeglasses with thick, round lenses that made his large yellow eyes appear to bulge. A nameplate on the desk identified him as Walker Pilke.

The cheetah turned down the volume of his radio and asked in a raspy voice, “What can I do for you? Everyone is gone to lunch right now.”

“I just need to ask you a few questions,” Aramis replied, sitting down in a well-worn seat in front of the fellow’s desk.

“You look familiar,” the cheetah said, leaning forward across the desk. “Do I know you?”

“Aramis Thorne.”

The cheetah nodded with a smile. “Yes, I know you. How is business – no, wait… I remember now. Something happened to the Silverthorne, didn’t it? Tsk, unfortunate, that… lost all your friends in the crew… two months ago, was it?”

“That’s right,” Aramis replied, for once pleased to be recognized. “Is platform sixty-one still open?”

Mr. Pilke pulled off his glasses and rubbed the lenses with his shirttail. “No, I’m afraid not, Captain,” he said, shaking his head. “Launch pads are a premium here, so we had to rent it out to someone else when it was evident you wouldn’t be bringing in another ship. The new renter fired the service crew and hired her own to maintain her ship. Do you need a platform for a new ship?”

“No, I just wanted to talk to the old service crew.”

“Sorry, Captain, but I don’t have a way of knowing where they wound up taking work.”

The wolf nodded and stood up. “I am not really surprised,” he admitted. “Well, thank you for your time, Mr. Pilke.”

“Have a good day, Captain.”

Aramis gave him a nod and then exited the building. He reached into a pocket for his key, but then froze when he noticed the orange van parked beside his motorcycle. He moved his hand slowly from his pants pocket beneath the cloak and maneuvered it to one of his throwing knives at his belt. He pulled it from its sheath and then leaned up against the building. If there was someone waiting for him inside the van, he would make them come to him.

He did not have long to wait. The driver and a passenger got out and looked at him uncertainly. He recognized both of them immediately. It was the red fox and the terrier that had tried to rob Mr. Tavish of his briefcase outside the bank. The terrier wore jeans and a loose-fitting orange shirt that matched the color of his van. The fox had on thin, powder blue trousers and a black vest. A gleaming wristwatch adorned his left wrist and glinted in the sun.

The terrier whispered something to the fox, and then both of them held up their hands to chest level to show him they were unarmed. Aramis steeled himself, prepared for a fight, and growled lowly as they approached.

“You have been following me all over town,” he stated with a penetrating gaze.

“You knew?” asked the terrier after a quick glance at his companion. He frowned and nodded. “Yeah,” he replied, “we’ve been looking for an opportunity to get you alone.”

Thorne’s expression darkened. “You think the two of you can take me?” he asked menacingly.

The fox waved his hands in a disarming manner. “No! That’s not what he meant!” he exclaimed. “We only wanted to talk to you, but not in a place where there were straining ears.” Thorne did not move, but maintained his stance.

“Uh, right,” said the terrier. “This is Argus Roza and I’m Miklos Novak. You can just call me Mik.”

“What do you want, Mik?”

Mik glanced away from the wolf’s stare. The terrier was a scrapper and feared few people, but the penetrating gaze from those amber eyes was unnerving. “We heard you may need some help in a fight against the Cliffhanger. We want to help.”

Aramis sighed inwardly. He stood up straight and leaned back against the wall, the knife still hidden in his hand. “Harada…” he muttered beneath his breath. He intended to have a talk with the coyote. If he had been telling more people…

“I think we could be of great assistance,” Argus added with a smile that Thorne distrusted instantly.

“Unless you’re new to Castelrosso or are suffering amnesia,” Aramis said with an ear flick at his own choice of words, “you should know that the Silverthorne was destroyed. I don’t have a ship, and so long as that remains the case, I don’t need a crew!” He was getting awfully annoyed at all the offers to join his cause.

Miklos looked at Argus with a grin. “Now that is an area where we could help you,” he said brightly. Thorne blinked twice before the terrier’s words registered. He did not say anything for a long moment, unsure how to respond. Mik took his silence as disbelief and added, “We can take you to an available ship now, if you would like to discuss it.”

“An available ship? That’s convenient. Sorry, but I don’t intend to go anywhere with you guys.”

Mik swallowed visibly. “This is legit, Captain. There really is a ship you could use!”

“Right. Who is the captain of this vessel?” Thorne asked lowly. “I don’t intend to rent someone else’s ship.”

“This vessel has no captain,” answered the fox. “She doesn’t even have a crew.”

Aramis stared at him silently, immensely distrustful of Roza’s words.

“She needs a captain, Captain,” added Miklos, “and we can help you assemble a ready crew.”

Aramis pointed a finger at each of them in turn and then said in an even voice, “I don’t trust either of you.”

“You’ve made that clear, but you can see the ship yourself,” Argus replied. “See that weren’t lying about it and our intent to fight the Cliffhanger.”

“Why are you so adamant about fighting Randon?” the wolf asked. “Are you guys just looking for a job, or do you have a reason to fight?”

It was Mik’s turn to growl under his breath. “Randon is the lowest kind of pirate and has no honor,” the terrier answered. “Not only does he prey on passenger transports and freighters, he’s been known to attack other pirates for their cargo. Argus and I have both served on vessels that Randon’s taken down. We want a chance for payback.” The canine’s glare faded and a tiny smile crept across his lips. “Of course, we could also do a little profiteering on the side.”

“Ah, so that’s it,” Aramis said with a knowing air, even though he had been completely unaware of his old business partner’s tactics.

“You don’t trust us,” Argus said as he swished his tail. “That’s fair in this business, and we don’t blame you. However, we know that nobody crosses Captain Thorne and we’re on the level here. It’s in our best interests to throw in our lot with you.”

“Right.” The wolf narrowed his eyes at them. “I think you’re working for Randon,” he said coldly.

Argus scowled at the wolf and Mik’s hackled raised instantly; his nose wrinkled and he curled back his lips with a growl. The terrier launched himself at Thorne, but the lupine captain was ready for him. He slugged the canine hard with his left fist before he could grab onto him. The terrier spun around once before he dropped to the ground at his feet. The fox looked as if he wanted to rush forward too, but he held his ground, his fists tight at his sides.

“Do we look like felines to you? We… aren’t… with… Randon!” Argus said through clenched teeth. Without taking his eyes off the wolf, he squatted down next to his companion. Mik shook his head as if to clear out the cobwebs and rubbed his jaw with a hand. It did not feel broken, but it would be sore for a while. His anger diffused, he looked up at Thorne and held up a hand.

“Captain…” he said in a strained voice, “Randon is not our ally.”

Aramis looked down at the two of them for a long moment and then sheathed his previously concealed knife in front of them to show he had been armed and could have used it just now. Finally, he stretched out a hand to the terrier, though still on his guard. Mik took his hand and the wolf pulled him to his feet. Argus stood up next to him.

Thorne pulled his hands in beneath his cloak and said, “All right, let’s go see this ship of yours.” Beneath the cloak, he flexed the fingers of his left hand, which were now sore from punching the terrier. He resolved silently that he would have to build up a resistance to such things if he was going to continue this lifestyle. He seemed to be scrapping a lot since he had arrived in Castelrosso.

***

Aramis Thorne followed the orange van across the length of Castelrosso on his motorcycle, his tail once again fluttering in the wind behind him. From the noisy atmosphere of the spaceport, they had taken a direct route along the avenue that bordered Castle Bay, passing sandy beaches framed with rustic boardwalks, restaurants and tourism-related businesses.

Massive, anvil-shaped thunderclouds loomed out to sea in the distance and a wind picked up in the warm afternoon. Traffic along the shore was light and the wolf had no trouble following the van as they neared the seaport on the western curve of the bay. Water vessels of all sizes were docked in marinas as they drew closer to a bank of sandstone cliffs. Everything from large tankers, a fishing fleet and down to small, private craft bobbed gently against their moorings.

The road curved gently to the north and took them right to the cliffs. Houses and other buildings were farther apart on this edge of town and it had more of a rural feel. The van swerved to miss a non-sapient deer as it exited from the main avenue onto a dusty gravel road that paralleled up the side of the mountain.

At the end of a quarter-mile, they pulled up to an old building that could have been a maintenance garage at one time in the past. The corrugated metal sides were corroded and the once-white paint was stained with rust and mold. Unchecked weeds with tiny blue flowers grew tall next to the structure, and what had passed for windows were boarded up haphazardly with ill-fitting storm shutters. Large, faded letters that spelled out “Morrenbrook” were barely readable on the front of a large garage door.

Aramis gave the place a look of doubt, thinking that if there was a spaceship inside, it could be no larger than a private cruiser that might hold the three of them. He parked his motorcycle next to the van and shut off the engine. Argus stepped out of the van and grinned when he noticed the wolf’s dubious expression.

“Don’t let the condition of the place fool you,” he said. “It’s deceptive.” Miklos walked to a smaller entrance beside the garage door and tapped in a combination in an old-style cipher-lock. Despite the apparent disrepair of the door, the panel opened easily on well-oiled hinges. Thorne took a step toward the building, but Argus held up a hand. “Just a minute,” he said.

Aramis waited and watched suspiciously as Mik went inside the dark interior and then come back out with a small red bucket. The terrier walked over to the seaward side of the building and began scattering what looked like trail-mix onto the ground. Almost immediately, multicolored tropical birds seemed to appear from the sky out of nowhere and fly into the feeding ground to accept Mik’s offering. Thorne watched in amazement as a large macaw landed on the terrier’s shoulder and give him a playful bop on his cheek with the side of its beak before joining the other birds on the ground. Miklos gave Argus and Thorne a grin before taking his empty bucket back to the building. The fox motioned Thorne to follow him.

Aramis walked behind him toward the door. He was still not entirely convinced of their story and prepared himself for a fight. He had refrained from using his gun when they had been at the spaceport, but now that they were in a more secluded area, he removed his firearm from its holster hidden beneath the cloak.

Miklos reached a circuit box on a shadowed wall near the door and tripped a breaker. Four dim lights hanging from the ceiling came on, though the remaining two-dozen bulbs remained dark. He looked back toward Thorne and started when he saw the captain framed in the doorway holding his pistol ready. The wolf’s golden eyes bore into him for a moment before scanning the interior of the building. His eyes adjusted quickly to the change in illumination.

In the dim light provided by the quartet of bulbs, Thorne saw nothing more than a half-dozen plastic crates stacked haphazardly in the middle of the otherwise-empty garage. Two of the crates were open, but whatever the contents might have been were gone. Packing material was scattered on the floor mixed in with dry leaves and looked as if it had all been there a while. Near the door was a bag of bird feed and the red bucket that Mik had used.

“Nice spaceship,” Thorne said dryly.

Argus chuckled, but then swallowed when he noticed the gun pointed at his middle. “Uhm, it’s through there,” he said in hesitation. He gestured toward a set of double doors at the back of the garage. Mik nodded in agreement.

“This way, Captain,” the terrier said with a forced smile. He knew the wolf probably suspected an ambush and he could not blame Thorne for being cautious.

Aramis took a solitary step into the garage and then waved the barrel of his pistol at the fox. “Lead the way,” he told him. Argus nodded without a word and then turned toward his companion. He and Miklos walked toward the double doors without looking back, mindful not to make any sudden moves.

Thorne followed several steps behind the pair, but his eyes were all over the room. He scanned dark corners full of cobwebs and trash and noted sagging racks along the wall containing a few rusted paint canisters. Permanent stains covered the concrete floor from previous oil spills, paints and solvents, and sand covered the ground near the ill-covered windows where past storms had blown it in. A small, overhead crane on a track hung suspended with large lengths of chain. One of the crane tracks led to the double doors the terrier and fox approached.

Miklos reached the wooden doors and opened them. Inside was another set of doors made of tarnished metal with a keypad set into the middle of the left-hand panel. He tapped in several numbers and then a low hum emanated from the doors. He turned slowly to look at Thorne and was relieved to see the wolf had lowered his gun, although it was still in his hand with a finger near the trigger guard.

Aramis watched the door with interest as the humming grew slightly louder. A moment later, the metal panels slid apart to reveal the interior chamber of a musty-smelling antique elevator cage. A single bulb in its roof flickered to life beside a continuation of the crane track inside. Argus stepped in first and then Thorne got in beside him, mindful not to let his feet, tail or arms stick through the wrought-iron bars that made up the cage. Mik got in last and operated the controls, a single lever marked for Up and Down. The doors closed automatically when he pressed the lever downward and the elevator began to drop.

As soon as the cage dropped below the foundation of the garage, the shaft around them became pink-hued stone. Aramis could not tell if the square tube was natural or had been sapient-made. He could not see any blast marks, though the granite rock looked hard enough that nothing short of explosives would have carved it out. The elevator lamp made the quartz flecks in the granite glitter, and then the light flickered briefly when the cage dropped past another door.

“Where did that lead to?” Thorne asked curiously.

“Nowhere special,” Argus muttered as he pretended to check his watch. Thorne stared at him for a long moment. The fox fidgeted until the cage shook briefly and distracted the captain’s attention.

The wolf sniffed the air and noted an increase of moisture in the shaft as the elevator began to slow. A moment later, the cage came to a stop in front of doors identical to those they had entered. As soon as Miklos removed his hand from the control lever, the panels slid aside to reveal an immense cavern beyond, partially illuminated by electric lights set up on tripods throughout the place. Air flowed out of the elevator shaft as if a vacuum activated. The terrier stepped out into the expanse and then stopped with his hands on his hips.

Thorne stepped out beside him, followed by the fox, and then stared at what he saw. The cave itself was unremarkable, save for its size; the ceiling towered nearly a hundred feet above them and was unadorned by stalactites or other noticeable formations. It was nearly two hundred yards from the elevator shaft to an entrance where a wide opening allowed the saltwater of the Herdantian Sea to flow partially into the cavern. Roughly half of the cave was filled with water in a deep natural trench. Like the ceiling above, there were no stalagmites or flowstone formations on the floor, but neither was it completely flat. Large blocks of stone that had once belonged to the ceiling lay broken and scattered about, though most looked as if they had been there for ages. However, it was not the cavern, the breakdown blocks, nor the opening to the sea that held Thorne’s immediate attention.

He looked up at the port side of a long, thin vessel resting on hydraulic pedestals attached to a set of tracks that led laterally to the water. His eyes roved up its height and came to rest on a stubby conning tower rimmed forward with thick glass above a spatial airlock. Had it not been for the thrust ports high up on the craft’s aft end, he would have thought it was an old-style submarine, though it was small enough that he doubted it would take no more than a crew of twenty to operate. Rows of portholes dotted the hydrodynamic sides, and bow planes jutted out from the nose like small wings.

The faded, dark green paint of the ship was streaked with watermarks down the sides, and the hull looked patched in places. Modular scaffolding surrounded the engine pods and several panels were off, exposing the structure and systems beneath. Four workbenches on the cavern floor beside a lower ramp hatch were covered with disassembled parts and degreaser vats. Three open rollaway toolboxes stood close to the ship, with the remains of cannibalized parts spread out on a stained tarp on the floor. A trash cart overflowing with packing material and fast food sacks smelled as it if had not been emptied in some time.

To Thorne’s eyes, the vessel appeared to be a decades-old hulk in poor condition. He walked toward it in silence, his two companions following close behind. “What is this…. thing?” he scoffed.

Argus waved a casual hand at the craft and said with a smile, “That’s the Finsternis. This is the ship we told you about.”

“Oh really?” He narrowed his eyes. “Do you think Randon is out floating on the ocean, waiting for us to sink him with torpedoes?”

“Despite its looks,” Miklos explained, “it has flown all around the Planetary Alignment.”

Thorne looked at him skeptically. “You want me to fly in that… It looks like one shot would finish it off. Even if this thing could leave the ground, there doesn’t appear to be enough space inside for the cargo you might plunder from other ships.” He looked at Mik and Roza and gave them a sudden look of amusement. “What good is pirating freighters if you can’t take their bounty?”

“Its looks are deceiving,” said another voice. Thorne looked up suspiciously when a tall, broad-shouldered chocolate Labrador dressed in work coveralls stepped out from behind one of the large breakdown blocks of stone that littered the cavern floor. “Its girth is wider than it appears from this angle, Captain; it has a decent holding capacity,” he said as he wiped his hands on a grease cloth.

Thorne appraised the canine and looked at him dubiously. “Are you her captain?” he asked.

“No, the Finsternis has had no captain for nearly three years,” the lab replied. “I was the chief engineer when she last flew, and one of the few who survived after a radiation leak killed everyone else.  I’m Errol Colfax.”

“What caused the leak?”

“Battle damage,” answered the Labrador. “We were outgunned and our captain was an idiot. He tried to attack another ship that had just made a raid on a Siilv carrier. We were left for dead after the broadsides we got for our trouble.”

“How did you survive?” Argus asked. He had never heard the details of Errol’s story and was intrigued.

“How did you get this heap back on land?” Thorne added.

The engineer looked up at the green ship. “Out of a crew of twenty-three, ten of us were still alive when the Basilisk left us in ruin.” Aramis tilted his head; the name of the other ship sounded familiar, but no associated memory surfaced to claim it. “The ten of us patched up the systems enough to limp back to Brandt,” the Lab continued, “but seven died from severe radiation exposure within a week of landing. Only three of us survived with no ill effects, though we were never sure why.”

“I suppose the remaining three of you have been repairing this ship of yours since you got back,” Thorne remarked, “and you think it’s ready to fly again?”

Colfax nodded and glanced at the parts-laden workbenches. “Mostly,” he admitted. “There are a few secondary parts I am still struggling with, but the primary systems are in working order. I believe it is almost ready enough to launch, but without a full crew to operate it, here it sits. I can’t test fly it by myself.”

Thorne glanced over at Argus, thumbed the safety on his pistol, and returned it to its holster. “How many times have you flown in this heap?” he asked.

“Me?” the fox replied, taken aback. “I never have been up in it. I’ve been helping Errol with repairs on the water propulsion engines only for the past two months.”

Thorne looked puzzled and then turned to Miklos. “You?”

The terrier shook his head. “Nope, I’ve never been up in it either. Like Argus, I’ve been helping Errol from time to time — mostly on the navigation equipment. You can say we’re just paying off some old debts with him.”

Aramis looked back at Colfax with a tilt of his head. “I thought these two were your crewmates — the ones who survived with you. Where are the others?”

“Dead,” replied the Labrador. “One died last year in a barroom brawl, and the other signed up for a ship that was later destroyed in a firefight with the SPF. I’m the only remaining survivor of Captain Morrenbrook’s crew because I’ve kept my head down.”

“The radiation doesn’t appear to have hurt you. How is your health?”

Colfax smiled, the first time since the trio had arrived. “Never better, Captain. I take pride in keeping myself fit.”

“How many other helpers do you have with this little hobby of yours?”

“Three others,” Colfax said, “all mechanics. Castelrosso has an excess of them, it seems.”

Thorne nodded and then walked over to one of the workbenches. He picked up a scorched power transfer box and examined it closely. It was an antiquated piece of equipment that looked as it if had been in service for decades.

“Just how old is this ship?” he asked when Colfax and the others took up sides around the table.

“Well,” the Lab replied as he rubbed the bottom of his chin with a hand, “the Finsternis was originally part of the first line of Fynian Altus-class cruisers. That would make her close to fifty years old.”

“Fifty!” Thorne retorted as he held up the relay box. “How do you get the parts you need for something like this?”

“We trade for them,” Argus replied, “usually by providing labor for someone else.”

“Either that or we steal them from the rare Altus ships that happen to land at the spaceport,” Mik added. “This vessel has three separate engine systems, so we need…”

“Three?”

“Water propulsion, atmospheric flight, and spatial warp systems,” Colfax answered, “It’s equipped with Falstar LightDrive engines – an old technology, but one that is still in use on Fynian starships.” The Labrador turned and gestured toward the vessel that towered over them. “The Finsternis was built solid – it had to be in order to stand up to the pressures of the Fynian oceans, as well as the vacuum of space.”

“What about armaments?”

“Standard pulse cannons, chemical rockets and torpedoes, plus a good arsenal of hand weapons and ammunition.”

Thorne studied him for a long time and then looked aft at the exposed engine pods. “Would you be willing to fly in it?” he asked as he set the relay box back on the workbench. “How reliable do you believe this ship to be?”

“The Finsternis is old and some systems would likely be temperamental,” Colfax answered, “but yes, I would go up in her. I would insist on going with you.”

“Insist?”

Colfax nodded to him. “I can offer her to you for a reasonable price, Captain, providing you take me along.”

Thorne crossed his arms. “What is your price for this… ship?”

“Twenty thousand credits.”

Aramis raised his eyebrows. “Twenty thousand is not very much for a ship this size, even one this old,” he said in genuine surprise.

The engineer nodded. “That’s right, Captain. Actually, I would have just turned over Captain Morrenbrook’s ship to you since he is dead and the vessel needs a commander. However, I have put in a lot of time, money and effort to restore her and want a little compensation. Of that price, I would only take five thousand credits for myself.”

“And the other fifteen?”

Colfax picked up the scorched power relay box and hefted it in his hand. “That’s how much I need to complete the repairs to the ship before it’s ready to fly.”

“How long would it take to get it airborne with extra help and funding for the parts you need?”

“A week and a half… two at the most. I’m that close.”

Thorne nodded and looked at both Argus and Miklos in turn. “Okay, I’m interested,” he admitted. “Show me the ship and detail its capabilities. If I like what you tell me, I will pay your price.”

“Excellent!” Mik replied with a wag of his tail. “We can help you set up the crew, too.”

“About that,” Thorne said with a glance at Colfax. “You could round up whomever you think would be an asset to this vessel, but I have final say if I don’t think they can be trusted.”

“Fair enough,” the Labrador said. “You would be the captain in charge.”

“You said you didn’t trust us,” Argus reminded him. “Does this mean you’ve changed your mind?”

Aramis twitched an ear and looked at the fox. “Not necessarily, Mr. Roza,” he said. “Trust is something you must earn from me, but for now you have the opportunity to stick around to prove it.”

“Fair enough,” Argus said, repeating Errol’s earlier statement.

“Providing I make this decision,” Thorne added, “I want two changes.”

“What kind of changes?” Colfax asked suspiciously.

“I want better than standard weapons installed in this ship,” he said. “I can provide the funding for it, so that won’t take away from your repair budget.”

“Okay, and the other change?”

“I don’t like the name, Finsternis,” Aramis replied. “If this thing has been brought back from the brink of death, it needs a new name.”

“That’s understandable,” Argus agreed with a smile. “What do you think, Errol? You have been with this ship for ages.”

“I’m not sentimental about what the thing is called, if that’s what you’re concerned about,” he said. “Captain, if you want to change her name after you have bought her, then that’s up to you.”

“Did you have something in mind?” Mik asked, looking over his shoulder at the vessel’s conning tower above. “What would you name her?”

Aramis Thorne looked up at the ship as if in thought, but a name had already come to him. “Hee-nicks,” he said after a moment. “I would call her the Hoenix.”

“Hoenix?” Mik asked in surprise. “As in, the lost city of Hoenix?”

“That’s right.”

“Do you know what the name even means?” Argus asked with an amused look at Errol. “Hoenix was the –”

“Hoenix was called the City of Frustration,” Thorne finished without taking his eyes off the old vessel. “From the looks of this thing, it should be fitting.”

Chapter 6

Aramis Thorne sat on a wooden bench beneath an old tree with wide branches and stared out across Castle Bay. He was on top of the mountain cliffs that towered above the sea cavern that contained the old submarine starship. After leaving the cave, he had followed a paved road up to a small scenic lookout at the mountain’s flat crest, and had parked his motorcycle beside a curb that served as a divider between the lot and a small park. Bench seats and a historical marker decorated the place, with large boulders arranged to be decorative. A small, parked car was nearby, but its owner was absent. Its windows down, it was dusty inside and out and looked as if it might have been there for some time.

This mountaintop was not the highest vantage point over Castelrosso, but it gave a nice view of the city, the bay and a long distance out to sea. The wolf sat close to the sloping edge of the cliff near a rusted metal railing that looked decades old. If he cared to test the strength of the railing by leaning over the edge, he would have seen jagged rocks battered by the surf near the entrance to the sea cavern far below.

The sky had grown dark with roiling clouds coming in from the west, and the wind had picked up in the half hour he had been there. A storm would be there soon, but as yet there had been no rain. Sea gulls hovered in the air just below the cliff edge and a few had come up to see if he had had any handouts for them, but most left him alone when they decided he had no food.

Aramis bided his time on the park bench thinking about the things he had discovered about himself since that day in the sacrificial pit.  He did not feel it was much to go on, but more memories were coming back to him a little quicker, though everything he did remember seemed to be trivial.  Why could he not remember the details of things that should have been of importance to his brain?  He sincerely hoped it would all fully come back to him. He disliked being in the dark about his own past. Perhaps it was time to employ some help in the matter.

He turned and looked toward the parking lot when he heard the sound of tires on pavement.  A tiny, two-seat electric ground car with faded red paint pulled up next to his motorcycle. Aramis smiled when the door opened and a short beagle tripped over his own feet getting out. Ringo managed to right himself before falling to the ground, but he let out a yelp when he caught his elbow on the door handle.  The canine looked over the handful of park benches and then smiled when he saw Thorne wave to him from his seat beside a tree.

“Heyo, Cap’n!” he said while rubbing his sore elbow. “I came as quickly as I could. Mr. Mohan wouldn’t let me leave until I restocked the bulk freezer from our shipping truck. Matt was out sick today, so I had to do it all myself.”

“Have a seat,” the wolf told him with a cursory examination of the brightly flowered shirt the beagle wore.

Ringo sat down on the opposite end of the bench and then peered over the edge of the cliff just a few feet away. “What can I do for you?” he asked. “I assume it’s something hush-hush, since we’re meeting here.”

Thorne fixed him with a steady stare for a moment and then nodded. “You did something for me the other night that’s had me doing some deep thinking.”

“I did that?” the canine asked with wide eyes. “I don’t think anyone’s ever given me much thought before.  What did I do?”

“You tested my drink for me, even though you knew it could have been poisoned by my enemies. You and I barely know one another, yet you potentially risked your life for me.  Why?”

Tyler shrugged his shoulders, but then realized how flippant it must have looked.  “I’ve heard a lot about you,” he explained, “and although you have a rough reputation in Castelrosso, I also know that you value loyalty and reward those you trust.”

“A reward… is that what this is about?  You want some of my gold?”

Tyler shook his head quickly. “No sir. That’s not what I meant. I didn’t know your drink wasn’t poisoned. Gold would have done me no good if someone had slipped something into it and I’d died.  The reward I’m looking for is trust.”  He looked out to sea and fixed his attention on a fishing boat riding the rough water. “I’m not a leader, Captain. I’m a follower.  I need someone to follow, but I won’t submit myself to anyone who doesn’t trust me.”

He glanced back at the wolf and sighed audibly. “I am not a very good employee if I know someone doesn’t trust me, and there haven’t been many folks I’ve worked for who deserved my trust. I’m usually pretty good assessing how trustworthy people are and that’s the way I feel about you. I would like to earn your trust, sir.”

The beagle fell silent under Thorne’s steady gaze, and for a long moment, neither of them said anything.  Finally, Aramis shifted in his seat and then looked over the rusted railing to the water below.  He cleared his throat and then began speaking without looking back at his companion.

“Because of what you’ve done for me, I do trust you, Tyler,” he said slowly. “In fact, I need to trust you, because I am in over my head and I need your help.”

“Over your head?” Tyler asked in surprise. “I appreciate your trust, Captain, and you can depend on me to help you out of whatever trouble you’re in.”

“Do you trust me?”

“Yes, sir,” the beagle replied without hesitation.

Aramis nodded and looked at the canine once again. “I have a secret that I have been holding since I arrived in Castelrosso.”

“Everyone has secrets. Sometimes it’s best to keep them quiet.”

“True enough,” replied the wolf, “but there are times when they must be told.  I want to share mine with you, but you must swear that you won’t divulge what I tell you to anyone.  That is the trust I must have from you.”

Tyler swallowed and nodded. “I swear my silence, Captain. I’m afraid I probably won’t be very strong under torture, but I won’t let anything out otherwise.”

“That will have to be good enough,” Aramis said with an upraised eyebrow. “I am hoping the secrecy won’t be required for much longer, but for now it is best no one else knows.”

“Anything you tell me will stay with me until you tell me otherwise.”

Thorne looked up at the dark sky when it started to rumble with feeling. “I don’t know who I am, Tyler,” he said.  The beagle tilted his head at the cryptic statement, but remained quiet to allow his captain the opportunity to voice his thoughts at his own pace. He had enough patience be a good listener.

“Several days ago, I woke up in the city of Hoenix… with no memory of how I got there, or why I was beaten and lying at the bottom of a stone pit with a skeleton.”

“Wow! …Hoenix! …and a skeleton! Randon must have really hit you hard if you don’t remember!”

“That’s what I have gathered, but it’s worse than that, Tyler.  I don’t remember anything prior to waking up in Hoenix… I don’t even know who I am.”

The canine cook stared at him with an open mouth. “You’re Captain Thorne!” he exclaimed.

Aramis looked at him in amusement. “That is what everyone keeps telling me,” he remarked, “but I really don’t remember him at all.  Everything I know about Thorne is what I have read or what someone else has told me since I got into town.”

“You don’t remember anything?”

“Very little,” he admitted. “A few spotty memories have come back to me and I can almost remember some things, but for the most part I am still a blank. If not for a photograph I’ve seen of Thorne that looks like me, I might have believed the skeleton I woke up with was him and not me.” A finger of lightning connected the middle of Castle Bay to the overhead clouds with a crack that rattled the flimsy railing beside them. Echoes of thunder bounced off the surrounding hills and the airborne sea gulls dropped out of sight to seek shelter among the crevices of the cliff.

Mindful that they probably did not have much time before it began to rain, Aramis told him about the events that had happened to him since waking up without his memories. He omitted some details, like the secret passage that led through the antechamber filled with bags of gold coins and the woman’s body he had crawled over, but was straightforward in everything else he detailed.  Tyler sat in silence without interrupting and was acutely aware of the implications of what the wolf told him could mean.  Despite this, he was especially intrigued with the offer of an available vessel.

“Have you decided whether or not to take up the ship’s engineer on his deal?” he asked. “It seems like good timing for this ship to be there when you needed one.”

Aramis flicked his right ear when a leaf blew into it. “It almost strikes me as being a little too convenient, but maybe that’s just my suspicious nature. I had them give me a thorough tour of the ship and I even poked my nose into some of the engine pods.  The interior is rather cramped, but I have to admit that it’s built solid. I am not as optimistic about the onboard systems as Colfax is, but if he thinks he can keep them running, it may do the job – especially with the weapons systems I want installed.”

He looked up at another peal of thunder. “I can pay Colfax his price, but I will need more credits than what I have on hand.  I have more of the Hoenix gold coins to trade, but I doubt Mr. Tavish has the kind of cash I need to front the money for repairs to the ship and hire a crew.  He says he knows someone who is a collector of anything relating to Hoenix and should be interested in more of the coins I may happen across.”  He looked over at the beagle as a few drops of rain spattered around them. They both got to their feet.

“I want you to see Mr. Tavish and try to arrange a communication with his associate so I can discuss selling off my coins,” he said to Tyler as they started back toward the parking lot.

“I’ll get on it right away.”

“When you’ve done this, I would like you to do some research into who I used to be. You said you’ve heard a lot about me, and I would like to know what you know, but also find out anything you can, no matter if you think it is trivial.  I now know I am Aramis Thorne, and although some memories are coming back to me in bits and pieces, very little of those are enough to be helpful.  I seem to have developed a following despite my memory loss and I will need to know what these people expect if I allow them to work for me.”

“You can depend on me,” Tyler replied. “Thank you for trusting me, sir.  I will do everything I can.”

“Thank you.  Also, see what you can find out about this Randon,” Thorne said with a frown. “I have no memories of him either – not even his species. If I am going up against him, I would–”

“Randon?  He’s a cougar,” Tyler interrupted with a finger at his chin. “I don’t know all that much about him, but his ship is called the Cliffhanger and he has an all-feline crew.”

Lightning connected the clouds with a spot near the edge of the city below with a deafening crack and Ringo jumped. He cast a nervous glance back up at the wolf and Thorne nodded as the wind picked up. Before either of them could say another word, it began to rain harder and the wind increased. The sky was growing so dark that it was becoming harder to see, and a single street lamp over the parking lot flickered to life. Aramis gathered his cloak around him, and they quickened their pace toward the vehicles, but a movement in the darkness to their left made them both stop.

A spotted leopard dressed in a tan blouse and yellow shorts emerged from behind a large decorative boulder near the bench where they had been sitting. She slipped on the wet rock and fell into a growing puddle. She looked up in alarm as they ran to her, and from the look of panic on her face, they knew that she had overheard their conversation.

Aramis reached out and grabbed her by the wrist when she got to her feet. She hissed at him with bared teeth, and tried to scratch his face with her free hand, but the wolf managed to snare it as well.

“Randon will have your head, Thorne! Let me go!” she exclaimed over another peal of thunder. Aramis had nothing against felines personally, but Ringo had just told him that Randon’s crew had all been cats. He pulled her closer and stared at her with a snarl.

“Why didn’t you leave with your boss?” he growled at her. “Were you ordered to stay behind and watch for me?”

“That’s right,” she admitted haughtily, “and once he knows you have his gold, he’ll have a new rug for his cabin with your face on it!” She kicked him in the shin and simultaneously butted his snout with the top of her head. Thorne reeled from the impact and lost his grip on one of her wrists.  She bit his other hand and then darted away.

Tyler jumped for her, but only managed to offset her balance when he tripped over the uneven ground and merely bumped into her legs. She stumbled and slipped again on the wet rock beneath her. The wind blew harder and driven raindrops stung her eyes as she got back to her feet and ran.

Though dazed, Thorne took out after her in the pouring rain. If she was able to get to a transmitter and inform Random what she had overheard him confessing to Tyler, he would lose whatever element of surprise he might have had when his former partner returned to Brandt. It could be even worse if Randon was aware of Thorne’s memory loss. The bare rock beneath his feet and the rain-heavy cloak made him stumble, the hard wind in his face making it hard to see.

The woman ran blindly into a tree and fell back against a park bench, landing hard on her right ankle with a cry of pain. Lightning lit up the dark sky, and in its brief illumination, she saw the wolf standing over her with a hand reaching out for her.

She frantically scrambled backward and suddenly the ground sloped out from under her. She slid beneath a weathered guardrail and cracked the back of her head on a support post as she dropped over the rain-slick edge. Thorne dove for her disappearing hands, but he missed her fingers by inches and only grasped empty air.

His momentum threatened to carry him right behind her, but he snared the support post of the railing and clung to it in the wind and driving rain. More lightning lit up the sky and he peered over the edge of the rock to find her staring back up at him with wide, frightened eyes. She clung desperately to a small scrub brush with nothing beneath her but the stormy sea crashing torrentially on jagged rocks far below.

“Don’t kill me, please!” she shrieked at him.

Aramis reached out to grab her by the arm, but she was hysterical and tried to swat his hand away. The scrub brush had clung tenaciously to the rock face in its struggle to survive in an unlikely place, but its root system did not have much of a purchase. Part of it ripped out from the cracks in the stone and the woman screamed in terror.

“Take my hand!” Thorne shouted above the rain as he felt Ringo grab his legs to help anchor him to the mountaintop. “I won’t kill you!”

More roots of the bush pulled free of the cliff and the woman found that her fright would not make herself let go in order to reach for the wolf’s proffered hand. “Help me!” she screamed in mortal terror. “I don’t want to die!” She struggled to find something beneath her feet to stand upon, but there was nothing but empty air below her.

Thorne reached out quickly and grabbed her closest arm, but the wind, the falling rain and her struggling made it hard to get a good grip on her. With Tyler’s help, he was able to scoot out a little farther and get one hand hooked under her arm. He still clung to the guardrail post with his other hand and he pulled with all his might.

Inch by inch, the leopard began to rise, and in desperation, she made herself let go of the bush and cling to his arm as he pulled her closer to safety. Aramis felt as if both his arms were on fire as he strained to pull her closer toward the railing, but the effort was paying off.  Another three inches and she would be able to hold onto the post beside him, and then he could grab the waistband of her shorts to pull her up to the park bench.

A bolt of lightning struck the tree behind them with a deafening blast, and in the resulting concussion, the woman released his arm in a blind reaction to shield her face. Thorne scrambled to hold her, but he lost his grip on her rain-slick fur and she slid back over the edge. She screamed as she grabbed for the scrub brush, but this time the weakened plant broke free of the rock beneath her full weight.

“No!” the wolf shouted with an outstretched hand. He swallowed and wrapped both arms around the metal post, but he could do nothing more than watch in the staccato illumination of lightning as the terrified leopard fell to the rocks below. She hit the jagged edge of a crag and bounced sideways, but came to rest only for a moment before the crashing surf washed her body up against more rocks and then dragged her out into the sea. She disappeared under the swell of the current, only to reemerge a moment later to pound against the rocks yet again.

Aramis watched mutely for a moment before Ringo tugged on his legs to pull him back away from the slick edge. He swallowed his horror and edged his way backward among splintered wood, letting the beagle help him to the park bench.

The storm raged on around them, oblivious to the life it had claimed; the remaining two knew that they should find shelter before more fingers of sky-fire found the mountaintop park. Tyler grabbed Thorne’s arm and led him away from the edge toward the parking lot, and despite what had just happened, the thought occurred to him that if one of Randon’s spies had found them out, there could be others.

***

“Well, what do you think?” Miklos asked as he scraped grease from beneath his fingernails with the thin blade of a small pocketknife.

“I’m not sure it’s him,” Argus muttered. He pulled a stale sandwich from a wrapper and took a bite out of it. He made a face at the taste, but continued to chew on it anyway.  The two of them sat in webbed lawn chairs near the back of the cavern. They had been at the entrance near the water, but the storm had chased them further inside to escape the driven rain. The wind howled through the opening and bits of paper packing swirled around the cave floor. Two other mechanics had arrived with a needed engine part and Colfax had gone with them to prepare it for installation, leaving Miklos and Argus to eat their late lunch.

“Why?” the terrier asked and rubbed his jaw where Thorne had slugged him. “That temper of his sure convinced me…”

“I dunno, Mik. I was willing enough to approach him about the ship, but now there’s just something about him that seems like an act to me.  I need something more to convince me it’s really him.”

“That’s the way Aramis Thorne is,” said a new voice. “From what Errol told me, I’d wager it is him.”

The vulpine mechanic looked up at a large black wolf in a pair of greasy trousers and a white muscle shirt with a frown. “What makes you think that, Jason?”

The wolf started to say something, but then appeared to change his mind. “Let’s just say that I know more than you do what Captain Thorne is like and leave it at that.”

“He seemed like the genuine article to me,” Mik said again. “He had enough technical knowledge of the onboard systems when we gave him a tour that showed he has had plenty of experience in space. He was not familiar with the undersea Caterpillar systems, but that’s not unusual for a star captain. He also made a suggestion about the starboard energy transducer that amazed even Errol.”

“Thorne was an engineer at one time, so that’s not surprising,” Jason replied in a deep voice. “You don’t get to be a captain if you don’t have something of a working knowledge of your ship.”

Thunder shook the interior of the cave with deep rumbles and the entrance to the sea lit up in brilliant flashes.  Miklos watched the sheets of rain descend outside for a moment and then looked back up at the wolf.

“I couldn’t tell if he liked the Fin or not,” he said as he put away his pocketknife. “But… if it is him, do you really think he has the money to hire us? Errol’s price isn’t bad for a starship, but not everyone has that kind of cash in reserve.”

“I hope so,” Argus added as he swallowed another bite of his lunch with a grimace. “I’m getting so low on credits that I can barely afford to eat anymore. Hugo’s been generous sharing his lunches with us, but I don’t think I can take much more of his peanut butter and onion sandwiches!”

Jason patted him on the shoulder with a smile. “I’m sure Captain Thorne has the financing he needs. It won’t be long before we can get Finsternis off the ground and leave Brandt behind.”

Mik looked up at him. “Which do you think we’ll do first – plunder freighters or go up against Randon?”

The black wolf stroked the fur beneath his chin in thought as he looked up at the bulk of the submarine starship. “If I was going up in an old, untested ship like this, I’d want to see what she could do against lesser game before I went after the big guns.” He glanced down at the terrier and said, “My guess is that he would strike a simple freighter first.”

“I just hope he doesn’t get too nosey after taking command,” Argus said after taking a long drink from a canteen. “Errol’s been good to work for, and I would probably follow him anywhere, but I don’t know about this Thorne. He gets under my fur.”

All three of them looked up in unison when loud swearing issued from the scaffolding surrounding the portside engine pod of the ship.

“Uh oh,” Argus said with a frown. “It sounds like Hugo’s broken another spanner. He’ll be sending us out to get another one shortly.”

“If you would stop buying the cheapest ones you could find,” Jason said in a low voice, “you wouldn’t have to keep replacing them.”

“With the budget Errol gives us?” Mik said with a sigh. “He’s lucky to have what we can afford to get.”

***

The pair of round-rimmed glasses on the badger’s nose slipped down when he looked up at the sound of jingle bells that heralded the arrival of a customer. The proprietor glanced up from the box of new acquisitions he had been rooting through and saw a beagle standing just inside the door, his clothing and fur soaked from the rain outside.

“How may I help you on this wet evening?” he asked, pushing his glasses back into place with a finger.

Ringo looked embarrassed at the amount of water he was dripping on the polished hardwood floor and was hesitant to approach the counter where the elderly badger stood. “Hello,” he said from his spot near the door. “I am looking for Mr. Tavish.”

“You’ve found him,” the badger replied with a smile. “Come on in, my boy. It’s only water and will mop up.”

“Thank you,” the beagle said. His shoes squished as he crossed the room. He stopped in front of the counter and noticed that he and Tavish were the same height. “I was sent here on an errand by Cap’n Thorne,” he told him.

Tavish raised an eyebrow and inclined his head. “Yes?”

“When the Cap’n was in here last, you told him that you knew someone who would have an interest in buying more Hoenix coins if he had them,” Ringo explained. “Cap’n Thorne has more and would like to arrange a deal with your associate.”

“Give me some kind of proof that you’re actually working for Thorne,” Tavish said suspiciously, “and we will discuss it.”

The beagle grinned and reached into his pocket. He pulled out one of the Hoenix coins and then a throwing knife with an alabaster hilt and then set them both on top of the counter.  “The Cap’n thought you might say something like that.  My name is Ringo. He said to remind you that he sold you ten coins like this to you at ©950 each, and that he also bought this knife and its brother from you at ©500 each.”

“All correct, Mr. Ringo,” the badger said with a look of longing at the gold piece.

“He also wanted me to mention that he tried on a naval captain’s hat and said that he thought people who wore them looked stupid.”

Mr. Tavish smiled and nodded again. He picked up the dagger and handed it back to the beagle, but left the coin on the counter. “Okay, so you’re his errand boy now. Before I contact my associate, I will need to know how many of the Hoenix coins he has to offer. I doubt you have them with you, but my client will wish to know what he is negotiating for.”

Tyler put the coin and knife back into one pocket and reached a hand into another one. He pulled out a soggy scrap of paper and squinted to make out the writing. “Counting the coin I just showed you,” he said, “Cap’n Thorne has thirty-two that he is willing to sell if your friend wants them.”

The badger’s eyes grew wide at this. “Thirty-two!” he exclaimed.  “Where did he get that many Chaaq coins? They’re extremely rare!”

“I have given you all the information he provided,” Ringo replied with a smile.

Mr. Tavish merely stared at him for a moment and then finally nodded.  “Wait here,” he said, “but don’t touch anything.”  Without waiting for a reply, the proprietor walked to a corner of the room and disappeared through a brown split curtain that covered a doorway to the back.

Tyler stood beside the counter and continued to drip for a moment before a shiver ran through him. His clothes and the fur beneath were wet, and a slow moving ceiling fan created enough of a breeze to give him a chill.  Thunder continued to rumble, and although the rain hitting the street outside did not seem to be falling as hard as it had earlier, he could see no sign that it would be letting up anytime soon. The beagle usually paid close attention to the weather forecast each day before he left his home, but he had been running late that morning when he departed for work and had missed it. He stared out through the storefront window and let his mind drift as he waited.

Ten minutes later, Mr. Tavish stepped out through the curtain and cleared his throat. He looked surprised, but in a good mood. Tyler walked back to the counter as the badger picked up a pencil and began writing on a notepad.

“I have been authorized to offer your captain fifteen hundred credits for each of the Chaaq coins,” he said. “A total of ©48,000 will be transferred directly into Thorne’s account when the items are brought to me for examination and I have declared them to be genuine.”  He looked up at Ringo’s look of astonishment with a smile and added, “I am getting a substantial commission out of this deal, so I am hoping all the coins are as real as the ones he brought to me earlier.”

Ringo could do nothing more than swallow and nod.  Mr. Tavish chuckled, but then looked serious, handing the note of figures to the canine.  “My master expressed a strong desire to meet with Captain Thorne to discuss the Chaaq coins – he is currently en route to Brandt on a business errand as we speak. Ask your captain if he would be willing to meet with his buyer when he gets to Castelrosso.”

Tyler found his voice and nodded again. “I will mention it to him,” he replied. “Who do I tell him is buying his coins?”

“A human from Earth.  His name is Victor Faltane.”

***

Aramis Thorne closed the door to his hotel suite and stripped off his wet garments just inside the door. He resisted the urge to shake the water from his fur and trotted quickly to the washroom to get a towel instead.  He patted himself dry and then took another towel to the front room to wrap up his soaked clothing so as not to let them drip across the floor.  He took them back to the washroom and removed the contents of all the pockets before he squeezed the rainwater from them. He hung them up on the shower rod to dry and then walked into his bedroom.

He stretched out on the large bed on his back and put both hands beneath his head with closed eyes. He could still see the woman’s face as he lost the grip on her arms and saw her look of terror. He knew there was nothing else he could have done for her, but he still maintained a feeling of helplessness. He had been truthful when he had told her he did not intend to kill her, but wondered if her final thoughts had been that he had deliberately dropped her.

He opened his eyes and stared up at the slowly turning ceiling fan with a frown. Thunder continued to rumble and he could hear sheets of rain pelting the bay windows in the front room.  He glanced at the wall clock and then closed his eyes again as he tried to relax despite the images that haunted him. He saw the leopard’s face again as she plummeted to the rocks and surf below, but the face transformed into that of a lovely wolf with brownish-red fur. The she-wolf cried out in terror when she slipped from his grip and fell to the rocks, and Aramis shouted out his frustration as she dropped beyond his reach. His own body convulsed when she broke on the rocks, and then the alarm on the com handset beside the bed woke him with a start.

Thorne’s eyes flashed open in panic. He sat upright in his bed before he realized that he was no longer hanging onto a guardrail at the edge of a rain-slick cliff. Panting lightly, he looked at the wall clock and realized that he had fallen asleep nearly two hours ago. The com unit continued to beep at him until he made himself reach over to it.

“Yes?” he asked hoarsely after running a hand over his eyes and brow.  He listened for a moment and then nodded subconsciously. “Very good, Ringo. I will pay a visit to Mr. Tavish shortly.”  He listened a moment more and then gave a few more words of instruction before he hung up the receiver.

Aramis briefly considered lying back down, but thought better of it.  He got to his feet and moved to the washroom to look at himself in the mirror.  He grimaced at his reflection and picked up a brush to groom his face fur. When he finally looked somewhat decent, he glanced up at the ceiling. He climbed up and balanced upon the rim of the bathtub and reached up for the air vent grating in the ceiling.  He worked it free and set it on the sink, and then he eased up until he could look into the rectangular duct.

His travel pack was undisturbed, waiting just inside where he had left it a couple days before. He pulled the heavy bundle out into his arms and then stepped down to the floor. He set the pack across the sink and opened it. He pulled out a few provisions cached inside and then removed the Hoenix coins one by one.  He counted out thirty-one coins, set them aside, and then examined the remaining gold pieces. He would still have sixteen coins in reserve, and although he would likely wind up cashing them in as well, he wanted to retain them for now.

He put the provisions and the remaining coins back into the pack and then put it back into its hiding place. He replaced the grating carefully so that it would not appear to have had any tampering, and then wrapped up the thirty-one coins in a white hand towel. He took them out to the bed and set them aside while he dressed. He walked into the other room and then to the bay window. He peered out through the vertical blinds and noted with satisfaction that although the sky was still dark, the late afternoon sky was now rain-free.

The wolf walked back to the kitchenette of his suite and began opening the cabinet doors. He searched through the items that had been pre-stocked until he found what he was looking for.  He pulled out a thermal canister and opened it. It had the faint smell of coffee, but was otherwise empty.  It appeared to be about the right size for what he needed.

He took the container back into the bedroom and then unfolded the hand towel lying on the bed.  He took each coin and dropped them flat one by one into the container until it was full. Three of the coins would not fit with the canister’s lid in place, so he dropped them into the pocket of his trousers.  He picked up the items he had removed from his pockets earlier and replaced them before he took the canister back into the front room.

Aramis hesitated as he reached for the doorknob and then went back into the washroom to grab a towel for the rain-wet seat of his cycle.  A moment later, he was out the door and on his way.

***

When Thorne arrived at the Morrenbrook garage on the western perimeter of Castelrosso a little over an hour later, Tyler’s small red car sat beside the mountain cliff next to the building. The beagle had the hood up and tinkered with something inside. Aramis pulled up next to him and then shut off the engine of his motorcycle.

“What’s the trouble?” he asked when the short cook looked over at him with a lopsided canine grin.

“No problem, Cap’n,” he said cheerily. “I’m just tightening up a cable connector.”  He hopped down from the bumper and then shut the hood. He walked around to the passenger door and reached into the open window for a grease rag.  He dropped his wrench on the floorboard and then turned back to face the wolf as he wiped off his hands. “I take it everything went well with Mr. Tavish?” he asked.

Aramis nodded. “He examined each of the coins thoroughly and declared them all genuine.  His human associate had already authorized the transfer of credits to my account, so the whole process took less than a half hour. Mr. Faltane wants to talk with me when he gets here, but I am hoping to find some excuse not to meet him. I don’t remember if I’ve ever met the man, but the name makes me suspicious. After I left Mr. Tavish, I contacted Dallas at the hospital to let her know I would need her services as Nurse sometime soon.”

“Excellent!” Ringo said as he tossed his rag back into his car. “I imagine she was happy to hear that.”

“Hopefully we won’t need a medic for a while, so I’m also thinking of making her our Steward. I also got in touch with Harada,” Thorne said with a frown. “I had to strip him down for not following orders, but he still wants to crew with us as my primary pilot. I made him swear to keep his mouth shut on anything concerning me when talking to others.”

“Aww, Goro is okay,” Tyler said. “He just loves to visit with people.”

“If he wants a job on my ship, he’d better contain his conversations. After what happened this afternoon, I am sure Randon has others watching me. I don’t want Harada to let anything slip out in a casual conversation,” he said as he started walking toward the weather-beaten building. Tyler followed him with a critical eye at the corroded metal walls with mildewed and rust-stained paint. “I also hired a husky I met at the Crusty Barnacle as my gunner,” Aramis added.

“You hired Karla?” the beagle asked.

“Yeah,” Aramis replied, not at all surprised that the cook would know more of the tenants of the hotel. He stopped in front of the entrance to the building and then punched in the combination of the cipher lock. When he turned the handle and opened the door, he put out a hand to stop Tyler from going in.  “Hold on, there is something I have to do first.”

“Make sure it’s safe?” Ringo asked in a whisper.  The wolf only shook his head and then disappeared inside. A moment later, he stepped outside with a bucket and Tyler curiously watched him scatter feed on the wet ground between the puddles near the garage building. Almost immediately, tropical birds flew out of the nearby trees as if they had been waiting for this, and landed to partake of Thorne’s offering.  A large macaw swooped in close to the wolf as if to land on his shoulder, but it veered off suddenly when it did not recognize him.  It landed with the others, but kept its head turned as if to keep an eye on him.

Ringo grinned widely and shook his head in amazement.  “Do they do that every time?” he asked.

“Apparently,” Thorne replied as he took the bucket back to the garage. The beagle followed him inside and shut the door behind them.  The interior was dark with only a few slivers of light filtering in through the window shutters. Aramis walked to where he remembered seeing the switch for the lights and tripped the single breaker when he found it. Four dim lights hanging from the ceiling came on, but one near the middle flared briefly with a quiet pop and went out.  Ringo blinked rapidly for a moment, and then peered across a garage that contained nothing more than an orange utility van.

“This place isn’t much to look at, is it?” he quipped as he followed his captain across the floor.

“No, but I think that’s the idea,” Aramis replied. He opened the double wooden doors when they reached the back of the room and then tapped out a few numbers on a keypad set in the left-hand panel.

“They gave you the combination already?”

“No,” the wolf replied as the elevator hummed in the shaft behind the panels. “I memorized the numbers Miklos put in when he brought me here.”

“You have good eyes,” Tyler said, squinting in the dim light.  The humming grew slightly louder and a moment later, the elevator doors opened.  The beagle followed Thorne into the cage and stood to the back as the captain pulled the control lever down.  The cage dropped below the garage and Tyler watched the passing rock walls dully.

They started to drop past another door set into the side of the shaft, but Thorne suddenly brought the cage to a halt even with it.  “Is it in there?” Ringo asked curiously.

“No, the ship is well below us,” answered the wolf. He pointed at a standard padlock and then looked down at his friend.  “You said you had a knack for picking locks. Do you have any–” Before he could finish his question, Tyler reached into his back pocket and pulled out a small, rolled-up pouch. He knelt on the floor and unrolled it to reveal several tiny instruments. He glanced at the padlock and then selected a tool near the center of the pouch.  The beagle worked on the lock only for a moment before the tumbler tripped and the shaft separated with an echoed click.

“Very good,” Thorne said approvingly.  Ringo put away his tools as the wolf slid the doors aside.

A single light bulb came to life when they stepped out of the cage into a small room. Stacked up against the walls were boxes and crates with the word Binfurr Arms stamped in stylized gold-colored letters. Leaning alongside the rock walls on top of the crates were rifles and other guns of various calibers. Large quantities of ammo boxes were stacked on the floor in front of them. Aramis picked up one of the rifles to examine it and Ringo looked at the boxes on the other side of the room.

“Provisions… canned goods,” the beagle said in a quiet voice as he peered into the nearest one without a label.  He looked through another box and found universal pressure suits that would work under water or in a vacuum. Oxygen canisters filled another and then he found a hefty metal crate with a large padlock.

“These rifles have been cleaned and are well-oiled,” Thorne muttered. “They haven’t been here long.” He put the weapon back where he had found it and turned to see Tyler picking another lock.

Ringo lifted the lid of the box after he set the padlock on the floor and returned the tool to its pouch. Aramis peered over his shoulder and in the dim light, he saw a number of glass jars cradled in heavily padded chambers inside the box. Thorne reached over, gently eased one of the jars up into the light, and examined the thick amber liquid inside. There was no label so he sniffed the lid. A sharp odor made his eyes water, but it was not a scent he could identify. Without a word, he set the jar carefully back into its cradle and then shut the lid of the box.  The beagle put the padlock back into place and was about to stand up again when his eyes fell upon a small, wooden chest next to his knee.

Inside was a small fortune of gold and silver trinkets with precious gems of all colors and sizes embedded into them. No doubt it was the booty of some knock-off job. A look of delight flashed across his face, but before he could pilfer anything from the treasure, Thorne shut the lid of the chest with a “tsk, tsk.”

Ringo looked up at him with a shrug and then got to his feet. Without a word, they both turned back toward the lift, but before they reached it, the cage hummed to life and dropped into the depths of the shaft without them.

“Uh oh,” Tyler said. “Someone will be up shortly and see that we’ve found their arsenal.”

Aramis glanced around the room and then back to his friend. “I wouldn’t be concerned,” he said with a slight smile as he put his hands into the pockets of his cloak. “As their new captain, I would have demanded to know what was in here anyway.  No one will be able to lie about it with me having seen it first.”

“Good point,” said the beagle.  “Should I get one of the guns and load it up… just in case?”

“No,” Thorne answered. “I am already armed.”

“I should have guessed,” Ringo replied with a smile.

A moment later, the cables of the lift in the center of the shaft came to a halt, only to reverse their direction seconds later.  The top of the elevator came into view shortly and then it rose up to their level.  Argus let out a quiet yelp of surprise and Miklos stared in at them with wide, round eyes. Mik stopped the lift and Thorne merely looked back at them calmly.

“What… what are you doing in there?” Argus asked hoarsely.

“We were on our way to see Colfax,” Thorne replied, “and thought I would stop to take a look at your storeroom.”

“Did you take …anything?” the fox asked suspiciously.

“Nothing, I assure you,” Thorne replied truthfully, as he stepped into the elevator cage.

“Who is he?” Argus asked, pointing at the beagle with a scowl.

The short canine smiled and held out a hand. “I am—”

“His name’s Ringo,” Miklos replied in sudden recognition. He did not take the beagle’s offered hand, but merely looked at it as if it were filthy.  “I’ve seen him with Harada.”

“We will need someone on the Hoenix to keep us fed, and I have chosen Ringo for that job,” Thorne replied as he closed the door panels to the storeroom and clicked the padlock shut. “So, you know Goro Harada, eh?”

“Uh, yeah, I’ve seen him around.” Mik replied warily when Ringo stuck his hands in his pockets and sighed. “If you’ve hired this little squint, I can assume you decided to accept Errol’s offer?”

“Correct,” said the wolf as he reached past the terrier and activated the controls.  The lift began to rise back up to the garage.

“I thought you wanted to see Colfax,” Argus said as he noticed their upward motion.

“I do,” replied Thorne, “but as you two were already on the way up, I thought I would let you go on before I headed back to the cavern. Where were you two going?”

Argus exchanged glances with his associate and then looked back at the wolf. “We’re going to pay a visit to an antique dealer,” he said quietly. “Personal business.”

Thorne raised an eyebrow. “Mr. Tavish?” he asked.  The look of surprise on both of their faces was a clear answer.

“How did you know who we—?”

“Don’t harass Mr. Tavish,” Thorne said in a sudden authoritative voice.

Argus knitted his brow and crossed his arms. “What business is it of yours?” he asked darkly.  The lift came to a stop and the doors opened to the garage, but no one got out.

Instead of answering in the manner expected, Thorne gave him a knowing smile and then asked, “How’s the back of your head feeling?”

Miklos raised a hand to an area behind his left ear with wide eyes.  His mouth opened and then shut quickly.  “That was you!” he exclaimed.  Argus blinked and then looked at the wolf again.

“The briefcase you tried to steal from Tavish was mine,” Thorne answered dryly. “My business with him is not finished. If you give him further grief, it will interfere with my plans.”

“Our business with him isn’t finished either,” Argus said in a low voice. “He cheated us on some goods we sold him.”

“How much?”

“That doesn’t matter,” Argus replied irritably. “He needs a lesson.”

“Ahh,” Aramis said with a nod of his head. “If that is what it is, wait a week before you teach Mr. Tavish his little lesson. That should give me time to complete my business with him before you interfere.”

“Why would I want to do you any favors?” Argus sneered.

“If you have any intention of becoming a part of my crew, Mr. Roza, you will learn to follow orders.”  Thorne stared at him intently, but the fox held his gaze in defiance. Then, after a few heartbeats, Argus averted his eyes, unable to take the wolf’s piercing directness.

“I don’t care if you pay Colfax his price and call yourself a captain,” the fox muttered as he stepped past him to leave the elevator. “Errol is the one in char—”

Thorne reached out swiftly and took the vulpine mechanic firmly by the throat with one hand. Argus instinctively threw a punch to the wolf’s stomach; Aramis exhaled forcefully, but did not falter; he added his other hand to the throat instead of releasing him.  Argus clawed at Thorne’s fingers, but was unable to pry them from his neck. Aramis had not yet tightened his fingers, but merely held the fox in such a manner as to get his point across.

“Do you wish to challenge me, Mr. Roza?” Thorne asked him darkly. “I can assure you who the alpha is in this pack.”

Argus gurgled something and struggled to free himself, but to no avail. It was hard to swallow and his eyes began to water. Miklos and Ringo both watched with large eyes, but neither intervened. Thorne’s eyebrows furrowed dangerously, but in a surprise to them all, he released the mechanic.

Argus fell to his knees and swallowed hard as he rubbed his throat. Thorne grimaced from his sore gut, but bent down and took the fox’s elbow firmly without hurting him. Argus looked at him warily as the wolf helped him to his feet, and then the fox leaned on the wall next to the elevator door.

“I am capable of commanding my people,” Aramis said in a calmer tone, “but if you want to crew with me, you will follow my orders. However, if you want to have another go at me, you had better do it before I officially take charge of the vessel. If you try it under my command, I will consider it an act of mutiny and deal with you accordingly.”

Argus swallowed hard, coughed and raised a hand. “You have convinced me, Captain,” he said in a raspy voice.

“So what do you plan to do?”

The fox cleared his throat hoarsely and nodded to Miklos.  “We will leave Mr. Tavish alone,” he said.

“And?”

Argus closed his eyes for a moment and then replied, “I will follow your orders if you will let me join your crew.” He opened his eyes and looked back at the wolf. Thorne stared at him for a moment and then nodded.

“What about you, Mr. Novak?” he asked the terrier with a sideways glance. “Still coming along?”

Miklos raised his hands in submission and nodded his head. There was a fire in his eyes for what the wolf had done to his companion, but he practiced the better part of common sense. “Yes, sir,” he said. “At your orders.”

Thorne stepped back into the lift and allowed the terrier to get out next to his companion. “The next time you see me,” he said to them, “I will be in command of the Hoenix.  Once I find out what Mr. Colfax needs, I will have him get in touch with you on a repair schedule. Then, if I see you’re still willing to work for me, I will grant you a paycard to operate from.”

Without waiting for a reply, Aramis activated the controls to lower the cage and the doors to the lift closed. The elevator began moving and Ringo looked up at Thorne with hesitation.  There was a puzzled look to the wolf’s face.

“Are you okay, Cap’n?” the beagle asked.

Aramis looked down at his friend. “I don’t know why I reacted like that,” he said quietly. “I hadn’t intended—”

“Whether or not you remember being Captain Thorne,” Tyler said quickly, “what you just did up there holds to what I have heard about you.  I suspect neither of them doubt who you are, although I think we’re all surprised you didn’t slug him.”

Aramis raised his eyebrows and gave him a thin smile. “I suppose I should be prepared to act impulsively like that, but somehow it just doesn’t seem like me.”

“Cap’n, I won’t presume to tell you how to conduct yourself,” the canine said with a serious smile, “but it’s up to you to be who you are. If you try to put on an act, others will know it.  With the loss of your friends on the Silverthorne, I doubt there is anyone else who knows anything about you other than your public image. When you’re among your own crew, don’t worry about whether or not you match your reputation.  Just be yourself, however it is you feel yourself to be.”

The elevator slowed and came to a stop. Aramis chuckled and then shook his head. “You amaze me, Ringo,” he said. “For someone who trips over his own feet and looks as if he could be our comedy relief, you’re awfully insightful.”

Tyler grinned and stepped out of the lift. “Well, it comes from—”  He stopped and his face went blank when he looked out into the cavern. “Uhm… is that the… uh… ship?”

“Yeah, that’s it,” Thorne replied as the lift doors closed behind him. “Ghastly, isn’t it?”

“Begging your pardon, sir,” Ringo said, “but it looks like cra—”

“Now, now, Tyler,” the wolf said with a chuckle. “Mr. Colfax assures me it is capable of doing what we require it to do.  It’s not as sleek as the Silverthorne, but it should do the job with the proper repairs.”

“If you say so.”

Thorne looked down at him in amusement. “Having second thoughts about joining my cause?”

Ringo looked up at him and then shook his head after an imperceptible hesitation. “No second thoughts about you, sir, but of that thing, plenty of thoughts… none complimentary.”

Aramis laughed and slapped him on the back.  “Let’s go deal with Mr. Colfax,” he said, “and then I will give you the grand tour.  Despite its exterior appearance, I think you’ll be pleased with the galley.”

They began walking toward one of the workbenches, where a black wolf and a chocolate Labrador studied a questionable piece of mechanical equipment. “Who are they?” Ringo asked.

“The brown one is the engineer, Mr. Colfax,” Aramis replied. “I don’t know the other one.”

The Labrador looked up as they approached. “Captain Thorne,” he said.  The black wolf beside him looked up and gave Aramis a smile of recognition.

“Errol Colfax,” Thorne replied, “I would like you to meet our new galley chef, Tyler Ringo.”

The beagle stuck out his hand cheerily and Colfax shook it with an amused expression. “Pleased to meetcha!” Tyler said.

Colfax gave him a nod and then looked back to Thorne. “For our galley, eh?” he asked. “By that I assume you have accepted my offer?”

“That’s right,” the grey wolf said. “I have the full amount ready to transfer over to you. As soon as you can provide a bill of sale, I can get this thing registered.”

Colfax nodded and gestured toward the submarine starship. “I anticipated this, so I had it registered about an hour ago as the SS Hoenix, owned and commanded by Aramis A. Thorne.”

The lupine captain looked amazed. “What if I had decided not to go through with it?” he asked with a raised eyebrow.

Colfax laughed in his deep voice. “You need a ship, and despite your misgivings, I saw the look in your eyes when we gave you the tour. I knew you would take it.”

Thorne held up a hand in agreement. “I suppose it would take an engineer to recognize that look,” he said. “I was an engineer once myself.”

“I thought so,” replied the Labrador. “If you will follow me, I have a credicard scanner inside the ship. Once the funds are in my account, I will transfer command of the ship to you.”

“Very good,” Aramis replied. He looked over at the black wolf and then extended his hand. “Who might you be?”

A startled look crossed the wolf’s features, but he took Thorne’s hand in a firm grip. “You don’t…?  Uhm, you can call me Jason… Jason Talos, Captain Thorne,” he said with a slight accent.

Aramis tilted his head to the side and narrowed his eyes. Something was familiar about this black wolf, but he could not place what it might be. They were the same height and both had amber eyes, but there was something else. He then nodded and replied, “Nice to meet you, Jason. Do you also want a place on my crew?”

Jason hesitated briefly and then nodded. “Aye, sir,” he replied in a low voice.

“Very well, then. We will have a chance to talk later,” Thorne said before turning back to Colfax. “Let’s get the transfer taken care of first, and then you can fill me in on what still needs to be done to this thing.”

Errol nodded, walked around the workbench and headed straight for the main ramp into the old vessel. Aramis followed him with more questions, but Tyler held out his hand to the black wolf. “Hi, Jason,” he said with a smile.

Talos stared after the captain with a dark look for a moment before the beagle tapped him on the wrist. He turned to Tyler and then shook his hand, his expression neutral. “Hello, Ringo,” he said. He leaned back against the workbench and then crossed his arms.  “You’ll be cooking for us?” he asked.

“That’s right,” Tyler said cheerily. “I can fix a wide variety of –”

“How long have you known Thorne?” Jason interrupted.

“Just a few days, really,” the beagle replied. “He’s staying at the hotel where I’ve been working as a cook.”

“Do you trust him?”

Tyler looked at him in surprise. “Yes, actually I do,” he answered. “Why do you ask?”

“Something doesn’t smell right,” Talos muttered with a glance back toward the ship. Tyler sniffed the air, but could only smell oil and degreaser from the workbenches, mixed with the salty flavor of the sea. “I don’t know what Thorne has planned for this ship and crew,” the black wolf continued, “but I intend to find out.”

He did not see Ringo bite his bottom lip, but when he turned back to the beagle, Tyler merely looked at him curiously. “Can you show me to the galley?” the short cook asked. “I would like to see where I will be working.”

Jason nodded and he looked as if his thoughts were back on track. “Sure,” he said. “It’s probably the one compartment on the ship in the best shape. Come with me.”  Tyler walked beside him, but he stared up at the ship again with an uncertain expression on his face. It was clear he did not think much of the vessel’s outward appearance.

When they approached the entry ramp that extended down from the belly of the ship, Thorne and Colfax came out of the darker interior. “That was quick!” Ringo exclaimed.

“My desk is right inside,” Errol told him. “I had everything ready.”

“Mr. Talos,” Aramis said as he stepped down the ramp toward them, “Colfax has turned down the first officer’s position, citing his duties as chief engineer.”

“I’m not surprised,” the black wolf replied. “He really likes those engines.”

“Yes, well, he’s just given me a quick rundown of your abilities and I admit it sounds impressive.”  Thorne nodded quietly to Ringo and then looked back at Jason. “I know your talents are more geared toward piloting, but I would rather have you as my first officer.”

Jason’s eyes grew wide for a second, but then he narrowed them quickly. “Usually a great deal of trust is shared by the captain and his first officer,” he replied. “Are you sure you can trust me with your secrets and hidden agendas?”

Thorne hesitated at the wolf’s choice of words and pressed his lips together. “Mr. Talos,” he said in an even voice, “there are very few with whom I would trust with all my secrets. However, as my first officer, you will be responsible for making sure my orders are delegated and carried out to the fullest, so I am sure that you and I will come to an eventual understanding concerning my plans. Trust,” he added, “will develop as we get used to the way each other operates.”

“But you trust me well enough to offer this position.”

“Mr. Talos,” Thorne replied with an agitated swishing of his tail, “I will trust you to keep my ship and its crew in working order. Further trust will have to be earned. Do you want the job or not?”

Jason locked eyes with the captain for a long moment, but then looked away with lowered ears. “Aye sir, I do.”

Aramis responded with a nod and a softer expression as he walked down the ramp and held out his hand. “Welcome aboard, Mr. Talos. I will get with you and Mr. Colfax tomorrow morning on duty assignments. I have a few of my own choices, but I will need you to help me fill out the other needed positions in the crew.”  They shook hands and then Aramis yawned widely. It had been a long day. “I told Miklos that I would let him help me fill out crew positions, but I think –”

“May I make a suggestion?” Jason interrupted.

“Yes, go ahead.”

“Sir, Miklos has contacts with experienced people who would jump at the chance to crew with you,” he said. “Let me work with him to get the people we need and who can be trusted.”

“Very well, then,” Thorne replied.  “I will leave that up to the two of you, but I will want to visit personally with everyone you select to make my own determination. That way it will be a double-screening.”

“As you wish, sir.”

Aramis nodded and then looked at his watch. He glanced back up the ramp at Colfax and said, “I don’t know what kind of hours you have been keeping, but go ahead and take the rest of the evening off.  We’ll get together tomorrow and then you can bring me up to date on the repairs and condition of the ship.”

“Aye sir. We’ll see you then.”

***

In the three days since Thorne took command of the Hoenix, repairs to the old vessel proceeded rapidly, although it would still take some time to complete them all. True to his word, Colfax used the money he had received to buy the tools, equipment and needed parts to get things functional. Everyone who had been helping the Labrador on a part-time basis was called in for an extensive schedule, as well as those whom Aramis had promised a place on his crew. Much to the displeasure of the manager of The Crusty Barnacle, Tyler Ringo had quit his job in the hotel’s restaurant in order to feed the growing crew of Thorne’s ship.

Likewise, Dallas had given up her moonlighting job at Cohan’s Pub and had managed to get her duties at the local hospital dropped to an emergency on-call basis only. Per the captain’s orders, she had begun giving everyone a complete physical. This had not set well with some, but Thorne wanted to make sure that when they were finally able to take off, they would not be taking unknown afflictions along with them.

Karla Crandall had proven instrumental getting the new armaments Thorne wanted and proved herself quite capable in getting them installed.  Goro Harada spent most of his time running errands for the workers and getting extra parts and tools they needed for the various repair jobs.  Due to the prior work of the chief engineer, the AGR systems for atmospheric lift were now operational, as were the Falstar LightDrive engines, but Argus Roza was committed to the inner workings of the Squid undersea drive system with Colfax in order to get it functional as well.

Captain Thorne applied his own experience to the repairs, and was high up on the ship’s narrow nose working on the fore sensor array with Farrell Lightner, a slender greyhound hired on as their communications and radar specialist. Aramis had not been able to coax much personal background out of the canine while they worked. The only thing Farrell would volunteer about himself was that he was not necessarily a pirate, but he had been out of work far too long, and the job market on Brandt was in such poor shape, that he had taken the position only for the pay. To him it was just another job and nothing more.

Reaching up out of the open panel he had squeezed inside, Farrell asked, “Can you hand me the voltmeter, Captain?” His voice was in the higher ranges, as if it had never changed with puberty.  Aramis reached out of an adjacent access compartment for their equipment bag and pulled out a small black box trailing red and black wire probes.  He handed this across to the greyhound and was about to drop back down when he noticed Miklos approaching across the upper deck carrying a slateboard tablet.  The terrier took a nervous look over the nose of the ship to the floor of the cavern below and swallowed. He had a slight fear of heights, so he turned away and knelt down beside the tool bag.

“What can I do for you, Mr. Novak?” Aramis asked as he picked up a wire bundle attached to a cannon plug.

Mik glanced at his slateboard briefly and then said, “I have four more crew members for you to meet. Where do you want to see them?”

Thorne frowned and twitched his left ear. He was at a point in the repairs with Farrell that he did not think he should leave just yet. “I’m rather busy at the moment,” he said. “Once I can find a stopping point –”

“Go ahead, Captain,” Farrell’s voice said from the other compartment. “I can take care of the exciter unit now.  If these readings are correct, the bandpass filter should be ready to go online as soon as I get the shielding back into place.”

“Okay, Mr. Lightner. I will leave it to you after I reattach the modulator,” Aramis said with a nod he knew his companion could not see.  He worked the wire bundle into a tight area between two brackets and then clicked the cannon plug into place. He threaded the other end through a hole in the containment wall toward the greyhound.

“I have it,” Farrell said in a satisfied voice.

Thorne pulled himself out of the compartment up onto his knees, and then grabbed a fresh grease rag from a plastic sack beside the tool bag.  An unidentifiable green dust lightly covered his navy blue pants and black tee shirt. He brushed off as much of it as he could with the rag and then looked over at Miklos. “After you,” he said as he batted more of the dust from his tail.

The terrier turned without looking out over the edge and headed back toward the nearest hatch, a round hole in the upper deck with a thick pressure door that opened out. “I have them waiting in the galley, sir,” Mik said as he climbed down the metal rungs of a ladder to interior of the ship. “It seemed like the easiest place to put them until I knew where you wanted to talk.”

“The galley is fine,” Aramis replied. “I’m sure Ringo has already given them something to drink or to snack on.”  The two of them stepped off the ladder into a dimly lit corridor. Multiple pipes ran parallel overhead, and wire bundles and switches lined the walls.  As one of the taller individuals on board the old ship, Thorne had to watch his head constantly when walking through the narrow corridors. There were already several bumps between his ears to serve as a reminder to duck when going through bulkhead pressure doors.  Something was hissing in the third compartment they passed through; Aramis came to a stop and looked up into the overhead pipes.  He pulled a small notepad and a pencil out of the back pocket of his pants and then jotted down the bulkhead location.

“Gotta get somebody on that right away,” he muttered to himself.  He put the pad and pencil away and then motioned for Miklos to continue. A few moments later, they crossed into a room that was brighter, with the walls enclosed in light grey plastic panels to cover the inner workings behind them. At the other end of the room, a quiet humming issued from a large circular hole in the floor ringed with black and yellow striped paint. Miklos stopped beside it and waited for the open elevator to return to their level.

They did not have to wait long before a lift platform without sides rose into view. The coyote on the dais smiled at them when his face appeared above the floor surface.  “Hi, Captain,” Goro said cheerfully. Then he looked at Miklos and frowned. “Hey, flybait,” he said sourly.

Mik snorted and waved with his slateboard. “Get off the lift, flea-trap, we need it!”

Goro stopped the elevator and stepped out beside the terrier. “Lucky for you I wanted off on this level,” he returned with a sneer. Aramis shook his head in amusement when the coyote held up a box of light bulbs he had had tucked under one arm and then gave him a subtle wink. In the short time he had been on board, he had learned that Miklos and Goro had a long history of such exchanges, but Colfax had told him not to give it much thought. The two of them were actually good friends, but when listening to them hurl their barbs at one another, it was sometimes hard to remember. There were moments when they might seem on the verge of coming to blows, but anyone who knew them did their best to ignore them.

Goro gave the captain a casual salute and then started to move past them, but Thorne put up a hand.  “Just a minute,” he said as he ripped out a page from his notepad.  He handed it to the coyote and said, “There is a leak in one of the pipes at this location. Would you get on this as soon as you’ve finished with your lights?”

Goro looked at the location with a frown and then glanced up the passage where he was headed.  “Sure, I’ll take care of it,” he replied.

“Thank you.”

Thorne and Miklos stepped into the lift as the coyote continued on his way.

“I don’t know why you hired that guy,” Mik muttered as he activated the control. The elevator dropped to the next level and they stepped out onto the crew deck a moment later. They walked aft through several compartments occupied by small cabins. Each held a single bed, a closet, several storage drawers built into the wall, and a small desk with a com unit. Officer cabins were on the deck above and were only slightly more spacious.  Only the captain’s own quarters were larger, but not by much.

They reached the galley and when they stepped inside, four unfamiliar faces looked up at the wolf from their seats around one long table. “This is Captain Thorne,” Miklos told them. As the wolf suspected, Ringo had already served each of them something to drink.

“Welcome aboard,” Aramis said with a nod as he sat down on one of the generic bench seats bolted to the deck. There were some murmured hellos and then Mik took a seat opposite the captain.  He gestured toward a canine Chow seated closest to him and said, “This is Hugo Sullivan. He’s already been working on the ship, but this is the first chance I’ve had to bring him up to meet you.  He’s a mechanic with experience on older ships like this one.” The rotund Chow frowned deeply and looked as if he would rather be anywhere else.

“Mr. Sullivan,” the captain repeated.  The mechanic gave him a nod, but otherwise said nothing. Thorne remembered seeing him in the restaurant at his hotel and felt like he should say more, but the sullen expression on the guy’s face did not invite conversation.

“Well then,” Mik continued as he gestured to a female coyote seated across from Hugo, “this is Kio Kudara. She is our secondary pilot with some past experience with this ship class.”

“Hello, Captain,” Kio said pleasantly.

“Miss Kudara,” Aramis said with a nod. “Any other talents?”

“Several,” she answered with a smile, “but probably the one I’ll be using the most when I am not flying the ship is cooking. I’ve already made a deal with Ringo to help out when he needs it. It wasn’t easy, though – he’s rather possessive of his kitchen.”

“I am sure he will welcome your help once we get underway.”

With a grin, Miklos pointed out a young grey wolf and said, “Captain, I’m sure you won’t mind having Cinjin along. He can handle our supplies.”

When Aramis looked at this newcomer, something clicked in the back of his mind. He knew this face, and the name sounded familiar, but he was unable to pin it down. “Mr. Cinjin,” he said, trying not to look as if he knew him. Until he could remember something, it would be better not to act as if he did. “I’m sure the supply room will be uneventful for you.”

“Mister Cinjin?” the young wolf repeated with an expression that Aramis read as one of great disappointment and he knew instantly he’d executed a faux pas. It was as if he was expected to already know all wolves that he’d just met on board this vessel; Jason and now Cinjin.

“Uh, right.”  Aramis purposely looked away from the younger wolf and toward the last person seated at the table, a short Miniature Pincher.

“This is Chalmoy Bleys,” Miklos explained. “He’s the best marksman around, so I’m sure he will be an asset when we catch up to the Cliffhanger. His primary assignment will be Secondary Gunner after Karla.”

Thorne nodded. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Bleys.  What was your first name again?  Cammo?”

The pincher looked as if he was used to this and replied in a quietly controlled voice. “Chalmoy,” he said. “I also respond to Cal.”

“Right – Cal.”  He then looked over the group and said again, “Welcome to the Hoenix. I’m sure you have all been informed what we’re going to be doing, so I won’t bore you with repeating it.”

“Actually,” Cinjin said quietly, “no one’s given me any details.”

“Me neither,” Kio added. “I was just told there was an opening on your crew.”

Thorne looked over at the terrier with the slateboard. “You didn’t tell them?” he asked.

Miklos shrugged his shoulders. “I didn’t figure word should be spread around to just anyone,” he answered. “I assumed you would tell them once you hired them.”

Aramis nodded and then stood up. He put his hands inside his pockets and then looked back over the group. “Once this ship has been repaired to flight capability,” he said, “we will be going after an old acquaintance of mine who has caused me some grief.”

“Who would that be?” Cal asked.

“Zef Randon and his ship, the Cliffhanger.”

Cinjin’s face lit up in recognition. “I knew it had something to do with him,” he said.

Kio’s response was different, however. She stood up with a shocked expression. “Randon!” she said.

“Yes, Miss Kudara?” Thorne merely looked over at her. She sat back down and glanced around at the others.

“Sorry, sir,” she said.

“What is it?”

Kio looked at her hands for a moment and then returned her gaze to the wolf. “It’s just that… I figured we were going to be pirating freighters or pleasure cruisers. I didn’t know we were going to do something severely dangerous!”

Aramis put his foot up on the seat in front of him and then rested an elbow on his knee to look at her. “Facing Randon will be our ultimate goal,” he told her, “but I’m sure we will plunder other ships along the way. With this news, are you backing out?”

“No sir,” the coyote said after a brief hesitation, “but it does come as a surprise.”

“I won’t be doing anyone’s fighting for them,” Hugo said with a grumble, “but I’m sure you will keep me busy in repairs when this other ship starts shooting at us.”

“No doubt,” Thorne said with a frown.  He looked at each of them in turn and then stood up to his full height. “Do any of you wish to leave?”  No one responded to his question, but he looked up when Tyler stepped out of the kitchen a moment later, a white bag decorated in red and white squares tucked under an arm.

“I thought I heard your voice, Cap’n,” the beagle said with a grin. “You need anything?”

Thorne did not answer him right away, but instead looked at those seated at the table.  “Do any of you have any more questions?”  Almost in unison, everyone shook their heads.  He looked up at Tyler and said, “These are our new crewmates,” he said. “Would you take them to Dallas to get checked in?”

“Right away, Cap’n.”  The beagle set his bag down on the table and then motioned toward the others with a dog biscuit in one hand. “Come with me,” he said with a smile.  The four newcomers got to their feet and followed the cook out into the corridor, but not before Cinjin cast another furtive glance at the captain. When they had all gone, Thorne turned back to Miklos and motioned for him to follow him out the door. He turned and headed back the way they had come in earlier.

“I notice you’ve hired only canine types, Mik,” Thorne said after they had walked through several compartments in silence. “Any particular reason?”

“Well, I assumed you wouldn’t want any felines around because of Randon. I have more new-hires like these due to arrive later today.”

“Because of Randon?”

“You know, because he and his mob are all feline!”

Aramis studied him for a moment and then nodded. “A mixed crew would have been more desirable, but so long as these people are hard workers, it shouldn’t be a problem.”

“What’s wrong with an all-canine crew?” Miklos asked. “When you’re locked up in a ship together for long periods of time, doesn’t it help for everyone to have a commonality?”

“Possibly on something like a freighter where everyone is inactive for long periods of time,” Thorne replied, “but a diversified crew helps in other areas, too.”

“How?”

“If I wanted to infiltrate Randon’s people, would I be able to send anyone from this crew?”

“No, I suppose not,” the terrier said with a sarcastic tone. “However, you’ve already accepted our choices. You’d generate resentment if you got rid of some of them now just because of their species.”

Thorne’s eyes darkened and he moved in so close to Miklos that the dog backed up quickly against the corridor wall next to an outcropping of pipes. “You would be advised not to cross me by trying to back me into a corner, Mr. Novak,” the wolf said with a growl in his throat. He braced his arms on the walls on both sides of the navigator, effectively trapping him. His penetrating amber eyes locked the terrier’s attention and Miklos swallowed involuntarily.

“No… no sir,” he forced himself to say.

“If I deem them worthy, I will take those who have signed up,” Thorne said after a moment, “but if I decide to rid myself of anyone, you may well be the first to go. Do I make myself clear?”

Miklos averted his eyes and looked down at his feet. “Perfectly, sir.”

Thorne nodded and then stood up straight to give the terrier some breathing space. “Right, then get everyone squared away with a bunk when they have had their physicals, and then introduce them to the people in the sections where they will be working.”

“That’s a steward’s job,” Mik complained. “I’m the navigator.”

Thorne growled and leaned into the terrier’s face again. “Dallas is doing physical examinations of the crew and you aren’t navigating right now!  You accepted me as your captain, so now you’re either going to follow my orders or you may find yourself navigating into a box. Got it?”

“Aye sir,” Mik replied without hesitation.

Once again, Thorne stood up straight. “If this crew is going to work,” he said in a quieter tone, “everyone is going to have to help out in other areas when someone can’t do their job. Right now, my steward is fulfilling her primary duty as the Medical officer, so I need your help by filling in as temporary steward – on my direct order.”

“Aye sir,” Mik said again.

“Then get to it,” the wolf said. He let the terrier squeeze past him and the navigator quickly departed through an open pressure door mumbling something under his breath.  Thorne’s sensitive ears picked up exactly what the short canine said about his captain’s parentage, but he decided to let it go. Grumbling about the captain of a ship was practically a tradition.

Chapter 7

Captain Thorne looked over his assembled crew and stuck his hands into the pockets of his navy blue trousers. Everyone gathered on the cavern floor beside the Hoenix, and twenty-two pairs of eyes looked up at the wolf that stood on top of a boulder beside the ship. It had taken two full weeks of round-the-clock repairs along with the installation of new weapon systems to get the old vessel operational. Now completed, there was a sense of anticipation in the air.

A warm breeze blew through the cavern and the sunlight of late morning streamed in through the entrance near the sea. Water lapped at the sides of the natural canal that took up half of the cave area, with all the scaffolding and workbenches stowed against the back wall.

The grey wolf gave his crew a nod of approval and then cleared his throat. “Mr. Colfax has assured me that everything is ready,” he said. “The inspections of all onboard systems show operational and ready in simulation, but the real test will have to come from an actual launch.”

He pulled a hand from his pocket and gestured toward the ship that sat quietly on a set of tracks that led laterally to the water. “We will launch at 1400 hours today and take a leisurely cruise beneath Castle Bay to test the undersea systems. Once we’re convinced things are functioning properly, we will launch into orbit and then set a course for Quet.”

“Why Quet?” asked a Dachshund near the front. “That dump isn’t where I would choose to go!”

Aramis nodded. “Quet is only thirty-six hours away in its orbit right now, Mr. Lawrence. That’s a decent test-ride to make sure our spatial systems work well enough before we set out against a real target. This ship has been out of commission for a while and we want to be sure we can rely on her.”

Robin Lawrence tilted his head to the left. “Oh…” the mechanic muttered.

“Anyway,” Thorne continued, “before we load up and begin preparations for our tests, I have made arrangements at Shenanigan’s Reef to feed the lot of us on my credits as a thank-you for your work.”

“Shenanigan’s Reef!” exclaimed Harada. “I heard that place is hard to get into!”

“Why? Is it swanky?” Miklos asked.

“No, flybait, but it’s so popular there’s always a waiting line to get in,” Goro answered. “Not terribly expensive, but it has a solid reputation for good food and live musical entertainment.”

“If you will all meet me there in a half hour,” Thorne said with a voice raised above the conversations that had begun, “we can get an early start on lunch.” Two or three of the crewmembers cheered, but the majority of the group began moving toward the elevator, talking among themselves. Tyler Ringo made his way toward the captain as Aramis hopped off the boulder.

“Good move, Cap’n,” he said in a low voice. “This will put them in good spirits when we launch.”

“That’s the idea,” Aramis replied. “Besides, I don’t want to hear anyone complaining of being hungry and bothering you for food while we’re testing the ship. It will take a bit of concentration on everyone’s part to monitor all the systems and hatchways when we’re submerged.”

“Do you think submerging is such a good idea?” Ringo asked as he glanced out the cave opening at the ocean beyond. “What if we spring a leak?”

“Better to find out when we can resurface than to wait until we’re out in space, right?”

Ringo nodded. “Yeah, I suppose that would be better.”

“It will take a few trips of the elevator to get everyone topside,” Thorne mused. “You go ahead and get in with the rest of them. I’m going to shut everything down and then will meet the lot of you shortly.”

“Aye, Cap’n. See you there.”

***

 ”Have you noticed how much bigger the captain’s cabin is compared to the rest of ours?” Mik asked. He unlocked the main hatch of the ship and pushed it inside. Several hours had passed, and despite the amount of food and drink he consumed at the restaurant, his thoughts kept returning to the situation with the Hoenix.

“Yes, but I suppose you haven’t noticed that his cabin is barely bigger, flybait,” Goro replied. “It’s not much larger than a booth.”

“Mine is barely bigger than a coffin,” complained the navigator.

“Yeah, and mine is the same size as yours. You may as well stop bellyaching and get used to it,” the coyote said as he stepped into the hold. “We have no way to make them bigger.” He reached a breaker-box near the hatch and turned on the overhead lights in the chamber. “We’ll be launching shortly.”

“Hold on…” Miklos said suddenly.

Goro stopped and stared across the cargo bay. “What is it?”

“Potential trouble,” Mik answered.

The coyote followed him across hold toward an open pressure door on the aft end of the compartment. Miklos peered into the darkened passageway, sniffed the air, and tilted his head.

“See anything?” Goro asked.

“Nothing unusual.” More voices came in through the airlock hatch behind them and the two of them turned in unison to see a line of crewmembers moving toward the lift to the upper levels. Miklos closed the door and turned the wheel to seal its edges. “I wouldn’t tell Colfax one of his new mechanics left this hatch open,” he whispered to his companion, “although I know he will double-check every hatch and panel inside and out before he lets the captain launch.”

“We’ll be starting our pre-flight checklist soon,” Goro said as he looked at his watch. “I need to get to the head before I go up to the bridge.”

Miklos looked at the coyote with a concerned expression as they moved toward the group gathered at the main lift. “Do you really think this thing will get off the ground?” he asked.

“You don’t think all the work we’ve done on it has been good enough?” Goro asked in a quiet voice.

“I’m more concerned with the cheap parts Errol bought,” the terrier replied in a whisper. “I think he’s been skimming money off the bottom of what he told Captain Thorne he was going to use to buy parts. The fresh water distillation system that Hugo and I installed last week is substandard, and so is the hydrogen detection system. I swear that despite the money the captain put up for repairs, we haven’t been getting good parts. I’m almost afraid to go out into space in this crate. I’ve heard others saying the same thing.”

Goro looked at him with a frown. “Has anyone brought this up to the captain?” he asked.

Mik shook his head. “I don’t think anyone’s brave enough to give him any bad news.”

“Well, if Errol himself is willing to fly in a ship that he’s been buying low-budget parts for, I suppose we shouldn’t be too worried.”

The terrier looked up at him and snorted. “I wouldn’t be surprised if Errol found an excuse at the last minute to stay behind.”

***

Aramis watched the movement of the Hoenix in anticipation, but cringed with the continual barrage of noise that filled the cavern. With the exception of two people on the bridge of the ship to monitor the systems, the rest of the crew stood scattered about the cavern awaiting word to board her. The Hoenix moved inch-by-inch laterally toward the water trench on its starboard side; the nose of the vessel still pointed toward the back of the cavern. All airlocks, service hatches and portholes were sealed as the ship-mover crawled its way down the slope to the water. With only the landing claws extended, their hatches were tight against both pressure and vacuum. Unlike quick launches from dry land, the lowering of the ship while keeping it upright was time-consuming. Most of the crew members were bored and impatient, and had begun card games or engaged in idle conversation, speaking in loud voices over the noise of the ship-moving equipment. Large coils of naval rope rested beside huge bollards embedded in the cavern floor on both sides of the water trench.

Errol Colfax stood at the controls of the noisy ship-mover, his attention focused on the procedure. He had spent too many months and effort to repair the ship to let anyone else put the Hoenix into the water; everyone who knew him left the chief engineer to do as he wished. At the ship’s current rate of movement, the Hoenix would not be ready to board for another half hour at the earliest.

“I guess it’s coming down to the end, right, Cap’n?” Ringo said to the wolf. He was dressed in a set of dark orange hospital scrubs he had gotten from Dallas and had his arms folded across his chest.

Aramis looked down at him with an amused expression. “Not the end, Tyler. Think of it as a beginning. Mr. Colfax assures me the Hoenix is ready to fly.”

The short cook frowned as he watched the ship-mover finally reach the water. “It’s not flying that concerns me right now, sir,” he said. “It’s sinking.”

“How good a swimmer are you?” the wolf asked him with a wry smile.

Tyler gave him a worried look. “Uh, not very well, sir. Strange for someone who lives on an island, huh? I would rather not test my faltering skills anytime soon.”

Aramis just chuckled and glanced back toward the ship. “I have confidence the Hoenix will float just fine.” The beagle fell silent, unwilling to agree with the captain’s sentiment. After a few minutes of watching the ship lower into the water, he looked back up at the wolf.

“Too bad we didn’t have time to repaint it,” he said. “No matter if it works, it still looks like cra—”

“I know,” Aramis interrupted, “but Colfax didn’t have enough of either red or white base primer to cover everything, and I was not about to mix them together and let a pink paintbrush touch that ship.”

Tyler snickered, but then fell instantly silent at his captain’s scathing glance. Neither of them said anything more for several long minutes, but the beagle finally cleared his throat and looked up at Thorne once more.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t able to find out more about your background,” he said in a hushed voice. “You apparently kept a low profile concerning your private life. I’m afraid the only people who knew you well either died with the Silverthorne or are on Randon’s ship.”

“Randon?”

“Well, you two were business partners. I would assume he knew you well enough.”

Aramis closed his eyes and raised his face toward the ceiling with a sigh. “Probably true,” he said. “Unfortunately, that means my enemy probably knows more about me than anyone else I could find.” He heard Tyler clear his throat twice and he opened his eyes to see Jason and Cinjin approach. The beagle excused himself and left as the two other wolves stopped beside the captain.

“It shouldn’t be much longer,” Thorne said to them as he returned his attention to the slowly descending ship.

“May we talk to you for a moment, sir?” Jason asked him. “In private?”

The captain glanced at the black wolf and felt a memory tingle at the back of his brain. There was something about these two that made him nervous anytime he was near either one of them, but now both wanted his attention at once. However, since Talos was the first officer and Cinjin was just their supply clerk, he thought there might have been some altercation where punishment was due.

“All right,” he said with a frown. “It’s too noisy out here, so let’s go up to the garage to talk.”

“I think that would be best,” Jason replied. Cinjin did nothing more than stare at the captain until he led the way back to the elevator. Talos thumbed the button for the cage return and moved his head in close Thorne. “We want to talk to you about the Silverthorne,” he said.

Aramis looked up at him in surprise and opened his mouth to reply when they heard a thunderous crash from the other side of the cavern. As one, the three of them turned toward the ship. Thorne felt queasy in the pit of his stomach at what he saw. The Hoenix tilted at a bad angle and listed to the port in the water trench. Scattered crewmembers moved en masse toward the old vessel. Thorne broke into a run, with Talos and Cinjin close on his heels.

The air groaned with the horrendous sound of metal-on-metal and then the Hoenix fell off the track completely with a splash that dowsed most of the congregated crew. Thorne swore under his breath when the displaced wave of water knocked his feet from beneath him and he found himself sprawled on top of Crandall. There was another deep crashing sound as the ship hit the side of trench. Without realizing who was on her, Karla shoved the wolf aside hard and then got to her hands and knees, sputtering and coughing up seawater. Thorne rolled over on his side and did some coughing of his own.

When he finally looked toward the ship, he only saw the top third of the old vessel sticking above the waterline, his soaked crew sprawled on the ground around him. A hand reached down to help him up and he took it gratefully. “Thanks,” he said to the Miniature Pincher. He got to his feet and the marksman looked up at him.

“What happened?” Chalmoy asked. “I had my back turned and didn’t see it.”

“I don’t know, Mr. Bleys,” Thorne growled, “but it can’t be good!” He splashed through standing water as he made his way around sputtering people, and went directly for the control box for the ship-moving equipment. Errol sat completely soaked beside the terminal and looked as if he was going to be sick. He did not bother to look up when Thorne stopped beside him. He already had already recognized the wolf’s angry scent.

“The rail track buckled on the port side,” he coughed out in explanation. “The fore landing claw fell off the platform when the rails beneath them collapsed.”

Without saying a word, Aramis walked to the edge of the water trench and gazed out at his ship. The vessel bobbed slowly as the waves fought against themselves and began to cancel out one another. Thorne nodded silently to himself – at least it was floating, rather than sitting on the bottom of the trench. People began talking excitedly behind him and he finally turned back toward the engineer. He brushed dripping water from his face to give him a moment to calm himself, and then knelt down next to Colfax as Jason stopped beside them. Thorne picked up Errol’s DataCom unit from a puddle and shook the water from its case. He thumbed the call switch and then turned up its volume.

“Bridge,” said a rattled voice from the unit.

“Mr. Lightner, are you two okay up there?” Aramis asked. Colfax got to his feet silently and began shutting down his control terminal.

“We’re pretty shaken and I think Argus may have broken an arm. What happened, sir?”

The captain cast a frustrated look at his first officer. “The equipment moving the Hoenix into the water collapsed beneath you,” he said. “Mr. Talos is going to assemble everyone out here into teams to assess the damage. Do what you can to stabilize the ship from up there, and then see if you can help Mr. Roza to the upper hatch. I will try to get Dallas across to tend to him.”

“Aye sir.”

He gave Jason a nod and then the black wolf left to follow his orders. Aramis stood up and handed the DataCom back to the Labrador. “Let’s get the ship secured to the bollards before it floats out to sea without us.”

“Aye sir,” Errol said dully and without enthusiasm.

***

When everything seemed ready, Aramis picked up an intercom microphone from a hook on the port wall of the bridge. As he thumbed the call button for the engine room, he glanced around at the others who stood by awaiting his orders. Jason Talos waited near the vidscreen at the forward end of the room, his hand casually resting on one of the many conduits that lined nearly every available wall space on the bridge not occupied by monitors and control panels. He idly studied a pressure gauge, but he paid it no real attention as he simply waited. Miklos Novak and Goro Harada, the navigator and pilot, occupied two stations immediately aft of the vidscreen respectfully. Although it was doubtful there would be need for a gunner on a test run, Karla Crandall sat ready at her station. Hugo Sullivan stared morosely at a set of gauges above a chart table and he gave an overhead valve a partial turn to a low grunt.

There was a quiet hum on the bridge in addition to the occasional beep from Farrell Lightner’s com panel, and there was a steady vibration in the deck plates beneath their feet. The lighting on the bridge was set to a medium level – the rest of the illumination emanating from the outside scene on the vidscreen. Near-invisible circuitry in the glassteel panel displayed a few readouts in the upper left corner. The chirp of the intercom connection suddenly broke the relative quiet of the bridge.

“Bridge,” Aramis said into the hand mike.

“This is the engine room,” replied Errol’s voice. “All systems are set to go. We have green lights across the board.”

“Very good, Mr. Colfax. Prepare to get under way.”

“Aye sir. All mooring lines have just been released and we’re floating free.”

Thorne replaced the mike to its hook and gave Talos a satisfied expression. “Okay Mr. Harada, take us…”

“Captain, we’re receiving an external signal,” Farrell interrupted. He adjusted the headset around his canine ears and looked over his shoulder toward the wolf.

Thorne shook his head in disbelief. “I’m not expecting to hear from anyone outside of this vessel, Mr. Lightner,” he said. “Who is it?”

“He says his name is Tavish and – “

“Tavish?” Aramis sighed and nodded to the greyhound. He retrieved the hand mike and spoke into it. “Mr. Tavish,” he said in an annoyed tone, “I’m afraid this is not a good time to chat.”

“Captain Thorne,” replied the elderly badger’s voice, “Mr. Faltane has just arrived and he is most adamant about meeting with you now.”

Aramis raised an eyebrow and frowned. “Please tell Mr. Faltane that I appreciate his business, but I am about to put his credits to work. My ship is ready to launch, so our meeting will have to wait until we have returned to Castelrosso.”

“Captain! This is serious! You must—”

“Good day, Mr. Tavish, but I must be going now.” He gave Farrell a cut-off signal and then hung up the microphone when the com officer gave him a return sign of acknowledgement. Jason’s expression was one of surprise, but Thorne merely snorted and then looked back toward vidscreen. “Reverse image on the viewer,” he commanded. Miklos reached out and thumbed a switch on his station, and then the cavern entrance instantly showed on the screen.

“Mr. Harada,” said the wolf, “take us out at one-quarter reverse.”

“One-quarter reverse, aye,” the coyote repeated automatically. His hands moved over several controls and then he grasped large, L-shaped handles that mirrored one another on each side of his chair. The deck plates increased in vibration and they could hear the hydro systems engage. They could feel the ship move, and the mouth of the cavern begin to recede on the screen. Somewhere down one of the passageways on the ship, a crewmember howled his pleasure at the start of movement. Thorne and Talos exchanged looks of amusement and then their eyes returned to the screen.

Despite the collapse of the railing during the move to the water trench, it had only taken four hours to determine that despite the accident, the damage had been light. There was a moderate dent on the port side from its impact with the trench, but the hardy construction of the vessel’s outer hull had withstood a breach. NDI examination confirmed that it was merely dented and nothing more, although one landing claw had been damaged during the collapse.

The senior officers had discussed this at length and it came down to the captain making the decision to leave as planned. The Hoenix would launch into space following undersea tests, so the landing claws could retract into its belly during their voyage. Repairs would be made en route to Quet. Things had been shaken up inside the vessel, but the only real internal damage had been to Tyler’s dishes in the Galley. Ringo had promptly gone out shopping for new plates of plastic while repair teams checked over the ship and prepped it again for launch.

As the submarine starship slowly backed out of the cavern and into the sunlight, Jason moved to Thorne’s side and lowered his voice to speak quietly. “Sir, you just cut off Victor Faltane’s representative.”

Aramis looked at him unconcerned. “His rep is nothing more than an antique dealer who helped me with some financing,” he replied. “This Faltane is no one of importance that I should worry about.”

Jason’s mouth went suddenly dry and he lowered his ears. “No one of importance!” he repeated hoarsely. “Don’t you remember when –?”

“Clearing the mouth of the cavern now, sir,” Goro reported.

“Split screen on the viewer,” Thorne ordered as he dismissed his first officer. “Fore and aft views.”

“Split screen. Aye sir,” Miklos replied. A dark blue divider appeared in the middle of the vidscreen, and the mouth of the cavern appeared on the left side as the rear angle receded to the right half. The sky was deep blue and the water around them dark green. A few clouds floated lazily above the Herdantian island and seagulls dotted the sky near the marinas of Castelrosso. The sea was relatively calm, though waves crashed upon the cliffs. To the left of the cavern were crags of sharply eroded rocks that Aramis recognized as the place where the female leopard’s body had broken upon her drop from the park above. To his knowledge, either the woman was dragged out to sea, or her body had been hung up beneath the waves in some crevasse. Local news reports made no mention of finding her.

“All stop,” Thorne said after a quick look at the depth indicator.

“All stop,” Goro repeated.

Aramis waited until the motion of the vessel subsided. “Fore thruster port and aft thruster starboard to one hundred eighty degrees.”

“Aye sir.”

The ship slowly turned beneath them. “Normal view on the screen.”

“Returning screen to normal view, sir.”

Aramis looked up and saw the mouth of the cavern slip away off to the right. A moment later, Castelrosso slid into view as the ship turned toward its new heading.

“Mr. Novak, plot a course due east across the middle of Castle Bay, speed ten knots. Mr. Harada, execute new course as soon you have it. Mr. Lightner, recall the lookout on the upper deck to get below.”

“Aye sir,” all three said in unison. The navigator and helmsman conversed in low voices for several moments.

Farrell nodded to something heard in his earphones and then he called aloud without turning around, “Captain, topside rigged for dive. Last one down.”

“Aye,” Thorne replied automatically as he watched the view. Moments later, they faced across the bay with open sea directly ahead.

“Course laid in, Captain.”

“Surface contacts?”

Farrell checked his instruments. “There are three small, private craft heading away from us toward the marinas, and one supertanker outbound off the starboard. Traffic directly ahead is null.”

“Thank you. All ahead two thirds.”

“Aye, sir. Ahead two thirds,” Goro repeated.

Jason looked up from the chart table and glanced at the forward screen. Water began to flow smoothly over the curvature of the ship’s nose and then break evenly down both sides to form the waves of their passing wake.

“What is our sounding?” the first officer asked casually.

“Twelve hundred thirty-five and dropping,” Farrell reported.

“Ahead standard.”

“Aye sir. Ahead standard.”

Aramis snagged the intercom mike from its hook and held it up to his mouth. “All hands, this is the Captain. Before we attempt to leave the planet, we must test the integrity of the hull. The ship is old and has been out of service for a while. Prepare for dive test.” He hung up the mike and then moved to a point directly behind the navigator. He leaned over, gave the terrier instructions, and then walked back to his previous place.

A moment later, Miklos had made his calculations and announced, “Two minutes to the dive point.”

Jason nodded quietly and picked up the intercom microphone. “All hands. Secure all loose articles. Approaching dive point declination.”

“Mr. Talos, rig control for red,” Thorne said when the black wolf hung up the microphone.

Jason responded only with a nod and flipped a toggle on a panel near his left shoulder. The overhead white lights clicked off and red lamps came on in their place, bathing the bridge in crimson. There was a small beep on another terminal and the black wolf studied a reading.

“Captain,” he said.

“Yes?”

“We’re on course making one zero knots. The ship is rigged for dive and we’re one minute from the dive point, sir. Internal navigation is tracking GPS satellites.”

“Very good, Mr. Talos,” Aramis said with his hands in his pockets. “Submerge the ship to one five zero.”

“Aye sir. Thirty seconds to the dive point.”

“Mark the dive point.”

“Mr. Harada,” Jason said with a smile, “submerge the Hoenix to one five zero feet.”

“Aye sir.”

Jason picked up a mike near his station and thumbed the ship-wide intercom. “Dive! Dive!” he announced as he reached up for the diving alarm. A deep horn blew on all decks, making some jump.

“Opening forward main ballast tank vents,” the first officer announced as he punched in some commands on a panel. In the vidscreen, several geysers of water shot up out of the ship’s nose. “Venting forward.” A moment later and Jason said, “Venting aft.”

“Rigging out the bowplanes,” Goro intoned. A moment passed and then he spoke up again. “Bowplanes extended and locked.”

“All right,” Thorne said in a calm voice, “ten degree dive on the bowplanes.”

“Ten degree dive, aye. Bowplanes are down ten degrees.”

The nose of the bow burrowed deeper into the water and the waves rushed up toward the bridge. Nothing but frothing could be seen before them, but no one seemed concerned.

“Sternplanes to ten degree dive. Flooding depth control one to the halfway mark. Flooding commenced. Tank at six zero percent, hull valve shut and backup valve also shut,” Jason reported. The deck angled downward and the waves drew closer to the bridge. “Depth is six five feet.” The deck angled ever further and everything became steeper. Aramis reached out and grabbed a support strut beside him. “Five degrees down bubble.” The water crested over the bridge and suddenly the ship was completely submerged.

Thorne glanced over at the depth gauge and felt his boot slip just slightly on the angled deck. Something loose fell to the floor with a clatter behind him and Farrell muttered something beneath his breath. A moment later, the ship pulled out at one hundred fifty feet and the flooring became level once again.

“One five zero feet, Captain,” Harada announced. “Trimming to neutralize buoyancy.”

“Aye.”

The bridge became quiet for several minutes before Farrell looked over his shoulder at the captain and said, “All departments have reported in and systems are showing green. Hatches are secure, nothing is leaking and everything seems to be in good order.”

“How soon before we can drop to test depth?” Thorne asked.

Crandall looked up at him with a surprised look on her face. “I thought this was test depth,” she admitted. Aramis gave her a pleasant smile and then shook his head gently.

“We can go to test depth at any time, sir,” Jason reported.

“Take her to test depth,” Thorne said in an even voice. “Steep angle.”

Jason nodded and turned to Goro and Miklos. “Helm, all ahead standard. Make dive depth one three hundred, twenty degrees down bubble.” He picked up his mike again and announced, “Rig for deep submergence, thirteen hundred feet, twenty degrees down angle. Rig for deep submergence!”

Harada pushed his shifts forward and the deck tilted downward to match. The change was dramatic and Aramis found he had to grip the wall support tightly to stay his ground. A coffee cup bounced down the deck and lodged beneath Mik’s right foot. There was a sudden rumble and then a muffled whoom that everyone could feel just as much as they could hear.

“What was that?” Karla wanted to know. She was strapped into her seat, but she held onto the console in front of her with white knuckles.

“It’s the hull,” Hugo replied, the first words he had spoken since they had submerged. “It’s just adjusting to the depth pressure.” There was another sound this time, reminiscent of the low moan of a beast in pain. The ship creaked and groaned for another moment, and Karla’s eyes remained wide the entire time. She expected klaxons to sound at a hull breach, but instead the deck grew steadily level as Goro adjusted their descent.

There were several more tense moments before Jason looked up and said, “Captain, the ship is rigged for deep submergence. Holding steady at one three zero zero feet.”

Aramis released the breath he had been holding and said, “Aye.”

Farrell listened to his headphones for several moments and scratched notes on a pad before he finally reported, “Captain, all departments report no flooding and no leaks. Everything is secure.”

“Aye.”

Jason looked up at him with a nervous smile and said, “Captain, I recommend proceeding to five zero zero and follow our course at that depth. We’re pretty much near the bottom of the Bay, but there is a shelf ahead that rises quickly.”

“Very well, Mr. Talos. Proceed to five hundred feet and maintain course,” Thorne said with a look of satisfaction. He looked up at the intercom panel beside him and thumbed one of the buttons. A moment later, the intercom chirped.

“Engine room,” Errol’s voice said.

“How do things look down there?” Thorne wanted to know.

“Everything is running like a clock, Captain. The Squid drive is purring smoothly, and we have plenty of power generation.”

“Very good, Mr. Colfax. Extend my thanks to you and your people for a job well done.”

“Thank you, Captain. I will spread the word.”

Chapter 8

“Captain, I’m getting something on the sensors,” Farrell reported. Thorne looked up from the chart table where he studied a report display. They were currently moving slowly over the top of the Dorian Shelf at periscope depth.

“Can you make it out?” he asked with interest. He moved to the com-sensor station and leaned against the back of the greyhound’s chair.

“Our sensors aren’t too sophisticated,” Farrell said, “but I can make out a large metallic mass at a depth of eighty feet with smaller fragments scattered over a wide area.”

Aramis patted Lightner’s shoulder. “Good work,” he said as he straightened up. “Please give those coordinates to Mr. Novak.”

“Aye sir.”

The captain moved to Mik’s side and then said in a calm voice, “Position the Hoenix over the coordinates, bring us to a full stop, and then surface the ship.”

“Aye sir.”

“Do we have any undersea probes we can send down?” Aramis asked Jason.

“I’m afraid not, Captain. Although the Hoenix can operate under water, we prepped the ship primarily for space travel.”

“I see. Do we have pressure suits rated for that depth?”

The black wolf raised an eyebrow. “Yes sir. Are we planning a salvage operation?”

“Not exactly.”

“Sir, I have identification on the wreckage according to the coordinates in the Harbor Patrol database.”

Aramis looked over at the greyhound. “Go on,” he prompted.

“It’s what’s left of a Myotis-class cruiser that crashed a little over two months ago,” Farrell reported. “The report names it the Silverthorne, PA registry number 65559. Her captain was…” the greyhound’s voice faltered and Aramis looked at him in amusement, “…you, sir.”

Jason Talos looked at Thorne with a strange expression. “You were looking for the Silverthorne? Why? What’s there?”

Aramis raised his eyebrows and gave him a mischievous grin. “One of the secrets on my hidden agenda,” he said, quoting what the black wolf had said to him on their first meeting. Instead of responding with a smile at the in-joke, Talos fixed him with a suspicious stare. Aramis chuckled and shook his head. “Nothing to worry about, my friend. We will be on our way to orbit shortly, but I want to have a look at my old ship before we leave it behind.”

“Let me go with you,” Jason said quietly.

“No,” said the captain. “As the first officer, I need you to stay with the ship. I won’t be gone long.”

Talos fixed him with a steady stare for a moment, but then he finally nodded. “As the ship’s captain, you shouldn’t go alone. Take Cinjin with you.”

Thorne tilted his head and swished his tail. Cinjin, again. He was getting awfully suspicious of Talos and Cinjin. Was it because they were the only other wolves in his group, or was it something else? He knew he had seen Cinjin somewhere before, that much of his memory was certain, but he was still unable to pinpoint just how he knew him. He had been so busy the past two weeks getting the Hoenix operational that he had spent no more than a moment or two concerned about his forgotten past.

Thorne shook his head and turned toward the exit. “No, I won’t need a supply clerk. I will go alone as planned.”

“I insist,” Talos said in a low voice intended for the captain’s ears alone.

Thorne turned and his expression darkened. “That was an order,” he said dangerously.

Jason sighed audibly, not even caring if his captain heard him, but he lowered his ears in submission.

Thorne turned back toward the exit. “You have the bridge until I return, Mr. Talos,” he said in a tone that broadcast a clear message that the conversation was at an end. He did not wait for a reply and disappeared through the hatchway.

As soon as he was sure the captain was out of earshot, Jason turned to Farrell and said, “Track his progress with his pressure suit’s transponder. I want to know where he is at all times. It wouldn’t do to lose sight of our captain.”

Lightner nodded his head. “Aye sir.”

Jason moved forward and looked up at the vidscreen that showed an image from the periscope angle. “We have reached the coordinates,” Miklos reported.

“All stop, Mr. Harada,” Jason ordered. “Prepare to surface.”

“All stop, aye.”

***

When Aramis dropped from the side of the ship’s upper deck, he did a silent pirouette to orient himself, and then he glanced at a small device mounted to the left arm of his bright yellow pressure suit. He made note of the time and of the oxygen mix levels of his tanks, and then began to swim downward. The water of Castle Bay was clear and the sunlight from above penetrated the sea almost to its depths in this area. He had no trouble distinguishing the metallic wreckage below him and made a straight path for it. Colorful fish swam past him in iridescent schools but gave him no attention. A small, wedge-nosed shark barely longer than his arm passed close enough that the wolf could have touched it had he tried. It swam on, uninterested in the yellow visitor to its realm.

As he descended, he noted that although the ship had been submerged for two months, very little sea life had yet claimed it. He could see twisted lumps of metal scattered about the shadowy seabed over a wide area, but only gave them a cursory glance. His goal was the main fuselage.

The Silverthorne looked nothing like the photos in the book he had seen, but the explosion and its plunge into the sea had mangled it so badly that the shape of its remains was hard to distinguish. It really was a miracle that he had survived the destruction that took the lives of the rest of his crew. How had he done it?

Aramis tried hard to remember the ship and had fleeting feelings of familiarity. He could almost remember its primary floor plan, but it was like trying to recall the remnant wisps of a dream. He hoped to trigger more memories from his grasping mind by visiting a relic of his past life. He could not tell Jason this without revealing his amnesia, but he was not yet ready to trust the black wolf with such sensitive information. Talos was suspicious of him, that much was certain, and until Aramis could discern more of his past, he did not intend to share his motives with the first officer.

Aramis slowed as he reached the broken starship and set a foot on its exterior. It held solid and he discovered that the surface beneath him was transparent in the glare of the lamps mounted on either side of his helmet. He knelt as well as he could in the suit and realized he had come down on a pane of glassteel, likely a window. He tilted his light at an angle and saw the reflections of tiny circuits within the glass. It was a vidscreen panel in surprisingly good condition, but that was to be expected with glassteel.

He pushed off and glided over the surface until he came to a charred and twisted section of the outer hull. When he shined his lamps inside, he could see walls of teal. At first, he thought it was just a refraction of the light from the sea, but at closer inspection, he realized it was a painted surface. The hole was large enough for him to pass through, so he eased himself inside. The floor was at an angle, but there were wooden handrails mounted to the walls that seemed to be there just for this purpose.

He made his way along whatever corridor he had let himself into, but it was not easy going. Walls pushed in toward one another and the floor and ceiling twisted into odd angles that he was barely able to push his way past. Heavy debris lay scattered about and lighter debris floated through the water as if the currents outside had never touched them. A scrap of paper floated before his helmet and he snared it gently. When he brought it up to the glass of his helmet, he found himself looking at a creased and faded photograph. He caught his breath and felt his head swim.

It was her… the red wolf from his dreams. She stood next to a younger version of himself and they were in what looked like a park with a wolf cub standing between them. He swallowed hard and tried to smooth out the crease, but the water-saturated photo paper came apart in his gloved hands. He let out a small cry of anguish as her face dissolved before his eyes and the remaining bits of the photograph drifted away.

He stood there for a long moment, trying to memorize the details of the picture, but he found it hard to concentrate with a salty burning in his eyes. He blinked several times, cleared his throat and then heaved a heavy sigh.

The Silverthorne had been known to hold a crew of eight. Was this woman one of the crew who had died in the fiery explosion, or was she someone still waiting for his return somewhere? “Branson… Ginger… Duster… Foster… Chance… Edward… Haworth… Ivanovich…” The names that Tyler had discovered in his research were all familiar to him, but as Aramis whispered the names aloud to himself, none of them triggered a specific memory associated with the red female wolf.

He gave the remnants of the photo a mournful glance and then resumed his investigation of the ship. He came upon an open doorway on his left and he peered inside. It was a cabin, but there was little inside. The bunk bolted to the deck had been stripped of bedding and there seemed to be no personal effects lying about. He moved further into the room and floated toward the closet. As with the rest of the room, it was empty. There were no pictures on the walls, no lamp on the desk or clothes in the closet.

He left the room quietly and found several others in the same condition. The wreckage appeared to have been picked over, either by the authorities investigating the crash or by other divers seeking treasure. One thing missed was a sign affixed to part of a mangled wall. He could see Engine Room etched into a brass plate. On it, an arrow pointed aft toward a burned bulkhead hatch door twisted in its own steel frame. There would be no further progress in that direction, so he turned around and made his way forward, bypassing the crew quarters he had already seen.

Unfortunately, he was unable to go far before the single corridor ended in coral-encrusted rocks and the sandy seabed that the vessel had come to rest in. Aramis felt a strong sense of disappointment that he had not found anything else of importance. He wished he could have retained the photograph, but he was amazed that it had held together long enough for him to see what it was. He looked at his surroundings for another moment, and then decided it was time to return to the Hoenix. There was nothing more to see here.

As Aramis floated back down the tilted corridor, he saw a cabin door he had missed earlier. His first thought was to ignore it, as it was probably in the same condition as the rest, but a partial nameplate beside the door stopped him. “Captain Ar—”

Thorne felt his heart rate increase as he pushed his way past a skewed door panel. He had to kick it in somewhat to make enough room for him and his oxygen tanks to pass, but when he made it inside, his heart sank. The room had been picked over as well. He shined his lamps around the dark cabin and tried to imagine living there. How many times had he slept on that bed? What pictures or paintings had decorated its walls? He sighed. This was getting him nowhere and he knew that Talos would be edgy awaiting his return.

He turned to leave, but when his light flashed around the room, something caught his eye. It was barely visible, almost imperceptible, but there was a slight depression near the base of the wall beside the bed. With the general condition of the ship as it was, it would have been easy to mistake it for another buckling of the bulkhead, but something in Thorne’s mind told him it was there on purpose.

He knelt down on the tilted floor and put a hand up to the depression. He pushed against it hard, but nothing happened. Unconvinced, the wolf banged at it with a fist for a moment. He felt ready to give up when the depression moved, tripped by a spring-loaded mechanism inside. A small panel shifted in, and then up. A large bubble of trapped air gurgled out of the new opening and he saw a metal box lying on its side. Excitedly, he pulled it from the alcove and marveled at its weight. The black-painted container was twice the size of a shoebox with its hinged lid locked with a standard padlock. He did not have time to open it there, and if it had been hidden away in an oxygen-filled compartment, he knew he did not want to open it under the Bay either. He did not want to ruin anything inside and repeat the demise of the photograph, so he tucked it under his arm. He inspected the small alcove closely to see if anything else was inside, but the box had been its sole occupant.

Encouraged by this find, Thorne made his way back out of the Silverthorne and was soon rising slowly back toward the Hoenix. He looked up at the bulk of his ship and grinned within his helmet when he realized just how much more like a submarine the vessel appeared in the water. When he finally broke the surface of the Bay, there was an inflatable raft tethered near the boat with two suited divers preparing to descend. They saw him and gestured in his direction, and it was only then that Aramis turned on his suit’s com signal. Jason’s voice filled his helmet immediately.

“Captain!”

“Yes, I’m here, Mr. Talos,” he replied as he swam to the raft. “You can call off the search party.” When he looked up into the faceplates of the two divers, he saw Jason and Harada staring back at him.

“You never reported in, sir,” Goro’s voice said. “We thought something had happened to you!”

The two divers helped Aramis into the raft, and when he sat down on its inflated side, he set the black box across his knees. “It took me a while to retrieve my personal effects,” he said as his two companions removed their helmets. He released the clasps of his own helmet and twisted it a half turn to pull it free from his shoulders.

“What’s in there?” Jason said at last, a crease of disapproval creasing his brow.

The lupine captain looked up at him and raised an eyebrow. “Personal effects,” he repeated in a tone that denoted that the topic was to be dropped. Talos set his jaw in defiance, but said nothing more.

“Are you finished here, sir?” Goro asked.

Thorne nodded to the pilot and said, “Quite finished. Let’s get back aboard and begin preparations for spatial orbit.”

“Aye sir,” the coyote said with a smile. “I think everyone is itching to get airborne.”

Several crewmembers on the upper deck helped them on board and then worked swiftly to deflate the raft. Aramis saw his ship’s cook standing just inside an open hatch and motioned for him. The beagle stepped out into the late afternoon sunlight and shielded his eyes. When he stopped beside the wolf, Aramis handed the black box to him.

Tyler grimaced at the amount of water that dripped from the box onto his cooking apron and grunted under the weight of the container. Before he could ask about it, Thorne leaned in close to one of his ears and said, “Lock this up in my cabin. Let no one else touch it.”

“Aye-aye, Cap’n,” Ringo replied with a nod of understanding.

When the beagle toddled off with the box, Jason walked over to him and glared hard. He pointed at the retreating cook’s backside and said, “What was that all about? I could have secured it for you.”

Thorne narrowed his eyes and returned the glare. “Don’t question my reasons, Mr. Talos,” he warned. “As the captain of this crew, I don’t have to explain myself to anyone.”

Jason bit back a salty reply and lowered his ears as he looked toward the deck. “Sir, you chose me as your first officer,” he said in a low voice. “How am I supposed to earn your trust if you don’t give me the chance and trust me with anything of importance?”

“Excellent question,” Thorne replied as he began to take apart the sections of his pressure suit. “You have shown me nothing but suspicion since I took command. If you stop trying to second-guess every order I give, we’re likely to get along, Mr. Talos.”

Jason looked up at him with an odd look. “May I have permission to speak to you in private, sir?” he asked as he struggled out of his own suit.

“It will have to wait,” the captain said as he glanced at the others stowing the deflated raft in an external storage hatch. “We will be launching soon and –”

“Sir,” the black wolf interrupted boldly, “this is exactly why I have a problem with you.” Thorne’s hackles rose at his tenacity, but Jason pressed on. “You brush me off every time I request a private meeting! A first officer should have the privilege of a secure conversation with his commander.”

Thorne opened his mouth in anger, but then snapped it shut again. He forced air through his nostrils and then he nodded. “All right, Mr. Talos,” he said tersely. “Once we’re in orbit and all systems check out, I will give you some of my time. Right now, you and I are both needed for pre-flight.”

Jason looked relieved that the captain had not struck him down for speaking out of turn, but that could still come later. Before he could say anything more, Thorne turned and motioned toward a Dalmatian who stood nearby staring out to sea.

“Tommy!”

“Yes sir?” said the canine as he rushed to the captain.

“Mr. Talos and I are needed on the bridge. Please see that our pressure suits are put away properly.”

“Aye-aye, sir. Right away!”

Captain Thorne turned and moved toward the upper deck’s main hatch without a second look at his officer. Jason sighed and followed him inside.

***

When the two wolves walked into the command center together, Thorne gave the room a quick glance and noted with satisfaction that the bridge crew was already present and everyone was at their stations. As before, a gunner was unnecessary at this time, but Karla sat ready at her console, everything primed to show her own readiness. Only the engineering station was vacant as everyone associated with the ship’s systems were down below.

“Mr. Lightner,” Aramis said as he walked to the chart table, “get my engineer on the horn.”

“Aye sir.”

Jason moved to a small station near the forward vidscreen and began looking over the onboard systems. He picked up a microphone headset, put it on over his ears, and then began to check in with the various compartments.

The intercom chirped and the captain picked up the intercom microphone from a nearby hook on the wall. “Bridge,” he said.

“Colfax here, Captain,” replied the Labrador’s voice.

“Prepare the atmospheric engines for imminent take off. We will be launching from Castle Bay.”

“AGR systems for atmospheric lift are already primed and ready at your command, sir.”

Thorne smiled and nodded silently. “Very good, Mr. Colfax. Stand by your systems. We will be departing shortly.”

“Aye sir.”

“Captain,” Miklos reported, “I have a course and trajectory to spatial orbit calculated if you wish to review it, sir.”

“What altitude?”

“Two hundred miles, sir, with four revolutions to break orbit – unless you want to dock with the Bundine Station at one hundred fifty miles.”

“No, I’d rather not bother with a space station unless we run into trouble. Share your flight plans to Mr. Lightner. Farrell, contact Minniti Spaceport and file an immediate launch profile. We won’t bother with standard routes, so we shouldn’t affect their traffic.”

“Aye sir.”

“What launch direction have you figured in?” Goro asked the navigator.

“Northwest,” Miklos replied. “There is no traffic in that area, so I assumed it would make for the best trajectory.”

“Good thinking,” Aramis said with a hand on the back of Goro’s chair. “Come about fifteen degrees for northwest and proceed at fifteen knots.”

“One five degrees, aye. One five knots, aye.” The deck plates began a steady vibration and they could all hear the hydro systems engage.

“All hatches sealed,” Jason reported. “Internal pressurization complete and holding at optimum.”

“Thank you,” Thorne replied.

The bridge fell silent of talk, with the exception of Farrell’s high voice as he chatted mechanically with the Castelrosso launch authority. He tapped in commands on his keyboard and then nodded to himself as he scribbled something on a generic notepad with a stubby pencil.

“Course holding steady at fifteen knots, sir,” Goro reported after a quick glance at his instruments.

Farrell looked over at the captain and gave him a thumbs-up signal. “Launch profile has been accepted, sir.”

“Very good.” Thorne brushed a few strands of shed fur from the front of his black shirt and then put both hands into the pockets of his tan trousers. “Mr. Harada, increase speed to thirty knots for AGR launch.”

“Thirty knots, aye sir.” The coyote turned a dial on his console with audible clicks and then grabbed the guidance shifts on both sides of his seat. He depressed two of the four pedals at his feet simultaneously and the ship vibrated with increased power. Land completely disappeared from view on the forward vidscreen and the ship bobbed slowly as it picked up speed across the top of the water. The nose of the ship gave a sudden lurch downward with a violent shudder, but then it smoothed out again. Faces around the bridge looked about in concern.

Thorne picked up the mike and thumbed the intercom panel. A moment later the speaker chirped.

“Engine room.”

“Status, Mr. Colfax?”

“One of the gyros in the aft AGR unit hiccupped and we lifted an extra five meters before it released. I have Brian and Tommy working on it now.”

Thorne looked over to Jason. “Time to launch speed?” he asked.

Talos glanced at his console and then reported, “Minute-thirty.”

“Mr. Colfax,” Aramis said into the mike, “you have just over a minute to have it ready.”

“Aye-aye, sir. I will make sure they… what? Okay, that’s good. Sir, the system has just been reset and is now ready.”

“Excellent. Prepare for lift-off.”

“Aye, sir.”

Jason picked up a mike from his own console and triggered the ship-wide intercom. “All hands, all hands,” he broadcast. “Buckle in and hold on. We’re go for launch.”

“Thirty knots, sir!” Goro announced.

“Engage anti-gravity repulsors,” Thorne said calmly. He unfolded a metal seat attached to the chart table on a swing-arm frame and then sat down on it. He buckled himself into the seat and then put a hand on a nearby station to keep him steady.

“Aye sir, AGR system activated!”

“Launch!”

“Launching, aye!” Harada confirmed. He pulled his shifts back and then pressed the middle left foot pedal halfway to the floor. The Hoenix responded with a deep roar and the nose lifted from the water at a ten-degree angle. The sea disappeared from the forward view on the vidscreen, replaced by high-altitude clouds. The vessel vibrated harshly for a moment and then smoothed out as she shed her water and rose into the sky.

“Increase to orbital velocity,” Thorne commanded.

“Increasing speed to achieve orbit,” Harada confirmed. “Inertial dampers are online.”

The intercom chirped. Jason looked over at the captain and saw him poring over something on the chart table so he reached up and grabbed his mike. “Bridge,” he responded.

“Colfax, here,” said the Labrador’s voice. “Gravity deck plating has been activated, but we have a problem area in the number two engine room.”

“What kind of problem?”

“I have a red light on the deck plating in the aft section of the room. It’s not vital to ship’s operation, but may make it dangerous to anyone who wanders in blindly.”

“You said engine room number two,” Jason said with a smirk. “That’s Hugo’s station.”

There was a chuckle from the speaker. “Yes, and he hates weightlessness. He’s already cussing up a blue streak right now.”

“Any other problems?”

“No sir, that’s all, but I wanted to mention it before we reached orbit.”

“We’re coming up on that now,” Jason said. “Keep us informed.”

“Aye-aye.”

A brief shudder rumbled beneath their feet and Thorne looked up from the chart table. “What was that?” he asked. The shudder repeated itself, though lasted a bit longer this time.

“Uh oh…” Harada said under his breath. Jason looked at him and saw the coyote fighting against the controls.

“Goro?”

“The port lateral thrusters are firing on their own, sir!” he exclaimed. “Not my doing!”

Thorne looked up at the vidscreen and saw the first stars peeking in through the darkening sky. They were sliding toward the right, though one star stood out several magnitudes brighter than the rest. “Better get that under control, Mr. Harada,” the captain said with sudden realization.

“Sensors are picking up a com satellite directly in our new path!” Farrell reported.

Jason moved quickly to Goro’s station. He reached across the helmsman, grabbed the left-hand guidance shift, and then lent his strength to help Harada pull it back into alignment. Both of them heaved and grunted, but the shuddering increased despite their efforts.

“Engine room!” Thorne shouted into his mike. “Port thrusters are—”

“Already on it!” Colfax reported in a harried voice. Thorne hung up his mike without another word. A protesting whine from the engines sounded throughout the entire ship as conflicting controls vied for dominance of the system.

“Distance to com-sat?” Aramis asked in a voice raised above the noise.

“Five kilometers and closing rapidly,” Farrell called back.

“I can shoot it out of our way!” Karla suggested. “One shot will remove it from our path.”

“No!” Goro shouted. “We…. We can avoid it… without doing… that!”

The bright star grew to a solid disc as they approached it at orbit-breaking speed. The thrusters continued to fire at random intervals, shaking the ship as the pilot and the first officer struggled to pull the vessel back to their planned flight path. The size of the satellite grew steadily.

“Target locked in and ready to fire, sir!” Karla reported, despite the coyote’s assurances that they would miss the satellite. Her hand hovered over a large red button, her eyes seeking permission to punch it.

“Goro! Jason!” Miklos called out. “Don’t fight it! Let the thrusters push us farther to the starboard.”

“What?” the two of them exclaimed in unison, their faces marked in disbelief.

“It will alter our trajectory,” the terrier explained. “We’ll miss the satellite!”

“Do it!” Thorne commanded.

Goro and Jason exchanged dubious looks and then the black wolf released his helping grip on the shift. Harada maintained his hold as the vessel shuddered further, but relaxed enough to allow the thrusters to move them to the starboard. The communications satellite loomed large and looked as if the ship would slam into the antennae-spiked sphere nose-first, but as they drew nearer, the thrusters pushed them aside and they shot past the metal globe. There could not have been more than a few meters between the ship and the satellite when they passed.

Talos exhaled in relief, but the ship continued to shudder. Harada renewed his struggling against the controls and Jason realized that the problem still existed. He jumped forward to lend another hand when the thrusters suddenly ceased. The left-hand guidance shift offered no more resistance unexpectedly, causing Jason to stumble and fall across Goro’s lap.

Goro pushed the first officer off him and then began checking his instruments. Without the scream and whine of conflicting propulsion systems, the bridge had grown eerily quiet. When the intercom chirped, everybody jumped.

“Bridge,” Thorne answered into his mike.

“Colfax here. Better make for orbit as quick as you can, Captain.”

“Reason?”

“The firing relays in the port thruster control have burned out. We have spares and can replace them, but not until we’re in a stable orbit and the system is shut down.”

“What caused the burnout?” Thorne asked.

“Cheap parts,” the Labrador replied after a brief hesitation.

“Mr. Colfax…” Aramis said with a sigh, “I seriously hope the more important components you used to repair this ship are more trustworthy.”

“I do too, sir,” the engineer agreed. The captain did not feel encouraged by that response, and from the looks of those around him, neither did anyone else.

“Continue to orbital altitude,” he said to Harada. Then to the microphone he said, “How long will it take to replace the relays?”

“Twenty minutes.”

“Get on it as soon as we reach a stable orbit.”

“Aye-aye.”

Captain Thorne glanced over at Crandall and motioned his hand downward with an open palm. “Stand down from the weapons,” he told her.

“Aye, sir,” the husky replied with a frown. She reached out and disengaged the firing control.

Aramis turned to Jason, who had regained his feet and was dusting off his trousers. “Time to orbit from our new heading?” he asked.

Miklos recalculated their trajectory and then looked up. “Seven minutes, sir.”

Thorne walked toward Jason’s station and looked up at the vidscreen. A visage of stars showed no movement, although he knew they were actually commanding a high speed. “Mr. Talos,” he said in a calm voice. “Once we get into orbit, organize the crew into teams to check out the rest of the ship. If we have any other cheap systems about to go out on us, I would rather we find them now before we get underway.”

“Yes sir,” Jason replied. “I’ll start assembling teams now.”

The captain turned toward the terrier and put both of his hands casually on the navigator’s station. “Once we have finally assessed that we’re good to go, plot a course for Quet.”

“Planet-side destination?” Miklos asked.

“We will land at Sabot in the Neeka Province. There’s a starship repair depot there if we find we need to get more parts.”

“Aye, sir.”

Aramis looked around at the bridge and suddenly felt weary. “Maintain course and speed to spatial orbit,” he said as he brushed a hand across his face. “Mr. Talos, I am leaving you in command of the bridge. Once we have reached orbit, replace the bridge crew with another watch and let everyone relax a bit.”

Jason looked up at him with a frown, but he nodded his acceptance of the orders. “Aye sir.”

Aramis stretched his arms and felt tightness across his shoulders. He then turned and walked off the bridge, hoping there was nothing more that needed his attention for a while.

***

Aramis settled down on his bunk and kicked his boots off onto the floor after removing his holster and setting in on the nightstand. Although his cabin was the largest one on board, it was little bigger than his walk-in closet at the Crusty Barnacle and it felt confining. Still, it was his own little sanctuary inside the Hoenix and he needed some time to think and reflect. He tried to will himself to relax, but could not shake the feeling that things were about to become extremely complicated. He had left Jason with the bridge, knowing well the black wolf was still waiting a chance to speak with him in private. Aramis had put off a solitary meeting as long as he could, but it looked as if he would not be able to get away with it much longer. However, Talos would be on watch for another three hours, so that would give him a small bit of time to relax from the stress of the day.

He glanced around the wood-paneled room and his eyes fell upon the wooden walking staff he had brought with him out of the old city. It lay on the floor near the corner of the room beside his bunk, so he reached down and took it in his hand. He set one end of it against his legs and lowered its head down close to his nose. He studied the bared fangs in the wolf’s head and wondered how it fit in with the city’s past. However, its background was just as unknown to him as his own was. He probably should have picked up a book on Hoenix along with the others. He studied the staff for a moment and then set it up into the corner.

His eyes felt tired and he wondered if he could relax enough to take a nap. He reached toward his nightstand to turn out the light, but his eyes fell on his two throwing knives. He had set them on top of the black box Tyler had deposited beneath the lamp. He had not yet had time to examine the contents of the locked container. He would need the cook’s lock picking abilities for that, so he decided to let it wait.

He picked up one of the knives and pulled it from its tooled leather scabbard. Its razor sharp Damarian blade was the length of his hand and its hilt was made of an ash-grey alabaster. He had never been able to make out a particular pattern in the tiny scrimshaw designs etched into the stone. The knife was perfectly balanced, and he was tempted to hurl it at the wooden wall of his cabin just to watch its flight through the air. He spied a knot in the wood grain on the wall near the door and then lifted the blade to line up his aim.

There was a quiet knock on his door and he looked over at it with a frown. “Come in,” he said. The doorknob turned and the panel moved inward just enough to reveal a brown eyeball staring in at him. Before he could repeat his permission to enter, Dallas moved into the room and closed the door behind her.

There were dainty red ribbons in the short Papillion’s fur near her butterfly ears and she wore a matching thin cotton robe. She seemed embarrassed as she leaned back against the door with a smile.

“Good evening, Captain,” she said quietly.

“What can I do for you?” he asked, puzzled at her expression.

“Uhm… when I begged you to take me with you away from Brandt,” she said slowly in a voice barely above a whisper, “I told you I would do anything for you as payment. Now that we have left Brandt, I want to fulfill my word.” She untied her belt sash and pulled apart her robe for him to see that she wore nothing beneath the garment. She began to pull it off her shoulders, but Aramis held up a hand and cleared his throat.

“Put your clothes back on, Dallas,” he said. “I am not interested.”

The small canine’s hands froze in position and the expression in her eyes looked hurt. “I-I am sorry,” she said after a hard swallow. “I thought –”

Aramis sighed and shook his head. “I appreciate your sincerity in fulfilling an obligation,” he said, “but your offer is not something I am really interested in.”

“I see…” Dallas said as she closed her robe and tied her sash. She looked up at him and bit her bottom lip as she turned back toward the door. “I’m sorry I am not desirable enough for you.”

Thunk! The nurse looked back suddenly and saw his throwing knife embedded in the wooden paneling of the wall, a foot to the right of her nose. Its tip had penetrated the exact center of a knot instead of bouncing off the harder wood. She looked at it in shock and then turned to him.

“Bring my knife to me,” Thorne said to her. His voice was stern, but the emotion in his eyes was unreadable. Dallas had to resist the urge to bolt out the door, but she made herself reach up for the blade and grasp the alabaster hilt. She struggled to free it from the wood, but it was deeply embedded. She worked the knife around until it finally came free and then she turned slowly to face her captain.

She stepped toward his bed and then held out her hand, the knife lying flat atop her open palm. Like many others in Castelrosso who had heard stories about Captain Thorne’s temper, Dallas expected him to cut into a finger or something worse with the sharp blade for offending him. She closed her eyes and pressed her lips together in anticipation when he reached up and calmly took the knife by its hilt.

“Dallas,” he said in a softer voice, “look at me.” The small canine opened her eyes in fear, but the eyes that looked back at her were gentler now. “I think you’re very pretty, but wolves mate for life and I have a mate,” he told her. “I neither need, nor desire, a playmate.”

Moisture appeared beneath the Papillion’s eyes. “I thought… I assumed you accepted my offer when you agreed to let me join your crew,” she said.

“A medical officer is a must on every ship,” Aramis said as he sheathed the knife and set it on the nightstand. “It was for that I agreed to take you on. Nothing more.”

“I see…” the nurse replied in a quiet voice as she wiped her eyes with the edge of her robe. “Someone always wants something from me. I thought you were like all the others.”

“Dallas… All I want from you is to perform your assigned duties to your best ability. You owe me nothing else.”

The small canine nodded and became silent for a moment. Then she placed a hand over her heart and gave a short bow like she used in the restaurant as a waitress. “Forgive me for intruding, Captain. I will leave now.”

“Good night, Dallas.”

The Papillion gave him a wan smile and then departed quickly. Aramis heaved a sigh and shook his head. So much for relaxing, he thought to himself.

The wolf repositioned himself so that he was flat on his back, then reached to the nightstand and turned off the lamp. He closed his eyes and put his arms behind his head. As he lay there trying to relax, something occurred to him. Without thinking, he had told Dallas that he had a mate. This was not something he had thought up at the spur of the moment, but it had come out as if he had spoken the truth. Nothing he had heard or read about himself mentioned a wife, but now the question strongly in his mind was did he have a mate? The photo he had seen down in the Silverthorne seemed to suggest so.

Chapter 9

The stone walls of a high-ceiling chamber were adorned with relief carvings of ancient canine kings. A shaft of light from a circular hole in the ceiling fell parallel to a falling river of sand. Standing in the sand beside the river was a lovely red female wolf in an elegant red and white outfit with a scarlet scarf tied gently around her neck. She looked at Aramis with gentle eyes, and as he looked up at her in longing, the woman put one hand over her heart and raised the other toward him. Her soft voice filled the cavernous chamber and Aramis half-closed his eyes as she sang to him in wordless song.

Knock, knock, knock.

Aramis opened his eyes abruptly and the dream evaporated.

Knock, knock, knock.

He blinked several times in an effort to reorient himself to where he was, and then shook his head with a growl. “What is it?” he shouted angrily at the door to his cabin. He rolled over onto his back and wiped a hand across the fur around his eyes.

“Captain, it’s Jason,” said the first officer’s voice through the closed panel. “May I speak with you now?”

Thorne did not answer immediately, but let the other wolf wait until he had composed himself. “All right, Mr. Talos,” he said at last. “Come in.” He turned on the lamp at the head of his bed and considered putting on a shirt for his guest, but then decided he did not have to.

The door opened inward and the black wolf stepped inside. He closed the panel behind him and then turned to face his captain, who remained reclined on his bunk. There were no other chairs in the small cabin, so he leaned back against the wall and stuck his hands into the pockets of his tan work pants.

“What can I do for you?” the captain asked irritably. He knew Jason could not have known anything about his dream, but he was still annoyed at having lost it to this interruption. The first officer frowned at his tone and cleared his throat.

“Sir,” he said in a quiet voice so not to let his words carry outside the small room, “I would like to know if there is a reason why you haven’t acknowledged me and Cinjin.”

Aramis looked at him quietly as a cold feeling trickled down his spine, but he had no reply for his officer. He had suspected that he was supposed to remember the two other wolves, but his memories were still elusive. He had felt a familiarity with both of them without actually remembering them. Had he misplayed his hand by not acknowledging them?

Jason swallowed and wondered what thoughts were behind his captain’s piercing stare. “I see,” he said with a nod. “You must have a plan and don’t want anyone to know of our association.” There was a brief look of uncertainty in Thorne’s expression and the black wolf actually felt encouraged by what he saw. He leaned forward and lowered his voice to a whisper. “There is someone on board you don’t trust. Who is it?”

Aramis resisted a nervous swallow. Even if he had known who he was, he still did not know how far he could trust the other wolf with the truth. He made a silent resolve to have Ringo investigate Jason and Cinjin’s backgrounds to see if anything might shed some light on the shadows of his memories. For the time, he decided to continue to act as if he knew more than he did.

“You’re correct in that I do have a plan,” he said in a whisper of his own, “but I don’t wish to discuss it under these conditions. This vessel is small, there are many ears on board, and I wouldn’t even trust the thin walls of this room.” He sat up on his bed and leaned against the paneled wall. “I would prefer news of our association not get out just yet. When I feel the time is right, I will —”

A deep horn suddenly blared throughout the ship, startling both wolves. Before either of them could reach out for the intercom microphone hanging on the wall, Farrell Lightner’s voice issued from speakers on all decks.

“All hands, this is an Alert! Another vessel is on an intercept course. Captain, please come to the bridge! Repeat, all hands, this is an Alert!”

The wolves exchanged a brief look of surprise and then Jason bolted out the door for the bridge. Aramis grabbed his gun and holster in one hand and his shirt from the end of the bed with the other. He darted out the door, shrugging into the shirt as he made his way through the narrow corridor.

He had to dodge other crew bodies on his way to the command center, as the alert had stirred up everyone, but luckily the bridge was not far from his personal quarters. They reached it within a moment. The primary bridge crew was back at all their stations when the two wolves stepped onto the deck.

“Report,” Aramis said to Farrell as he strapped his gun and holster in place.

The greyhound looked up at him and pulled one earpiece of his headset away from his head. “Sensors picked up another ship in the vicinity ten minutes ago,” he replied in a rush. “Four minutes ago, we tracked their heading and discovered they were on an intercept course, coming at us head-on.”

“Identification?”

“I got their transponder ID just as you walked in the door, sir. It’s a Carico-class freighter, Registry PA39564, SS Guarana.”

“Can you access their manifest?”

“I’m working on that now, sir.”

Aramis patted the com officer on the shoulder. “Very good.” He walked over to the chart table and smoothed out the wrinkles of his shirt as he looked up at the vidscreen. A set of red and green running lights were near the center of the stars directly ahead of them. A brighter magnitude light was far behind them, the planet Quet.

“Why are they coming at us?” Goro wondered aloud.

Farrell whistled at the data that crossed his screen. Jason moved in to peer over his shoulder. “What is it?” he asked.

“I got the Guarana’s manifest from the Quetian Flight Plan Database,” Farrell replied. “They’re loaded down with micranite ore bound for Dennier, and —”

“Micranite!” Miklos exclaimed with a snort. “Why should that amaze you? Quet is where they mine the stuff!”

“It’s not the micranite I was whistling at,” Farrell replied. “They’re also carrying experimental power generators… and a crate of refined Siilv!”

“Siilv!” Mik repeated in surprise. His tail began wagging through the slot in the back of his chair.

Siilv was a highly conductive and extremely tough metal known to be found only on two worlds. It was first employed in the creation of LightDrive engines as the regulator in power cells for its tendency to reflect energy by swapping electrons with the fuel source instead of just converting the fuel from one form to another, so that power lasted many times longer than it ordinarily should. In its refined form, it was also highly prized as a precious metal.

“The Siilv is to be delivered to Auron back on Brandt,” Farrell explained. “That’s why they appear to be on a course directly for us.”

Karla Crandall looked over at Thorne and gave him a mischievous grin. “How about it?” she asked hopefully. The captain looked over at Jason, who had a similar look on his face. Thorne gave him a nod.

“Mr. Talos, put together a boarding party in pressure suits,” he said. “The main hatch on a Carico freighter is on the nose just under its bridge. Have your group wait at the forward airlock, starboard number three. Forget the micranite, but get the Siilv and the power generators.”

“Why the generators?” Jason asked.

“Mr. Colfax might be able to use them,” Thorne replied. “With luck, they may be in better condition than what we’re already using.”

“That’s a thought…” The black wolf said with a smirk. He gave the captain a nod and then departed the bridge to carry out his orders.

“Mr. Lightner, send a signal to the Guarana. Tell them to stand down and prepare to be boarded,” Thorne commanded.

“Aye, sir,” the com officer replied.

“Mr. Harada, I want you to line up airlock number three with their main hatch after they have stopped. The position will have to be precise for the pressure tunnel to extend between the ships.”

“Aye, sir,” Goro replied. “That should be no problem.”

“Captain!” Farrell exclaimed, “No reply from the Guarana, but they are increasing their speed!”

“They’re trying to make a run for it,” Mik said.

“Crandall, fire a warning shot across their bow,” the captain said calmly.

The husky looked up at him with a questioning look. “A warning shot?” she asked abruptly. “Why not just cripple their engines so they can’t get away?”

Thorne gave her a dark look. “Repeat the order, Crandall,” he said tonelessly.

“Fire a warning shot across their bow,” she responded. The gunner turned to her instruments without another word and calculated the approaching vessel’s speed and trajectory. Without waiting for further orders or instruction, she thumbed the red fire control button when her settings were completed.

A single white beam of energy shot out from a recessed port in the nose of the Hoenix. It crackled with random sparks as it spiraled through space toward the freighter. The vidscreen showed no explosion in the distance, but Farrell gave a thumbs-up signal to the captain.

“That got their attention,” he said. “The shot narrowly missed their bridge. They have signaled their surrender and are slowing to stop.”

“Okay, Mr. Harada, take us in,” the wolf ordered. Goro nodded without a word and compared his instrument settings with those of the navigator’s panel. Within a minute, the Guarana’s bulk grew in size and they could see its shape. The freighter was a rectangular vessel with rounded corners at the top. Three large bay doors occupied its port side, and its aft end glowed blue from LightDrive energy. The nose of the vessel sported a slender horizontal window near the top, and the ship’s golden brown paint had a scorched streak just above the bridge, evidence of Crandall’s shot. The main hatch was located below the window in the center of the Guarana’s flat nose. Goro slowed the Hoenix to a stop and then turned on its axis as it approached. He began his preparations to fire maneuvering thrusters, quietly humming to himself.

Two decks below and nearly all the way forward on the starboard side of the ship, Jason and his team of five checked the seals on one another’s pressure suits. Besides himself, there was a German shepherd, Derek Ravenwood - a Doberman, Brian Bova - a golden Retriever, Tirana Meers, a Dalmatian named Tommy Benz, and a Schnauzer, Lanz Reese.

“Does everyone have their gear?” the wolf asked.

“My rifle is locked and loaded,” the Dalmatian said with a smile, “but I can’t seem to find my anesthetic vials.”

“They’re in the box behind you, Tommy.”

The Dalmatian turned around and saw a hefty metal crate on the floor next to a bulkhead. Inside were a number of glass jars cradled in heavily padded chambers, each one filled with thick amber liquid. Resting on top of the jars was another padded box. Inside were smaller thin-walled vials capped with rubber stoppers, filled just prior to their launch from Castelrosso. Tommy picked up three of them and put them into an arm pouch.

“Exposure to the air won’t activate the anesthetic into a gas,” Jason reminded him. “It takes a good, hard jolt. Be sure to throw them hard at the bulkheads or floors when any of the freighter crew comes near. That stuff will knock them out for a couple hours with only a great dark, pounding headache afterward for their trouble.”

“You seem familiar with knowledge of that headache,” Tommy mused with a smile.

Jason grinned at him through his helmet and replied, “By accident I dropped one to the floor of the cavern a few days ago. Someone propped me up next to the degreaser vat out of everyone’s way to let me sleep it off. It won’t affect you if the seals are good on your pressure suit, so you’ll want to make sure you’re good to go.”

“There’s the freighter!” the German shepherd announced. He could see the bulk of the golden brown ship through the airlock view port as the Hoenix pulled up toward it.

“Okay, people, get ready,” Jason said. “Derek, unlock the ship-to-ship tunnel and prepare it for deployment.”

“Aye, sir.”

The golden Retriever took Derek’s place at the view port and held her rifle ready. She tilted her head to the side and then said over her shoulder, “Sir? Just how close do we need to be to the other ship?”

Jason looked up after he fastened the final clip on his helmet. “About thirty meters, Tirana,” he replied. “No need to get any closer, since we —”

“Emergency!” Farrell’s voice suddenly announced over the intercom. “The freighter’s going to ram us! Clear the forward, starboard compartments!”

“Look out!” Jason exclaimed to his team. He reached out to grab Tirana’s arm just as the blunt nose of the Guarana hit the very hatch where she stood. The woman was thrown across the small compartment and Jason flung himself backward as hard as he could. The hatch buckled inward and air surged outward in a rush of decompression. Stellar vacuum sucked loose articles out into space as the forward momentum of the cargo vessel pushed the very hull of the Hoenix inward. Several bottles of the anesthetic broke, but their yellowish gas fumes vented quickly out into space. Jason heard klaxons blaring just before his helmet bounced off a bulkhead. He blacked out for a split second and then scrambled to avoid a sharp scrap of metal piping shoved toward him.

Up on the bridge, Goro and Mik were thrown from of their seats into a heap on the floor. The captain tumbled backward over the chart table and Crandall was ejected from her seat when the arm supports collapsed. Only Farrell remained in his seat, buckled in by the harness he always wore when at his station. Thorne caught the upper corner of the chart table at the base of his skull and he bounced once before he hit the floor.

Battered by the Guarana’s impact, the Hoenix listed toward the port as the cargo vessel pushed its way past them. Metal-on-metal screeching filled the air as the freighter cleared its attacker, its own nose damaged in the escape.

Crandall looked over to the captain, but realized he was out cold. She growled under her breath and forced herself back up to her station, her bruised ribs complaining. She made quick calculations for both moving ships and then punched the fire control button.

A shot streaked out toward the Guarana and caught it across its aft cargo bay door with a white explosion. Debris of micranite cases and shredded metal scattered out into space behind the vessel in a cloud of crystallized oxygen, but the freighter continued to pick up speed away from them.

“Goro!” She shouted as the coyote got up onto his knees, “After them!”

Harada looked up at her and raised a hand to the bump on his forehead. “You don’t have the authority to give that order,” he replied.

“The captain’s down and the first officer isn’t present,” the husky complained over the klaxons. “Our prey’s getting away!”

Miklos looked over at Thorne at her words and then crawled over to the prone wolf. “Captain?”

“They’re already gone,” Goro argued. “By the time Mik can get a fix on their new position—”

“Let them go…” the captain’s voice said hoarsely. “Someone silence that alarm.”

“Aye sir,” Farrell replied. The klaxons stopped and the bridge became eerily quiet.

“Let them go?” Karla said with clenched teeth. “You’re just going to let them go? What kind of pirate are you?”

Miklos helped the wolf to his feet and then Thorne turned a dark look at the husky. He stepped toward her on unsteady legs, his eyes boring into hers, but she stared back at him defiantly. When he stopped in front of her, Thorne slapped her hard with the back of his hand. She stumbled back against her station, but kept her feet. She looked back at him with a shocked expression, having been forcefully reminded who it was before her, and put a hand to her face where he had struck her.

“I am captain of this ship!” he bellowed at her. “Your insubordination will not be tolerated!”

The intercom chirped and Farrell tapped into its line. “Captain, Errol is on the horn,” he said after a brief hesitation.

Thorne turned his back on Crandall and moved to the chart table. He snatched up the microphone and tapped the button. “Damage report, Mr. Colfax,” he said in a strained voice.

“Hull breach in the number three starboard airlock and across two adjacent compartments,” the engineer reported. “The boarding party was all in pressure suits, but several of them are in bad shape and are already en route to the infirmary. My mechanics are scrambling to get into their gear so we can further assess the damage.”

“Give me a report as soon as you have something,” Thorne replied.

“Aye sir, I will.”

Aramis hung up the microphone and then looked around at the expectant faces staring back at him. “Does anyone here need medical attention?” he asked wearily.

“I have bumps and bruises, but they’re nothing Dallas needs to look at,” Harada replied. Mik and Farrell gave similar answers, but Crandall only sat down on her broken chair, unwilling to speak or look at anyone else.

Thorne reached for the back of his head where he had struck the chart table and felt of it gingerly. He felt a patch of warm blood and he pulled his hand back stained in red.

“Stay on the alert and hold our current position,” he said to the bridge crew. “I’m going to the infirmary.”

“Aye sir,” Harada replied, staring at the blood on the captain’s hand.

Aramis stumbled across the small bridge and then made his way through the narrow corridor. His vision was a little fuzzy and he rubbed his eyes with a free hand, unaware that he smeared blood across his face. When he walked into the infirmary, he found Dallas busy attending several injuries.

The Papillion looked up when he stopped in the doorway and frowned at the blood on his face and hand. “Get over here and sit down,” she said, patting an empty stool. He sat next to a gurney occupied by an unconscious golden retriever stripped down to her skivvies and partially covered with a sheet.

Dallas said something to a German shepherd who sat in a chair with one leg wrapped up in a cast, and then she grabbed a medical kit from a countertop. The infirmary was equipped with five beds and three gurneys, and was probably the cleanest compartment on the ship, just ahead of Ringo’s galley. The walls and ceiling were white panels and the floor tile was a smooth crème color. Bright light panels recessed into the walls illuminated everything without harsh shadows.

When she approached Aramis, the wolf looked up at her wearily. “Let’s see how bad you are,” she said in a calming voice. She examined his face, but quickly surmised the blood did not originate there. She moved around behind him and gingerly touched a spot on the back of his head. The captain winched with a quick intake of breath.

“A-ha,” the nurse said quietly. She opened a sterile package and applied an aromatic gauze cloth to the cut on the back of his head. “How do you feel?” she asked as she began to clean blood from his fur with her other hand.

“Woozy,” he replied quietly. “Glad I’m not standing up.”

“How is your eyesight?”

“A little fuzzy, but it’s clearing. I hit the corner of the chart table.”

The Papillion muttered something too low for him to hear and once the wet blood was cleared away, she then applied a salve to his wound. Aramis winced again and had to force himself not to bolt away from her. “Steady,” the nurse told him. “Did you lose consciousness?”

“Yeah, but only for a moment.”

She raised a finger and moved it around in front of his face, closely watching his eye movements. “I want to take a sensor scan to make sure you aren’t bleeding internally,” she told him.

Aramis shook his head and instantly regretted it. “Not right now,” he said. “I need to get back up to the bridge after you get me patched up.”

Dallas gave him a stern look, but then sighed when he peered up at her with sad, puppy-dog eyes. “Promise me you’ll come back for a proper examination after things have settled down. If not, you won’t leave this room - sir.”

“Yes, ma’am, I promise.”

She studied his eyes for a moment to make sure they were clear and then gave him a nod. “Come back if you feel unsteady on your feet.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

She picked up a small pair of scissors and then began to clip away a bit of fur from his wound. Satisfied the bleeding had stopped and there was a generous supply of salve on the cut, she picked up a roll of gauze and began to wrap it around the perimeter of his head and down to cover the area.

A moment later, she gestured for him to stand up. Aramis got to his feet and felt his balance hold, much to his relief. He gave her a smile of thanks and said, “You remind me of Ginger,” he said pleasantly. “She followed orders well enough, but whenever I got injured, she was stern and didn’t care whether or not I was the captain.”

“I like this Ginger,” Dallas said with a smile. “Who is she?”

“A longtime friend who made herself a part of my crew on the Silverthorne without asking,” Aramis replied.

“Where is she now?”

“Dead… with just about the rest of my old crew.” The wolf fell silent and then looked over at the Papillion with a sad expression. “Thank you, Dallas. I’ll let you know if I can’t hold myself up.”

“You’re welcome, sir,” she replied quietly.

Aramis put a hand on her shoulder briefly and then walked out into the narrow corridor. He still felt a little dazed, but then a sudden realization coursed a chill down his spine and almost made his knees weak. He had told Dallas about Ginger without even thinking about it!

With that realization in mind, he found that he could remember a great many things that had been elusive to him just a short while ago.

He stopped next to a bulkhead, searched his memories for other things, and found that he could grasp everything that he sought after. He could remember! He remembered all the faces of his crew from the Silverthorne... the explosion and crash… the feelings of remorse on their deaths… and…. his partnership with Randon, a cougar he had known and trusted for years.

He stood up straight and set his jaw defiantly.  Randon.

The intercom suddenly chirped and he looked for the nearest microphone as Errol’s voice announced over the ship-wide speakers, “Captain Thorne, please respond.”

Aramis spied a microphone and thumbed the call switch. “This is Thorne.”

“The damaged sections have been sealed off from the rest of the ship, but we will have to make repairs to the outer hull before we can enter a planet’s atmosphere. The breach will tear us apart without the heat shields in place. Even if we can make decent repairs in space, I doubt we will ever be able to use that hatch again without a major overhaul. There was too much structural damage to the surrounding area.”

“How long will it take to be atmosphere-worthy again?” Thorne asked.

“With the materials we have on hand? Three days with the proper help.”

“Three days, eh?  Volunteer as many bodies as you need from the crew and get to it as soon as you can.”

“Aye, sir.”

Aramis hung up the microphone and continued toward the bridge. Now that his memories had returned, he found himself mulling over past events. He had only taken a few steps when he wondered, Where was Scarlet?

He neared the bridge and heard an argument in progress. Crandall’s voice was raised in agitation, while Goro’s replies were shouted back in clipped syllables.

“Just what do you think we’re out here for?” Karla exclaimed. “I didn’t sign up just for a cruise around the neighborhood!”

“Do you think the captain planned it to come out this way?” Goro shot back.

“What kind of threat is a warning shot? If he’d let me disable them, we wouldn’t be the ones with a crippled ship!”

Thorne stepped onto the bridge and both of them fell quiet instantly. Crandall lowered her ears and her tail, sitting down upon her busted chair. Harada remained standing, his arms crossed and his feet wide apart.

“A warning shot is what I ordered,” he said in a low voice.

“Yes, but—”

“She’s right, you know,” said another voice.

The captain turned and saw Talos leaning against the doorframe. He looked bruised and battered, and the look in his eyes was as dark as Thorne’s.

“What was that?” Aramis growled.

“If you’d disabled the Guarana’s engines as Karla recommended,” Jason said in an even voice, “I wouldn’t have four of my team in the infirmary. That was careless, Captain.”

Thorne’s hackles rose. “Duster, get off my bridge. Now!” he commanded with a menacing growl.

Jason’s brow furrowed and he gritted his teeth with clenched fists. He turned on his heel and disappeared down the corridor without another word.

When Thorne turned around toward the others, he found the four of them staring back at him in surprise.  Farrell swallowed and made a quick glance toward the vacant doorway.

“Duster?” he asked in a quiet voice. “Jason… is Duster?”

Chapter 10

Jason stormed down the dimly lit corridor, his mood as black as his rough fur. He growled at everyone he met, but resisted the urge to snap at them. Even had he not moved like a dark thundercloud, those he encountered were already ill at ease from their defeat by a simple freighter that had not even fired a shot at them. None of them yet knew the failure was due to a poor decision by their captain, but it would only be a matter of time before the crew found out.

As the first officer walked, he began to calm down. Thorne had called him by his old nickname in front of the bridge crew. Had the captain meant to reveal their association, or had it been a slip of the tongue in anger? Jason, or Duster as the crew of the Silverthorne had known him, had served with Aramis Thorne for three years. Their small band had enjoyed successes under Thorne’s command, but the grey wolf had not been acting quite like himself since taking over the Finsternis. He had not shown even the slightest hint of recognition when they had met in the sea cavern, something that had really surprised him.

The last time they had seen one another was on the bridge of the Silverthorne just moments before an explosion in the engine compartment ripped apart their vessel. Due to the resulting news coverage, Jason had known Thorne had survived the destruction, but did not think the captain had been aware that he and Chance had lived through it as he had, though Chance was still having trouble breathing without assistance. Since Thorne had shown no surprise at seeing the black wolf again, he could only surmise that the captain had already known.

Still, it did not add up. If Aramis had been aware that he still lived, why had he not try to contact him afterward? Granted, they had often had their share of arguments, but he never thought it would have amounted to leaving him on the sidelines when Thorne had teamed up with Randon.

Jason shook his head and shoved his hands into his pockets. Thorne must really have a complicated plan in motion, since nothing else made sense. Whatever it was, he hoped he would find out soon enough. If not, it was unlikely the Hoenix would survive long under Thorne’s command.

He looked up when Dallas bumped into him coming out of the infirmary. She looked up with moist eyes and then swallowed hard.

“Uh oh,” the wolf murmured in sudden dread. The nurse shook her head without a word and stepped aside to let him by. Jason’s eyes went to a gurney covered with a sheet, and he approached it in hesitation. He lifted up the edge and peered into the lifeless face of a golden retriever. Tirana’s eyes were closed, but her face looked anything but peaceful, as if her final moment of life had been full of pain. Moisture leaked into the wolf’s cheek fur and he bowed his head quietly. When he looked back at her a moment later, he reached out and stroked the soft fur behind her right ear before he dropped the sheet back into place.

He felt a presence beside him, but he did not stir.

“Sir?” asked a voice.

Jason looked up into the dark eyes of a Doberman. He wiped his cheeks and nodded. “Brian,” he acknowledged. “How are you?”

“I’ll live. Just bumps and bruises,” the canine replied as he put a hand on the gurney. He swallowed lightly and then shook his head. “We lost our prey… and Tirana paid for it. Why?”

Jason set his jaw defiantly and put a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “It was a bad judgment call,” he said, “A careless one.”

“Who made the call?”

“Who do you think?” the first officer replied bitterly.

Brian stared back at him and then the muscles in his throat went taut. “It was the captain,” the Doberman said tersely. Jason did not reply, but the look in his eyes confirmed his supposition. Brian glanced back down at the sheet-covered body beside him and then whispered, “Mistakes are mistakes, but Thorne just killed one of our own. I’m going to make him—”

“Shhhhh!” they heard a voice say. “If those words leave your lips, it could be considered mutiny.” Brian and Jason looked at the diminutive nurse in unison. She walked back into the infirmary with a serious look on her face.

“Dallas, look at Tirana,” the Doberman said. “If not for him, she would still be alive.”

Despite her short stature, the Papillion gave him a menacing stare and crossed her arms. “Risks are part of the piratical life, aren’t they?”

“Yes, but—”

“Tirana knew there would be risks, the same as you. It’s unfortunate that your prey chose to fight back instead of cowering in submission.”

Brian stared back at her darkly, but then his eyes softened after a moment. He nodded reluctantly. “You’re right, of course,” he mumbled.

“You should be blaming the commander of that freighter,” Dallas added, “not Captain Thorne.”

Jason’s expression did not change, however. The smoldering fire in his eyes only strengthened. “There are risks, but there are also precautions,” he said. “The captain ignored a valid recommendation from his bridge crew and now Tirana is dead.”

“Is the captain clairvoyant?” Dallas asked him coldly.

The wolf sneered at her and spat back, “No, but he should be!” Without waiting for further practical arguments from the nurse, Jason turned on his heel and stormed back out into the corridor.

Brian stared after him for a moment and then sat down quietly on the stool next to the gurney. He looked into the nurse’s brown eyes and said in a quiet voice, “I would rather have Jason as captain. At least he cares about his people.”

“I’m in no position of authority,” Dallas told him, “but remember that you signed a contract with Captain Thorne. If he made a mistake, he will learn from it, but you are obligated to follow his commands regardless.”

The Doberman glared at her and then gestured toward the still form under the sheet beside him. “Why are you defending him?” he asked curtly. “You just lost one of your patients to his carelessness!”

“I’m no less grieved by Tirana’s death than you’re, Brian, but read your contract. If you entertain ideas of mutiny, especially after only one incident, I will probably have to hang a toe tag on you before long.”

Uncertainty crept into Brian’s eyes and he slumped against the gurney. “You’re right,” he said. “I knew about Captain Thorne’s reputation, but I wanted to come along anyway.”

Dallas put a hand on his shoulder. “Give it some time before you even think about doing anything,” she said. “Don’t be hasty.”

The Doberman nodded quietly and then rested his head against Tirana’s still form. He closed his eyes without saying anything more, and the nurse left him to tend the other patients in her care.

***

When Aramis Thorne turned toward the others on the bridge, he found the four of them staring back at him in surprise. Farrell swallowed and made a quick glance toward the vacant doorway.

“Duster?” he asked in a quiet voice. “Jason… is Duster?”

“Yes,” the captain confirmed, “Mr. Talos has also been known as Duster, my former pilot of the Silverthorne. Now, get Mr. Colfax on the horn.”

“Aye, sir.”

“The rest of you check your stations. Make sure you have control over your systems.”

“Aye sir,” the others said in unison.

The intercom chirped and Aramis picked up the microphone. “Bridge.”

“This is Colfax, Captain.”

“How soon until we can get underway?”

“Anytime, Captain, but we may reach Quet before our makeshift repairs from the inside are ready to enter the atmosphere.”

“Is Basil Station still in operation?”

“Hmm… I think so, but I admit I haven’t been to Quet in years.”

“If that old space station is still in orbit, we’ll dock there until we can finish the external repairs.”

“There’s not much we can do to the outer plates while we’re in spatial warp, so that might be a viable stop.”

“Do what you can,” Thorne replied with a look around him. “There may be a change of plans before we get there anyway.”

“Aye, sir. The engines are at your disposal for departure at any time.”

“Thank you.” Thorne hung up the microphone and said to the bridge crew, “If your systems are okay, resume course.”

“Course to Quet is still in the computer,” Miklos reported, double-checking the readings. “Adjustments in course to Basil Station will be recomputed thirty minutes before arrival to determine its orbital position.”

“ETA?”

“Estimated time of arrival is two hours, ten minutes,” Mik replied.

“Reorienting to original course now,” Goro said.

Aramis watched the screen until the pale disc of Quet slid into view and then he rubbed his eyes. Now that the adrenaline rush of confrontation had diminished, he became aware of the throbbing at the base of his skull. He knew that he needed to sort out a few things before he made any more command decisions, especially now that his memories had returned and he remembered why his partnership with Randon had failed.

“Mr. Lightner,” he said wearily, fingering his bandage, “I’m going back to my cabin. Contact Mr. Colfax for anything short of an emergency.”

“Aye sir.”

Thorne stepped out into the narrow passage and headed toward the cross-corridor that would take him back to his cabin. When he reached the corner, his way was blocked by a dark shape and he looked up into the yellow eyes of his first officer. Thorne began to step around him irritably, but the black-furred wolf moved quickly.

Talos brought his elbow up hard against the captain’s jaw and then tried to put a fist into his stomach. Thorne was dazed from the blow to his jaw, but he instinctively snared the fist and wrenched it to the side without even thinking.

Jason let out an involuntary yelp of pain, but brought up his other fist and drove it down against the side of Thorne’s face. Both of them stumbled back, but the captain recovered enough to launch himself at the other. The wolves collapsed to the deck as people began to gather in the narrow space to see what was going on.

Aramis knelt on top of Jason and pressed one knee into the middle of his chest. Jason gasped for air and tried to push him off, but Thorne slugged down at him hard. The grey wolf’s knee slipped to the side and Aramis fell over against a metal wall, his equilibrium still off. Part of his head bandage slipped down into his eyes and he struggled with it while Talos gasped for breath.

Thorne started to get up on his knees, but Jason kicked out and caught the side of the captain’s snout. Aramis fell over backward over the feet of two canines that had crowded into the corridor to witness the fight of their senior officers.

Talos rolled over to get up onto his hands and knees, but he began coughing from the ache in his chest. When he managed to get it under control, he saw Aramis standing up beside the wall, his legs somewhat unsteady beneath him. More spectators arrived and crowded around them, leaving neither of them any room to retreat.

Thorne put one hand to the wall to hold himself upright. He started toward his first officer with a deep growl. Jason readied his fists and prepared to launch himself at the captain, but the grey wolf was faster despite his injuries and pulled his pistol from its holster. He leveled the barrel of the automatic weapon just out of reach at Jason’s forehead, glaring at him and breathing hard. His tail was up and his ears forward, presenting his position as alpha.

Someone shoved through the crowded corridor and stopped out in the front. Dallas’ eyes grew wide at the harried condition of the two wolves and swallowed hard at the sight of the pistol. She knew enough about guns to note that the safety was off and the captain’s finger was hard up against the trigger.

“Stop!” she shouted. She started forward, but Thorne swung his free hand up and pointed it at her without taking his eyes from his adversary.

“Dallas, stay where you’re,” he commanded. The nurse stopped and swallowed hard as the wolf’s eyes bore into the first officer. “Now, Mr. Talos,” he said in a scratchy voice, “give me a reason why I shouldn’t put a bullet into your brain for mutiny.”

Jason laid his ears back and dropped his gaze to the floor. He did not reply to the captain’s words, but he did relax the muscles in his legs and let his tail lay limp on the floor beside him.

Brian pushed his way through the crowd until he stepped out beside Dallas. He saw the situation and took a tentative step forward, but the Papillion put out a hand and stopped him with a touch.

“Aramis,” Jason said in a low voice, “I served under you on the Silverthorne and we had a successful business, but those days are over.” There was a collective intake of breath from those gathered in the narrow corridor. Most of them expected an immediate gunshot report, but Thorne did not do anything more than continue to stare at him furiously. “You have changed,” Jason added as he looked up at the captain. “You no longer know how to lead.”

“Stand up,” Thorne said tonelessly. The madness in his eyes had abated somewhat, but there was no doubt in anyone’s mind who saw them that he was still quite dangerous.

As Jason slowly got to his feet, Thorne kept the barrel of his pistol trained directly between the black wolf’s eyes. “Mr. Bova,” he said with a growl.

“Yes sir?” the Doberman responded.

“Escort Mr. Talos to the cargo hold and wait for me there.” Brian exchanged glances with Jason and then he nodded to the captain.

“Aye, sir,” he said.

Jason tilted his head to the side to cast a questioning look at Thorne, but when he received no response, he turned and pushed his way through the crowd with Brian behind him.

Aramis relaxed his arm, thumbed the safety on his pistol and then walked deliberately to an intercom microphone. He thumbed a white button beside the station and then keyed the mike. “All hands, all hands,” he broadcast in a ship-wide message. “Stop whatever you’re doing and gather on the cargo deck. Bridge, put the systems on automatic with sensor alarms, and get down there too. I repeat, all hands are to gather on the cargo deck – this means everyone. Right now.”

He shut off the connection and immediately the circuit chirped at him. He thumbed a different button and raised the microphone back to his mouth. “What is it?” he growled.

“Errol here, Captain. What’s going on? My people are in the middle of repairs and can’t get away from what they’re doing.”

“Mr. Colfax,” Thorne said irritably, “when I said All Hands, I meant everyone.”

There was a long pause before the Labrador answered. “Aye, Captain... Give me a few minutes to get them out of the crawl spaces.”

“Granted.”

When Thorne hung up the microphone, he looked around and noted that the small crowd was still gathered nearby. He leveled an arm in the direction that Jason and Brian had taken and then shouted, “Move!”

Bodies scrambled quickly past him and he was finally alone. No, upon second glance, he was not alone. A solitary figure stared out at him from the dim corridor.

Thorne opened his mouth, but his tirade caught in his throat when he realized it was the younger grey wolf. He gestured him closer and raised an eyebrow. The supply clerk stepped forward, his gaze questioning.

“What happened?” the younger wolf asked quietly.

Thorne shook his head and ignored the question to ask one of his own. “Cinjin,” he spoke in a calmer voice, “where is your mother?”

The question took the youth by surprise, as it had nothing to do with the current situation, but he looked up into the captain’s eyes with a guarded expression. “I don’t know,” he said quietly. “She didn’t always tell me when she was leaving. I haven’t seen her since we were in Hoenix.”

“You never did get along with her very well, did you?”

Cinjin shook his head after a brief hesitation and admitted, “Not even when I was a pup. I’ve always preferred to be near you instead.”

Aramis nodded absently, the wheels of thought turning in his mind. He set his jaw after a moment and then looked back at the younger wolf when the bridge crew approached in the corridor. “Time to settle affairs,” he said.

“The bridge is secure and on automatic activity,” Goro reported when he saw the wolves.

“Very good,” Thorne replied.

“What’s going on?” Miklos asked as he fell in step behind the coyote. The captain did not respond to his question, so the terrier shrugged his shoulders and continued walking. Aramis waited until everyone had passed and then he gestured to Cinjin.

“Let’s go,” he said. The supply clerk followed behind Crandall, who glanced over her shoulder at the captain with a frown.

“May I speak?” she asked quietly.

Thorne raised an eyebrow and nodded. “Keep it short,” he replied.

“Is it wise to leave the bridge unattended?” she asked.

“So long as the sensor alarms are active to alert us to trouble, the bridge will be fine for what we need to do,” the wolf answered.

“What is it we need to do?” Miklos tried again as he turned the corner that would take them to the lift. A small crowd stood by, waiting their turn to descend.

“I will explain momentarily,” Thorne replied as he bypassed the lift and went to an adjacent ladder. He stepped into the shaft and climbed down to the lower levels. Mik and Goro exchanged looks and then followed their leader.

Crandall pulled Cinjin to the side and whispered, “What’s going on?”

“The captain did not tell me his plans,” the young wolf replied.

“What were you two talking about?” the gunner pressed him. “Surely he must confide in you.”

Cinjin gave her a strange look. “Why would he confide in me?” he asked. “I’m only a supply clerk.”

“Because you’re both wolves,” the husky said with her hands on her hips. She looked at him as if her statement had been too obvious to mention.

“Do you think that matters to him?” Cinjin asked in a quiet whisper. “He doesn’t even confide in his first officer, and they used to serve together.”

“Okay then, what were you two talking about?”

Cinjin was growing intimidated by her whispered interrogation. “He asked me about my mother,” he answered. “Nothing more.”

“He knows your mother?” Crandall asked.

“You could say that,” the wolf replied. “He’s married to her.”

Crandall looked at him in shock. “Then... that means....”

“Right,” Cinjin said with a shrug. “He’s my father, but that doesn’t give me any special privileges with him. Listen, everyone else has gone downstairs. If we want to know what he has planned, I suggest we go down there and see for ourselves.”

Crandall gave him a sour look, but nodded her head. “I suppose you’re right.” Without another word, she stepped into the empty lift and beckoned him to join her.

When they reached the cargo hold a few moments later, all crew members of the Hoenix were standing in a circle around the captain.

Thorne noted their arrival and then looked around. “Is that everyone?” he asked. Several more bodies arrived and Aramis saw Colfax give him a nod. Thorne turned and located Jason and Brian who were quietly whispering to one another.

“Mr. Talos,” he said in a voice that carried throughout the hold. “Please join me out here in the circle.”

Jason glanced around the assembled crew and then stepped out hesitantly toward the captain. He stopped a few paces away from the grey wolf, his tail down and ears lowered.

Thorne reached for his holster and pulled out the pistol. Jason looked alarmed and voices murmured throughout the crowd. Am I about to be publicly executed? the first officer thought to himself.

“Mr. Ringo!” Thorne said.

“Here, Cap’n,” called the beagle’s voice. He walked out of the crowd and nervously wiped his hands on his cooking apron. When he neared the wolf, Aramis held the firearm out to him, handle-first.

“Hold this for me,” the captain said. “Let no one else touch it.”

“Aye, sir!” Ringo took the pistol in relief and then faded back into the crowd as all eyes watched the two wolves in the center arena.

“Mr. Talos doesn’t accept my authority as captain of this ship and crew,” Thorne announced in a carrying voice. “Going against his word and his contract, he has challenged me for command.” The room had fallen completely silent, and Jason continued to look around nervously.

“Mutiny… is punishable by death,” Thorne continued. “However, I am aware there are a number of you who would also prefer either Mr. Talos or Mr. Colfax in command instead of me. The difference is that rather than acting upon the risk of a death sentence for mutiny, you have remembered your places under contract.”

Thorne looked around at the faces surrounding him and could see it in their eyes. “Under naval law established centuries ago, I would be within my right to execute Mr. Talos right now, but I am sure others would begin plotting my demise once his body hit the deck.” He turned and fixed his piercing stare at the black wolf.

“Before this vessel can function properly, there must be authority and order, so I am prepared to take on Mr. Talos’ challenge right here and now for command of the Hoenix.” Whispers and murmurs broke out in the gathered crowd and Jason looked up in surprise at Thorne.

“This is between Mr. Talos and me,” Thorne said. “Nobody interferes, nobody interrupts… and nobody quits until one of us surrenders or is dead.” He spat the last word with particular venom, his steely gaze locked on his opponent.

 ”No! I won’t allow this!” Dallas shouted. The little Papillion stepped out into the circle, but the grey wolf whirled toward her furiously.

“Shut up and get back!” he bellowed. The nurse cowered at the sudden ferocity in his eyes and did as she was told. Thorne turned back to Jason and began to unbutton his shirt. “You tried to take me down in a secluded corridor,” he said. “If you had succeeded, would you have killed me before taking command?”

Jason stood up straight, but shook his head. “No, I’ve known you too long and too well to take the coward’s way out. I would have only locked you up out of the way until we could dump you off on Quet.”

 ”You should have intended to kill me,” the captain said to him in an almost conversational tone. “Betrayal is the worst kind of cowardice because you don’t have the courage to stab someone in the front. Need I remind you what happened to Grunhido Da Aranha?”

Jason looked surprised, but then his expression grew dark. “I remember Grunhido...” he growled.

Thorne tossed his shirt to the side and pulled the wrap from his head. He ignored the throbbing at the base of his skull and gave his former pilot his full attention. He walked casually to Talos and stood close before his shipmate. For a long time the two shared an icy, vengeful glance, neither moving nor taking his eye off the other. The others in the room could sense the tension rising between them as each waited for the other to move. Someone coughed. Talos broke his gaze and Thorne slammed a fist into his jaw.

Jason reeled around, taken by surprise. Still somewhat dazed from their earlier encounter, he stumbled over his feet, but somehow managed to stay upright. Ambling up, he faced the captain squarely and feigned a right hook, sweeping down as he kicked up and out, slamming his heel into the wolf’s breast and sending him across the floor to collapse in a pile of limbs.

Thorne whirled up, launching himself at Jason, and grappled with him to the ground. The pair struggled intensely, Thorne crushing his opponent in a bear hug that threatened to crack the smaller one’s ribs. Jason gasped for air… it was all he could do to keep breathing with those huge sinews squeezing the life out of him. Grinding his teeth, he saw an opening and slammed the flat of his hand against Thorne’s wounded and bleeding head.

Aramis’ vision went white with blinding pain, and his grip slackened enough for Jason to deliver a second blow to the head. Thorne rolled away, dazed, and Talos took a quick moment to catch his breath in deep gasps. The pair began to notice the calls and cries of those around them—mostly boos and jeers that Jason had taken such a cheap shot at the already wounded captain.

Thorne started to turn back to him, so Jason kicked out at him. The toe of his boot caught the captain in the shoulder and Aramis fell backward against the deck. Jason knew that if Thorne were to get a moment to regain his senses, the black wolf would not get another chance. He got up on his knees and drove a punch into Thorne’s side.

Fortunately for Aramis, there had not been much power behind the punch due to the angle from which Jason had thrown it. Instead of disabling the captain, it only caused him minor discomfort. Thorne rolled away from the first officer and willed himself to stand up, albeit shakily.

He allowed Jason to get to his feet in front of him, but before the black wolf could gather himself, Thorne stepped forward, feinted with one fist, and then slugged Jason’s right cheek with the other. Talos spun around and fell back to his knees. Thorne kicked his left hip bone and knocked him over hard. Jason closed his eyes in pain, but did not want to remain there on the floor.

He got up on his hands and knees and glared back at the captain wearily. Thorne grimaced from his own pains and looked as if he might fall over at any moment.

Jason kept one good eye trained on the grey wolf as he stood up. He raised both fists and approached the captain, his jaw set defiantly. He swung a fist at Thorne, but the commander snatched the extended wrist. Aramis turned quickly and twisted the arm hard. Jason yelled out in pain and yanked his hand back to his chest. It was the same wrist injured in their earlier scuffle.

Thorne had trouble breathing, so he had to end this quickly. Jason cradled his injured wrist against him, and that gave Aramis an opening for one last attack before he might collapse. He punched Talos once in the stomach, and when the black wolf doubled over, Thorne brought his other fist up against Jason’s jaw.

The first officer dropped to his knees and rolled over onto his side, coughing hard with his eyes clenched shut.

Thorne stood over Jason, his chest heaving as he panted. He clenched both fists, but it was more for show since there was no strength left in them. His head throbbed, muscles all over his body ached, and he knew that he would not be able to go on much longer. The crowd around them had fallen silent, all eyes watching for the outcome of the challenge.

Jason coughed again and rubbed a hand over his face. One eye was swelling shut and blood dribbled from his nostrils. He was disoriented, dizzy and short of breath, but when he looked around the quiet faces surrounding them, he felt he had to do something, strength to do it or not. He tried to get up, but his left wrist would not support his weight. He lay back again and then looked up at the grey wolf standing over him. The captain looked as bad as he felt, but now that it had come down to the end, it was Thorne who was still standing.

Jason licked his swollen lips and swallowed. “Sir,” he said in a hoarse voice, “I submit… I am at… your mercy.”

Aramis studied him for a moment and then relaxed the tension in his fists. “Are you going to follow my orders?” he asked.

“Yes sir,” Jason replied through thick lips.

The captain nodded again and then extended a hand to the black wolf. “I accept your submission,” he said. Jason took his hand gladly and Aramis helped him to his feet, as much as his own strength would allow. Thorne did not smile, but there was a hint of respect for the black wolf in his expression. He looked at him for a long moment and then gave him a slight nod. “You will resume your duties as soon as you’re able.”

“Aye, sir,” Jason answered in relief. He had been sure that if he had lost the challenge, he might be either jettisoned from an airlock or dumped out on Quet to fend for himself. He had not expected leniency from the captain. Aramis Thorne had changed.

Thorne stepped out toward the center of the circle and looked around at his assembled crew. “Does anyone else intend to challenge me for the Hoenix?” he said in a raised voice. “I am tired and vulnerable right now… an easy target.”

Not one voice uttered a single word, and no one stepped forward. When he peered around the crowd at the faces, eyes dropped in submission. Only Colfax returned his gaze fully, but he merely gave the captain a wink and shook his head. The wolf nodded in return and then looked again at his people.

“Right, then,” he said aloud. “This matter is closed. Remember your places and go back to what you were doing.”

Almost immediately, the crowd turned and began to disperse amidst murmurs of sudden discussion. Dallas rushed forward and stopped before Aramis and Jason. She shook her head disapprovingly and then pointed toward the crowded lift.

“I want you both in my infirmary, right now,” she commanded with one hand on her hip. The two wolves looked at one another and exchanged looks of weary amusement.

“Yes, ma’am,” they said to her in unison. The short Papillion turned and led them toward the crowd. They followed as ordered.

“Sir,” Jason said quietly to the captain, “You will have no more trouble from me. I don’t think anyone else will challenge you either.”

“That’s good to know,” Aramis replied. “Duster, I’m just as sorry as you are for our losses, but I need you with me, not against me.”

Jason looked at him with new respect. “I am with you, sir.”

“Cap’n!”

Thorne turned to see Ringo approach. The captain’s pistol lay flat across the palms of both hands as he held it up to him. “Here is your firearm, sir.”

“I don’t think Dallas will let me have it in her infirmary,” he said as he tried to manage a wink. The action was painful, so he nodded instead. “Please stow it in my quarters.”

“Aye, sir, I will,” the beagle responded. Ringo put the pistol in the large pocket of his cooking apron and then waited in line behind them for the lift.

***

A half hour later, Aramis closed the door to his cabin behind him. His head was bandaged once again and he had been treated for numerous cuts and bruises. Fortunately for him, he had broken no bones, but Jason had not been so lucky. His left wrist was broken in two places with minor fractures.

Thorne’s head throbbed, despite the medication Dallas had given him, and he wanted nothing more than to lie down and rest. He kicked off his boots, struggled out of his shirt, and then shut off the light. He lay flat on his back and gently put his head down on his pillow with closed eyes.

An hour later, he heaved a heavy sigh. Despite his physical exhaustion, he had been unable to sleep. His mind was just too active. With a groan, he sat up and turned on a table lamp. He cast an accusing glare at the black box on the bedside table and then reached for the pistol that Tyler had set on top of it.

He picked up the gun and released the ammo clip into his palm. All the rounds were there, but he felt suspicious. He flipped the ammunition out into his hand until the clip was empty and then leaned over toward the lamp.

Upon each round was a tiny mark he had made with the tip of a knife several nights ago. The scratch extended from the brass casing onto the lead bullet and was barely noticeable. Had they been tampered with or replaced, the mark would have been mismatched or missing altogether. Satisfied they were the original rounds, Thorne reloaded the clip and shoved it back into the handle.

Setting the firearm aside, he then pulled the locked black box over to him. He made himself get up and go to his closet. He reached into a pocket of his old travel cloak and pulled out the tiny key that had fit the locks on his cases in the sacrificial pit. He took it back to the box and unlocked it.

Aramis sat down on the bed and put the box in his lap. He picked up the first thing he saw, a photograph. The scene was a green park beside a blue lake in the springtime on Dennier. Calla trees were in full bloom and their orange blossoms littered the ground. Standing beside the huge trunk of a gnarled old tree were four wolves and a cougar. Aramis and his wife, Scarlet stood with their arms around one another. Their ten-year-old son stood beside them, staring up at his parents despite the camera. Next to Cinjin was another lupine woman who had been Scarlet’s lifelong friend. Despite the piratical life they led, Jenda followed Scarlet everywhere, hoping that one day she would find her own life mate. Finishing off the group was a broad-shouldered cougar who smiled straight at the camera. Zef Randon.

Aramis stared at Randon’s face for a long time before he set it aside. Their lifelong trust and understanding had come to a test, and the resulting split caused the wolf’s brow to furrow. He wished things had turned out differently, but it was unlikely that something like a sell-out could be mended between them.

There were more photos in the box and he studied them all one by one. Despite being at the bottom of Castle Bay for the past two months, there was no sign that water had ever penetrated the seal of the container. The last photo was a group portrait of him and the crew of the Silverthorne. Despite the local reputation he had made for himself in Castelrosso, his throat constricted at the sight of his former crew. Of those who had served with him there, the only known survivors were Duster and himself. He had not even known Duster had lived through it until his memories had returned and he discovered that it was his own first officer of the Hoenix. His memories prior to the sacrificial pit had all finally returned, but he also remembered the events since as well.

He cleared his throat and set the photos on the mattress beside him. He reached into the box and pulled out a worn, hardcover notebook held together with an elastic band. He removed the band and opened up to the notes that had become the beginning of the end between him and Randon.

Aramis Thorne had long been fascinated with the histories of the various civilizations around the worlds of the Planetary Alignment. He had never heard of Hoenix or King Chaaq when he had first arrived in Castelrosso, but after hearing tales of its legends, he had become infatuated with finding out all he could. He never dreamed he would actually find the lost city, but he had been thorough in his research. Over the years, the enthusiasm had died, but he always kept an eye or ear out for any morsel of information that might come his way. Handwritten notes from his studies filled the notebook.

Randon had long been aware of the wolf’s fascination with the lost city, and had used this to his advantage when word of an expedition to locate its ruins spread throughout Castelrosso by men associated with a human named Victor Faltane.

Aramis grunted at the memories and dropped the notebook back into the box. There were other personal items inside, but he did not feel like reminiscing further tonight. He put the photos in on top of the notes and then closed and locked the lid. He slid the box beneath his bunk, returned the key to the closet, and then shut out the light.

Chapter 11

Aramis awoke with a start when the door to his cabin opened and light from the corridor filtered in across his face. Someone opened the door wide and then shut it again after slipping inside without turning on the cabin lamp.

The wolf’s pistol was immediately in hand. “Identify,” he said.

“It’s Dallas,” said the Papillion’s voice. “I brought your breakfast.”

Aramis set the pistol back on the bedside table and turned on the lamp. He rubbed his eyes and Dallas set a covered tray of food on the foot of his bed. She wore a red cotton robe, the same one she had on the previous night. He sighed when he saw her.

“Dallas…”

“Don’t be alarmed,” the nurse said with a smile when she realized his train of thought. “I’m not here to warm your bed, only your stomach. This is just what I had on when I went down to the galley for my own breakfast.”

Thorne cleared his throat and rubbed his eyes again. He looked at a wall clock and realized that he had been asleep for nearly ten hours. Sore muscles complained when he sat up and looked over at the tray, suddenly feeling hungry.

“Thank you,” he said in a hoarse voice. Dallas uncovered the tray and revealed beefsteak cooked rare, two hard-boiled eggs, buttered toast and black coffee. Beside the plate was a small bottle of hot sauce. He managed a smile and picked up the coffee.

“To what do I owe this pleasure?” he asked after taking a sip. He rarely found coffee to taste as rich as it smelled, but Ringo had a special blend that was perfect.

“Mr. Colfax ordered that both you and Mr. Talos were to be left alone to rest for eight hours,” she explained. “Tyler knew you would both be hungry when you woke up, so he prepared breakfast for you. I volunteered to bring yours and he took a tray to Jason.”

Thorne looked at her sideways. “After the way I’ve snapped at you lately, I wouldn’t have thought you would grace my cabin again unless I called for you.”

The small canine gave him a crooked smile. “From what I’ve heard others say about you, snapping at people is normal for you.” Thorne raised an eyebrow at her as he took a bite of his toast. “Anyway,” she continued, “I wanted to check up on your health. How are you feeling?”

Aramis took a drink of his coffee and did a mental inventory of his aches and pains. “I’m sore,” he admitted, “but that goes with the choices I made. My shoulders are awfully tight. I should have asked you for a muscle-relaxer.”

Dallas crawled onto the bed, mindful not to upset the tray of food, and moved behind the captain. She stood up on her knees and then lightly massaged his shoulders. Thorne held his coffee cup in his lap and closed his eyes.

“My shoulders are so sore...” he murmured.

“Do you want me to stop?”

“No… I need it. Please continue.”

Dallas smiled and kneaded the muscles along his neck and shoulders. She could feel the tightness begin to relax after a few minutes and he leaned back against her. Her experienced fingers dug down in through his double layers of fur and found all the little knots to work on.

“Thank you,” he said after a little while.

The Papillion rested her hands on his back and replied in a quiet voice, “You’re welcome. Is there anything else I can do for you, Captain?”

Aramis did not reply immediately, but then he opened his eyes and reached for the bottle of hot sauce. “No,” he said as he dribbled the thick, red liquid over his beefsteak. “Thank you.”

Dallas nodded and then moved back around to the edge of the bed to sit down next to him. She put her hands in her lap and sat quietly, her eyes staring off into infinity. Thorne ate the rest of his breakfast in quiet contemplation before he realized she was still beside him.

“Dallas?” he asked.

The nurse shook her head, as if to rouse herself from a daze. “Yes, Captain?”

“Is there something on your mind?”

She looked up at him and nodded. “May I ask you a personal question, sir?”

“What is it?” Aramis looked at her in simple curiosity. She saw no anger at an invasion of privacy and felt encouraged enough to go ahead with her question.

“Sir,” she said, “I’ve heard rumors that you have a son on board the ship. Is this true?”

Aramis chuckled and answered, “Yes, Dallas, it’s Cinjin Thorne, our supply clerk.”

“I never knew his family name. Why didn’t you tell anyone?”

The wolf looked at her in amusement. “It was no secret,” he said. “If Cinjin chose not to tell anyone, that was his decision, not mine. He doesn’t get any special treatment for being on board.”

“I see,” Dallas said quietly.

“I told you I had a mate,” Aramis reminded her. “Wolves mate for life and we honor the concept of family. It was only natural that we would have pups.”

Dallas smiled and felt embarrassed. “Yes, I should have realized that. Does Cinjin have any siblings?”

Aramis frowned and picked up his coffee cup. He drained its contents and then stared into its empty depths. “He had a brother and two sisters in his litter, but all were stillborn. Cinjin was the smallest, the runt of his litter, but he was the only one to survive. We had another litter a couple years later, but none of them survived. Scarlet and I stopped trying after that, deciding it was best not to create and kill any more pups.”

“That’s awful!” Dallas said in a whisper.

Thorne looked over at her and nodded. “We assumed there was a medical reason our pups had a high mortality rate, but we never bothered to research it further. It wasn’t long after when we moved from Dennier to Brandt, seeking our fortune in Siilv. Of course, that was also about the time that Brandt’s Siilv deposits dried up and the economy fell out from under the whole planet.”

“Is that why you became a pirate?” Dallas asked hesitantly.

Aramis chuckled. “Not right away, but I suppose it played a part later on. With the Silverthorne and my crew, I did maintain a legitimate business, but small pirating forays were made later only to supplement the income so I could experiment and improve the LightDrive systems of the ship. During those times, I was more interested in the technologies I could acquire from other ships than I was in the money.” He smiled and added, “That’s what happens when an engineer gets obsessed with his vessel. I was really distraught when I lost the Silverthorne. I’d put a lot of work into that ship.”

“Did you ever find out who did it?”

The wolf nodded. “I did, but someone else got to them before I could do anything with the information. I assume retaliation was taken by the government of the officials we were supposed to escort that day.”

He glanced over at his clock and realized just how much he had been talking. He set his cup down on the meal tray. “Do I have your permission to return to duty?”

The Papillion nodded and stood up in front of him. “Let me change your bandages first, and then I will let you go back to your bridge.”

“Fair enough,” the captain replied. “What is our operational status?”

Dallas reached up and began to remove the bandage wrap from his head. “We’re currently docked at Basil Station over Quet,” she replied, “but the place is deserted. Errol found it still operational, the systems in standby mode. His team got the place powered up and they’re using it as a base for the repair work.”

“Very good,” Thorne replied. “How are the repairs going?”

The last of the bandages came free in the nurse’s hands and she set them on the bed beside her. “You’ll have to talk to your engineer about that,” she said as she examined his head wound, “but I heard one of the mechanics on break in the galley mention that the external damage wasn’t as bad as they’d thought. This is a tough ship.”

She pulled a small tube of ointment from the pocket of her robe and applied a bit of it to the cut on his head. She then produced a bandage roll and began to redress his wound. As she worked, the sash of her robe fell away and the garment opened fully. Beneath it, she wore a pair of dainty pink panties and nothing else. With her hands busy on his head, she clucked her tongue, unable to close the robe. Aramis did not turn away, but kept his hands to himself. After a moment, he became lost in thought, not even looking at the display before him.

Dallas finished with the bandage and retied her robe, studying the vacant expression on his face.

“Captain?”

“Hmm?” he responded quietly before he glanced up at her.

“What do we do now?”

“What do you mean?”

“You told everyone we would have a test flight to Quet before we got down to the business of this vessel. Now that we have arrived, what now?”

“I was just thinking about that,” Aramis admitted to her. “There is something that’s been on my mind lately that could affect our course of action, but I need to talk to someone first.”

“Jason?”

Thorne shook his head and then stood up. “Cinjin.”

***

The planet Quet sat like a solitary grey pearl in space. Even on the sunlit side of the small, moonless world, the terrain stretched on like a featureless blank. Pollution-saturated clouds swirled across its surface and even the planet’s brown oceans reflected little light of the sun from the distance of spatial orbit. Often referred to as the Dump, Quet was the poorest of the Planetary Alignment worlds. Decades ago, an environmental disaster destroyed most life on the planet and left the atmosphere mildly toxic, though breathable. Quet’s only remaining asset to the Alignment was its abundant source of micranite, used in the containment shielding in LightDrive engines.

“Cinjin Thorne, report to the captain’s quarters.”

The young grey wolf took his eyes from the vidscreen and looked up in surprise at the overhead intercom speaker. He had not expected an audience with the captain.

As he moved through the corridors, Cinjin could feel curious eyes upon him as he passed by. It appeared he had made a mistake in admitting his relation to their captain to Crandall, because now it was all over the ship. It had never really been a secret, but now that it had been brought to their attention, the crew was now looking at him differently and Farrell’s summons over the ship-wide intercom system made the situation more uneasy.

He turned a corner and ran head-on into Kio Kudara, the ship’s secondary pilot. Goro had relieved her of duty and she had just left the bridge.

“Sorry,” the wolf muttered.

Kio grabbed him lightly by the arm and gave him a strange grin. “On your way to see your daddy, kiddo?” she teased.

Unperturbed, Cinjin merely raised an eyebrow and replied, “Yeah.”

Taken aback, Kio had expected a different response at her taunt so she released his arm and continued on her way with a frown. A thin smile appeared on Cinjin’s face. He had enjoyed stealing the thunder from her attempt to provoke him. He walked on to the captain’s quarters and then knocked on the door.

“Identify,” stated a voice from the other side of the panel.

“Cinjin Thorne, reporting as ordered.”

“Enter.”

The young wolf opened the door and saw Aramis sitting on the edge of his bunk, looking into the interior of a black box on his lap. He moved inside and shut the door behind him. There was no room for an extra chair, so he stood by the door and put his hands behind him.

“You wanted to see me?” he asked with lowered ears.

Aramis set his box aside and looked up at him. “Yes, son, I did.” Cinjin’s eyes widened at that. It was the first time the captain had actually acknowledged him as his offspring in a long time. “Have a seat,” Aramis said with a gesture toward the other end of the bunk. Cinjin moved to the bed and sat down stiffly.

“I’ve not had any real time to visit with you since this ship came into the picture,” Aramis said, “but I’ve been busy.”

“As usual,” the younger wolf added.

Thorne raised an eyebrow at him, but let the comment slide. “How have you been?” he asked.

Cinjin opened his mouth and then closed it again. He thought for a moment and then tried once more. “It hasn’t been easy,” he admitted. “I didn’t know what happened to you after we got back from Hoenix. Even after I saw you in the cavern, neither you nor Mom came back home. I thought you might be on the run from someone, so I decided to vacate the house too.”

Aramis studied him for a moment, wondering if he should tell him about his amnesia. Cinjin would likely understand, but he was not ready to make that information public just yet, even to his own son. The knowledge could still be used against him.

“Yes, a lot has happened since we found the old city,” he said. “How did you get home?”

“The same way you did, on board the Cliffhanger, when we brought back all those artifacts.”

Aramis’ expression grew dark. “I wasn’t on the Cliffhanger when it left Hoenix,” he said. “Randon and I… had a falling out. He then had his mob beat me and they left me for dead in the city.”

Cinjin looked shocked. “He left you for dead?” he asked incredulously. “You two have been best friends since before I was born!”

Aramis nodded. “Yes, we trusted one another completely, but then that trust was compromised when Faltane came onto the scene.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Cinjin said. “I know that Randon met with Faltane’s point of contact when we got back to Castelrosso, and sold him all the artifacts we brought back.”

“Mr. Tavish?”

“No, it was Wilcox.”

“Wilcox?  The brown bear that manages the Minniti Spaceport operations?”

“Yeah, that’s him.”

“That’s interesting. How did they treat you on the Cliffhanger after you left the city?”

Cinjin raised both eyebrows. “I don’t think any of them really saw me,” he said. “They were too busy partying for having found Hoenix. I spent my time in a cabin with Astina for the flight back. I just assumed that you, Mom and Jenda were all somewhere on the ship, celebrating with Randon.”

“I had to walk back to Castelrosso on my own,” Aramis told him with a growl. “Randon has since left Brandt, but he will soon have to answer to me.”

“Is that why you put together a crew for this ship?” Cinjin asked. “I wondered why you would want an old clunker vessel like this, after how well Faltane paid for the stuff from Hoenix. You could have picked up a newer, better ship.”

“I’m sure the greater part of our share went into Randon’s pockets,” Aramis growled. “None of it will come to me.”

The two wolves fell silent for several long moments, each lost in his thoughts. At the mention of Cinjin’s cabin mate, Aramis recalled the spotted leopard that had fallen from the cliff in the rain. He had not remembered her name at the time, but it was Astina, one of Randon’s crew. No longer haunted by her face in his dreams, he still regretted not being able to save her from slipping over the edge.

Interrupting his thoughts, the intercom chirped. The captain sighed and then reached over for the call switch. “Thorne here, what is it?”

“Sorry to bother you, sir,” Farrell’s voice said from the overhead speaker, “but Cinjin is needed in the supply room to fill parts acquisitions for the repair work. He’s used some kind of shorthand for the inventory that none of us can read.”

“Very well, he’s on his way,” Thorne replied with the hint of a smirk. He shut off the switch and shrugged. “We’ll talk again later when there’s time,” he said to the young wolf. “I need to go talk to Mr. Colfax, too.”

Cinjin gave him a small smile. “Duty calls for the both of us,” he agreed. “Thank you for inviting me here. I enjoy spending time with you, sir.” With a nod, he turned and quickly left the cabin.

Aramis watched the door close and stared at it a long moment before he shook himself from his thoughts. He reached for his black box and took out the top group photo again. As he looked at it again, his eyes first went to Randon with a glare, but then he shifted his gaze to his life mate, Scarlet Thorne.

Where was she? he thought to himself. Cinjin had said that even after getting back to Castelrosso, she had not returned to their home either. His eyes moved back to the picture of Randon and his brow furrowed. If Randon had tried to kill him by having him beaten and then left for dead in the sacrificial pit, he may have done something similar with Scarlet.

Thorne’s hand began to shake. Was Scarlet dead? He did not think that Randon could have done anything like that to her, but then a memory came back to him that filled him with horror. When Aramis had escaped his prison through the hidden passageway, he had climbed over the body of a woman shot and placed in the burial vault. At the time, he had not taken a good look at her after he had crawled out. It had been dark and she had already been dead a while, but now he was almost certain that it was Scarlet.

The photo slipped from Thorne’s fingers and he stared after it mutely, his throat tightening up and his eyes beginning to mist. He clenched his fists and violently cursed Randon’s name loudly to the walls of his cabin before he fell to his knees, feeling hot and sick.

***

A while later, Thorne found Errol at his desk in the engineer’s office located near the lower cargo hatch. Spread out over the Labrador’s desk was a set printout of old structural schematics and he was taking down measurements for his mechanics on his slateboard. He looked up when the grey wolf darkened his doorway.

“Captain,” he said. “How are you feeling?”

Thorne had shed the head wrap that Dallas had put on him, but he could still feel tightness around the area. “Well enough to command,” he replied. “What is our status? How soon can we be away?”

Errol tapped the schematic with his stylus. “Give me another two hours and then we’ll be ready to brave Quet’s foul atmosphere. We’re having trouble getting the replacement hatch to fit the damaged outer frame and are having to make a few modifications. It was an internal hatch for the airlock inside the landing claw compartment that wasn’t designed to go where we’re trying to put it, but it should work well enough with a little coaxing.”

“Can it be done in-flight?”

“Not on a descent into the atmosphere!”

“Forget Quet,” Thorne said with a shake of his head. “We’re going back to Castelrosso. Immediately.”

Errol studied him for a moment and chewed on his bottom lip. “Two hours,” he repeated, “and we can go anywhere in the Planetary Alignment you want, Captain.”

“You didn’t answer my question.”

“No, we cannot finish the replacement of an external hatch while we are in flight,” the engineer replied with a deep frown. “I have Robin, Reese and Jody in EVA with two flobots working on it now. Uninterrupted, they should be finished in just under two hours. All of the internal work is complete.”

Thorne leaned on the door frame and nodded. “Understood,” he said with annoyance. “Two hours.” He started to turn away, but Colfax stopped him by clearing his throat. “Yes?” he growled.

“Sir,” Errol said in a low voice, “morale on board is still low after our defeat by a freighter. I would recommend going after another to boost their spirits before returning to home base.”

Thorne took a deep breath before he answered. “I am no longer concerned with a shakedown cruise for the ship and crew,” he said in irritation, “and I have something far more urgent and important than running down a cargo carrier.”

“Did you get wind of a payroll ship?” Errol asked with raised eyebrows.

“Nothing of the sort,” Thorne replied. “My wife is missing and I am going to find her.”

Errol leaned back in his chair. “Permission to speak freely?” he asked.

“Why not? Everyone else has been free to give me their opinions,” the wolf answered irritably. Colfax stared at him for a long minute. The captain seemed to be constantly annoyed lately and he hesitated to say what was on his mind after that last comment.

“Well?” Thorne prompted with an impatient wave of his hand.

Errol cleared his throat and met the wolf’s amber eyes directly. He set his stylus down on the schematic and then leaned on the desk. “You’re captain and can do anything you want,” he said quietly, “but if you don’t give the crew anything to do besides running back and forth between Brandt and Quet, you may have a lot of disgruntled people on your hands. I don’t think having a brawl on the cargo deck with each of them is in your best interest.”

“Are you planning to lead a mutiny against me?” Thorne asked icily.

“No, sir,” Errol replied. “They all signed up with you for the money and maybe even a little adventure. If there’s no profit in having them on board, they’re likely to bolt at the first opportunity.”

Thorne stared at him for a long moment, but then nodded his head with a softer expression. “You’re right, of course,” he admitted in a casual tone.  “Where’s the nearest intercom?”

Errol pointed behind the wolf to a bulkhead just outside his office door. Next to a large manual fire extinguisher was a microphone and small panel of buttons. Thorne walked to it, picked up the mike, and thumbed the switch for ship-wide broadcast.

“All hands, this is the Captain. I need your attention for a moment.”  He glanced back at Errol’s look of curiosity and then continued. “I am sure many of you have heard recent rumors that the ancient city of Hoenix has been located on Castelrosso Island. I know this rumor to be true because I’m the one who helped find it, and this is why I named this very vessel after the fabled place. Captain Randon and his crew of the Cliffhanger have already looted much of the city, but I know there is a king’s treasure trove there that he never found.

“Randon tried to kill me when I refused to give him its location, and I am sure that he will return at a later date to look for it, but I intend to get there first to retrieve it. It is from that treasure that I was able to finance the repairs and your contracts for this ship, so I can assure you of its existence.  We will return to Brandt as soon as repairs are completed to our ship, and then I will give the coordinates of the city to our navigator.  We may have failed in our attempt to take down a common freighter, but a ready treasure of Hoenix gold awaits us all.”

Errol and Thorne heard several voices cheer somewhere on the deck nearby and the wolf gave a nod toward his engineer. “Mr. Colfax has informed me that we should be able to get underway in approximately two hours,” the captain added to his broadcast. “Mr. Talos, I will need to meet with you in my cabin as soon as you are available to discuss our contingencies.  Captain Thorne, out.”

He hung up the microphone and severed the connection. When he turned back toward Colfax, the engineer was looking at him with a mixed expression.  The lab crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair again.

“In light of our conversation, I have to ask,” he said. “Do you really know where Hoenix and its gold are located, or are you just using that as a way to get the crew to go along with you?”

“The last time I saw my wife was in the city of Hoenix, Mr. Colfax, just before I found a hidden antechamber filled with King Chaaq’s gold,” Aramis replied. “It was from this gold that I paid you for this ship, and there is a lot more to be had.  I intend to return to Hoenix to look for my wife, and even if I have to use the promise of Hoenix gold to buy the crew’s loyalty, I will get there.”

Errol nodded and leaned forward in his chair. “Sounds like you have it all under control,” he said approvingly. “I’m curious, however. If you know where the city is located, why did we launch to Quet?  For that matter, why did you bother to buy and repair this ship and hire a crew for it?”

Thorne chuckled at his engineer’s questions. “There is more gold in Hoenix than I could carry out on horses, so I needed a ship. Randon left me for dead, so he’s sure to come after me when he finds out I’m still alive and that I’ve gone back for the gold I refused him; this crew is going to get that adventure you said they wanted.  It may come down to a fight between us to keep the treasure and I wanted to be sure this ship was capable of going up against the Cliffhanger. Do you think your ship will be up for that, Mr. Colfax?”

The Labrador’s face lit up with a smile. “The Hoenix may be an old ship, but I’d stake my share of the gold on her chances against Captain Randon,” he said.

The intercom whistle chirped suddenly and Aramis moved back to the microphone.  “This is the captain,” he said.

“Sir,” Farrell’s voice said over the speaker, “Goro just reported that the Navigational systems have crashed.”

Thorne rolled his eyes and then cast a look back at the engineer. “How long will it take to get it operational?”

“Goro says he will first have to find the problem before he can fix it. It could be a number of things, sir.”

“Tell Mr. Harada that the longer we delay leaving for Brandt, he’ll have the rest of an anxious crew of gold-hungry pirates breathing down his neck until his systems are working.”

“He says he understands, sir, and is already working on it.”

“Very good. Keep me posted.”

“Aye, sir.”

Thorne hung up the mike and turned toward Colfax. ”If you’re going to stake your gold on the capabilities of this ship, I would suggest you get somebody up there to give him a hand on the repairs.”

Errol stood up and grabbed a technical manual from a shelf over his desk. “I’ll take care of it myself.”

“Keep me posted,” Aramis said.

“Aye, sir.”

Chapter 12

 ”Take us in, Mr. Harada,” Jason said quietly. He leaned on the engineering station at the rear of the bridge and felt a small twinge in his arm. He winced and began to massage the wrist cast, despite that it would not help. It had only been three days since his fight with the captain, and although Dallas felt the accelerated mending was progressing well, it still bothered the black wolf – especially the itching. He stared at the cast in distain and then sat down in the empty chair to buckle in.

“Aye, sir,” the pilot acknowledged.

Goro moved his controls forward and the ship nosed down toward the world of Brandt. Miklos flicked a switch at his station and the forward windows took on an orange hue when the heat shields activated. There was a resistance to the controls while the atmosphere thickened with their descent, and then the windows cleared after several long moments. Goro altered his course around a bank of immense cloud formations directly in front of them. The storm system was too wide for them to avoid altogether, but he would skirt the edge of it as much as possible.

“Mik, dim the interior lights and put the infrared on the video panels,” the coyote said quietly. The terrier complied without answering and then looked up as the greenish screen showed the boiling clouds, rain and hail chunks swirling before them. A small bolt of lightning snaked out above them, but the ship’s speed left it far behind before its boom could be heard. The deck plates buffeted beneath their feet and loose items on the bridge rattled in place.

Goro checked his readouts, adjusted his course through the thunderheads, and then dropped their speed. A heartbeat later, the Hoenix emerged beneath the clouds into a hard rainstorm. Another bolt of lightning reached up from an ocean far below and touched the cloud beside them with a boom that shook the vessel. They were heading westward in the opposite direction of the mass of clouds and within moments they were out from beneath them into full sunlight. The video panel flashed blinding green a moment before Mik switched off the infrared signal and replaced it with polarization. The ship’s flight smoothed out and the deck plates became calm.

Harada dropped their altitude further until they were only a few hundred feet above the Herdantian Sea. Directly ahead of the ship was a chain of mountain islands. Jason glanced at the readings on the station beside him, and then he said something quietly to the greyhound.

Farrell nodded and tapped on a couple controls. “Engine room, this is the bridge,” he said. He listened into his earphones and then nodded. “Yes. Disable artificial gravity at your convenience. Castelrosso Island is on the panel. Yes, that’s correct.”

“Sir?” Miklos asked when Jason stepped up next to his seat to look at the video screen.

“Hmm?” the wolf asked with a glance down at him.

“Are we returning to the sea cavern or are we going directly to Hoenix?”

“The captain’s original plan was to land in Castelrosso for supplies,” Jason answered, “but he thinks we may be in a race against time before Randon returns to Brandt, so we’re going to bypass our home port.”

“I need the new coordinates,” the terrier said with a frown. “At our current speed, we’ll be over Castelrosso in five minutes.”

“Drop speed to standard surface cruising,” Thorne’s voice said from the back of the room. Jason looked back as the captain stepped onto the bridge and gave him a nod. The grey wolf was dressed in tan desert clothing and his dark grey travel cloak, the same garments he had worn out of the ancient city.

“Surface cruising, sir?” Goro asked. “Are we doing a water landing?”

“Standard speed typical for aerial approach,” the wolf explained.

“Aye, sir. Dropping speed now.”

Thorne walked across the room and handed a small leaf of paper to Miklos. “Here are the coordinates,” he told the navigator.

“Aye, sir. Calculating new course now.”

Aramis put a hand lightly on Goro’s shoulder and said, “Our new course will take us parallel to the mountain range behind Castelrosso to the west,” he told him. “When we approach the general area of the ancient city, a strong magnetic field is going to screw up your instruments, so you’re going to have to complete the rest of the course manually. There will be strong updrafts due to the mountains.”

“Flying manually through strong air currents, eh, sir?” the coyote said in an uncertain voice.

“If you’re half the pilot you claim to be,” Thorne said with a smile, “we should be in good hands.”

Goro chanced a glimpse up at the wolf and Aramis gave him a look of confidence. “Uh, thank you, sir.”

“The magnetic field and the strong drafts are the primary reasons the city has remained hidden for so long, even though it is relatively close to Castle Bay,” Thorne explained to anyone who might be curious. “Once we get into the field, we will have to take it slow for several kilometers, which will make navigating through strong updrafts all the more dangerous. There are more disturbances in the field than just magnetic, which may account for the city’s seeming invisibility.”

“What causes the field?” Farrell asked.

Thorne turned toward him and replied, “It’s probably a natural phenomenon, since I don’t think King Chaaq’s people had anything like a cloaking technology, although the effect is virtually the same. Despite our advancements, even satellites have never detected the city from orbit.”

“New course calculated,” Mik reported. He transferred the data to Goro’s navigational console and then got up from his seat. He walked back to the chart table and started going through topographical maps for the Herdantian region of Brandt.

“What are you doing, Mik?” Jason asked.

The terrier looked up at him and gestured toward Goro. “If the navigational computer is going to be useless, and he’s going to have to fly us in manually, we’re going to need a topo for the coordinates. If I can find the right one in time, I can get him a hardcopy before we lose the system.”

“Good thinking,” Jason said with a nod. Miklos went back to his charts. The first officer glanced back to the captain for a second before returning his attention to the approaching land mass on the vidscreen. “How did you find Hoenix if it was so well hidden?”

“A lot of research, a little bit of luck and one engineering mistake,” Thorne replied with a smile. “I’m sure you remember my interest in historical legends? During my free time, I studied everything I found concerning the Hoenix rumors. I theorized that something like the cloaking field might exist as a natural phenomenon, but I had no proof until Branson and I discovered it quite by accident.”

“Who’s Branson?” Miklos asked curiously as his eyes lit up. He had found the chart he had been searching for and proceeded to call up a hardcopy printout from the navigational computer.

“Branson was the Silverthorne’s engineer,” Jason answered.

“He and I used to tinker with the ship’s systems all the time,” Aramis explained. “We managed a mess that resulted in a different range of frequencies on the sensors by mistake. It knocked out all our regular sensor data while we were flying over the mountains on our way back to Castle Bay, and we discovered a strange signature reading below us. We didn’t have time to check it out, but I logged the coordinates for later. It wasn’t until Randon approached me about seriously looking for the city that I associated the phenomenon with the possibility of why Hoenix had never been located.”

“That’s interesting,”

“We’re coming up on the island now,” Goro reported. “We’re eight kilometers south of the spaceport traffic.”

All eyes went up to the vidscreen that showed the waves of the sea crashing on sheer cliff bluffs where the mountains met the water head-on. Goro raised their altitude without waiting for the command and took them over the primary ridge of the mountain range. The city, which shared its name with the island, would be several kilometers northeast to the starboard past three other mountain peaks from their location. To the port side were more mountains spread out along the shore to the south, but they thinned out the farther inland they traveled.

Thorne felt someone come up behind him and tensed himself when he recognized her scent. “May I speak with you a moment, Captain?” Crandall asked quietly.

The wolf turned to look at her and saw the submissive expression across the Siberian husky’s whole body language. He glanced back at the vidscreen for a second and then nodded. “We’ll be approaching our target soon, but I can spare a few minutes for you.”

“Thank you, Captain,” the gunner replied. Thorne followed her off the bridge and into the corridor beyond. She led him to a small instrument alcove and then turned to face him. Thorne had never considered Crandall to be someone who embarrassed easily, but she practically fidgeted before him.

“What’s on your mind, Karla?” he asked in a soothing voice. He rarely called his crewmates by their first names, but he thought it might diffuse her qualms in this situation. It seemed to work, because recognition of her name from him registered in her eyes. She gave him a genuine smile and wagged her tail gently.

“Sir,” she said in a voice barely above a whisper, “I want to apologize for my actions the other day. I didn’t know you had the Hoenix gold in mind for the crew. I should have realized you had a better plan than chasing mere freighters.”

Aramis nodded with a gentle smile. She had no way of knowing that returning for the Hoenix gold had not even occurred to him until his memories had fully returned. He preferred to let everyone like Crandall think it had been his original plan from the beginning. He put a hand on her shoulder and peered into her eyes.

“I confess that the Guarana was a mistake,” he admitted, “but it was only a stepping stone to the main goal. I can assure you there’s more than enough hidden treasure in Hoenix for every gold-hungry person on board.”

Crandall gave him a wide smile, and then she leaned forward to give him a gentle lick on the cheek. Aramis looked at her in surprise when she pulled away and looked up at him shyly. “Thanks for this opportunity,” she told him.

Thorne gave her a lopsided smile and said, “Don’t thank me yet. We may still have to face off against Randon before this is over, so things may yet get rough.”

Crandall’s familiar look of confidence returned to her eyes and her lips curled up into a feral smile. “That’s why you have a gunner like me on board, sir,” she replied. “I’m looking forward to a confrontation with the Cliffhanger! I’ve checked and rechecked our weapon systems ever since we left Quet. We’ll be ready for Captain Randon when he shows that feline face of his.”

“Providing more of Mr. Colfax’s cheap parts don’t bottom out on us,” Thorne commented with a dubious expression.

Crandall chuckled. “I installed the new weapon systems that you bought,” she said with assurance, “so I think we can rely on them.”

“I admire your confidence,” Thorne responded with a smile. “Would you also see to it that everyone is personally armed before they disembark after we land? There should be no one in the city to confront us, but I want to be prepared.”

“Aye, sir, I’ll take care of it.” The husky gave him a casual salute and then moved past him out of the alcove on her way to the armory, swishing her tail behind her. Aramis shook his head with a smirk and then returned to the bridge.

When he stepped back into the command center, the scene on the vidscreen had changed. Instead of a rocky landscape below, they were moving fast over a great grassy plain. The mountains were a short distance to the north, but the curving range would intersect their path again ahead. Sporadic trees over gentle hills of grass spread out as far to the south as they could see. Hoenix was relatively close to the Castelrosso, but the city in the bay was many kilometers inland from the direction they had approached the island from spatial orbit.

“What’s the situational status?” Thorne asked casually.

“You heard about that already?” Farrell asked in surprise.

The captain looked at him with raised eyebrows. “No, I haven’t. What’s happened?”

Jason frowned at him. “Ringo was just taken to the infirmary.”

“What happened?” Aramis repeated with a frown.

“He was preparing lunch when the seals on a pressure cooker blew out,” the first officer explained. “He was on the other side of the room, but the lid ricocheted off the walls and hit him. Tanaka found him under a table and called for Dallas.”

“Will he be okay?”

Farrell looked up at him. “We just got the call from Dallas, sir. She hasn’t had time to make a full examination and give a report yet.”

Goro let out a curse and everyone felt the deck drop beneath them for a second. Aramis stumbled against the wall and had to grab onto a conduit to remain on his feet. “I just lost the automatic stabilizers!” Goro growled. His right hand dropped to a panel beside his legs and he reached for a lever that stuck up through the flooring. He pulled back on this hard and then ratcheted it back and forth several times.

“Navigation is out, too,” Mik reported.

“More system malfunctions?” Jason asked.

“Not this time,” Thorne replied with a look up at the vidscreen. “It’s the field around Hoenix.”

The sky above them was pale blue, and there were only scattered clouds high in the atmosphere, but the air itself somehow looked thicker. The mountain range on the starboard was rapidly getting closer and Goro strained to steer the ship using manual controls. Gusts of wind were coming in off the plains as the mountains tried to block them. The nose of the Hoenix slipped sideways and the vessel zigzagged across the sky for a moment before Goro was able to regain control.

“Can I help with anything?” Mik asked quickly.

“Not unless you have a sextant handy,” the coyote replied. “I have my hands full just flying, but I think we’re now off our course.”

Thorne leaned over the back of Goro’s seat. “See that small peak off to the starboard with the dusty brown pan?”

“Yes, sir, I see it.”

“If you look beyond it, you’ll see another peak with a concave notch taken out of the top edge, like a bite mark.”

“I see it, too.”

“Good, use those two peaks as a line-guide that will take you due east, and try to stay on that course for about seven kilometers.”

“Got it, sir, but with the sensors out, I can’t mark distance for seven kilometers.” The nose of the Hoenix turned until it lined up directly with the mountain peaks the wolf had pointed out, but buffeting side winds made it hard for the pilot to keep them on course.

Thorne nodded and held onto the back of the coyote’s seat with one hand as the inertial dampers fought to keep him in place. He picked up Mik’s topographical map printout from the floor at his feet and then held it up to the side for Goro to see. “Once you pass the peak with the bite mark,” he said through rattled teeth, “all the mountains beyond in almost a straight line will have lower elevations. That will mean we’re getting close.”

“Aye, sir,” the pilot acknowledged.

The mountain with the dusty brown pan disappeared beneath them quickly and a strong updraft of wind slammed the aft section of the ship. The nose took a sudden drop and they lost altitude quickly. Goro fought with his controls to bring the nose back up, but he did not have the strength to move the controls far enough. Thorne reached out, took hold of guidance levers over the top of Goro’s hands and pulled back hard.

Their combined strength almost was not enough, but the ship finally veered back upward, narrowly missing a balanced rock that had been in place for ages. The Hoenix lifted further upward until they had regained their former altitude.

Once back on course, Aramis released the controls and then patted Goro on the shoulder.

“Thank you, sir,” the coyote said hoarsely. “These controls are sluggish.”

“Stay on your toes,” the captain replied. “We’re not out of this yet.”

“Aye, sir.”

The intercom chirped suddenly and Farrell answered it after he released the breath he had been holding. “Bridge,” he said.

“This is Hugo in the engine room,” said a voice. “Errol wants to report that a structural cable pulled free. We’re racing to get it secured as quickly as possible.”

“Will it affect our current course?” Thorne asked. Farrell relayed the message through his headset microphone.

“No, sir,” Hugo replied, “the cable isn’t broken, but it will be better for us all if we don’t have any more shake-ups like we just had.”

“No promises,” Thorne said, “but we’re almost at our destination. Do what you can for now.”

“Aye, sir.”

“Captain, we’re now passing the bite-mark,” Goro reported. “I can see the lower line of mountaintops in the distance.”

“Once we reach those lower hills, the city of Hoenix will be just ahead, past a peak that looks like it was cleft in two by a giant axe. It will be on the edge of the mountains, overlooking the grass plains. The stone buildings are made out of the same rock as the surrounding mountains and may appear somewhat camouflaged on their own, but the natural shielding effect makes it hard to see even approaching close from the air.”

“Aye, sir, I’ll be glad to reach the city.”

“Still nothing on the sensors,” Miklos reported. “There’s nothing but static. I couldn’t tell you about the approach of another ship, what the outside temperature is, or even if a wild mountain goat was running alongside of us.”

“You may as well forget about the sensors for now,” Thorne told him. “You’ll get nothing out of them until we clear the field on our way back out.”

“Aye, sir.” The terrier sat back in his seat and held onto his seatbelt harness. He could do nothing more until they landed.

Air currents buffeted the ship again and Thorne suddenly felt a need to visit the head, his bladder rattled by the constant vibration. He growled at himself and headed for the door. “Duster, I’ll be right back,” he said. “Watch the con until I return.”

“Aye, sir.”

Aramis stepped quickly down the corridor to the nearest facility and then let himself in. By the time he emerged, he could feel the deck tilt forward beneath his feet. He took a step toward the corridor and the ship lurched suddenly to the starboard. He stumbled hard into a wall and knocked an access panel loose. It hit the floor beside his boots and slid to the port as the floorboards jumped again. The hem of his cloak caught on a pipe fitting in the open access and he wasted a moment to tug it free. The gyrations of the floor suddenly smoothed out just as abruptly as it had begun. The captain grabbed the loose panel from the floor and snapped it back in to place, feeling winded from just bobbing around the corridor. He made his way forward quickly before he might lose his footing again.

When he stepped onto the bridge a moment later, the vidscreen showed an old, stone-made city spread out across the side of the mountains, though it almost seemed out of focus and made him rub his eyes. The ship of the same name approached it rapidly over the grass plains at the foot of the hills.

Jason looked back at him and a wide grin. “I doubted we would actually find Hoenix,” he said in awe, “but we did. We found it! We’re here!”

Aramis could not help but return his smile as Goro extended the landing gear. Four simultaneous hard thunks shook the ship, and then the coyote fired the thrusters to lower the craft to the ground. A moment later, the vessel Hoenix set down on the grass, its nose pointing toward the city Hoenix. There were cheers throughout the ship’s corridors, even as the perpetual whine of the atmospheric engines subsided.

Thorne moved to the intercom and picked up the microphone. “Attention all hands, attention all hands, this is the Captain,” he broadcasted on the ship-wide speakers. “As promised, we have arrived at King Chaaq’s ancient city. Feel free to wander the streets as you wish, but arm yourselves and take a DataCom to remain in contact. None of our sensor equipment will operate within the field surrounding this area, but localized communication is possible. Crandall will issue firearms to anyone who needs them. We should be the only ones here, but stay on the alert. Don’t leave the ship until you are armed.

“I am sure most of the city’s artifacts have been removed by Captain Randon’s people, but help yourself to anything you find that they might have missed. Take standard search equipment with you, such as flashlight torches, gloves and so on. I will set out shortly with a small party to locate the treasure, and I will send out a recall signal to the crew once we have retrieved it. Captain Thorne, out.”

The wolf hung up the microphone and then faced his bridge crew. Jason, Goro, Miklos and Farrell all looked to him hopefully. He gave them a nod and said, “Any of you who wish to accompany Mr. Talos and myself may do so.” At once, the three others stood up, ready to follow him to the treasure.

“Right, then,” he said with a nod. “When Randon stranded me here a few weeks ago, I wandered parts of the city and managed to get myself lost a time or two. At street level, the avenues tend to look alike. I’m not exactly sure about the route to take through the streets, but we’re looking for the arena of an amphitheater. The place I am looking for is near there.”

With the flight systems shut down, the forward vidscreen resembled a clear window. Miklos moved over to it and stared up at the city in the sun. It was not as large as Castelrosso, but at a third its size, Hoenix still presented a maze of streets.

Everything from the buildings made of stone blocks, the narrow streets between them, and to the surrounding hills were all the same shade of tan, as if everything was made of sandstone instead of pale rose granite. They could see little of the actual architectural style from the ship, but everything seemed constructed symmetrically with straight lines. Above the city in the mountains was a rock quarry with piles of stones and several dunes of sand or grit rock tailings. The sky above them was partly cloudy and the sun was hazy on the land. Scrubby brush grew at random and areas where grass had made its purchase had gone unchecked for ages.

Mik’s eyes roved over the city for several moments with binoculars while the others made sure the bridge systems were secure. His eyes narrowed and then lit up. “Captain,” he said in a quiet voice. “I think I’ve spotted your amphitheater.”

The others gathered around him at the window and the terrier pointed high up in the city. “It isn’t easy to see from here,” he explained, “but if I’m not mistaken, that looks like a small grandstand – a place where they might have held councils or public displays. Several of the streets appear to converge near the site.”

Thorne borrowed the terrier’s field glasses and studied the area where his navigator pointed. After a moment, he nodded. “That could be it,” he said. “I could see most of the city below me when I was at the upper tiers of the arena. Do you think you could plot out a path up to it from here?”

Mik nodded with a smile. “I can get us there, Captain,” he promised. “I’ll restart the vidscreen and send an image capture to my slateboard. I can use that to plot out a trail to get us up there.”

“Very good,” Thorne replied. He looked at the others on the bridge and put his hands into the pockets of his cloak. “I’m going to check on Mr. Ringo,” the captain told the others. “I will meet you outside shortly.”

“Aye, sir,” Jason replied.

The captain hesitated and then looked back at Goro. “Before you head out, go see Mr. Colfax and have him issue one of his maintenance flobots to you. Make sure it’s a unit equipped with at least one arm, and that it will operate outside the ship.

“A flobot, sir?” the coyote asked as he scratched an ear.

“That’s right.”

“Aye, sir, I’ll take care of it.”

Thorne gave him a nod and then disappeared out into the corridor.

“I wasn’t even aware we had a flobot on board,” Farrell commented.

“We have five; they used two of them to ferry parts to the mechanics during the EVA repairs,” Jason explained, “but they’re normally stowed when not in use.”

“One mechanical floating robot coming right up,” Goro said as he headed for the door. “I’ll see you outside.”

Farrell wrung his hands together. “I didn’t think much of getting into the pirating business,” he said with a smile to the first officer, “but I think the scent of gold is starting to get to me.”

Jason chuckled and put a hand on the greyhound’s shoulder. “He didn’t lie to us about the location of the legendary Hoenix,” he said, “so there’s no reason to think his promises of King Chaaq’s gold are false either.”

“I may actually get to pay off all my debts,” Farrell said with a widening grin.

Mik tapped a control on his slateboard and looked at the image he had transferred to the handheld tablet. He set it on top of the chart table and pulled out a stylus stored in a slot of the slateboard’s casing. His eyes roved back and forth as his mind worked out a maze-like pattern through the city streets, starting from a pathway from the floor of the grass plains, up to the amphitheater he had spotted. He marked the route in red with the stylus and then saved the image.

Jason watched Farrell depart the bridge and then he glanced back at the city through the forward window with a frown. Hoenix gold coins and artifacts might be worth a substantial amount, but the only one who might have the funds to convert them to PA credits would be Victor Faltane, a wealthy human rumored to have his hands in many pots across the Planetary Alignment, particularly on Brandt in Castelrosso. Prior to launching from the sea cavern, Captain Thorne had rebuked Faltane’s local point of contact as if the man had been no one of consequence so that the ship could leave on schedule.

The black wolf leaned against the wall and let his eyes rove over the city above. Even if they found a fortune in treasure, would the Terran now be willing to deal with them? Jason had never met a human before, but he had heard they harbored long grudges at the slightest provocation. It was possible Faltane would refuse to buy the Hoenix treasures, or he might only offer them sludge-bottom prices knowing they might not find another market for them. Once again, the actions of the captain may have hurt them.

***

Aramis stepped inside the infirmary and saw Dallas fasten the finishing clip to a bandage wrap around the beagle’s left shoulder. Ringo looked up and gave him a strained smile.

“Hello, Tyler,” Aramis said. “Dallas.”

“Hi, Cap’n,” the cook replied.

“Hello, Captain,” said the Papillion nurse. She made sure the wrap was secure, and then stepped back. “Have you come to put him to work carrying your treasure?” she asked with her hands in the pockets of her smock.

Aramis chuckled and shook his head. “No, Dallas,” he replied, “but with the way you have him wrapped up there, he might feel right at home in one of the city’s burial vaults.”

Ringo looked up at him with wide eyes. “I’m not that hurt, Cap’n!” he exclaimed. Aramis and Dallas laughed at the beagle and then the cook grinned in return.

“Seriously, how is he?” the wolf asked.

“This guy is very, very lucky,” Dallas answered with a sigh. “The cooker lid ricocheted off two walls that took the brunt of the impact. By the time it got to our friend here, it was no longer traveling at a lethal velocity and only gave him a deep bruise. Fortunately, nothing is broken. I’ve given him anti-inflammatory medication, as well as a fast-acting muscle relaxer, so he’s going to be rather groggy for a while.”

“Everything’s already starting to look a little surreal,” Ringo said with a lopsided grin.

Aramis shook his head and wagged a finger at him. “You be more careful!”

“Aye yi, Cap’n, sir!” The beagle raised his hand for a salute, but then stopped and stared at his fingers curiously. “That feels weird…”

Dallas chuckled and put away her bandages into a wall locker. “Kio has agreed to take over Ringo’s kitchen duties until I release him back to work,” she said.

“My kitchen,” Ringo muttered.

Thorne looked at the wavering beagle and shook his head. “Come on,” the captain told him. “I’ll help you to your cabin so you can rest a while.”

“Thankies…”

“Walk with us, Dallas,” the wolf told the nurse as he slipped a hand under Ringo’s uninjured arm. “I need to tell you something before I disembark.” There was no one else in the infirmary, so the nurse shut out the light and followed him out of the room.

“Sir?” she asked.

Thorne cleared his throat and half-carried the shorter cook along the corridor to the lift. “I’m not here for the Hoenix gold,” he told her.

“But…?”

“The gold is for the crew,” he explained as the three of them stepped onto the lift. “After what happened with the Guarana, they deserve easy treasure. I’m here for another reason altogether.”

Feeling prompted to inquire, Dallas asked, “Why are you here, sir?”

“My wife has been missing since I was last here with Captain Randon,” the wolf told her. He guided the beagle out of the lift when they stopped two levels down and walked the groggy cook through the narrow corridor to the crew quarters.

“Do you think she’s still here?” Dallas asked.

Aramis opened his mouth to reply, but the answer stuck in his throat. It took him a moment to make himself speak. “I think she is dead,” he said in a quiet voice.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” the nurse whispered.

“When I was here last, Randon’s crew beat me senseless and I was abandoned here in the city. I was alive, but not in my right mind,” Aramis added. “I found the body of a woman, but didn’t recognize her at the time. I think it was her.”

“How long ago was that?”

“Almost a month,” he replied. They stopped beside a doorway covered by a brown curtain with a pattern of white dog bones. Dallas pulled the curtain aside so the captain could place the beagle on his bed. There was barely enough room for the two of them in the cubicle together, but Ringo crawled up on the thin mattress and immediately curled up to his pillow.

“I lay I’ll just think here a while,” he murmured groggily. Aramis gave him a nod, and then the cook closed his eyes. Thorne backed out, closed the curtain, and then motioned for the nurse to follow him. They walked quietly back to the main corridor and took the lift down to the lowest level of the vessel.

“When I find her,” Aramis continued as if there had been no break in their conversation, “I want you to do a DNA test to confirm whether or not it is her.”

Dallas pursed her lips in thought. “I don’t have the best of equipment,” she said, “but we do have a basic DNA scanner on board that I could do a test for you. Do you have a sample of your wife’s DNA to use for comparison?”

“No, but Cinjin’s should be close enough to make an identification, right?”

“Yes, it can determine relation through mitochondria DNA,” Dallas confirmed, “but it will take some time. I will need something from the woman you found.”

“I’ll make sure you will get something to test.” The lift came to a stop in the cargo bay and Aramis stepped out. He turned toward her and fixed her with his amber eyes. “I want you to be completely honest when you get the results,” he told her. “Don’t tell me what you think I want to know. I want the truth if it’s her or not.”

“Yes, sir,” the Papillion assured him. “I’ll tell you what I find out.”

“Thank you,” Aramis said. He led her to the open bay door and the scent of sun-warmed grass was strong in the air. He collected himself and then gestured toward the ramp with an open hand. “Are you ready for a day in the city?” he asked.

Dallas shook her head with a smile, her butterfly ears dancing with the motion. “Thank you, no. I may step outside for some fresh air,” she said, “but I have no heart for exploring the ruins of a forgotten city. I’ve seen too many monster movies to believe it’s not haunted.”

Aramis stared at her in surprise for a moment before he recognized the mischievous glint in her eyes. He laughed aloud at her joke and felt good for doing so. She gave him a wink and then waved him off the ship.

“Go,” she said with a grin. “Just don’t fall into any pits in your wanderings.”

Aramis stared at her in surprise, but then realized that she could not possibly know about the sacrificial pit Randon’s crew had dumped him into. He gave her a smile and then walked down the ramp.

Thorne shaded his eyes from the noon sun and located his search party waiting in the shadow of the ship near the forward landing gear. The air was hot and dry, and he suddenly decided he did not want to wear his cloak in the sun, especially negotiating through city streets up the side of a mountain. He pulled his throwing knives, flashlight and the Hoenix notebook from the pockets and then transferred them to his shirt and pants. Without going back up into the ship, he draped his cloak on the edge of the ramp and then walked over to his men.

“Why does he call you Duster?” Goro was asking. Beside him floated a small, grey maintenance flobot that watched him idly with a pair of blue-tinted lenses, its two tiny grappling arms folded neatly beneath it. The softball-sized orb made no sound other than a quiet hum, and the coyote held its remote control absently in one hand.

“It was a nickname the crew had for me when I was the pilot for the Silverthorne,” Jason replied.

“I know, but why did they call you that?”

“Because he flies like a crop duster,” Thorne said to the group when he stepped up behind the coyote. “He could never resist buzzing fields if we flew over one, usually scaring the blazes out of the local wildlife.” He looked up at the Hoenix and added, “Of course, we had a substantially smaller ship then. This thing would frighten the devil out of anyone if it came roaring across the fields the way he flew the Silverthorne.”

Jason gave the captain a big canine grin. “I suppose that’s why you didn’t hire me as your pilot this time,” he retorted.

Thorne laughed and put a hand on the first officer’s shoulder. “Something like that,” he replied. He looked over at Miklos and gestured to the slateboard in his hands. “Do you have a route plotted out for us, navigator?”

Mik tapped the screen of his tablet and held it out. “Yes, sir, I’ve marked the path along the streets in red,” he answered.

Thorne did not take the unit, but instead pointed up toward the city. “Lead the way,” he said. Miklos nodded and began walking across the grass plains toward the mountain where a visible trail led up to the city. They could see other members of the crew already up on the streets.

“Hey, wait for me!”

The small search party stopped and looked back toward the cargo ramp. Crandall trotted out to meet them with one hand holding her sidearm holster in place beside her right leg. She was dressed in a thin white tank top and pair of blue jogging shorts, evident the husk felt the outside conditions were just as warm as the captain had. She held a length of climbing rope coiled over one shoulder, with a large sheathed knife strapped to her left leg. She seemed well prepared for a journey up the side of a mountain.

“Mind if I tag along?” Karla asked when she reached the group.

“Not at all,” the captain replied.

“Yeah, Flybait was just about to lead us up to the city,” Goro added with a mischievous grin.

Mik gave him a sour look and took a step toward the coyote, but Karla stepped in between them with a smile and said, “Great! Let’s go!”

The terrier grumbled something under his breath and then began again toward the city. Goro exchanged grins with the husky and then the two of them followed the navigator’s footsteps, the flobot hovering quietly behind them. Farrell and Jason went next, and Aramis hung back to the rear of the group.

The air was surprisingly quiet, save for the buzz of insects and occasional birdsong. Sealed up for days inside a ship with the constant noise of equipment and conversation, the silence of the grass plain was almost unsettling and the air was now still.

Thorne shielded his eyes against the afternoon sun, already wishing he had brought lupine sunglasses with him. When they approached the road up into the city, they found a path paved with fitted stones, worn from the city’s past inhabitants and natural erosion. A short ridge of stones lined the avenue and the road made its way up to the stone buildings in an easy zigzag pattern.

Farrell pulled out a pack of cigarettes from a shirt pocket and lit one with a small lighter. He worked on it for several moments before he looked at it in disgust. He dropped it at his feet and ground it out with the toe of his boot.

“What’s the matter?” Karla asked him. Her voice sounded unnaturally loud in the quiet of the place, so she lowered her voice almost to a whisper. “Was there something wrong with your smoke?” she asked.

“Tastes strange,” the greyhound replied in an equally quiet tone. “I think it’s this place.”

“I think it’s just your nerves,” Crandall said with a smile. Farrell did not feel like arguing about it, so he merely shrugged his shoulders and resumed walking.

Aramis sniffed the air. He had not noticed it during his earlier visit, probably because his nose had been clogged with dried blood at the time, but the air smelled stale to him now; whatever it was that had affected Farrell’s sense of taste seemed to have touched his nose as well. He frowned, but said nothing.

They finally reached the first of the buildings and some noted the construction of blocks of granite cut to a precision fit. They could see no mortar holding them together and nothing looked as if it had shifted over the course of time. None of the buildings appeared to have sharp corners to them, having all been rounded off by design. A shallow ditch bordered both sides of the road, no doubt for drainage.

The roof of each building appeared to be made of clay tiles held in place by molded ridges, but many were broken or missing. Each roof tilted toward the grass plains and numerous tiles littered the ground between the buildings. There were no overhanging eaves, but there were carvings etched into the stone near the top of each wall. Weather had eroded many of the designs to be unreadable, but Aramis seemed to be the only one of the group who showed an interest in them.

“Hello, what’s this?”

Aramis looked up at Goro’s voice and saw the coyote staring up at a pair of large granite statues that stood guard over the first street intersection they had come across. One of the statues was canine, the other lupine. Both three meters high, the figures were depicted wearing loose, sleeveless robes, and had their arms outstretched toward the grass plains, as if in welcome.

In the arms of the stone canine guard was a real body whose arms and legs dangled limp toward the ground. Concerned who she might find, Karla scrambled up the side of the statue, using the folds in the figure’s robes as handholds. Before she got up to the body, however, the arms and legs twitched and then a grinning face peered down at her.

“Gotcha!” said the miniature pincher. Karla gave him a teasing grin and playfully slapped at his leg.

“Cal!” she said to the sharpshooter, “What are you doing up there, you nut?”

“I climbed up here to take a better look at this fellow’s face,” Chalmoy replied, “but then I heard you coming up the street. I decided to see if you yahoos were alert enough to realize I was up here. I guess you were.”

Aramis was amused at the pincher. The canine had always seemed like a coiled spring on the ship, but now that he was out in the open air, the marksman seemed at ease. “Did you find anything of interest up there, Mr. Bleys?” he asked.

The canine gave him a look of surprise. He had not realized that the captain was with the group before him and he laid his ears back against the side of his head. “Not really, sir. No,” he answered in a quietly controlled voice.

“Right, then,” Thorne said. He looked at Miklos and gave him a casual wave. “Shall we continue?” he asked.

“Yes sir,” Mik replied. He gave a cursory glance back up at Cal and then resumed walking up the hill. Karla dropped to the ground, gave the pincher a wave and then fell back in step with the search party.

They walked on up the main avenue for a while before the navigator led them around a corner into a side street. At every intersection, they found at least one of the granite statues similar to the one that Cal had climbed. They were weathered, and some of them had bits broken, but all were recognizable as canine-types. Aramis thought the lupine statues might all be of the likeness of King Chaaq, but upon closer inspection, the faces were different from figure to figure. Perhaps they were personages from Hoenix history.

“I’m surprised Captain Randon’s crew didn’t take these statues too,” Farrell commented in the quiet air. “I’m sure they could be quite valuable as museum pieces.”

“Randon’s ship wouldn’t have been able to contain them,” Thorne replied.

“That would have been a major undertaking,” Crandall added, “considering how much the things must weigh!”

“Yeah, I suppose so,” Farrell agreed.

A voice boomed out of every DataCom held by the search party, and everyone scrambled to turn down the volume on each unit. “The Cliffhanger didn’t get everything!” said the voice.

“What did you find?” asked another.

Miklos pointed up a different street as they came up to another intersection. The party turned and headed up what appeared to be a steep alley between close-set buildings.

“Robin and I have just been through three buildings. They’re all still furnished from long ago.”

“Any gold?”

“Yes, but only a few small items – bracelets, a goblet and a few small figurines.”

“There are too many buildings here. Randon’s people couldn’t have gone through them all. Where are you? I want to see!”

“How am I supposed to tell you? The streets aren’t marked – unless you count all the picture carvings everywhere. I suppose you can say I’m in a rock building at the corner of Swirly-Coily-Thing Lane and Bird-Hopping-on-a-Bug Avenue.”

“Yeah, you’re hilarious,” the second voice said with a growl. “Send out a tracer signal so I can find you.”

“Find your own gold!”

“Now, waitaminute!”

Thorne shook his head and thumbed the volume down lower so he would not have to listen to the bickering chatter. The others did likewise and they progressed on, the DataCom conversation droning on in quieter voices.

It took Miklos an hour to guide his party through the streets of Hoenix, but after a final turn at an intersection where five avenues converged, the three-story outer walls of the amphitheater loomed over them.

“Good work,” Thorne told the terrier.

“Yeah, I’m surprised,” Goro quipped. “You didn’t get us lost once!”

“Can it, flea-trap!” Miklos sneered at the coyote as he turned off the slateboard and slid it into a pocket. Goro only grinned at him before he turned his attention back to the amphitheater. Like the rest of the city, it was made of carved, close-fitting sections of granite. Hieroglyphs decorated the walls, and more of the large statues framed wide entranceways capable of gathered crowds.

Aramis recognized the place and walked into the nearest entrance. The others followed quietly, their footsteps echoing in the cavernous interior. The droning of the small flobot reverberated in the chamber and created a sound not unlike the buzzing of a hummingbird. Arched ceilings held up the tiers of the amphitheater above, and they passed by numerous rooms that were all empty. Boot prints were in the dust everywhere, clear signs that Randon’s crew had been there. Sunlight streamed in through an opening ahead and Thorne walked directly to it.

Everyone had to shield their eyes upon stepping back outside, but the small search party found itself on the floor of the arena. It was not a large area, as grandstands go, but Crandall looked around, visualizing how the place must have looked with the stone seats above teeming with throngs of people. On each end of the oval arena was a sand and gravel pathway that led up through the seats like a ramp. Scrub brush grew unchecked through the gravel in places. No doubt, this was a lane for animal-drawn carts to move things in and out of the arena toward the upper elevation.

A short wall with openings spaced every few meters ringed the lower tier. Stationed beside each opening was a granite statue armed with short blades or spears and wearing what looked to be the likeness of some sort of leather armor.

“I forgot to bring my gladiator’s sword,” Goro said with a grin.

“I’m sure they had more activities here than the Friday Night Fights,” Jason said dryly.

Goro gestured up toward the stone guardians surrounding them and retorted, “You think so?” he asked. “I suppose those are their dinner suits?” Jason raised an eyebrow at him, but did not favor him with a response.

Aramis walked across the arena to one of the statues and then squatted down. He picked up a stone the size of a grapefruit and hefted it in his hand with a nod. He recognized a matching indention in the leg of the statue near him and realized the stone was one hurled at him during the fight that ended with him in the pit. He looked around and his suspicions were confirmed when he spotted a scrap of cloth that had been ripped from his cloak during the fight with Randon’s crew. Nearby were fragments of a thousand-year-old clay pot, no doubt the one that had taken his consciousness.

He dropped the stone at his feet and stood up again. He looked up at the upper tiers of the arena and noted the fronts of several buildings on the mountain side of the amphitheater. He was unsure which building he had emerged from, but he raised his hand and pointed toward them.

“We’ll find what we’re looking for up there,” he said quietly.

Karla grinned at him and then trotted to the nearest set of weatherworn steps leading upward through the stone seats of the grandstand. Jason started up after her, followed by the rest of the group. As before, Aramis brought up the rear. He was anxious to find Scarlet, but he was also reluctant to have the confirmation of her fate in front of him.

By the time they reached the top, they were all winded from the steep climb. Thorne granted everyone a moment to catch his or her breath, but he would not allow himself to relax. Despite the tightness in his legs from the ascent, he was determined to locate the tomb that held his wife. He crossed a wide walkway toward the nearest building. There were a dozen of them, all facing the arena with large double doors of balanced stone slabs, and all with more lavish adornments than any other structure in the city.

A granite quarry loomed over the buildings and there seemed to be several dunes of sand or small gritty rock piled up high. It was possible they were the tailings left from the stone mining. He gazed up at them, trying to fit them in to his memory, but he could not remember noticing them when he had emerged from the building weeks ago.

He approached a stone door partially ajar and stuck his head inside. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the darkness, but there was nothing to see. It was a completely square room, approximately four meters to a side, but it was empty. He could see where torch holders had once been embedded in the walls, but it appeared that they had been forcefully removed. Broken bits of stone littered a floor strewn with cigarette butts and more boot prints.

Jason stepped up next to him and peered inside beside him. He was quiet for a moment as his own eyes adjusted for the darkness. “What was in here?” he asked a moment later.

“Could have been a storeroom,” Thorne muttered.

“Was it for the Hoenix gold?” Karla asked.

“I have no way of knowing.” Thorne stepped away as the others came over to look, but Farrell moved to his side.

“Where is your gold hidden?” the greyhound asked.

“It’s near,” the captain replied. “I have to find the correct chamber, first. I’ll know the right one when I find a particular burial vault.”

“Burial vault!” Farrell exclaimed. “Uh, do you think it’s wise to disturb the dead?” he asked.

Thorne looked at the com officer with a frown. “Afraid of a curse?” he asked with a raised eyebrow.

Farrell looked embarrassed. “I know it sounds silly,” he replied uncomfortably, “but there’s always some truth in legends about the dead.”

“There are no ghosts here, Mr. Lightner,” the wolf told him. “If you wish, you may stand guard outside.” The greyhound looked up at him with an open mouth and then walked slowly back out to the arena with his tail and shoulders low.

Thorne turned toward the next set of doors and moved toward it deliberately. Inside was another room had had been plundered, but it was longer. Stone tables lined both walls, but whatever had once been on them was gone. There were several doors leading out from the chamber, however. He pulled out his small flashlight and thumbed it on as he walked deeper into the room. Goro and Karla followed him inside, trailed quietly by the humming maintenance flobot.

The gunner walked to a raised stone slab in the center of the room between two hieroglyph-decorated columns. There were many dark stains on the surface of the slab, several of which had once leaked onto the floor at their feet. “Do you think this is where they prepared food for the hungry masses in the arena?” the husky asked in a quiet voice.

“An ancient kitchen?” Goro added. He looked around at the other doors and saw the captain approach one of them. “Those could be storerooms for the groceries.”

Jason and Miklos stepped inside the room and saw Aramis pull on a handle carved into the door facing him. Despite the age of the city, the balanced door swung open easily. The first officer brought out his flashlight and approached the captain, with the others close behind him. Farrell stuck his head timidly into the room and saw his shipmates follow Thorne in through an open door. He swallowed back his trepidation and then trotted in after them.

When Aramis stepped inside the next chamber, he could feel the hackles rise on the back of his neck. Although he had not recognized the outer room they had come in through, this place was identical to the vault chamber he had escaped.

There were torch holders embedded in the walls, containing what looked to be oil-saturated cloths bound tightly around bundles of small sticks. The iron holders depicted a lupine design, a wolf’s head with bared fangs. As with the one they had seen earlier, this room appeared to be a cube with the walls, floor and ceiling to be of equal dimensions. Walls covered in more of the hieroglyphs did not hold the attention of the intruders.

A stone burial vault was in the center of the far wall, its sides decorated with more of the hieroglyphs. Farrell let out a whimper at the sight, but bravely held his ground.

“I don’t think that was a kitchen out there,” Goro whispered to the husky. Crandall frowned deeply with the realization that the stone slab was probably where the dead had been prepared for embalming.

“I wonder who’s buried in there,” Jason said quietly.

“Let’s find out,” Thorne replied. Everyone looked up at him in surprise.

“Are we robbing graves, Captain?” Mik asked with wide eyes.

“No,” the wolf replied. He offered no other explanation as he moved to one end of the vault’s lid. He motioned for Goro to get the other end. The pilot went reluctantly, but grabbed onto the lid at the silent order. “We only want to move it enough to see who is inside,” Thorne instructed.

Goro nodded without a word and the two of them heaved on each end of the stone lid. They moved in opposite directions so the lid swiveled in place. The sound of stone grinding on stone was loud in the small chamber and Farrell jumped from the sudden noise. He bit his bottom lip and backed away from the group as the others moved forward with their lights.

A musty stench emerged from the vault and Karla put her hands over her nose. Jason aimed his light inside the stone box and saw a shriveled canine corpse wrapped in rotted strips of faded cloth that might have once been blue. There were no gold coins or other trinkets to accompany the dead on its journey. Thorne wondered if there was a hidden passageway at the feet of this individual, but he had no wooden pole with him to test the theory. He had not yet told any of them of his narrow escape route, but did not care to disclose that information.

He made a quiet gesture with his hand to Goro, and the two of them moved the lid back to its original position.

“I assume this is the wrong tomb,” the coyote said as they all moved back out into the embalming room. The maintenance flobot positioned itself directly over his head, patiently awaiting instruction.

“It is the wrong tomb,” Thorne confirmed. “Everybody spread out and check the other vaults. The one I want is occupied by the recently-dead body a woman in a modern red and white dress.”

“You want us to open all of them?” Farrell croaked.

The captain nodded. “Yes, I do,” he replied. “Before we can get the Hoenix gold, we will need to find the correct vault.”

“Why? Is there a secret door trigger inside it?” Thorne fixed Farrell with a piercing stare that the greyhound could not stand. He turned away without another word and moved off to help someone desecrate a vault.

Thorne snorted and walked back to the outside door. He knew the tomb he wanted was not in here, but other recent residents they might need to know about could be there. Besides, while the others were looking, he needed a moment to recollect his bearings.

He stepped out into the sun and shielded his eyes as he studied the other buildings that bordered the mountain side of the arena. When he had been there before, Thorne had just escaped from the pit following a beating that had left his brain rattled. He had not really considered a return to the place, so he had not bothered to fix the local details in his mind at the time.

He began walking along the row of buildings, looking at each set of doors without actually investigating anything. He wanted to see if anything like a feeling or impression touched him from just being near one of them. He need not have bothered, however. When he came to the fourth set of doors, he recognized his own boot print in the dusty entrance of a partially opened panel. For confirmation, he raised his left boot and noted that a nick out of the back of his heel matched a mirror image of it in the dust.

The double doors were partially open and he found he could slip in between them without having to touch them. He stepped into a corridor that led back in toward the heart of the mountain. The air was thick inside the structure, stuffy and humid. At the other end of the short passage was a chamber large enough to have housed a fair-sized crowd. There was a raised dais at one end, and more of the hieroglyphs decorated the walls as carvings. Four grand columns held up the ceiling and were hand-painted with colorful symbols around their curved surfaces.

Sunlight streamed in through an old, ragged hole in the ceiling, so he switched off his flashlight for the moment. Like the other rooms they had seen, there was nothing of value left in the chamber. Boot tracks were everywhere in the dust and accompanied by numerous cigarette butts.

As with the previous chamber, more doors lined the large hall, but one of them was partially ajar. He walked to it and then thumbed his flashlight back on to shine it into the small room.

This was it.

It was a square room identical in appearance to the other one, but the contents meant much more to him.

Against his will, Aramis felt his pulse quicken and he swallowed hard. He started to step inside, but he hesitated. Although he had moved the lid of the vault by himself once before, he wanted help this time. He was not sure he would be able to stay on his feet if the woman inside was Scarlet.

He put his hand inside a pocket to pull out his DataCom unit to call his party to him, but before he turned around, there was the sound of footsteps. He did not move, but spoke in a quiet voice.

“This is it, Duster,” he said.

Jason stopped just behind him. “How did you know it was I?” he asked.

“I know your scent, my friend,” the captain replied as he turned to face him. “Did you find anything else of interest in the other tombs?”

“More dead bodies, all long gone,” Jason answered. “Farrell is outside, heaving his breakfast onto the rocks. I don’t know if it was the smells, the sights or just his nerves, but I don’t think he’ll be coming back inside.”

“No matter,” Thorne replied. “Give me a hand.” He pushed on the door to the tomb, but unlike the others, the rock slab was out of balance and difficult to open. Jason grabbed the edge of the panel with his one good hand and helped him pull it out far enough so they could walk through.

Goro stepped inside and looked around the large chamber. “Do you want us to check these vaults, too?” he asked. The maintenance flobot hovered over his head and hummed quietly.

Thorne looked back at him just as he was about to enter the small room. “No need,” he replied. “This is the one I want.”

“Excellent!” the coyote said with a grin. He called to the others outside, “The captain found the tomb he wanted!”

Karla trotted over and then pushed him inside the room with a grin. “One side, pilot!” she teased. “There’s treasure to be had!” Miklos followed them in quietly, taking only a momentary glance back outside to the sick greyhound. Farrell looked up at him weakly, but waved his shipmate to go on without him. Mik nodded and then walked further into the room. When he moved in through the vault chamber door, he panted lightly from the warm, stuffy air.

Thorne walked to the head of the vault and put his hand on the lid. He gave Goro a nod and then the two of them moved the lid in opposite directions to swivel it aside as they’d done before. A rank odor escaped the vault and everyone but the captain stepped back with hands or sleeves over their noses. The aroma was stronger than the others they had found, which confirmed that the decomposing body inside was only a recent addition to the burial chambers that had never gone through the embalming process.

Aramis shined his light down into the vault and felt his throat constrict. Despite the decomposition, the woman was clearly canine, possibly lupine. Dark, reddish fur clung tenaciously to rotting flesh that worms and maggots thrived in, and the smell in the chamber grew worse. Karla coughed involuntarily, but forced herself to stand her ground at her captain’s side.

The dead woman was dressed in a full-length red dress with short sleeves, a white bodice, and a scarlet scarf around her neck. There were footprints across the fabric of her chest, and a single, bloodstained hole in the fabric of her garment over her heart.

“Who was she?” Goro asked with both hands over his snout.

Aramis looked up at the coyote’s words, but the usual piercing directness of his eyes was gone. “My wife…” the wolf said hoarsely.

Goro, Karla and Miklos looked surprised in unison, though none of them uncovered their mouths. Jason frowned and looked again at the body. The strong odor made it difficult to look into the vault without gagging.

“Are you sure that’s Scarlet?” Jason said with a critical eye. The woman’s features were near impossible to distinguish.

Aramis reached into the vault, seeming oblivious to the smell, and gingerly untied the crimson scarf from the woman’s neck. Bits of fur and other fleshy material clung to the fabric in places, but despite the distasteful task, he pulled it out and set it on top of the vault lid. He turned one end of the scarf over to reveal two white letters embroidered into the cloth. “S.T.”

“Scarlet Thorne?” Mik guessed.

“I bought her this scarf just before Randon approached us with a deal to look for this city,” Aramis replied quietly.  He gently folded the scarf and tucked the bits of fur and other remains inside its folds. He looked up at Goro and cleared his throat. “I need your flobot now,” he said in a voice that was calmer than he felt inside.

The coyote tapped the screen of his remote. The softball-sized orb floated down until it hovered directly in front of the captain. Thorne held out the scarf, and the tiny clamper hands of the flobot unfolded and then opened to receive the item. It gripped the fabric and then Aramis let go.

“Take it outside and then send it down to the ship,” Aramis told him. “Call Dallas on your DataCom and tell her the flobot will be bringing her a DNA sample. She is already expecting it.”

“Aye, sir,” Goro replied. He maneuvered the flobot out through the door and was gone.

“Mr. Novak, help me replace the lid,” Thorne said quietly.

Jason looked at him in surprise. “You’re going to leave her there?” he asked.

“For now,” the captain replied. He and Miklos moved the top of the vault back into place, and then Aramis leaned on it with both hands. “Leave me a moment,” he said to the others. “I will take you to the gold after I am finished here.”

“Aye, sir,” Jason said. He waved the others out of the chamber and then followed them out. Once alone, Aramis turned off his flashlight and then sank to his knees beside the vault in the darkness.

When Jason stepped back out into the sun, he saw Farrell sitting by himself out by the uppermost tier of the amphitheater. The greyhound was smoking a cigarette, staring out across the city.

“How are you doing?” the wolf asked as he sat down next to him.

“Lousy, sir,” Farrell answered in monotone. “I let my fear get the best of me.”

“You’re not the first person to fear the houses of the dead,” Jason told him. “I don’t think we will need to open any more tombs.”

“I wasn’t all that comfortable in there myself,” said another voice. Miklos sat down on the stone seat on the other side of the greyhound and quietly brushed dust from the fur on his arms. “The odor turned my stomach.”

“The smell only made my fear worse,” Farrell muttered gloomily.  He felt a couple of hands on his shoulders and looked back into the eyes of a Siberian husky. Karla gently kneaded his muscles and he let out a heavy sigh.

“Just relax,” Crandall told him. “You’re okay with us.”

Farrell finished his cigarette in silence and then flipped the butt out over the arena. “I was useless,” he said. “I want to be helpful to the captain.”

“Have you ever done any rappelling, Mr. Lightner?”

Everyone looked up and saw Thorne standing behind the small group. He had composed himself, but the fire seemed to have gone out from his eyes. He looked down at the greyhound with a dull expression, but he awaited an answer to his question.

“Aye, Captain, that I have,” Farrell replied with a nod. “It was one of my hobbies back home.”

“Then you can be of help to me,” the wolf replied. “We will need Crandall’s rope.”

“Aye, sir!” Karla exclaimed. She got up and went to retrieve the coil of rope and other items she had set next to one of the buildings when they had reached the top tier of the arena. She trotted back eagerly with the rope draped over one arm. “All ready, sir,” she said.

Goro walked over and asked, “What’s all the commotion about?” he asked.

“We’re going for the treasure now,” Mik replied.

Aramis opened his mouth to speak, but his DataCom chirped at him. He thumbed the answer switch and raised it to his mouth.  “This is Thorne,” he said.

“Captain,” said the voice of Dallas, “I just wanted to let you know I received the scarf with the tissue sample. What am I to use as a comparison? Cinjin has gone up into the city with the rest of your crew.”

“Go to his bunk and look for a brush with a green and black striped handle,” Aramis instructed. “That’s the one he uses to groom his fur and he lets no one else use it. There should be plenty of his DNA material there.”

“Good idea, Captain. I will get it.”

“How long before you know?”

“With the equipment we have on board, it will take about a half hour once I start the process.”

“Let me know the results as soon as you have anything.”

“Yes, sir, I will.”

“Thank you, Dallas,” the wolf said. He closed the transmission and put the unit into his shirt pocket.  He glanced over at the others and then pointed toward the gravel pathway that led into the arena. “We will need to follow that up to higher ground,” he said. “There is a small garden area right above these buildings that is lined with flagstones and ringed with several stone benches. Find it.”

Goro and Karla exchanged excited looks and took off running for the gravel path. Farrell gave a hesitant glance toward the captain, and then ran to catch up.  Jason and Miklos remained with Thorne, and the three of them followed the others at a casual walk.

“Captain, may I ask you a question?” Mik asked when they started up the gravel path.

“What is it you wish to know?” Thorne replied.

“How much gold do you have hidden away?”

Thorne’s first thought was of the hidden antechamber, but decided not to bring it up for the moment. He reached into a pocket and pulled out one of the coins with the likeness of King Chaaq stamped on it. He handed it to the terrier and said, “In my hiding place is a crate full of identical coins,” he said. “They’re contained in eight bags, each one containing approximately five hundred coins. Each coin is worth about twelve hundred credits according to what I’ve had appraised.”

Miklos did some quick mental calculations and then his eyes went wide.  “That comes to almost five million credits!” he exclaimed.

“It is if you can get that much for them,” Jason said with a frown.

Thorne glanced over at him and nodded. “I’m sure we can find a collector other than the human,” he said, correctly guessing the first officer’s thoughts. “I know of others who have an interest in Hoenix artifacts besides Faltane.”

“Although none with as much power,” the black wolf stated.

Thorne dismissed the comment with a wave of a hand. “I think you’re overestimating Faltane,” he said. “He’s just a collector of antiquities.”  Jason looked at his captain in disbelief. Victor Faltane’s youthful appearance might make him seem harmless, but the first officer had obviously heard more rumors about the human than Thorne had himself.

Miklos rubbed his hands together, his eyes sparkling. “Over two hundred thousand credits to each person on board,” he said greedily.  The trio stepped off the gravel path to an old pathway and then Mik suddenly frowned. “That is,” he said, “if the booty is divided up equally…” He cast a furtive glance at the captain, but Thorne had already registered the navigator’s comment.

“Yes, Mr. Novak,” Aramis said. “The treasure will be distributed evenly to all personnel.”

Mik let out a snicker and a wide grin split across his face. “Heh…” he said.

“We found your garden,” Karla said with a smile when the trio passed between two large evergreen bushes.  The husky was standing at the start of a sidewalk of flagstones that led up along a cliff face. When they reached her position, she turned and led them through more evergreens.

On the other side was a small, ornamental garden of flowering shrubs around stone benches and several small statues similar to their larger siblings throughout the city. Like the rest of the plant-life in the city, it had grown unchecked for ages. The shrubs had grown over some of the benches completely and grass filled in many of the cracks between the flagstones. In the center of the area was a wide hole in the ground about three meters across. It had a knee-high wall around its rim with hieroglyphs carved into its curved surface. Goro and Farrell were both leaning over the lip of the pit, peering down into its depths.

“I wonder what this was used for,” the coyote said as he dropped a granite pebble into the opening.

“It was a sacrificial pit,” Thorne explained. Farrell looked up at him with a frown. “Yes, the Hoenix people made sacrifices to their gods,” he said.

“Who did they worship?” the greyhound asked.

“Not who, but what,” Thorne replied. “They worshiped the elements around them. They believed every tree, flower, blade of grass and the rocks all had spirits within them that affected all aspects of their lives. Even the clouds above were believed to contain the spirits of their dead.”

Goro glanced at the captain and then sat down on the stone rim of the pit. The wolf was speaking, but his voice seemed to convey none of his personality. He looked closer and Thorne’s once-piercing amber eyes seemed dull and lifeless.  He swallowed and realized that the stories he had heard about wolves must be true. They mated for life and believed strongly in the concept of family, and it was rumored that if one mate lost the other, it affected the survivor deeply.

“Where do we go from here?” Crandall asked. She pulled the coil of rope from her shoulder and set it on the ground beside her. She massaged where the rope had been rubbing her and looked around for another path away from the garden. There did not seem to be any other way out other than the walkway they had come through. The overgrown shrubbery might be hiding a path on to some hidden cache for the gold.

“Into the pit,” Thorne replied as he looked at Farrell. “The gold is at the bottom.”

The greyhound nodded and stood up. “Now I understand why you wanted to know if I had done any rappelling,” he said with a smile.

Karla picked up the rope and walked over to the pit.

“I can’t see the bottom,” Goro said.

“I hope this is long enough,” Crandall muttered as she looked around for a place to secure one end.

“Your rope will be long enough,” Thorne said. “The pit is deep enough to prevent anyone from crawling out, but it isn’t as bottomless as it looks. The shadows hide the floor.”

Karla crawled under the fronds of a large evergreen bush and began to wrap the rope around its thick trunk. She worked for a few minutes until she was satisfied that it was secure.  She stood up and dusted off the front of her tank top. “All ready,” she announced.

Farrell picked up the coil of rope near the edge of the pit and dropped it in. They could hear it hit something other than stone, before the sound of scattered sticks bounced around.  Thorne frowned and walked toward the pit as Crandall handed the greyhound a pair of leather gloves. Farrell wrapped the rope around his butt underneath his tail and took a step up onto the rim of the pit.

Thorne reached up and put a restraining hand on the canine’s arm. “On second thought, maybe you shouldn’t go down there,” he said to the greyhound.

Farrell frowned. “Sir,” he said confidently, “I’m not afraid of rappelling down into a pit. I’ve done it many times.”

“I have no doubt about that, Mr. Lightner,” the wolf replied, “but you may not like what you find at the bottom.”

A sudden dread washed over the com officer. “More corpses?” he said with a hard swallow.

“Just one, a skeleton,” answered the captain. “From the sound the rope made when it hit the bottom, I would say his bones are now scattered about the floor.”

Farrell swallowed again and stared at the wolf. Thorne opened his mouth to tell him that he did not have to go, but the greyhound set his jaw and the fear left his eyes.

“I can do this,” he said in a stronger voice. “I won’t let you down again.”

“Let me go,” Karla said with gentle words. “You don’t have to…”

Farrell shot her an uncharacteristic glare and then pulled the rope tight. “I am going,” he said defiantly. He gave the captain a small salute and then stepped backward into the pit.

The greyhound let out his rope slowly as he backed down into the gloom. Although he wore boots with a good griping sole, he took his time on the curved surface of fitted stones. His eyes adjusted with his descent, and even after only a couple meters down, he could see the floor beneath him. An unidentified dark mass loomed directly beneath him, so he moved over to avoid it.

When he reached the bottom, he let go of the rope and called up, “I’m down.”

“Very good,” said Thorne’s voice. “You will find a suitcase and two crates beneath a grey tarpaulin against one wall.”

“I see the tarp,” Farrell replied. He took a step and something underneath his foot rolled out from under him. He fell hard to the ground amidst a few choice curses.

“Are you okay?” Jason called down.

“Yeah,” he answered. “I just tripped over something.” The greyhound put a hand on the ground beside him to gather leverage to get up, but his fingers fell upon something. He picked it up and discovered that he held the leg bone of the skeleton that lay scattered within the tatters of rotted clothing. He choked back a cry of fright and shoved the knuckles of his free hand into his mouth when he saw a canine skull beside him. He quickly set the leg bone back on the ground and scrambled to his feet.

He stepped around the bones and then leaned over the tarpaulin. When he laid his hands on the material, it felt tightly woven, but even while standing next to it, the color of the fabric was hard to see in the shadows of the pit. He pulled the covering away and let it drop to the floor beside his feet. Just as the captain had said, there were two small crates and a metallic suitcase beneath it.

“Is there gold in all the containers?” he called back up.

“No, Mr. Lightner. You may ignore the suitcase, as well as the crate on the right as you face the wall; they hold nothing but survival rations and a change of clothes. We want the one on the left. It will be quite heavy.”

“Aye, sir,” he replied.  He set the suitcase to the side and then turned to the plastic box on his left. He studied it for a moment and found a small brass padlock holding the lid on tight. He pulled his pistol from a holster strapped to his leg and whacked the padlock hard with the handle a few times before it came apart beneath the assault.

He lifted the lid with a smile and then began to breathe in shallow gasps. The crate was full of rotting burlap bags, but the one closest to him revealed its contents through a cut in the material. The greyhound picked up a large, golden coin that looked to have been hand-stamped with the image of an indistinct canine’s face on one side, with a planet and two moons on the other. Both sides contained tiny hieroglyphs similar to those they had seen all through the city. The crate contained more bags of identical coins and his breathing quickened.

“Well?” asked Mik’s impatient voice.

“Gold… I found the gold!” Farrell called back up.

“Huzzah!” Karla exclaimed.

Jason pulled out his DataCom and tapped a command to broadcast it to all units belonging to the crew. “This is the first officer,” he announced. “The gold has been located above an arena near the top of the city! The captain promises equal shares to all!” Suddenly there were several cheering shouts from places out in the city, and even a couple of gunshots fired in jubilation.

Down in the pit, Farrell stepped back to look up at his crewmates and felt his heel come down on another bone. He moved his foot carefully and suddenly decided he had been down in the pit long enough.  “The crate is sitting on some of the bones, so I can get the rope beneath it. I’m going to secure the rope around it and then crawl back up,” he said. “Then we can all hoist it up to the top. I just hope the box can hold the weight.”

 ”Very good,” Thorne said. He could see the look of delight on the faces of his search party, but he felt no enthusiasm in himself. The gold was their payment for serving him. The DataCom in his pocket suddenly chirped and he pulled it from his pocket.

“This is Thorne,” he said into the mouthpiece.

“Captain, I have the results of the DNA test,” said the nurse’s voice. Jason looked up and swiveled his ears to listen closely.

“Continue.”

“Captain, the body you found is not related to our Cinjin.”

Aramis and Jason exchanged looks. “Dallas, are you certain?” he asked.

“I compared the mitochondria DNA of the biological material you sent me, to several of Cinjin’s fur samples. The material is lupine, but it cannot be from the body of his mother. There is no match, Captain.”

Aramis fell silent for a moment as Jason turned his attention back to the others. Crandall and Goro were pulling Farrell back up out over the rim of the pit. A moment later, they were all heaving on the rope to haul the heavy crate of gold up to them.

“There was another woman with my wife when we were here,” Aramis finally said to Dallas. “The woman must have been Jenda, but she was wearing Scarlet’s clothes, even down to the scarf I had bought her.”

“Women sometimes loan each other clothing,” Dallas reminded him, “Especially if they were close friends.”

“They were the best of friends,” Thorne muttered.

“I’m sorry, Captain, but the woman you found is not your wife.”

“Thank you, Dallas,” Aramis said tonelessly when Jason looked back toward him. He closed the communication and shoved the DataCom unit back into his pocket.  He swallowed hard and tried not to let his eyes go moist in front of his first officer. There were conflicting emotions running through him. He was simultaneously relieved that it had not been Scarlet in the tomb, and distressed that he had still not found her.

“The rope is startin’ to slip!” Miklos exclaimed.

Jason looked back over his shoulder and saw the others struggling with the rope, so he rushed forward to lend his strength.  He could only use one hand due to his cast, but it was just enough, as they were able to continue hauling their burden up to the garden.

After several long moments, the edge of the crate came into view, but they were unable to get it up over the lip of the hole. Thorne rushed to the side of the garden and grabbed a long, dead tree branch. He took it back to the sacrificial pit and inserted one end of it between the rope and the top of the box. He shoved it hard until the end slid through and hit the stone wall beside the crate, and then he applied pressure to hold it there.  Goro realized what he was doing and let go of the rope long enough to jump forward and grab the end of the branch. He heaved upward and the two of them managed to work it up over the rim as the others kept it from falling back in.

They heaved it up over the knee-high wall and then both of them nearly fell over forward as the weight of the box dropped to the ground. Fortunately, the crate hit flat and held together. The small party panted in the dry air and allowed themselves to relax – everyone but Miklos.

The terrier worked at the knots that Farrell had put into the rope and then pushed them aside. He flung open the lid of the crate and then picked up handfuls of gold coins with a wild grin across his face.

“Would you look at this!” he exclaimed to the others. “There’s more than enough here to make us all rich!”

A sudden roar drowned out his words.  Everyone looked up as a huge shadow passed overhead, just above the peak of the mountain. The shadow belonged to a dark blue, flying-wing starship. Thorne scowled as the vessel moved out of sight beyond the overgrown evergreen shrubs that surrounded the sacrificial pit.

Goro and Miklos pulled out their pistols and took off running along the path to see where the newcomer had gone. When they got back to the top of the gravel path, they saw the dark ship settle roughly to the floor of the amphitheater on extended landing claws. The ship was not overly large, but it completely filled the arena.

A moment later, a large airlock hatch split horizontally. A lone figure stepped out into the sun, a broad-shouldered cougar dressed in dark blue shirt and pants that matched the color of his vessel. Even from the height of their vantage point, the coyote and terrier could see a scar across the bridge of the cat’s nose and his left eyelid. The cougar raised both of his hands to his mouth and looked straight up at the pair.

“Aramis Thorne! Show yourself!” Randon called loudly. “I’ve come for the gold!”

Chapter 13

Aramis Thorne could see neither the cougar nor his ship from the obstructing garden around the sacrificial pit, but he recognized the voice that echoed off the mountainside. The top of his snout wrinkled in anger and disgust as he looked over at his first officer.

“Zef Randon,” he growled.

Jason pulled out his pistol and checked the ammo clip. “He has lousy timing,” the black wolf growled back. He took off running toward the path where Goro and Miklos had gone, keeping his head low.

“Help me move the crate,” Thorne said to Farrell and Karla. Crandall joined the captain at the handles while Farrell pushed with all this strength on the side of the box. Between the three of them, they managed to scoot the sturdy container across the flagstones and into the evergreen shrubs, where no one who might venture into the garden would see it.

Farrell leaned against the heavy box and gulped for air as Karla panted in the heat. Thorne blinked several times to gather his strength and then pulled his pistol from its holster. He looked at the Siberian husky and held up his firearm. “After snubbing him in Castelrosso, I had a feeling Faltane might recall the Cliffhanger from whatever mission it was on,” he said in a quiet voice. “However, I had hoped we would have had time to get the treasure away from the city before he arrived. I wasted too much time with the test run to Quet.”

“What do we do now?” Farrell asked.

“You two should get out of sight,” the wolf replied, “but don’t leave the crate unguarded. I’m going after Randon.”

“Aye, sir,” Crandall said quietly. She checked the ammo clip of her gun and then moved off toward the bushes on the opposite side of the garden. Farrell nervously pulled out his pistol and went to find a hiding place of his own.

Thorne did not wait to see where the pair hid out, but turned immediately and slipped further into the thick evergreen bushes. On the other side of the greenery was a two-meter drop to a small alley behind the buildings that held the tombs of the dead. He dropped over the embankment and landed lightly on his feet, his gun held ready in case he was spotted.

Back up on the trail, Jason crept out of the cover of the shrubs and darted across the cliff to join Goro and Miklos. The cougar below watched the movement patiently and then called again when the wolf had reached his comrades. He could not see his old partner, but knew he must be nearby.

“Thorne!” he shouted through cupped hands. “Faltane has agreed to ignore your betrayal if you hand over the gold!”

Miklos cursed beneath his breath and fired a wild shot down into the arena. The bullet ricocheted off a stone bench seat to the right of Randon, forcing the cougar to dive for cover. The shot echoed off the granite cliff face and Jason grabbed the terrier by the shoulder.

“Well, that’s that,” grumbled the first officer. “There’ll be no getting out of this without a fight now.”

Miklos glared at him, but just as he opened his mouth to retort, a short bobcat popped out of the vessel’s airlock and opened up with a rapid-fire gun. A hail of bullets spattered the cliff and the trail beneath it with a bull-fiddle moan. Mik, Goro and Jason scattered frantically for cover. Dirt and broken rock pelted the trio, but they were miraculously unhurt by the barrage.

Another gunshot echoed across the arena and the bobcat dropped his gun with a cry. He clutched his right arm and dove back inside the dark blue ship. Jason peered across the amphitheater and saw Derek Ravenwood lower his pistol to crawl back behind the cover of a stone table set up near the upper tier of the arena. He saw more movement and recognized others from the Hoenix converging on the area from the city.

An orange striped cat poked his head out of the airlock, but retreated just as quickly when someone else took a shot at him. Indentations appeared in the metal frame beside the hatch where the feline’s nose had been a second earlier.

***

Out of sight from Thorne’s crew, Randon moved through the interior corridors beneath the amphitheater. He had been there before, but had not spent enough time to know his way around. He knew there were steps that lead up to the buildings overlooking the arena, but he could not seem to find them again in the darkness without a flashlight. His keen night eyes should have had enough light filtering in from the arena to see, but dodging a bullet to jump inside had not left him enough time for his eyes to adjust to the darker interior.

He considered going back out into the arena to work his way up the stone bleachers to the upper tiers, but from the sound of multiple gunshots outside, he knew he would likely be picked off before he could make it to the top.

***

Aramis shielded his eyes from the sunlight and scowled at the unbroken backside of the granite buildings. Gunshots echoed off the mountain and he heard a shout of indistinctive words. His eyes were alert to movement while he searched for a back way into the buildings. He had to skirt around several small boulders that had fallen from above at some point in the past and he almost missed it.

A lone doorway was partially ajar behind one of the boulders and he had to scramble over the top of the large rock to drop down inside. When he came down on his right foot, he hit the edge of a step and almost tumbled out into the darkness. He snared the edge of the door frame with an out-flung hand and steadied himself.

The wolf remained motionless for a moment to let his vision adjust to the darkness. He had not seen a set of stairs descending into the depths, but they were now coming into focus. He had not intended to take steps down beneath the arena, but it would serve his purpose just as well. He listened for any sounds below, but heard nothing.

With great caution, Aramis held his pistol ready and stepped down into the darkness. He would rely on his own night sight for as long as he could. He still had his flashlight torch, but refrained using it for the moment so as not to announce his presence to anyone who might be below.

***

Cinjin Thorne eased around a street corner and looked up at the amphitheater that towered above him. He could hear gunshots echoing around the buildings, but could not pinpoint where they came from. He had been inside one of the local structures and had not seen the dark blue vessel land in the arena, but he had heard its thrusters kick in just as he had gone outside.

He had his pistol drawn, but doubted it would do much good if he had to use it. It was not a powerful weapon, but the small-caliber handgun had been the only thing available to him when he had left the ship. He saw no one in the street, so he chanced exposure and ran across the avenue to the nearest opening in the base of the amphitheater. He reached it without incident and peered inside cautiously.

***

A panel opened in the top of the Cliffhanger, and a pair of swivel-mounted gun turrets rose up vertically and then locked into place. The twin barrels spun around and fired off multiple shots at the trail up on the cliff. Miklos cried out when the ground exploded beside him. He clutched at his leg and saw a fresh gaping wound just below his knee. He groaned with the intense pain and felt suddenly light-headed.

Jason crawled forward with his head as low to the ground as he could get it. He reached out to help the navigator just as another volley passed overhead by mere inches and exploded on the cliff wall behind them. He covered Mik’s leg with his body as dirt, rock and scrub brush rained down upon them. The gun turret then swiveled around to belch out its ordnance toward another canine sniper in the arena.

While the big guns were busy blasting away at the stone bleachers, two felines from the vessel escaped out the airlock and darted across the arena into a darkened doorway.

***

Aramis chanced a brief moment with a hand-covered flashlight and confirmed what he had felt in the dark. The stone staircase had wound around until the outside light disappeared. He had felt his way further downward, only to find his way impeded by a wall after several level steps. The light of the flash that escaped through his fingers revealed a doorway much like the ones he had encountered inside the treasure antechamber, complete with a handle carved into the stone at waist level.

He extinguished the lamp and waited to let his eyes readjust to the darkness before trying the door. When he tugged on the handle, the balanced stone panel swung inward. He cautiously eased his nose through the opening and felt a sudden draft of air pour through the new opening. He saw a dim glow of light ahead and nodded silently to himself. He quietly closed the panel behind him and then crept along a long, narrow passage toward the light. He caught glimpses of other corridors in the periphery of his vision, but he continued on his way.

The sound of shouting and more gunfire increased as he neared the light, and for a brief moment, he saw two shadowy figures cross the light only a few meters in front of him. Their profiles suggested feline ancestry, so he backed into one of the side corridors out of sight.

One of the shadows stopped and sniffed the air, and then turned its head in his direction. Thorne cursed himself inwardly, suddenly conscious of the scen he must put off in this musty corridor. Both figures began to move his direction cautiously. They could not see him, but must have known he was there.

The wolf lifted his pistol, but then changed his mind. He did not want to draw any more attention to himself than necessary, so he eased the gun back into the holster and withdrew both of his throwing knives instead.

He held one ready and raised the other as the pair approached his position. At that moment, Thorne’s DataCom chirped and a frantic voice issued from its small speaker.

“Tanaka! A cheetah from the ship got past me and is heading in your direction! Be careful of her – she’s fast!”

One of the felines jumped for his position and Thorne twisted aside just as the lion’s claws missed his throat. He brought up a blade quickly, but just missed the attacker. The other assailant reached out and snared his upraised wrist, so Aramis thrust out his jaws and clamped them down hard upon the lynx’s forearm.

The feline screeched in his ear and his partner uttered a string of curses at him. Thorne whipped his head around, dragging the injured lynx with him, and the two of them collided with a stone column. Aramis released the arm and drove a fist into the fellow’s side.

He stepped backward quickly without realizing that a long, serrated blade sliced through the air right where his middle had been. He turned on his heel and ran for the light. If he had to fight the two of them, he wanted more light.

He took four great strides, and then a broad-shouldered cougar leaned out from behind another column and slugged him hard across the nose. Thorne spun around, but his momentum took him several steps away from the feline captain.

Thorne shook the sparks from his eyes and then looked up into the face of his adversary. He lay on his back in the middle of the floor, dazed from the blow. He could smell blood, but could not place whether it was his own or of the cat he had bitten.

Captain Randon stood over him, his feet planted wide apart and both fists balled up at his sides. He stared down at the wolf with narrowed eyes, almost daring him to get up and run.

“Aramis,” he said in a deep voice.

Thorne nodded and cleared his throat. “Zef,” he responded quietly. He made no move to get to his feet, so the cougar squatted down before him, his arms resting on his knees.

“It takes a lot of guts to betray your best friend,” Randon said in distain. “I wouldn’t have believed it was in you, Aramis.” Thorne swallowed, but said nothing. Randon tilted his head to the side. “Have you nothing to say for yourself?”

“You sold yourself to that human,” Thorne spat finally.

“Faltane financed our expedition,” Randon corrected him quietly.

“You didn’t tell me about your association with him until after we got here,” Thorne growled as he got up onto his knees and wiped blood from his nose. “You would have never found Hoenix if it hadn’t been for my research.”

“I admit that’s true,” the cougar said, “but that doesn’t give you the right to hold out on King Chaaq’s treasure. We were partners, just as we’ve been since childhood. You should have trusted me.”

“I did trust you!” Thorne spat. “I would have split everything with you fifty-fifty — until you told me Faltane was taking seventy-five percent of everything we found! You held out on me!”

Aramis launched himself at the cougar and hit him between the eyes. Randon had expected an attack, but had failed to notice the wolf’s taut leg muscles in the shadows of the corridor. He was caught by surprise, but kicked out and caught Thorne in the side with his boot.

One of Randon’s men moved forward with his serrated knife, but the captain raised a hand to stop the lion. “Stay out of this, Lowe,” he said. “See if Topete is okay.”

“Right, boss,” the other growled in disappointment.

Randon turned back to face Thorne, but the wolf was not looking at him. Aramis was on his hands and knees, panting and holding his side with one hand. The kick had hit him in a tender spot left over from his brawl with Jason.

With effort, Thorne got to his feet, but he did not face the cougar. Instead, he began walking toward the sunlight from the arena. The gunshots had grown quiet. Randon snorted and followed the wolf.

“Come back here,” he said. “We haven’t settled this yet.” Thorne ignored him and kept walking, so Randon closed the distance between them.

Thorne waited until his former partner drew up alongside of him, then he swung around and planted a fist hard into the cougar’s side. Before Randon could react, Thorne hit him again with his other fist in an uppercut that drove the feline captain backward.

“I’m not working for Faltane,” Thorne said as he jumped forward to land another punch before the cougar could collect himself, “and I am not giving him my gold!”

Randon shuffled to the side to avoid the latest punch toward his middle and spun around quickly. He planted a boot up against Thorne’s hip that knocked the lupine captain into a stone pillar near the outside wall.

“I was hired to find Hoenix,” Randon growled as he started after the wolf, “and you and I were partners with the same goal!” He threw a punch at Thorne, but his companion knocked it aside with a sweep of his arm.

“If you had discussed it with me first,” Aramis said as he chopped his hand down against the side of Randon’s neck, “you could have given him seventy-five percent of your half! I have no contract with him to give up mine!” Randon stumbled into the full sunlight of the amphitheater, but stayed on his feet. Thorne followed him out into the space between the arena wall and the Cliffhanger and jumped him. The pair of them fell to the ground and grappled with one another, neither of them seeming to get the upper hand.

There were shouts from both crews, but there was no more shooting. The fighting between the two leaders had drawn everyone’s attention. Several figures emerged from the shadows of the stadium corridors and stood by to watch the fight.

Cinjin Thorne moved out into the sunlight and stopped beside a female cheetah that was also transfixed by the brawl. The two of them exchanged a quick look of recognition, but then returned their attention to the fight.

“Hey, Cinjin,” she said absently.

“Hi, Renee,” the young wolf responded automatically.

Aramis brought his knee up into Randon’s side and then shoved him hard. The two combatants rolled away from one another, but then Thorne got to his feet and kicked at the cat. Randon grabbed the lupine captain’s foot and heaved upward, flipping the wolf over. Thorne landed on his back, but rolled over quickly to avoid Randon’s boot.

“Faltane… will be lenient…” the cougar said as he stepped back to collect his breath. He held his side with one hand and coughed. “Our part of the take… should be more than enough to make us both rich.”

Thorne stood up sluggishly, the aches and pains of the past few fights slowing his movements. He kept his head down, but his amber eyes bore up into the cougar’s. “My take is larger without Faltane,” he said through a sore jaw. “I wanted to find Hoenix long before you approached me about looking for it.”

“Maybe true, but you never did anything about it,” Randon replied.

“I found King Chaaq’s treasure in this city on my own, without Faltane’s help,” Thorne said with a wave of his hand. He stood up fully and stepped toward the cougar. “I made a mistake in telling you that I’d found it.”

“We were partners,” Randon reminded him again. “You should have told me where the treasure chamber was located.”

Aramis stopped in front of him and snarled. “You tried to kill me when I wouldn’t tell you,” he growled, “and you killed Scarlet too!” Randon looked shocked when Thorne lunged forward and grabbed him by the throat. The cougar collapsed beneath their combined weight and fought to free the vise-like fingers from his neck. He shook his head violently and tried to speak, but was unable to draw in a breath.

He raised his fists and brought them both down hard against the wolf’s temples. Thorne grunted and blinked rapidly, but did not release his grip. Randon hit him again frantically, and one of the fists came down on the lupine captain’s snout.

Dazed by the blow, Thorne’s fingers loosened. The cougar slapped away his arms and then rolled away onto his hands and knees, coughing and heaving to get air into his lungs. Aramis shook his head, but he was having trouble focusing his eyes.

“What… are you talking about?” Randon asked in a raspy voice. “I’ve done nothing… to Scarlet.”

On the sidelines, Cinjin moved forward almost against his will. He stepped out into the arena and approached the combatants. He looked in concern first to his father, and then to Randon, who had originally introduced Scarlet to Aramis. The cougar had always appeared to like the match, and Cinjin had often called him “Uncle” while growing up.

“I’ve not seen Scarlet since our last meeting the day you betrayed me,” Thorne said angrily. His vision had cleared and he slowly got to his feet.

“I haven’t seen her either,” Randon told him. Thorne glared at him. The look of confusion on the cougar’s face did not fool him.

“Did you shoot her and hide her body in a tomb as you did with Jenda?” Thorne shouted at him. Randon’s jaw dropped open and he raised his hands in shock.

“Jenda? She’s dead?” he asked with a tight throat.

“Shot through the heart!” Thorne roared. “We found her body!”

“It wasn’t me!”

“Done by you or one of your crew, no doubt,” Aramis growled. “Where is she, Zef? Where did you put Scarlet’s body?”

“I don’t… I didn’t …”

Thorne lunged again, his teeth bared and his eyes full of hatred. Randon tried to turn away, but the wolf caught his head in his arms and pulled it back to bare the throat. In desperation, Randon dropped and let his weight pull them both off balance. Thorne’s fangs missed the taut throat by an inch with an audible snap and then they both rolled over in the dust.

Randon outweighed the wolf, but Aramis was driven by a madness that leant him terrible strength. The cougar wrapped his arms around Thorne’s ribcage and then ducked his head down against his chest to protect his throat. With all the power he could muster, he squeezed hard. Aramis let out an involuntary yelp when he felt a rib crack.

Randon stopped squeezing when he felt Thorne spasm with a great gasp of air, but he did not fully release him.

“Listen to me,” the cougar said to the wolf. “I know nothing of what you’ve said about Scarlet or Jenda. It wasn’t me. I haven’t tried to kill anyone, including you.”

Thorne winced in pain and tried to grab his injured side, but could not get to it past Randon’s powerful arms. He drew in a ragged breath and swallowed hard. “You had them beat me senseless… and dropped into a pit to die,” he rasped. “How can I trust your words?”

Randon flicked an ear. “Since it was you who betrayed our friendship,” he snapped, “you have no right to speak of trust!” He released the wolf and then sat back on his knees. Aramis dropped to the ground with his arms around his middle.

“Where is she?” Thorne asked again. “Where is Scarlet?” Despite his pain, the expression in his eyes was still dark as he looked up at his old partner. He kept his left arm around his ribs but kept the other loose and free at his side.

Randon gritted his teeth, the anger welling up inside him for the constant accusations. He reached down, took the wolf by the collar of his shirt, and raised a fist. “So help me, Aramis, if you don’t sto–”

In one swift movement, Thorne pulled the pistol from its holster and shoved it into Randon’s open mouth, chipping a tooth in the process. He tripped the safety catch and pushed the gun deeper into the cat’s throat. Despite the pain the he felt from the cracked rib, the wolf’s hand was steady. Randon raised both hands into the air and did his best to show his submission.

“You just had your last chance to answer my question,” Thorne growled as an overhead cloud cast the arena into shadow. The madness had left his eyes, but there was lethal determination in them now. Randon swallowed involuntarily. The gun barrel was resting on his tongue like an oversized, metallic depressor and the broken tooth hurt terribly.

“You tried to kill me,” Thorne said in a low voice, oblivious to all the eyes watching them. “Our partnership failed, but she wasn’t a part of our disagreement. She didn’t deserve to die, but you do. Right now!”

“Stop!” a voice shouted. “Don’t shoot him!”  The voice echoed off the stone amphitheater and had enough of a frantic tone in it that Aramis froze, his finger still on the trigger. Someone walked up beside him and he issued a warning growl.

“Don’t interfere,” Thorne told him as he used his free hand to grasp the cougar’s throat tightly. “Randon will pay for killing your mother.”

“He didn’t kill Scarlet!” Cinjin exclaimed.

Thorne tilted his head slightly to look at his son. Randon could only roll his eyes to look his way. “What did you say?” Thorne growled.

Cinjin swallowed hard at the sight of one best friend only a life-beat away from killing the other. “Uncle Randon didn’t kill Scarlet,” the young wolf repeated in a rush. “He doesn’t know where she is.”

This time, Thorne turned his head to look directly into Cinjin’s eyes. “What is it you know?” he demanded. He had not withdrawn his pistol from the cougar’s mouth, and he tightened the grip on the throat he held so he could not back away.

“All I can tell you is that Randon didn’t kill her.” Cinjin swallowed and held his gaze for a long moment, but the piercing directness of the alpha wolf’s eyes was too much for him to bear. He looked away and Thorne felt his hackles rise.

“Where is Scarlet?” he asked slowly.

“She’s dead,” the young wolf replied without looking at him, “but Randon didn’t kill her.”

“So you say,” Aramis said irritably. “Listen to me carefully, cub. How do you know that Randon didn’t kill her? I want a straight answer, and I want it now!”

Cinjin closed his eyes for a moment, but then set his jaw firmly and looked directly into his father’s eyes. “Randon didn’t kill her. I did.”

Aramis opened his mouth in shock, but no sound came out. The pain that showed on Thorne’s face hit him hard. He released Randon’s throat, dropped the pistol, and fell backward against the ground. The gun fell out of Randon’s aching mouth and bounced lightly onto his knees. The cougar had enough presence of mind to grab it before it hit the ground, though he was no less shocked than Aramis. He put a hand up to his throat and swallowed several times to get the feeling back.

Aramis sat up with great difficulty and gasped from a fresh twinge of pain when he weakly rolled over onto his hands and knees.  Randon reached out and helped the wolf to his feet, and then stared transfixed into the young face. Without a word between them, he could see the truth in Cinjin’s eyes. The young wolf gave him a confessing nod.

“W-why?” Randon gasped in shock. “Why would you kill her - your own mother?”

Cinjin balled his hands into fists and suddenly glared down at his father. “We don’t need her. It’s better that she’s gone.”

“What did you say?” Thorne exploded in disbelief. He grabbed for the pistol in Randon’s hand, but the cougar moved it out of his reach without even realizing it.

Cinjin spread his arms wide. “I said, ‘we don’t need her anymore,’” he exclaimed as if it was obvious. “She was only in the way.”

“In what way?” Randon exploded. “Who are you to decide something like that?”

Cinjin snorted irritably and looked directly into his father’s eyes without flinching. “You always had your attention on her. You did everything together with her. I was always left on the sidelines to watch the two of you together, always waiting for your attention.” He began walking around the wolf and cougar, waving his hands in the air as he spoke. “I looked up to you. I idolized you, wanting nothing but your attention and praise, and you never seemed to have time for me! You never noticed when I did something good, when I excelled, nor were ever there when I needed you. Your attention was always on her!”

“That’s what this is about!” Thorne sputtered.

Cinjin swallowed hard, letting the bottled up tensions loose into his words. “I despised mother because she always got your attention,” he said forcefully. “She always got your praise, and you brought her gifts when you had been away and returned. She ignored me when I got older, saying she allowed me to do whatever I wanted without interfering. She didn’t scold me nor punish me when I did something wrong, and it hurt that she didn’t even care if I learned right from wrong!”

Aramis tried to lunge at the younger wolf, but once again, Randon held him back. Cinjin continued to pace, oblivious to his movements.

“When she joined you on the expedition to search for Hoenix with Uncle Randon,” Cinjin continued, “I made friends with Astina and she let me tag along in her cabin on the Cliffhanger. I hoped that you would find me useful when we found the city, but you were so wrapped up in mother that I don’t think you even noticed I was there with you.”

“Cinjin,” Thorne said in a dangerous tone, “where is Scarlet?”

“She’s here, in the city.”

“Where is she?”

“Don’t concern yourself,” Cinjin said in a voice that was almost casual. “You’ll never find her body.”

Without looking at the cougar, Thorne growled, “If you hold me back one more time, the knife in my hand will find a tender spot between your ribs.”  He took a tentative step toward the younger wolf, but this time Randon did nothing to restrain him.

“Astina and I found a room with a large pit of sand that sloped toward a hole in the center of the floor,” Cinjin in proud voice. “After we tossed in a few clay pots and watched them disappear beneath the sand, I had a great idea. I told Astina what I wanted to do and she agreed to help me kill mother.” Cinjin looked over at Thorne, who had stopped to stare at him in disbelief. “I tried to coax mother into a secluded spot, but she wouldn’t come with me alone, as I had intended. She just had to bring her precious Jenda with her. Jenda got suspicious when we entered an empty tomb and saw Astina’s gun; she tried to call for help, so Astina shot her.”

“I knew I heard a gunshot,” Randon growled, “but I never could find anyone who said they’d fired anything.”

“We dragged mother to the room with the sand. She was hysterical about Jenda’s death, so I choked the life out of her to shut her up and threw her into the pit.”

Thorne closed his eyes and ground the knuckles of one hand up against them, his teeth bared and clamped tightly together.

“How can you talk about it so casually?” Randon’s voice rumbled. He opened and closed his fists at his sides, the anger welling up inside of him.

Cinjin ignored him. Now that he had confessed to her murder, he felt as if a dam of emotion had suddenly burst. He continued talking, letting his bottled words flow. “She disappeared under the sand,” he said, “never to be found again. By this time, there were too many of the crew close by and we couldn’t get Jenda to the sand funnel without someone seeing us, so we just put her in the tomb you found her in.”

Thorne could handle it no more. He started for Cinjin, but the young wolf whipped out his pistol and aimed it at him. “Father,” he said in a suddenly higher voice, “you don’t need her! I need you!” Thorne held his ribs and took another step toward Cinjin, a razor-sharp throwing knife glinting in the sunlight in his free hand. The small gun began to shake in the younger wolf’s hand. “No, father! I need your attention…”

“You have my undivided attention,” Thorne growled in fury as he stepped closer. The gun was a foot from the lupine captain’s chest and Cinjin’s eyes were wide in fear. Before he could react to his father’s proximity, Thorne swung out quickly with the hand that had been holding his side and belted the small gun from his grip.

Thorne took the younger wolf by the throat with one hand and shoved the knife up under Cinjin’s chin with the other as the pistol clattered to the ground somewhere to the side. His eyes burned in fury and grief, and he wanted to take the life from Scarlet’s self-proclaimed murderer, but Randon was suddenly there between them, prying the knife out of Thorne’s fingers with powerful hands.

“Stop!” the cougar commanded. “We still need him.”

Thorne allowed his former partner to push him back, but he let go of the throat he held in his grip reluctantly.

Randon grabbed one of Cinjin’s ears forcefully and yanked his head up to face him. “Where is this sand funnel?” he demanded.

Cinjin stared at him for a long moment and rubbed the thin cut on his throat where the knife had nicked him beneath his fur. “In an antechamber off the throne room,” the younger wolf muttered in a quieter voice. He seemed to have come back to his senses, but did not appear repentant.

“You’re lying!” Randon growled. “We’ve been all through the throne room.”

“It’s through a hidden door. Astina stumbled into it by accident.”

“Show us.” Randon released the wolf’s ear.

Cinjin looked over at Thorne, who returned a smoldering glare. The older wolf was mad at him now, but he had his direct attention. He thought it over and then shrugged. “Why not?” he replied. He turned and walked toward the nearest steps of the amphitheater. Thorne snatched his pistol from Randon’s hand and followed his son. The cougar fell into step behind him, wondering where this was going to lead.

A crowd consisting of both crews began to gather in the upper tiers, muted voices murmuring together. As Cinjin and his escort reached each elevation in the amphitheater, people fell in behind them.

As they mounted the steps close behind the young wolf, Thorne glanced over at Randon. “If you didn’t try to kill me,” he said through clenched teeth at the pain in his side, “then why did you beat me senseless and drop me into that pit to die?”

“Because I know you, Aramis,” Randon replied. “You were causing us trouble and I had a deadline to meet with Faltane for the artifacts we were taking from the city. You seemed fascinated with the sacrificial pit earlier, so I thought it would be the perfect place to keep you from disrupting our operation. I knew you were cunning enough to get out of the pit and find your way back to Castelrosso on your own.”

He snorted and added, “I tasked Daniel to put you in there, but he later boasted that he’d killed you before dropping your body into the pit. I put him into the hospital in a fit of rage for that. I don’t think he will walk again.”

“You thought me dead but yet you still didn’t come back to retrieve my body for burial,” Thorne grumbled. “How thoughtful.”

“I was out of time,” Randon replied in a guilty voice.

Thorne muttered something under his breath and then called out behind him. “Duster!” He heard the sound of running feet up the steps and Jason Talos fell into step behind him.

“Yes sir?” he asked. His garments were torn and dirty, and there was blood smeared across one part of it. Thorne looked at it in concern, but beyond his broken wrist, the first officer did not seem to be injured.

“Are you well?”

“I’ll survive.”

“You heard Cinjin’s confession?”

“Yeah… the kid’s off his nut!” the black wolf growled. “You want me to have someone break his legs?”

“Not yet. Send someone down to the ship to get my underwater gear. Make sure the tanks are fully loaded,” Thorne commanded. “We’ll need Crandall’s rope, too. I’ll leave my DataCom transponder on so they can find us in the hidden chamber.”

“It’ll take too long for someone to get back down to your ship and then return,” Randon said. “I have everything you need in the Cliffhanger.” He called to one of his men and gave him instructions on what to get from the ship. The orange cat nodded, stubbed out a cigarette and hopped back down the steps toward the dark vessel.

“Very good,” Thorne said. He grimaced and held his side in pain when he turned wrong going up the steps.

“I think I know what you’re planning to do,” the cougar told him, “but I think your ribs might not like it too much.”

“If you still have your medic, I could use her services. Just bind me up well enough to do what I need to do.”

“Let me do it for you,” Randon said in a low voice as he fingered his broken tooth. “I’m not as injured as you are.” Thorne looked at him solemnly and the cougar knew his childhood friend would not give in. “All right, you win,” he said.

Randon glanced around at the crowd mounting the amphitheater steps behind him and spied the female cheetah several meters back. “Renee!” he called to her. “Go grab your medical kit and get back up here to dress the captain’s injured ribs!”

“Aye, sir,” she called back up to him. She turned and retraced her steps back down to the arena floor. Randon turned back to Thorne and took one arm gently. He helped him up over the final step to the top tier and then faced the row of buildings that housed the dead.

Cinjin chanced a look back at them and Randon recognized the look on the younger wolf’s face. He was going to make a break for it. The cougar pulled a revolver from a leg holster and cocked the hammer with loud clicks that echoed in the quiet amphitheater.

He pointed it at Cinjin’s head and looked at him as if to say, Go ahead and run.

Chapter 14

Farrell Lightner sighed and watched an insect crawl along the evergreen branch in front of his eyes. The gunfire and shouting had stopped some time ago and his imagination had begun to run away with him. His thoughts ranged from wondering if both ships had loaded up and flown away, leaving him and Karla behind, to the bizarre, thinking the ground must have opened up and hordes of the dead had taken away all his crewmates.

The air had grown humid and the once-clear sky overcast from a bank of clouds that had moved in from the west. There was no sign of rain, just grey conditions. He was bored and uncomfortable, but he would follow his orders. The greyhound could not see Karla in her hiding place and had begun to think that she had also gone, until he saw her crawl out of the bushes and trot quietly across the flagstones toward the garden entrance. He frowned to himself, now sure that he had been abandoned.

Crandall kept her head low and a firm grip on her pistol as she approached the end of the evergreen path. She could see no one on the trail along the rock cliff, and like her greyhound companion, could hear no one below. She could not see the arena for the stone buildings, so she crept along the trail until she reached the spot where Jason and the others were earlier pinned down by gunfire.

She dropped to her belly and noted the bloodstained ground beside her. She curled up her lip and wondered whose it might have been.

Now that she was out of the evergreens and could see down into the arena, she heard quiet voices murmuring below. On the far side of the upper tier of the arena was a mixed group of canine and feline individuals from the combined crews of the two ships. She thought it odd that people who had just been shooting at one another were now congregated together.

She looked up ahead to see where they might be going, and then saw Captain Thorne and a broad-shouldered cougar following behind another wolf; a second glance revealed that it was the ship’s supply clerk that led the mixed group. If she was not mistaken, the captain and the cougar both had pistols aimed at the young wolf’s back.

She panted in the late afternoon heat and wondered what she should do. She had no idea what was going on, and really wanted to know, but she had orders to guard the crate. The captain might be in trouble, she mused to herself. Should she follow the crowd covertly, or return to the sacrificial pit?

She struggled with her thoughts for several moments before she realized Cinjin and the captain had disappeared into one of the buildings below. The crowd filed in through the balanced doors until they were all gone, leaving the area in silence once again.

The husky frowned and shook her head in frustration. Her hesitation might have cost her a stealthy approach to see what was going on, so she thumbed the safety on her pistol and then returned to the garden.

As soon as she was beside the sacrificial pit, Farrell stuck his nose out of the bush where he had been hiding. “Psst!” he hissed at her. Karla moved over to his position and then squatted down in front of him.

“What’s going on down there?” the greyhound asked in a whisper. Crandall told him what she had seen, and when she had finished, it stumped them both.

“I hate not knowing,” the com officer said with a frown. “What are we supposed to do now?”

Karla looked at him and sighed. “We still have a treasure chest to guard,” she said. “I don’t know what might be going on down there, but until the situation changes, we need to stay here.” She looked back across the garden to where they had hidden the crate and added, “That gold was promised to us and is ours, Farrell. We’ve been tasked to guard it by our captain, and I intend to keep anyone else from getting it.”

“I know,” the greyhound replied, “but I still wish I knew what was happening in there, especially if the captain’s son was leading them under gunpoint!”

“I’m going back to my hiding pace,” Karla said quietly. “Try not to doze off in the heat.”

Farrell raised his eyebrows at her and then she smiled at him. “Not a chance,” he said. “No one will be getting our gold!”

***

Cinjin looked back at Aramis and shook his head. “I don’t understand why you’re mad at me,” the young wolf said when he stopped at a pair of wooden double doors adorned with relief carvings of the mountain city itself.

“What don’t you understand?” Thorne growled at him. “She was my mate! She was my life! You killed her!” He gritted his teeth and reached out quickly. He grabbed Cinjin’s collar and yanked his son toward him so that they were nose to nose. “You took her from me!”

“You’ve never killed anyone before, have you?” Cinjin asked casually.

Aramis flexed his fingers, imagining the young wolf’s throat within them. “I’ve hurt and maimed those who have crossed me,” he snarled, “but I’ve never killed anyone outright.”

Cinjin tilted his head and smiled, despite the proximity of his father’s face. “Imagine that. I never thought I would ever out-do you in anything!” he said in self-satisfaction. Randon stared at the wolves with an open mouth. He was convinced that Cinjin was quite off-balanced, and knew that Aramis might go that way himself if the young wolf continued to taunt him in that carefree manner.

Without warning, Thorne slugged Cinjin hard across the snout and put another fist into his stomach. Cinjin collapsed to the ground and suddenly the crowd behind the trio gathered close to surround them tightly.

Randon grabbed the back of Thorne’s belt and yanked him backward away from doing more to the young murderer. “We still need him!” he said angrily to his ex-partner. Cinjin curled up in a fetal position at their feet, simultaneously holding his stomach and his bleeding nose.

Aramis looked up at him in hatred. “My wife never left this city alive. Neither will he,” he promised through bared teeth. He looked around and saw the closely packed crowd around them. “Back off!” he shouted furiously. People scrambled to give them room and Thorne snorted his impatience.

“Bring him,” he said to Randon with a glare down at his son. He stepped past the cowering wolf and shoved his way in through the doors to the throne room with both hands.

Randon sighed and helped Cinjin roughly to his feet. “You’d better stop baiting him,” he said into the young wolf’s ear. “I suggest you keep your mouth closed until you’re spoken to.”

Cinjin wiped blood from his nose onto the sleeve of his shirt and stared at the cougar silently. A spark of cognizance appeared in his eyes and suddenly there was fear in them. Randon got the impression that it may have been the first time that Cinjin had realized the consequences of his actions. The feline captain probably should have felt pity for him, but he had loved Scarlet too as a dear friend. He now felt nothing but contempt for the young wolf.

He pushed him through the doorway and the crowd surged in behind them. The chamber was more than large enough to hold both crews, and four great granite columns held up the high ceiling majestically. Each column had images etched around their ponderous surfaces, and brightly colored paint had once decorated the depths of the etchings. The back wall contained a massive relief carving that depicted the face of a regal wolf that matched the image stamped on the Hoenix coins, King Chaaq. The other three walls had scenic carvings of the city itself. Gold leaf had been inlaid into hieroglyphic shapes carved into the bottom third of each wall, but some of it had been dug out of the grooves in one place by the crew of the Cliffhanger on its earlier visit. As with many places in the city, the throne room had been stripped of anything of value that could be taken away.

At the far end of the chamber, between two of the great columns, was a dais a meter in height off the floor. Resting in the center of the platform was a large block of granite. A carved seat, armrests and a foot pedestal were inlaid with gold designs that decorated its sides and back. It would be far too heavy to move without machinery, so Randon’s people had left it there.

Torch holders had been ripped out of the walls, but six round openings in the ceiling served as skylights, one of which was directly over the throne. The afternoon sunlight streamed in through the openings and provided a decent enough illumination to see without flashlights.

Aramis saw none of the beauty that would have captivated him at another time, but he marched directly to the steps leading up to the throne and then turned around to face the gathered crowd. He held his side with one hand, but the painful expression on his face was not from physical distress. Randon released Cinjin in front of him, and kept his pistol handy in case the young wolf tried to run.

A cheetah pushed her way through the crowd and approached the throne with a medical kit. Aramis did not look at her when she stopped in front of him, but that did not deter her. She gave him a short bow.

“Take off your shirt,” Renee said to the wolf in a voice almost as quiet as a whisper. Without taking his eyes away from Cinjin, Aramis unbuttoned his shirt and then pulled it off. He winced at the pain the action caused him and the cheetah looked at him with a critical eye. She put her fingers into the fur at the side he was holding and gently pushed his hand away. She prodded the area in several places and he winced again at certain pressure points. She nodded quietly to herself and then opened up a black bag hanging from a strap around her shoulder.

She pulled out a small electric hypo and then dug into the side of the bag for a vial of pale green liquid. She loaded the vial into the hypo and then raised it up to Thorne’s side, just above the rib she suspected had a hairline fracture. Two tiny probes extended through his double layers of fur to his skin and then applied a mild current to the skin as she inserted the needle in between them.

Once the vial of regenerative medication was empty, she returned the device to her bag and then pulled out a roll of stiff fabric. “Take a deep breath and hold it,” she told the lupine captain. Thorne complied without a word. She got down on her knees in front of him and began to unroll the fabric around his middle. She made several revolutions and then clipped the end tight against itself.

“You can breathe now,” the cheetah said. Without taking his eyes from the younger wolf, Thorne released his breath. Renee pulled a small spray can from the bag, shook it up to a quiet rattle, and then sprayed a fine mist over the wrap fabric.

When she finished, she repacked her bag and stood up in front of him. She frowned at his demeanor and took the shirt from his hand. She helped him shrug back into it, and then buttoned it up for him.

“That rib will heal together in a day or two,” she said quietly, “so take it easy between now and then.” It was only at that moment when Thorne’s eyes met hers. His expression softened for a brief instant and he gave her a nod.

“It will have to do for now,” he said to her, “but I am not ready to rest just yet.”

Renee looked over at her captain with a concerned expression, but the cougar only shook his head with a frown. She looked back up into Thorne’s face and gave him a nod of her own. “The medication will promote accelerated healing and will also help with the pain,” she said. “The wrap will limit your movements, so try not to do anything too strenuous if you can help it.”

She gave him a short bow and then moved back into the crowd around them. Thorne returned his attention to Cinjin and the hardened expression resurfaced in his eyes. Randon faced the young wolf and held his gun so that its barrel pointed toward the ceiling.

 ”Show us this secret chamber,” he said. His voice echoed against the bare walls of the large chamber, making his voice seem louder than it was.

Cinjin stood up straight and nodded. He did not look at his father, but walked past him toward the granite column on the right-hand side of the dais. Aramis and Randon followed him to the back corner of the room. In a small space between the column and the back wall, Cinjin reached out toward a carving that depicted an emblem that resembled an hourglass. In the exact center of the hourglass neck was a slight depression.

Cinjin put a finger up to the depression and a faint mechanical click echoed in the room. The wolf then put his palm over the symbol and pushed. A section of the wall moved inward and Thorne remembered the small pass he had found in the wall of the sacrificial pit. The city must be riddled with such passages, he thought with a quiet nod.

Cinjin gestured toward the interior when the door was open wide enough to pass through. “We will need lights in there,” he said quietly.

The crowd instantly produced nearly a dozen flashlights offered to Aramis and Randon. The cougar gave one to the young wolf and aimed another toward the doorway. “After you,” he said. He kept his pistol trained on Cinjin’s back, but he need not have been concerned that the wolf might try to escape down a passageway. The doorway led only into a round room no more than five or six meters across, with no other exit in sight.

The floor, walls and the low ceiling were unadorned, except they were all painted black, which made even flashlights seem dim. Cinjin pulled a lighter from a pocket and went around the room to light torches of partially burned stick bundles wrapped in oily cloth.

When the chamber was illuminated, he moved to a spot at the wall on the opposite side from the door and reached for a stone lever camouflaged to match the dark surface. He pulled this down and a trickle of sand began to fall to the floor below through a small opening in the black ceiling. Directly beneath it was a funneled pit two meters across containing sand that sloped to a depression at its center. Aramis did not look up at the ceiling, but his eyes focused on the sand pit. Where the sand went, he could not guess, but Scarlet was beneath it somewhere.

There was not enough room for more than a few people in the room, so Randon made everyone but he and the two wolves move back outside into the throne room.

With the torches all lit, Cinjin walked to the edge of the pit and sat down on a short ring of stones that rimmed around it. The quiet hiss of falling sand and the occasional crackling of the torches were the only noises in the small room.

Aramis stared at the sand funnel a moment longer before his eyes moved to Cinjin. “In there?” he asked in a surprisingly calm voice. Cinjin looked up at him and nodded without a word. Father and son exchanged looks that were almost mirrors of one another. In both faces was an expression of regret.

Cinjin swallowed and opened his mouth to speak, but before he could utter a word, Aramis kicked up hard. The toe of his boot caught the young wolf beneath the chin and his head snapped back sharply. Randon rushed forward, but he was not fast enough to stop the supply clerk from tumbling backward into the sand. Before the cougar could reach him, the fine sand dropped out from underneath the wolf and he slipped beneath the surface headfirst. Randon grasped frantically for his boots, but Cinjin quickly disappeared from sight.

“No!” Randon shouted. His voice sounded muted in the small room. He sank to his knees beside the ring of stones and pounded a fist on the sand. There were gasps of surprise from those who peered in through the doorway, and Jason Talos could not help himself. He burst into the room and ran to Thorne’s side.

Aramis stared transfixed at the funnel of sand, seemingly oblivious to the others around him. Jason grabbed him by the shoulders and turned his captain to look at him. Thorne’s amber eyes suddenly became wild and he bared his fangs with a low growl.

Randon stood up cursing in several languages. He pushed Jason to the side and then slapped Aramis hard with the flat of his hand. Thorne’s head rocked and he stumbled sideways a step, but managed to keep his feet. He turned back to Randon with a snarl, but the cougar slapped him hard again. Aramis reeled backward, but reached out blindly and caught his ex-partner’s extended arm.  He pulled himself upright and then shook his head as if coming out of a daze.

When Aramis looked back at the cougar and released his arm, the wolf’s eyes were clear. He gingerly felt the side of his snout and winced. He cast a glance at the sand funnel and then he backed up against the wall behind him. He closed his eyes and began to pant, the realization of what he had done sinking in. He raised a hand up in front of his face and felt it shake.

Randon moved to stand in front of him. “Aramis,” he growled. Thorne lowered his ears and tail when he looked up at him, and the cougar suddenly lost the words that he was about to shout out in anger. Instead, he pressed his lips together and put a hand on his one-time friend’s shoulder.

Voices murmuring outside in the throne room suddenly became quiet, except for a high-pitched voice telling everyone to clear a path. Randon looked back over his shoulder and saw an orange cat push his way into the room, laden with a plastic box that was almost too big for him to carry alone.

“Here are the things you wanted, boss,” the cat said in a winded voice as he set his burden on the ground.

“Thank you, Darrah,” Randon said. He opened the lid of the box and pulled out a coil of thin, but sturdy rope from the top. He looked over at Jason and said, “Duster, help him suit up while I tie off the rope.”

“Right,” the black wolf said without hesitation. He knelt at the box and helped Darrah pull the rest of the articles out onto the floor.

Randon walked to the door and waved the crowd backward. “Move out of the way, rubbernecks,” he told them. Chalmoy Bleys gave him an irritated look, but he complied with the rest of the group. Randon tried to wrap the rope around the large column, but its diameter was too large for him to get his arms around. Cal reached behind the column and grabbed the end the cougar had extended, and pulled it to him.

Randon gave him a nod of thanks and then began to work the rope into a secure knot that would hold the weight of a full-grown wolf. It took him a few moments to tie it off to satisfaction and then he played out the coil as he walked back into the funnel room.

Jason and Darrah almost had Aramis fully suited by the time the cougar dropped the coil of rope beside the ring of stones around the sand funnel. Jason lifted a bubble helmet over the lupine captain’s ears and set it down onto its seal ring at his neck. The orange cat hooked two bottles of compressed air into a set of large clamps on his back. The helmet did not allow for a lot of room between Thorne’s nose and the glassteel bubble, but he would be able to see in all directions without a blind spot.  The tail pouch was for a thinner tail than his was, but Aramis had managed to stuff his thick brush into it with some coaxing.

Darrah lifted up a device that looked like a smaller version of Thorne’s own DataCom and tapped in a code. “You should be getting air now,” the feline said into its microphone. The signal emitted through tiny speakers inside the neck seal of the suit and had a tinny sound. Aramis gave him a thumbs-up signal and Darrah nodded. “You won’t need to be pressurized for deep sea diving or for a spatial vacuum, so I’ve set your system for normal conditions to give you more air for breathing.”

Randon took one of Thorne’s hands and raised it up to a small control on the suit’s chest panel. “This is your call switch,” he said to the wolf. “It has a spring-loaded cover you’ll have to push aside, and you will need to hold down the switch while speaking. The com set inside this suit isn’t voice activated.”

Aramis touched the control and said, “Understood.” The voice that issued from Darrah’s DataCom sounded slightly under modulated.

Randon pulled Thorne’s hand to another place on the chest panel and the wolf could feel a concave depression. “This switch activates a set of lamps mounted on your shoulders,” the feline captain informed him. “Don’t turn them on until you’re in darkness. The suit batteries will give you about an hour of light when fully charged, but I don’t think these are. If your lamps start to flicker, call us to haul you out of there. You’ll lose the com unit when the batteries fail completely.”

“Right.”

“Should you lose your light, there are several emergency flares in both pouches on your legs. They’re magnesium and will burn just about anywhere, even under water if needed.”

“Right,” Aramis repeated as Randon handed a length of the rope to him.

Thorne reached up to the call switch as he looked through the bubble at his ex-partner. “Please have everyone leave the room for a moment,” he said. Jason and Darrah both looked over at him, but Randon made a sweeping gesture with his hand.

“Everyone out,” he said.

Jason gave Thorne a look of resentment, but followed the orange cat out of the room. Randon trailed them to the door and then said, “Darrah, take everyone over by the throne. The captain and I need to have a private conversation.”

“Aye, sir,” the cat replied. Darrah raised his hands up into the air and spoke in a loud voice to those assembled just outside the door. “Listen up, people,” he commanded. “Our captains want us to wait by the throne for now.”

“Your captain might want that,” said Chalmoy belligerently, “but we don’t follow his –”

“That goes for us too,” Jason cut him off. “It was Captain Thorne’s order.” The miniature pincher gave him and Darrah a sour look and then turned on his heel toward the throne as directed.

Randon watched them go, but did not turn back to Thorne until they were alone. “What’s on your mind?” he asked as Aramis unfastened his helmet and took it back off.

“Please turn off your DataCom.”

Randon looked down at his com device and saw the green power light still activated. He shut it off without a word and returned his gaze to the wolf.

Thorne studied his lifelong friend’s eyes for a moment before he spoke. “Once I have retrieved my family,” he said in a somber tone, “I will give you the location of Chaaq’s gold stash.”

Randon looked surprised. “Why the change of heart?” the cougar asked with an upraised eyebrow. “After all the fuss you made, why are you offering it to me now?”

Thorne held up the rope in his hand and gestured with it toward the sand funnel. “You abandoned me in a pit once before,” he said. “Consider this your incentive to make sure I come back safely out of this one.”

Randon raised his chin slightly. “What about your crew?” he asked. “Aren’t they expecting the gold for themselves?”

“Just before you arrived, we retrieved a crate containing eight bags of gold coins that I’d hidden away before you waylaid me last month,” Thorne explained in a low voice. “It may only be eight bags, but what is in the box will make my people very happy when it is divided up among them. What I’m promising you is an antechamber filled with over two hundred more bags of the coins.”

“What makes you think I’ll let you take the one crate any more than I would the gold in the chamber you found?” Randon asked as he crossed his arms. “I doubt Mr. Faltane would want even that much to slip through his fingers.”

Thorne fixed him with a steady stare. “It’s the cheapest way to avoid more bloodshed,” he replied with a growl in his throat. “Listen, Zef. My followers outnumber yours and they’re desperate to keep their treasure. They will fight tooth and claw to keep it now that they have it. Let my people leave with their crate, and the antechamber is yours without either of us losing anyone else to petty fighting.”

“How can I be sure you’re telling me the truth about this antechamber?” Randon asked suspiciously. “You have lied to me.”

“No, Zef, I didn’t lie to you about King Chaaq’s treasure. I simply refused to tell you its hidden location. My crew doesn’t know about the antechamber. Let them leave with the crate, thinking that is all there is, and the rest of the king’s treasure is yours.”

“What about you?” Randon asked as he rubbed his chin. “Will you be satisfied with a mere trunk of coins when you know you lost a larger stash?”

Aramis narrowed his eyes. “I’m here only for my wife,” he said tonelessly. “The box of gold is for my crew. It means nothing to me now.”

Randon fell silent for a moment and mulled over his words. He looked over his shoulder toward the door to make sure no one was there, and then took the bubble helmet from Thorne’s hands. “Okay, you have my word,” he said in a low voice. “Once you’re back up here safely and have shown me King Chaaq’s treasure chamber, your crew can have the box of coins you promised them.”

“What about your master?”

“If there’s as much gold in that chamber as you claim,” Randon said with a smile, “Mr. Faltane won’t miss eight bags. I promise not to report it to him. Your people may have a difficult time finding another buyer, though.”

“I already have another buyer,” Aramis said dryly. “I had someone else interested in my half of the treasure before you even told me of your association with Faltane.”

“Planning more skullduggery behind my back, my friend? Who’s your buyer?”

“That’s not your concern, friend. You have your own partner.” Aramis studied the cougar’s face. “I assure you that you will never find the treasure chamber if anything happens to me. Chaaq chose his hiding place well.”

“It appears we’ll have to trust one another once more,” Randon said.

“It appears so.”

Randon nodded his agreement and extended his hand. Aramis shook it, and then the cougar gestured toward the sand funnel. “How deep do you think it goes?”

Aramis walked over to the ring of stones and put a foot up on one. “I suspect there’s an open chamber below. If I reach the end of the rope before I reach the bottom, I will have you haul me back out.”

“Understood.” Randon raised the helmet back up over the wolf’s head and then set it back into place. After he had secured the seals and opened the valves on the air tanks, the cougar walked back to the door and peered out. Jason saw him and tapped the orange cat on the shoulder.

Randon waved to them and said, “We’ll need some muscle in here.” There was a surge of motion as Darrah and Jason trotted back to the small room followed by the others.

Aramis frowned at the number of bodies that tried to get into the small room, and then handed the section of the rope above his harness to the cougar. He knelt down stiffly and sat down on the ring of stone. He put his feet hesitantly out into the funnel and felt solid ground slope beneath them. He slowly scooted out toward the middle and felt his boot hit something that gave slightly beneath him.

He reached up to his call switch. “It feels like a trap door in the middle. It’s probably counterbalanced to hold the weight of the sand, but to give away with more weight.”

“Be careful going over the edge,” Jason warned as he took up a position beside Randon. His broken arm prevented him from helping on the rope, but he would be there to protect Thorne’s best interests. “I doubt it was designed with your safety in mind and it might have a sharp edge.” He looked up at the black walls and ceiling with a deep frown. “This was probably the king’s private chamber for getting rid of subjects fallen out of favor,” he added. “You may find more than you’re looking for down in there.”

“Right.”

Randon played out the rope slowly as Aramis scooted further out toward the center of the funnel. Others got in line on the rope behind him to help manage Thorne’s weight.

Thorne eased out further and suddenly the suspected trap door beneath the sand dropped open. He felt his feet go over an edge and he sank quickly into the sand. Randon and his team pulled the rope tight. Thorne stopped when his armpits reached the sand and his oxygen bottles hung up on the opening. He could feel his legs dangling out into open air beneath him and his eyes went wide. He was no stranger to rappelling, but the sensation was unnerving. He put his hands beneath the sand and grasped the edge of the opening. He wriggled enough to free up his bottles and then gave a thumbs-up to Randon. The cougar nodded and the rope line let out slowly to lower him further into the sand.

Jason watched his captain’s helmet disappear beneath the sand and saw the rope suddenly become taut. The trap door had closed upon the rope as much as its thickness would allow. Sand from the ceiling began to refill the depression.

When Aramis dropped through into the chamber below, his mouth fell open in surprise. Instead of the darkness of an underground grotto as he expected, there was a shaft of sunlight emanating through a hole in the ceiling several meters away from him. He could see his surroundings well enough that he would not need his lamps for now, but something else held his attention.

It was the chamber from his dreams!

The stone walls of the chamber contained relief carvings of ancient canine kings, and hieroglyphic words written in huge symbols. The beam of sunlight fell parallel to the falling river of sand that washed over him, to another circular pile of sand below ringed with a knee-high wall of fitted stones. Unlike the funnel he had just come through, a trough on a slope on one side of the ring drained excess sand away to a dark hole in a near wall. The small wall was darkly stained with the dried blood of previous deposits from above, and some of the grisly stains extended out onto the stone floor of the chamber.

“Thorne?” crackled Randon’s voice over his suit speakers.

He raised a hand to his chest and toggled the call switch. “I’m okay,” he reported. “I’m in a large chamber, about ten meters off the floor. You can continue to lower me.”

“Do you see… them?”

Aramis looked past his dandling feet and spied a body half-buried in the sand. Cinjin’s eyes were closed, but his neck was bent to the side at an odd angle. Thorne swallowed hard and then toggled the switch again. “One of them,” he replied quietly.

“Cinjin?”

“Yes.”

“Is he…?”

“Yes.”

There was silence for a moment before he asked, “Are you in any danger?”

“Only if you drop me,” the wolf replied.

“Then we shall endeavor not to drop you,” was Randon’s wry reply. Thorne felt the rope jerk a bit and then he began to lower further into the chamber.

Thorne fell silent and tried to see more of the pit below, but with the sand still falling down over the top of his helmet, he saw nothing more than he had before. He waited out the rest of the drop by looking around the chamber. At the wall to his left was a set of stone steps carved out of the wall itself. The steps curved down around the perimeter of the round cavern and ended at a small platform near the sand pile. The top of the steps disappeared through a tunnel in the wall near the cavern ceiling. It was anybody’s guess where it might lead.

His feet touched down on the sand pile moments later.

“Thorne?” said Randon’s voice.

“I’m here.”

“I can’t feel your weight on the rope anymore. Are you okay?”

“I’m down,” Aramis replied as he stepped to the side to get out from under the falling sand. “I’m standing in another sand pit below the first. I’m going to disconnect myself from the rope and then tie it underneath his shoulders so you can pull him back up.”

“Okay, but we’ll have a devil of a time getting him back through that trap door. It closed almost all the way after you went through it.”

“Deal with it,” Thorne said irritably. “I’m going to have to dig through the sand to find Scarlet.”

“Right... Let us know when Cinjin is ready to bring up. We’ll see what we can do to open the trap door from up here without sending anyone else down through it.”

Aramis knelt down in the soft sand and reached out to grasp Cinjin’s shoulders. He then pulled the young wolf over so that he lay on his back. Aramis stared morosely at the still face for a long moment and then gently brushed sand from his son’s nose and brow. His throat tightened and he could feel moisture in his eyes, but he cleared his throat and blinked his eyes clear again.

He nodded resolutely and then pushed the end of the rope down into the sand to pull it beneath the young wolf’s shoulders. He tied it securely around Cinjin’s chest and then toggled his call switch.

“He is ready to come up,” he said quietly.

“Just a moment,” Randon replied distractedly. A moment later, a large dump of sand fell into the chamber and buried the young wolf again in Thorne’s lap. Aramis looked up toward the ceiling and saw a flickering of light while the trapdoor seemed to be working itself open. He leaned back and turned on his shoulder lamps. In the light beams, he saw a tree branch sticking through the door above as someone worked it into place to prop it open.

“We found something to jam in the trap door,” Randon explained, “but a fox of yours named Argus almost fell through on top of you trying to get it in there.”

“I see it, and I was right. There is a metal chain attached to the bottom of the trap door that runs laterally through what looks like a rudimentary pulley to a small block of stone – a counter weight.”

“We’re going to pull him up now.”

Thorne turned off his lamps and then brushed the new sand from atop his son’s face. He gave a tug on the rope and said, “Ready.” The slack disappeared from the rope and then Cinjin lifted from the sand.

Giving the younger wolf no further attention, Aramis plunged his hands beneath the sand and began searching for Scarlet’s body. He had no idea how deep the sand might be in the middle, but he did not find anything right away. He dug deeper so that his bubble helmet was lying against the sand, and then he felt something at the fingertips of his gloves.

He tried to dig deeper, but fine sand continued to fill in every attempt he made to reach it. He increased his effort and somehow managed to attain what he had found. His fingers curled around something that felt like an arm, so he began to heave upward on it as hard as he could.

When he got the buried item up into the light, he found himself holding the forearm of skeletal bone. Strips of brittle, dried cloth wound around the arm, but he knew it was far too old to have belonged to Scarlet. He tossed it out of the pit, where it bounced onto the stone floor with a clatter.

He set his jaw in determination and began to feel around in the sand in other areas. The pile was not as deep as he had thought it might be, and he touched the bottom in places around the outer edges. Even as more sand fell from above, he glanced over at the sloped trough to the side and began scooping sand toward it.

He worked quickly but the suit he wore was not configured to cool the body. He began to pant from the excessive exertion and felt as if he were overheating. The tanks continued to supply him with air, but the toil of recent fighting combined with the effort of digging made him weary.

Despite this, however, he managed to scoop a great quantity of sand down the trough and into the abyss below. He found more parts of the canine skeleton that went with the arm bone, but rather than toss out the pieces as he had done earlier, he pitched them down the trough.

His side had not given him much trouble since Renee had treated it, but he put so much exertion into his task that it began to bother him again despite the medication. He had made a lot of progress, but he had to force himself to stop to rest. He sat down in the sand and spread out his feet out in front of him. He checked a gauge mounted to the left arm of the suit and frowned at the amount of air left in his tanks. His work had depleted more of the air than usual. Were it not for the sand that continued to fall from the ceiling, he might have been tempted to shed the helmet. If the oxygen level fell too low, he may have to do that anyway.

Aramis gathered himself together and rolled back over onto his knees. He scooped sand toward the trough again, but it only took a couple moments before he realized that he had nearly reached the bottom of the bowl. He continued to find smaller bones scattered beneath the sand, but of another body there was nothing to be found.

He was stunned when the realization hit him. Had Cinjin lied about killing her and disposing of her in the pit?  He did not think so. The young wolf had been cocky about divulging the details of his deed, and had seemed almost proud of what he had done.

Thorne’s eyes fell upon the sloped tough and followed it with his gaze to the dark crevasse. He got to his feet, stepped out of the sand pit and walked parallel to the trough. When he got to the end, he held onto the rock wall beside him and stared down into an abyss.

He knelt down and reached under the flap of a pocket on his left leg. He pulled out one of the flares Randon had mentioned and then stood back up. He closed his eyes, tapped one end of the amber tube on the rock beside him to activate it, and suddenly the chamber lit up in a brilliant blue-white light. He dropped the hissing flare into the crevasse and then peered down into the abyss to watch its decent into the depths.

The wolf saw glimpses of rock outcrops where sand and bones had caught, but he saw nothing recent. The crevasse seemed bottomless. The flare bounced off the wall a few times, but continued to fall far below his field of vision. If it ever hit the floor, he never heard its impact. The flare simply vanished into the abyss.

“We have him,” Randon’s voice suddenly erupted from the suit speakers.

Aramis reached up to the call switch and toggled it. “Acknowledged.”

There was a pause, and then Randon spoke again in a quiet, solemn voice. “Did you find her?”

“No,” he replied. “Her body is not here.”

“Not there? Cinjin said he—”

“The sand drains away from the bottom trap into a deep crevasse,” Aramis said hoarsely. “I dropped a flare into it, but never saw it hit bottom. He was right. King Chaaq’s death chamber assures that anyone tossed down here would never be found.”

“I’m sorry, my friend,” the cougar said. “I know you loved her deeply.”

Aramis did not reply. He dropped his hand from the call switch and rested his head against the wall. He swallowed with difficulty and cleared his throat to relieve a bit of the pressure.

“Hold tight for a bit,” Randon said presently. “I’ve sent one of your men out to get a rock weight to tie to the end of the rope so we can lower it back down to you.”

“Fine.”

Aramis looked back down into the abyss with a heavy heart and imagined her voice singing to him from the depths in a wordless song. For a brief moment, the wolf actually considered joining her in the darkness, but then shook his head as if to rid himself of the thought.

Aramis backed away from the crevasse and walked over to the ring of stones. He did not step back into the sand trap, but instead looked at the cavern around him.

He glanced up at the images on the walls until his attention settled on the carved steps. He moved to them, as if pulled toward them magnetically, and found himself standing beside a small archway to a dark corridor that he had missed seeing earlier. The steps led up the wall beside him, but he decided to investigate the lower archway instead.

He turned on his shoulder lamps again and stepped into the passageway. It led for several meters before it made a sharp turn to the left. When he rounded the corner, he stopped and stared.

The chamber was larger than the one he had just departed, filled from wall to wall with gold… There were piles of gold coins, stacks of gold plates, goblets, and bowls and mounds of golden jewelry. There were ingots of gold as large as his helmet, stacked like cordwood against the walls, and he could see rich veins of gold running all through the walls of the grotto itself. The walls here were not the common granite that most of these mountains seemed to be made of, but were a darker, softer material where the gold seemed to flourish. As he gazed around the room, he realized that this was the source of the Hoenix wealth!

He looked around the room and felt dizzy. The gold had tarnished over the years, but was still a magnificent sight. The crate of gold coins he had promised his crew was but a pittance of what was in the antechamber he would disclose to Randon. The treasure there, however, was insignificant against what he saw before him.

Aramis reached out and picked up a golden goblet. He raised it into his lamp beams and studied it. Despite the age of the artifact, it had been artistically etched with intricate scrolls and hieroglyphs of such quality to be awe-inspiring. The historian in him came to life and he tried to visualize what King Chaaq’s lifestyle must have been like. It was unknown what had caused the downfall of the lupine king’s reign and civilization, and why the city had been abandoned with such wealth stored beneath the throne room. Whatever the reason, he was likely the only person in the last few hundred years to see the spectacle before him.

Randon and his human master could have the antechamber full of gold coins for all he cared, but despite his discovery, Aramis felt no real joy with his newfound treasure chamber. Without Scarlet to share it with, all the riches of Hoenix meant little to him.

Thorne heaved a heavy sigh and put the goblet back down where he had found it. He turned around and retraced his steps back out into the main chamber. He looked up toward the trap door for the rope and rock, but there was nothing there yet.

He looked at the carved steps beside him and decided to see where they might lead. He started up slowly at first, but then he quickened his pace. He walked up the steps around the perimeter of the room. He had no fear of heights, but the steps were narrow and he was consciously aware of the drop beside him.

When he reached the top, he found another archway and a darkened corridor. He was about to switch on his lamps, but suddenly had a suspicion it would be best if he did not. He walked blindly into the passageway, and like the one he had found below, it only went a few meters before it turned sharply to the right.

He found himself in a small alcove that stopped at what appeared to be a solid wall, but he assumed the barrier in front of him was another secret entrance. There was a difference here, however. He could hear voices and could see a small pinpoint of light. He turned his nose to the side and put an eye up to the light as close as the helmet would allow.

He could see several people milling around in a large chamber and he realized it was the throne room. The eyehole he peered through must be hidden within one of the carvings in the wall behind the throne itself.

Of course! The king would not go through the sand funnel to visit his treasure chamber. This had to have been his secret entrance down to the trove. Surely, no one would willingly go through the sand funnel, especially if its existence as a death sentence was known to others in the court. Clever… he thought.

Aramis turned and retraced his way back down the steps, musing over what he had seen. By the time he reached the bottom, the end of the rope lowered back down to him with a grapefruit-size stone tied to it.

“Thorne?”

“I am still here,” Aramis replied as he stepped back into the sand pile.

“I understand how disappointed you must be about not finding Scarlet, but have you had a chance to look around down there?”

Thorne peered up at the descending rock and made a quick decision. “There’s nothing here but sand, rock and death,” he told his ex-partner. “I’m ready to come back out into the sun.”

“We will have you up shortly,” Randon promised. “Don’t forget our agreement. I have kept my end of the bargain. I want no tricks.”

“No tricks, Zef. The contents of our agreement are yours.”

Chapter 15

Aramis Thorne looked up into the late afternoon sky and frowned at the overcast conditions. What had begun as a clear day had darkened to gloomy grey, appropriate for his frame of mind. He said little to anyone who addressed him, and the lifelessness had returned to his eyes.

The body of his son had been sent down to the Hoenix in the company of Jason and Cal on an anti-grav dolly borrowed from the Cliffhanger, along with Miklos and several others who had been injured in the initial confrontation between the two crews. The death chamber had been re-sealed and abandoned, never to be opened again.

Randon walked quietly beside the wolf, his own internal thoughts just as dark. The young wolf he had watched grow up from a pup had admitted matricide. Cinjin had shown them all where he had supposedly disposed of Scarlet’s body, but her body was still missing. Why had Cinjin admitted murder? He could have kept silent by letting Thorne believe her death had been at Randon’s hand, but instead he had caused his own death in the confession. What was the purpose in it all?

What had begun as a falling out of friends due to the details of their expedition had turned into fatal bloodshed. Although Thorne’s own act had been one of revenge, he had still taken a life. With the murders of Scarlet, Cinjin and Jenda, the fight had gone out of the quiet wolf.

Aramis moved slowly as they walked up the gravel pathway to the upper garden. His injured rib was hurting again, but he did not bother to tell anyone. He was so very tired, in both body and spirit, and he wanted nothing more than to curl up somewhere to rest and heal. He had an obligation, however, and he would honor his word before collapsing. It was the only thing that gave him strength.

Randon glanced up at the rock wall that bordered the pathway and then looked ahead. It was only then that he recognized where they were.

“Why are we going to the sacrificial pit?” he asked quietly.

“The gold coins are there,” Aramis answered without looking up. “You noticed that I had an interest in it on our earlier visit here. That’s why.”

“You mean to tell me I had Daniel drop you into the very treasure cache I was trying to find?”

“Yes,” Thorne said dully.

Had it not been for the recent chain of events, the cougar would have laughed at the irony. Instead, he shook his head in amazement and said, “I have to admit that putting his gold in a place no one would likely visit was an inspired plan by ol’ King Chaaq. I understand that in his day, poisonous snakes were kept in there to make sure their sacrifices were delivered to the realm of the dead.”

Thorne looked up at him with weary eyes. “Is that what you intended for me when you had me dropped in there?” he asked tonelessly.

Randon looked surprised. “Actually, I hadn’t remembered that until just now. Honest, Aramis, I only intended it to be a temporary holding cell.”

“Right.”

The cougar frowned and sighed without another word. They arrived at the evergreen trees flanking the flagstone walkway a moment later and Randon suddenly stopped.

“What is it, boss?” Darrah asked from behind him.

“Someone is watching us,” Randon whispered as his hand crept slowly toward the holster at his side.

Thorne stopped and looked back at his old partner. “My people,” he explained. “They’ve been guarding the crate.”

“You first, then,” Randon said as he gestured toward the flagstone walkway.

Thorne turned and continued along the path. There was no one in sight when he emerged into the garden area, but he walked straight to the sacrificial pit. Randon stepped out into the open cautiously, but he waved the rest of the crowd back to stay on the path. Argus Roza stepped out boldly and moved directly to his captain’s side, followed quickly by others in his crew. Aramis gave the fox a cursory glance and then put his hands on his hips.

“Mr. Lightner,” he called. “Come out here.” There was a moment of complete silence in the garden, but then there was movement in the bushes to his left. Farrell crawled out on his hands and knees, looking extremely apprehensive at the cougar standing beside the wolf.

“It’s all right,” Thorne assured him. “We’re under a truce.”

The greyhound did not look convinced, but he got up on his feet and held his pistol in front of him, its barrel pointed up toward the grey sky.

“Sir?” Farrell asked hesitantly, “Are they going to take our gold away from us?”

Thorne looked directly into Randon’s eyes and said, “No, he has given his word that we can leave with it safely.”

There were murmurs of surprise from the feline’s crew, and several of them rushed out into the open to stand beside Randon.

“Hold!” Randon called out to his people. “What he says is true. I have given him my word.”

“Then what the blazes are we even doing here?” a short bobcat spat out in anger. He cradled his right arm in a sling and looked disgusted that he may have been injured needlessly.

Randon turned to him and gave him a look of longsuffering. “We still have a purpose in the city, Mr. Bast,” he said. “I will explain once Captain Thorne’s people have safely left with their treasure chest.” Lightner looked up in surprise at the cougar, and then flashed a smile at his captain. The bobcat did not share his cheer and grumbled obscenities beneath his breath.

“Right,” Randon said with a sidelong glance at a nearby lion. “Mr. Lowe, I need you to go down to the Cliffhanger and get another anti-grav dolly. Bring it up here as quickly as you can.” The lion gave him a quiet nod and then trotted back along the path to carry out his task.

“Crandall,” Aramis called out. Once again, the garden fell into silence before the canine gunner stepped out of the bushes with her firearm out in front of her. She kept its barrel pointed toward Randon’s chest with a look of suspicion.

Thorne ignored her gesture and turned toward Randon with a grimace on his face. He held his side in pain and then pointed to a spot in the bushes near them. “Our crate is hidden in there,” he said. “We’ll need your help getting it back out into the open.”

A lynx and a female leopard started toward the indicated spot, but Crandall whirled on them with her pistol. “Captain!” she exclaimed.

“Stand down, Karla,” Thorne commanded. The husky gave him a look of disbelief, but followed the order. She lowered her weapon, but did not remove her finger from the trigger.

Thorne looked over at the small gathered crowd. He pointed toward a familiar face and said, “Mr. Bova, would you and Mr. Ravenwood give them a hand moving our crate out here?”

The Doberman and the German shepherd quickly stepped forward, as if suspicious the two felines would harvest a few of the coins if not watched carefully. The four of them slid into the bushes where Aramis had indicated. A moment later, there was the sound of grunting as they pushed the heavy crate out into the open. They stopped just outside the evergreen bushes and then stood aside.

Randon followed Thorne to the crate and watched as the wolf brushed a coiled rope from the lid and dropped it onto the ground at his feet. Aramis opened the lid and then looked up at his ex-partner. The crowd filled in around them as Randon reached down and picked up a handful of ancient coins. The luster had long gone from the gold, but that did not deter the unanimous grins that spread around those gathered.

“Would you look at that?” Derek exclaimed. “It’s a bloody fortune!” Someone else let out a whistle and there were other murmurs of appreciation at the sight.

“Surely you’re not going to let them just take it?” the female leopard asked with an intense look at her captain.

Randon let the coins fall through his fingers and then he looked over at Aramis. “Thorne?” he said.

The wolf met his gaze and shook his head. “After this crate is on its way down to my ship,” he said, “I will honor our bargain.”

Randon stared into his amber eyes for a long moment and then nodded. Bound by their agreement not to mention the larger coin stash in front of Thorne’s crew, he nodded to the leopard and said, “Captain Thorne will be allowed to take this treasure with him for his crew.” The bobcat next to her opened his mouth in protest, but Randon held up a hand with a smile. “Don’t get your fur in a fizz,” he said. “You won’t be disappointed with the compensation.”

Darrah reached out, picked up several of the coins from the crate, and held them up in front of his nose. “It better be good,” he said with a grumble. He dropped the coins reluctantly and turned when they heard someone coming up the pathway.

The large lion had returned with a platform that hovered a few inches above the flagstones, controlled by a small remote in his hand. He brushed a hand through his thick mane as he guided the platform toward the crowd.

“Here’s the dolly, as ordered,” he said in a gravelly voice.

“Very good, Leon,” Randon said. The lion put the anti-grav dolly next to the crate and then lowered it to the ground.

Thorne gave a quick glance at the four who had pushed it out of the bushes and immediately they complied with the silent order by hoisting the heavy box onto the platform.

“I will take that,” Argus said to the lion as he snatched the dolly’s control box from his hand. Leon’s face contorted in anger, but Randon gave him a quick hiss. The lion stepped back and let the fox activate the dolly’s levitation system.

Aramis looked over at Randon and then held up one hand. “Listen up,” he said loudly. “I want everyone from my crew to accompany Mr. Roza and the crate back down to our ship. I want the box secured in the cargo bay, but no one is to touch its contents until I can divide it up equally among you.” Canines pushed through the crowd and surrounded the crate. There were determined expressions on all their faces. The treasure was theirs, and no one would take it from them without a deadly fight.

Crandall walked over to the wolf with a frown. “Sir, I don’t think you should be left alone with these yahoos,” she whispered to him. “Let me stay as your bodyguard.”

Thorne shook his head and put a hand on her shoulder.  “Karla, I will be okay,” he said quietly. “I had to make a deal with Randon to let us keep our gold, and now I will honor my word. Go with the others and make sure the crate gets to the ship unmolested. I should join you in about an hour.”

Crandall did not look convinced and opened her mouth to voice her concerns. Aramis put a hand up to her lips and gently touched her. “I’ll be fine,” he repeated.

The husky searched his eyes for deceit. The familiar piercing directness had gone; there was only gentle acknowledgement in them now.  She swallowed and then nodded without further argument.  She joined the canines surrounding the crate and looked down at her feet.

“Go,” Aramis said in a stronger voice. Argus gave Thorne a quick salute with one finger and then guided the dolly and its attendants across the flagstones.

The small number of felines left standing beside Randon and Thorne began to murmur in discontent. “Should I tail them?” Bast asked.

“No,” the cougar replied. “Just let them go.” Bast gave him a dirty look, but otherwise did nothing.

As soon as the Hoenix crew was out of sight along the pathway, Randon turned to Aramis and crossed his arms. “Okay, they’re gone,” he said in suspicious expectation. The feline crew of the Cliffhanger crowded around the wolf, as though to stop him from escaping.

Thorne tried to kneel down to pick up the rope at his feet, but his injury prevented him from squatting down far enough. Gasping for air, he straightened up and said, “Have someone tie that off. We will need to go down into the pit.”

Randon picked up the rope and handed it off to Darrah. The orange cat moved off to the evergreen bushes to do his task, and Randon looked at the grimace on Thorne’s face in concern. “I don’t think you can handle another rope right now,” he said dubiously. “If the gold is piled up at the bottom of the pit, I won’t need you down there with me to bring it up.”

“There’s more gold?” Bast asked with renewed interest.

Aramis nodded to the bobcat. “Eight bags of Hoenix coins were in the crate you just saw,” he explained. “There are over two hundred more bags through the sacrificial pit.” He looked over at Randon and added, “The coins aren’t lining the bottom of the pit. They’re in a hidden antechamber that can only be reached through the pit.”

“Ah, I see,” the cougar replied with a raised eyebrow. “I suppose only you can open the door to the gold?”

“No, you could do it, but I want to be with you when it’s opened. I want you to see that I have not lied to you.”

Randon looked around at the seven felines that made up his crew. He motioned to the cheetah standing behind them. “Captain Thorne didn’t listen to your medical instructions and has stressed his injuries, Renee. However, he’s about to stress them further by climbing down another rope, so please do what you can for him.”

The feline medic nodded and then motioned for the wolf to follow her a few steps away from the group. She dug into her medical kit and said, “Take off your shirt.” Aramis began to unbutton his shirt while Randon gave instructions to his people. When Thorne tried to pull the shirt from his back, his rib twinged and he gasped from the sharp pain. He tried to double over, but he hurt too much to bend far.

Renee tsk’d and held onto him tightly until he could catch his breath. When she was sure he would remain standing, she held up a small pair of scissors and cut through the medical bandage she had wrapped around him earlier. She let it drop to the ground at his feet and then gently prodded his side. Thorne gasped again and then bit his bottom lip to resist an outcry of pain, but Renee stopped when she realized how much it had swollen since her last examination. She frowned deeply and then prepared her small electric hypo with a different fluid than she had used before.

“I don’t recommend going down into the pit with the captain,” she told him as she administered the shot with her hypo. She knelt down before him and held up a roll of stiff fabric. “You might do more damage to your ribs, Aramis. You can just tell him how to open the chamber. Take a deep breath and hold it.”

Thorne looked down at her and tried to give her a smile. He had always liked the cheetah and knew her concern for him was genuine, despite the events of late. “This has to do with more with trust than just instructions, Renee,” he told her before taking his breath. “If you can just keep me together a little while longer, I will rest when I get back to my ship.”

“Do you have a doctor on board?” the cheetah asked. Aramis held his breath and gave her a nod. She wrapped the cloth around his middle several times and then clipped the end tight against itself. “You can breathe now.”

She pulled out the small spray can from her med kit and then shook it up to a quiet rattle. She sprayed its fine mist over the wrap fabric and then set the can on the ground beside her. She helped him back into his shirt and then buttoned it up for him. When she was done, she reached up and lightly stroked the fur of his left cheek.

“I may have to have a talk with your doctor to make sure you do rest,” she teased.

Aramis looked at her with tired eyes, but managed a small smile now that the pain in his side had diminished. “Once Dallas sees the condition I am in,” he said, “she may force me into a cocoon to make sure I can’t move until I’m well-healed. I’m already operating well beyond the care she has already administered, and she’s not happy about it.”

Renee chuckled. “You do lead an eventful life, Aramis Argent Thorne,” she teased.

The wolf’s countenance fell and he heaved a heavy sigh. “Too eventful,” he replied. “I wouldn’t be surprised if my ship takes off without me once they have the gold on board. I’ve been rough on them ever since I took command of the Hoenix.”

“Hoenix? You named your ship after this city?”

Thorne looked up just as Randon walked over to them. “Yeah,” he replied. “Silly, I know.”

“Who’s being silly?” the cougar asked with an amused expression.

“Your partner is a silly wolf,” Renee said with a twinkle in her eye. Randon and Thorne exchanged glances. She had not said ‘ex-partner’.

“Are you ready, partner?” Randon asked.

“Let’s get this over with,” Aramis replied. With Renee’s medication dulling his pain, he was able to concentrate on the job at hand. He walked to the opening of the sacrificial pit and put a foot up on the knee-high stone wall surrounding it. Darrah already had the rope secured to a tree, with the other end draped down into the pit.

“Let me go first,” Randon said. “That way I can belay from below.”

“As you wish.”

The decent to the bottom of the pit went without incident for both of them, despite Thorne’s injuries. Randon swept the scattered bones to the side with his boot to make room for them both to stand without having things roll beneath their feet. When Aramis was down and standing beside him, he shed the rappelling harness and stepped around the remaining crate and suitcase.

“What’s in those?” Randon asked.

“Survival rations and a change of clothes,” Thorne replied absently. He felt around on the wall until he found the slight handprint depression and then applied pressure. A section of the wall pivoted inward and Randon’s eyes widened. The sound of stone scraping against stone echoed in the confines of the pit.

“I would have never found this,” the cougar muttered.

Aramis gave his companion a sidelong look. “That’s why you came to me for your expedition,” he said wryly. “This is exactly the kind of thing I did most of my research on.”

“You should have been an archaeologist, my friend,” Randon said with a chuckle.

Aramis pulled his flashlight from a pocket and aimed it inside the new corridor. There was a series of steps leading upward, carved out of the stone floor. The steps were wide and the incline was a shallow grade. “After you,” he said.

Randon took a step forward, but then hesitated. His brow furrowed and then he shook his head. “Lead the way,” he said quietly. Knowing the cougar was suspicious of some possible booby trap, Aramis nodded without argument. It was musty inside the small chamber, but an outside breeze helped freshen the air. Randon followed him closely, his own flashlight washing over the hieroglyphs that covered a good portion of both walls; he couldn’t read them, so only gave them a passing glance. They moved up the shallow steps around a softly curved passage. The open door behind them disappeared around the bend, but Randon seemed not to mind.

Just as the passage was about to wind back over itself, Aramis stopped in front of a blank wall. Randon bumped into him from behind and was about to ask about the stop when he noticed that Thorne had pulled out a knife.

Randon held up his hands quickly. “Now wait a minute,” he started. Before he could finish, however, Thorne stuck the thin blade into a crack in the wall and twisted it slowly. It took an effort to pull at the knife without sliding it out of the crack, but the blade tip had just enough purchase that a section of the wall began to move.

Sudden realization hit the cougar; he reached out over Thorne’s shoulders and grabbed the stone edge with the tips of his fingers. With the door held by his companion, Aramis put the knife back in its sheath, and then put his own fingers on the edge of the stone. The door hesitated briefly, and then it came open under their combined effort.

What might have once been a balanced door was now out of calibration, and it slowly stopped. However, it was wide enough that each of them could squeeze through the opening.

When Randon stepped inside the antechamber, his eyes widened at the sight before him. Stacked up against the walls were so many bags of golden coins that his breath became shallow. He did a quick calculation based on the coins he had seen in the crate above, and figured that each elongated canvas bag would roughly hold five hundred coins.

Aramis leaned against the door on the far wall, but Randon paid him no attention. The cougar began counting all the bags he could see. Moments later, Randon sat down on the floor and leaned back against the bags.

“There are two hundred seventeen bags in here!” he said at last with a wide grin. “That has to be over a hundred thousand coins!”

Thorne nodded quietly. He neither smiled nor frowned, but kept his expression neutral. “Your master will be proud,” he said calmly.

Randon nodded with an excited swallow, but then he closed his eyes to calm his breathing. “You have my word,” he said a moment later. “I won’t report your insignificant little crate to Faltane. The value of eight bags would be considerably less than the amount he was going to let you keep as part of your share anyway.”

“Thank you, Zef.”

Randon ran his tongue over his broken tooth and then opened his eyes to look over at the wolf. “What will you do now?” he asked.

Aramis sat down on the floor opposite his companion with some difficulty and hung his head. “I am not sure,” he said quietly. “My family is gone. I am a lone wolf without a pack. The city of frustration has lived up to its name and has taken them from me.”

“From what I could see, your crew is all-canine,” the cougar replied. “They will have to be your new pack.”

Aramis looked up at him and shook his head. “There’s no loyalty there; I’m barely holding them together under my command,” he said. “Once they have their gold, I suspect many of them will bail.”

“I would imagine the success of this venture would prove you can lead them to treasure. Among pirates, that will gain you loyalty.”

“Perhaps. Perhaps not.” Thorne glanced up at the bags of gold in the light of his flash. “How much of this are you going to report to your master?”

Randon gave him a startled look. “All that’s here,” he said. “I’m taking a big risk by not telling him of the treasure your people took to your ship. He may find out about it anyway when you try to cash them in to your buyer for real credits. Beware of Victor Faltane, Aramis. He’s a dangerous man and has more connections that you know.”

“I may have slipped up when I went to the old badger to sell the coins I had on me when I escaped from this city,” Thorne muttered, “but my buyer is actually from Brandt and the artifacts are more personal to him than it would be to Faltane.

“Well, I wish you luck, my friend,” the cougar told him. His flashlight began to flicker and he shook it for a moment before he looked back to his companion. “My people will be wondering about us,” he said. “I suppose we should get you back down to your ship before we start taking all this out of here, and that’s going to take a while. Besides, my tooth is hurting again.”

“I need a hand up,” Thorne said with a frown. “I got down here on the floor, but I can’t seem to get up again.”

Randon gave him a friendly smile and then extended a hand. “You always were a scrapper, Aramis. I would advise you not to get into any more fights until you have healed properly.”

Thorne took the offered hand and managed to get to his feet with the cougar’s help. “I’m pretty weak right now,” he admitted. “If you want to finish me off, you’ll never have a better time. I won’t even give you much of a fight.”

Randon snorted in amusement. “Come on,” he said. “If I don’t get you back down to your ship, I’m sure your Second will think I have finished you off.”

***

Aramis gasped in pain and held on tight to Randon’s middle. The stone roads of Hoenix were rough under the knobby wheels of Randon’s ground motorbike, and each jolt sent spikes of pain into his side. He wished the cougar’s old airbike had been stored on the Cliffhanger instead of this old thing, but they left behind the larger vehicle to make room for potential cargo when Randon received orders to return to the ancient city.

Thorne clenched his eyes shut and did his best to ignore the pain. Randon had been talking to him, but had fallen silent when he realized the wolf was in no shape to pay attention. Not designed with a motorbike in mind, the streets were rough and he had to take it slowly. They were near the bottom of the mountain and the bulk of the Hoenix loomed over them a short distance out onto the plains. It was the first time the cougar had taken a good look at the vessel and he whistled at its sight.

“What is it?” Thorne gasped.

“Where did you dig up that old Fynian relic?” Randon asked. Aramis opened his eyes and peered over the cougar’s shoulder. The submarine starship looked out of place sitting on the grass plains, as if it was in drydock or on display in a museum.

“Found it in a cave,” Thorne muttered. “Should have left it there.”

“That reliable, eh?”

“You have no idea.”

“What’s her name?”

“I named her after this city. It’s the Hoenix.”

Randon laughed aloud. “I’m surprised you got it off the ground… or out of the sea. The Altus-class vessels were tough ships, but if you name one after the City of Frustration, that’s what you’re bound to get.”

Thorne started to agree with him, but the motorbike left the stone roadway and bounced over a couple of small worn gullies before they rolled onto the grass.  The wolf nearly bit his tongue and decided it would be best to keep quiet until they reached the ship.

As they approached the vessel, the darkening sky above rumbled ominously.  Several people waited beneath the belly of the ship just outside the cargo ramp. Jason Talos stood with his feet planted defiantly apart, his broken arm in a sling, but a pistol in his good hand. He watched Randon suspiciously before he noticed that Aramis sat behind him.

The black wolf signaled to those behind him with the pistol upraised, and it was then that Randon realized they were all armed.  The cougar pulled to a stop beside the first officer and cut the engine to the bike.

“Hello again, Duster,” he said with his chin raised. “I’ve brought your captain back to you, alive and well.”

“Almost well,” Thorne rasped as he slowly eased himself off the bike, “but I will live.”

“Randon,” Jason acknowledged. “How are we doing?”

“We?” the feline captain asked as he scratched the scar across his eyelid.

“Are you going to let us leave, or will we have to fight our way out?”

Randon chuckled and looked up at the bulk of the Hoenix. “Looks like one shot would do it in,” he said lightly, “but you’re in no danger from me or the Cliffhanger.  The box of gold is yours to keep. I don’t intend to come after you for it.”  He watched a small Papillion walk quickly down the cargo ramp and approach Aramis in concern.  “Our feud is over, Duster. Aramis and I have made a bargain and mended our fences.”

Jason looked surprised. He turned to Thorne with a look of inquiry, and the grey wolf nodded to him with a weary smile.

“Well, this is unexpected,” Jason replied. “I’m glad to hear it.”

Randon looked over at Dallas with a nod. “Take care of this scrapper,” he told her. “Make him rest and heal, even if you have to strap him to his bed!”

Dallas did not look amused, but nodded quietly. She tugged gently on Thorne’s arm and said, “Come with me, Captain. I think you’ve had enough for one day.”

“Just one moment, Dallas,” the wolf said. He moved back over to Randon and quietly peered into his eyes. The cougar put down the kickstand and stepped off the bike. The two lifelong friends embraced briefly and there was a deep sadness in Thorne’s face.

He stepped back, clasped arms with his friend, and then spoke in a voice low. “Goodbye, Zef. I don’t think we will meet again. Good luck and live well.”

Randon tilted his head, but before he could ask about the statement, the wolf turned back to his crew.  He cleared his throat as he stepped back onto his bike. “Goodbye, Aramis. May the wind be at your back!” He started up his motorbike and then headed back to the mountain city without a look behind him.

Jason and Argus helped Thorne up the cargo ramp, with the others following close behind.  “What was that all about?” Jason asked. “You don’t think we’ll tangle with him again?”

Thorne pretended he did not hear his officer’s question, but he turned to him once they got inside the cargo bay.  “What is our operational status?” he asked.

The black wolf seemed startled to have had his question ignored, but he cleared his throat and motioned to Hugo to close the cargo door. The hydraulic pistons slowly retracted and raised the ramp as Jason turned back to the captain.

“The crate of gold is sealed in a vacuum chamber that has been depressurized,” he reported. “No one can get to it without setting off an alarm on the bridge. The bodies of, uhm, Cinjin and Jenda have been placed into cold storage until we can do something with them, and the ship has been fully prepped for takeoff.  Goro and Errol have the launch systems primed on standby. We didn’t know if we would need a quick getaway, so we can launch at any time.”

Thorne nodded and gave a quick glance at the nurse before returning his gaze to his first officer. “Very good,” he said in a raspy voice. “Launch immediately,” he said.

“Heading?” Jason asked.  “Mik has a bum leg from the fighting, but he’s patched up and on the bridge at his charts awaiting your orders.”

“Take us back to our cave at Castle Bay,” Thorne said. “Once we have docked, I want the ship re-supplied and prepped for a quick turnaround for a flight to Dennier.”

“Dennier?” Jason and Argus asked in unison.

“That’s correct,” Thorne confirmed. “Once we’re on our way to Dennier, I will divide up the treasure equally among the crew.”

“Why are we going to Dennier?” Dallas asked. “Everyone, including you, needs rest and relaxation after all we have been through.” Thorne looked terrible, and she was impatient to get her charge into the infirmary, but she wanted to hear out his orders.

Aramis felt a surge of anger come over him at having his command questioned, but a new twinge of pain in his side stopped him from raising his voice. Instead, he coughed and leaned against the nurse until the fit was over. The cargo door mechanism shut itself down and the cargo bay began immediate pressurization.

“As captain, I don’t need to explain myself,” Thorne said to them hoarsely. “I need my ship and crew on Dennier, and I will not distribute the treasure until we’re on our way.”

“You don’t trust us,” Hugo said with a dark look.

Thorne merely looked back at him wearily. “We have a considerable treasure on board, Mr. Sullivan,” he said. “If I gave out the loot in Castelrosso, half the crew would abandon ship before we could launch again. Once we have reached Dennier, you can stay or leave as you like, but this ship will go to Dennier if anyone wants to see their share of the treasure.”

Hugo wore a deep frown for a moment, but then he shrugged his shoulders. “Sorry, Captain,” he muttered. “It doesn’t matter to me where we go. I don’t intend to leave.”

Thorne heaved a great sigh.  “I am tired and I hurt,” he said to the small group. “Please launch as ordered.”

The first officer nodded. “Aye, sir,” he said in acceptance. “No matter our destination, I’ll feel more comfortable putting distance between us and the Cliffhanger.”

“Thank you, Jason,” Aramis said. “I’m now going to the infirmary, where I assume Dallas will put me under sedation.”

The Papillion took his arm with a nod. “Mr. Talos has his orders,” she said. “He can carry them out without your presence on the bridge. I will give you something for the pain once we get upstairs. Until then, consider that your penance for what you put yourself through today.”  Aramis allowed her to lead him toward the lift without another word or look at anyone else.

Jason watched them go for a moment and then he walked over to a bulkhead. He thumbed an intercom call button and the unit chirped at the connection.

“Bridge,” said Farrell’s voice.

“This is Talos. Everyone’s on board and all hatches are sealed. The captain’s orders are to launch immediately for Castelrosso. We’re going back to base. I’ll be up to the bridge momentarily.”

“Aye, sir. I’ll be glad to be away from this place.”

“Me, too, Farrell. Be sure to monitor the skies behind us, just in case Captain Randon changes his mind and comes after us. I don’t want any surprises coming from the rear.”

“Aye, sir.”

Jason switched off the intercom and he could hear the surface engines start up. With a glance over his shoulder at the others, he started for the lift without a word.

Several decks up, Aramis and Dallas stepped out of the lift near the infirmary. They could feel the vibration of the floor plates and they knew they had launched. Once inside the infirmary, Thorne moved to a monitor and turned it on as Dallas went to a cabinet and began to take out cleaning supplies for his injuries. The monitor displayed the forward camera view, which showed only the grey cloudy sky. It had not started raining yet, but looked as if it could at any moment.

The wolf tapped out a few commands and the scene switched to a camera beneath the ship. The grass plains below were falling behind quickly and then he changed the viewer once again.  Spread out over the side of the mountain was the ancient city of Hoenix. From their position, he could see the amphitheater and the dark starship within. Its hatch was still open and people were outside in the open air, so there did not appear to be any preparations to launch after them.

Thorne’s eyes moved until he located the building that housed the throne room. It was more elaborately decorated than the others around it, but its beauty amongst the city was lost to him.  Hoenix began to slip out of view as the ship moved forward. He reached out and briefly stroked the screen, moisture in his eyes.

“Goodbye, Scarlet,” he whispered.

Chapter 16

There was a knock on the door and Aramis opened his eyes with a yawn. “Go away,” he whispered to himself. The door opened and Ringo stuck his head into the opening. The room was dark but for the light from the corridor.

“Cap’n?” the beagle asked tentatively.

“I am not hungry, Mr. Ringo. Please leave me alone.”

The ship’s cook frowned at the hoarseness in the wolf’s voice. It had been three weeks since they had left Castelrosso Island on the world of Brandt for planet Dennier, and Thorne had barely been out of his cabin at all.

His own injury better healed, the beagle brought meals to his captain twice a day, and although Tyler Ringo often tried to get the wolf to talk with him as they had in the beginning, Thorne had withdrawn into himself and remained tight-lipped. Dallas had been the only one to successfully get in to see him, and then only to check in on his condition.

The story of what had happened to Cinjin had spread throughout the ship and everyone tried to tread lightly whenever near the captain’s quarters. Jason Talos had assumed all command responsibilities of the ship’s daily routines on their journey to Dennier, and there had been no problems along the way.

Despite that the golden coins that had been divided up equally to everyone a day after departing Castle Bay, the three week trip had been uneventful and boring to all on board. There had been several opportunities to raid unarmed freighters along the way, but every time Jason brought the request to the captain, the answer was the same: No deviation from orders.

“Cap’n,” Ringo tried again, “I have a message for you from Jason.”

The wolf growled beneath his breath and said, “What is it?”

“We have just entered local solar traffic and should be coming up on Dennier in a couple hours. He wants to know where on Dennier to set our course.”

“To the capitol, Grandstorm,” Thorne replied after a moment. “Make preparations to land at the Rutan Spaceport. I will also need aerial transportation standing by for myself... Cinjin and Jenda.”

Ringo swallowed. “Uh, yes sir,” he said. “May I ask what you have planned?” He could not see anything of the wolf in the darkness of the room, except for the reflections of two amber eyes staring back at him.

“That is no one’s concern but my own,” the captain replied in a low voice.

“Aye, sir,” Tyler answered automatically. “I will give Jason your reply.”

“Close the door, Mr. Ringo.”

“Yes, sir,” the beagle replied.

***

Jason’s body clock was still set to Castelrosso’s local time on Brandt. There it would have been well after midnight, but at the Grandstorm spaceport, it was mid-morning. The black wolf yawned, stretched and felt his eyes water. Standing beside him was Dallas and Ringo, who watched Errol and Goro push two floating platforms toward a small air transport with twin repulsors rings. They quickly transferred the bodies of Cinjin and Jenda to small freezer units in the belly of the transport. Aramis stood quietly to the side, tugging absently at the tight tail flap of the dark suit he wore. He was thin and looked gaunt, but his injuries had healed well enough.

The black wolf stepped forward and faced the captain. “Sir,” he said in a firm voice, “we followed your orders and have come to Dennier. I think it’s time you gave us an explanation.”

Thorne turned to the first officer and stared at him for a long moment. He finally nodded and said, “I am going to give them a proper burial.”

“Why bring them here?” Dallas asked. “If your home was in Castelrosso, I would have thought…”

“I will bury them here,” the grey wolf said with an edge to his voice. “This is where they belong.” His eyes moved to the lupine pilot of the transport when he shut the side door of the craft with a clunk. Goro waved and took the two floating platforms back to the ship with him as Errol walked over to the captain’s small group.

When the Labrador stopped beside them, Jason asked, “May we grant the crew a bit of shore leave while you do this?”

“I want you to re-supply the ship and launch immediately for Castelrosso,” Thorne said to the surprise of them all.

“You forbade anyone from leaving the cavern once we got to Castelrosso,” Jason reminded him, “and the crew did not have a break when we got back from Quet. We’ve all been cooped up for a long while, sir, and could use some recreational time.”

Thorne glanced over at the waiting transport and then nodded. “You may give the crew three days, Mr. Talos,” he said. “Then I want everyone back on board the ship and on your way back to Castelrosso.”

Errol raised an eyebrow. “That doesn’t sound as if you intend to go with us,” he said.

“I have business to attend to while I am here, Mr. Colfax. It may take some time, so I’m not going to tie up the ship and crew in the meantime.”  Aramis looked at Jason and gave him a critical eye.  “Duster, you will be in command of the Hoenix in my absence,” he said to him. “Raid and plunder what ships you will and divide up the bounty among yourselves, but don’t wait for me and don’t save me a share. If you find opportunity to go out again, take it. I may be gone a while, and I will arrange my own transportation back when I am ready to return.”

Jason tilted his head and studied the captain suspiciously. Thorne always seemed to have his hands into secretive situations and trusted no one with the information. What manner of trouble this new venture would bring down upon the ship and crew, he could not guess. Finally, he gave the grey wolf a nod and a casual smile.

“At your orders, sir,” he said. “We’ll see you when you get back.”

Dallas and Ringo both looked up at captain with frowns and similar thoughts. It was because of Thorne that each of them had joined the ship. Aramis had not been an easy captain to work for at times, but his plans always seemed to have a larger purpose than the few details he ever let out.

Ringo stepped forward and wrung his hands nervously. “Cap’n, please don’t be gone long, okay?”

“Don’t be concerned, Tyler,” Thorne told him. “Duster has kept the ship tunning in my place for the past three weeks. He’s capable of handling things while I am away.”

Dallas took the wolf’s hands in her own. “Let me go with you, sir,” she said with large eyes. “We all know you can’t go long without getting yourself into trouble that needs patching up.”

“No, Dallas,” Aramis said. “You will be needed aboard ship. As medical officer, you answer to no one but Mr. Talos, and I am sure there will be injuries for you to attend. Don’t worry about me. I have healed well under your care and I need time away from things.”

Thorne noted his pilot’s impatience, so he reached for his things beside him. Leaning against a black suitcase was the walking staff he had brought out of Hoenix. He hefted it up in one hand, and then the suitcase in the other. He looked back at Ringo and gave the beagle a subtle wink, and then walked quietly out to the transport. The pilot took his bag and the staff, and then stowed them in a side compartment. Aramis opened the passenger door and crawled inside without looking back at his crew.

When the white wolf got in behind the controls of the craft a moment later, he glanced over at the captain with a nod. “We have clearance, whenever you’re ready,” he said.

“Thank you,” he replied with a nod. “Take us up.”

The twin repulsors of the small transport hummed lowly and then the craft was airborne. It hovered a brief moment high above the landing pad and then swung around to the northwest.

Errol watched the transport fly away and then he turned back to Jason. “What do you think he has planned this time?” the engineer asked.

“Who knows?” Jason replied with a shrug. “However, we have his permission and our orders. As soon as the ship has been secured, everyone is granted three days of leave.”

“Aye, sir.”

***

An hour later, the aerial transport set down on a gravel landing pad next to a tiny runway on the outskirts of a small farming community. Mangum only boasted a population of twelve hundred people, but it was the birthplace of Aramis Argent Thorne. The town seemed virtually deserted, as most of the residents would be out in the fields at this time of day, but a long black car waited for them in the noon sun.

It only took a few minutes to transfer the two crates to the back of the ground car while Thorne paid the transport pilot for his services. Moments later, the aircraft took off from the rural flying field and set its course back to Grandstorm.

Aramis sat in silence as the hearse moved through the quiet streets of the town. Memories of a simple childhood came back to him as he recognized shops around the town square and of the old waterfall fountains at each corner of the central city park.  It had been over two decades since he had last been there, but the town was so unchanging that it did not appear all that different from when he had left with his new bride.

After burying Cinjin and Jenda, he would wait around in a local motel for three days to allow the crew of the Hoenix to have their shore leave and then depart. He had told his crew that he would return once he had completed new business on Dennier, but the truth was that he did not intend to contact them again.

With the loss of his family, he was sick of the potentially violent lifestyle he had maintained for so long. He was tired and weary of the piratical life, and he knew that the human Faltane would likely be on the lookout for him. After the funeral, he would go to the town’s only bank, open up an account under a new name, and then transfer everything from his account on Brandt into it.

His plans included a seat on a commercial space flight to Pomen to cover his tracks further, where he would try to lay low. If anyone from Randon’s crew let slip to Faltane about the extra box of gold that got away, Thorne could find himself the subject of a wolf-hunt. It was a dangerous position he had placed himself in, but all he wanted in life now was a quiet existence.

It only took a short time to cross the town on its way to the cemetery. The long car turned off the paved street onto a gravel road that passed beneath a wrought-iron archway, and then headed to a back corner where two figures waited.

A half hour later, a pair of fresh graves resided in a plot next to that of Thorne’s long-deceased parents, and the grave attendants retreated to a nearby hovel to escape the growing heat of the summer day.

Aramis stood still in front of a solitary grave marker beneath a shade tree, a few feet away from those he had just buried. He had been unable to retrieve Scarlet’s body to lay to rest, but he had arranged a marker for her.

He held his hands together in front of him and stared down at the name of Scarlet Thorne.

“Goodbye, my life-mate,” he said with moist eyes. “You were the best chapter of my life, but now that you’re gone, all my hopes, dreams and inspirations have died with you. You were my life, my soul and my heart. I no longer have a heart for the things I have done in the past, so my future is now uncertain. I… I miss you…”

He fell quiet for a moment as a warm breeze lightly swept across the surrounding crop fields and made the leaves of the tree gently flutter. He closed his eyes, tilted his head up toward the clear sky and gave up a long, mournful howl.

Chapter 17

On the fringes of a quiet section of Castelrosso, a flat-roofed, split-level house sat dark at the end of a gravel rock road. Its overgrown lawn was strewn with unread newspapers and paper mail cluttered the mailbox. Food had spoiled in the refrigerator and all the houseplants had long since died.

A swirl of dust stirred up when the front door swung open and a fresh breeze of ocean air came in. The footsteps that disturbed the quietness of the house were uneven as the sole intruder limped inside and closed the door.

“Aramis?” The single word echoed in the eerie stillness of the front room, but there was no reply. The house had been empty for some time.

An oval mirror mounted to the wall of the entrance hall reflected a troubled face with sad amber eyes. The red wolf stared back at herself and swallowed hard, a task not easily done with an injured throat. She was dirty and dusty from a long trek up over the mountains and was exhausted. Her injuries had not healed well, but she felt glad that she had finally reached her home. Had it not been for a pair of canine hikers who had found her up in the mountains and gifted her with water and some food, she might not have made it back home.

She limped further into the front room and looked around at all the archaeological artifacts that decorated the walls and shelves. A surge of anger erupted from her when her eyes fell upon books about the lost city of Hoenix, and she wanted nothing more than to knock them from the bookcase and toss them out the door. The city of frustration had caused her and her family nothing but trouble.

She did not have the strength to do what she wanted, however, and merely turned her back on them. She limped up a short stairway to a hallway that led to the master bedroom and she called out again.  “Aramis?”

The bedroom was empty, left just as it had been over a month ago when she had last seen it. She allowed herself to collapse on the dusty mattress and she closed her eyes to keep the fresh tears from leaking.

There was no sign that Aramis had returned to their home. Had their son killed him as he had tried to do to her?  Her injured throat constricted with that thought and she gritted her teeth in fear. She had escaped her death trap, barely alive and against all odds, but she had done it.

Cinjin had not successfully strangled her to death, although she had been very close, and it had been an incredible stroke of luck that she had not died from the drop through the funnel onto the sand pit far below. Despite a broken leg, wrist and torn ligaments, with deep bruises and a throttled throat working against her, she had bound up the broken limbs with splints made from the bones of other unfortunates who had preceded her, and bound them tight with torn strips of her own clothing.

The shaft of sunlight in the chamber had given her some light to see by, and with it she had managed to shuffle up the carved stone steps, one agonizing step at a time, and escape through the king’s secret door behind the throne dais.

Scarlet Thorne had always possessed a strong will, and it had been that determination which had driven her to overcome death and pain to make her way home across the mountains to her mate.

She was home now, and knew that she needed medical attention. She might have gone too long to mend completely well, but at least she was alive.

With the same determination she had used to survive, she would go find her mate as soon as she was physically able.

She did not know where he might be, whom he might have interacted with or what had happened in her absence, but she would find out, even if she had to return to that accursed city to look for him. If Cinjin attempted to return, she would deal with him as well. It would be a meeting neither of them would ever forget, and would likely end in tragedy.

EXTRA - EXTRA

In the original manuscript of Hoenix that was first submitted to Baen Books in 2004, there was one extra chapter sandwiched between Chapter 15 and the Epilogue. The Submission Editor of Baen liked the story, but felt that Chapter 16 left the story hanging, and so recommended that it be dropped.

Agreeing with her assessment, I took some of the elements from Chapter 16 and merged them into Chapter 15, and then dropped the rest of Chapter 16. It was my original intent for the story to lead into a second adventure and that dropped chapter would have been the bridge between the two. It would have also given it a direct tie-in to my Blue Horizon series. However, for the purpose of submitting a manuscript for publication, a first book by a new author should be self-contained.

The second story was never written, however. Should I ever have the opportunity to get back to that project, material from the dropped chapter from the first book may serve as the first chapter of the manuscript.

Presented here for the curious is that extra chapter.

Chapter 16

Aramis Thorne stuck his hands into the pockets of his trousers and stared out the window at a raging thunderstorm outside. Torrential rain fell hard in sheets and the thunder from lightning was near constant. The window panes rattled with each new peal of thunder, but there was no danger from this storm, unless it might be from flooding. The street outside had already transformed into a small rivulet.

The windows lit up again and he peered across the warehouse district from the third story catwalk above wooden crates lined up in rows below him. Several people were gathered around a smaller crate they used as a table, their various box lunches spread out over it.

One of the individuals, a white Samoyed, looked up over her meal and saw the wolf’s silhouette against the flashes of lightning. “Hey, Thorny!” she called up to him. “Boris and Abel want to start up a game of Telha da Cor. Want to join us?”

Aramis looked down at her expectant face and nodded. “I’ll be right down, Deidre,” he called back. He walked across the catwalk to a rusty metal ladder mounted to the inner wall of the warehouse and took it back down to the floor. He skirted casually around stacks of boxes toward his coworkers and then sat down on a rickety folding chair beside the canine.

“Abel will shuffle,” Deidre said as she cleared the remnants of her lunch from the box top. A black bear picked up a metal can of colorful tiles and then dumped them out onto the crate. He began to turn them over methodically so that the symbols carved into them faced downward. While Abel set up for the game, a short beaver on Thorne’s right pulled out a small pad of paper from a shirt pocket and then began to search around on the floor at his feet for a pencil.

While he waited for the game to begin, Thorne glanced back up at the warehouse windows and heaved a quiet sigh. Deidre glanced over at him, but then was distracted when Abel began to shuffle the tiles noisily.

It had been a little over a month since Aramis had left Dennier. He had buried Cinjin and Jenda in a small cemetery in his hometown, and then had waited around in a local motel for three days to allow the crew of the Hoenix to have their shore leave and then depart. He had told his crew that he would return once he had completed new business on Dennier, but the truth was that he had no intention of ever contacting them again.

With the loss of his family, he was sick of the potentially violent lifestyle he had maintained for so long. He was tired and weary of the piratical life, and he knew that the human Faltane would likely be on the lookout for him. Upon arriving in Mangum, he had gone to the town’s only bank and had opened up an account under a slightly altered name, and then transferred everything from his account on Brandt into it.

He had then purchased a seat on a commercial space flight to Pomen to cover his tracks further. If any of Randon’s crew let slip to Faltane about the extra box of gold that got away, Thorne could find himself the subject of a wolf-hunt. It was a dangerous position he had placed himself in, but all he wanted in life now was a quiet existence.

Unfortunately, the small job he had taken at a warehouse in a little town had proven to be just a little too quiet and boring for his tastes. The foreman paid well enough, but his employees spent more time waiting for shipments than they did actually working. That was not the fault of the workers, but of their scheduler who sat in another office across town. The work was hard only once or twice a week and Aramis had quickly grown discontent with the situation.

Deidre had often expressed similar sentiments and the two of them had become friends in a short amount of time. Despite her coaxing, however, the Samoyed had not been able to get him to open up about his previous career. She had the impression that he was a lot more complex than a mere warehouse worker, and his intelligence intrigued her sense of curiosity.

The storm raged on for another hour before Aramis sat back in his chair with a hand up to his mouth. He yawned and then wiped away moisture from his eyes. “This weather is making me drowsy,” he muttered. “I think I’ve played enough for now. I can’t concentrate on the game very well.”

Boris stretched his arms and gave out a yawn of his own. “Will you stop that, Thorny?” the beaver complained as he got to his feet. “I’m tired of playing, too. I think I need to go take a walk around the warehouse. Deidre, what time is our next shipment?”

The Samoyed consulted a scrap of paper tucked into the pocket of her blue work shirt. “Not for another two hours,” she replied.

“With this rain, it could be delayed further,” Abel grunted. He stood up and walked off toward the snack machine at the other end of the building. Deidre picked up a local newspaper and browsed through the classified advertisements.

Aramis yawned again and then propped his boots up onto their box. He crossed his arms, leaned back and closed his eyes. He listened to the rain hitting the metal roof of the building and felt himself begin to drift. The sound of the storm slowly faded away to the buzzing of a sarcastic voice. Cinjin’s face appeared before him, his cocky expression maddening as he confessed to his mother’s murder. Aramis cringed at the words, his fingers writhing in anticipation of wringing the young wolf’s neck, but he could not understand it. Children who were desperate for attention got into trouble through any means necessary, but what made murder a necessity? Had Cinjin really hated his mother that much? He had followed the young wolf into the king’s death chamber seething in fury, but for a brief moment in the room, father and son exchanged looks of regret. Thorne’s throat tightened up from the anger that rapidly grew inside. He took my mate!

Aramis felt himself kick out toward the younger wolf, but the legs of his chair tilted from the sudden movement and dumped him out onto the cold concrete floor of the warehouse. Deidre looked up from her newspaper in amusement as he struggled to get untangled from the cheap chair legs.

“Careful there, Thorny,” she said with a chuckle. “I don’t think the foreman would be too happy if you got hurt just before a shipment arrived.” Thorne muttered something beneath his breath, but it was too low for her to hear. She laughed at his expression and picked up Boris’ pencil.

While the wolf recomposed himself, the Samoyed’s eyes fell upon a small listing in the paper. “Hey, Thorny,” she said. “Lookit this!”

Aramis scooted his chair closer to hers, mindful of the rickety legs beneath him. He glanced at the spot she had circled with the pencil. “Local office of a Dennieran interstellar freighting business is looking for experienced personnel for immediate hiring, all positions for new ship in service. Competitive salary and full benefits.”

“Have you ever been out in space?” Deidre asked lazily.

“Yeah, a time or two,” the wolf replied in a tone he hoped was casual.

Deidre looked over at him with a grin. “Want to try for it?” she asked. “I have communication experience, but it’s been a while. What position do you think you could be qualified for?”

Aramis raised his eyebrows. “Well,” he hesitated, “I do have experience in engineering, but if that position is taken, I could always try for Shipping Specialist, seeing as how that goes right along with my current career choice.”

Deidre laughed and rested her chin on her hands. “They’re taking applications in person tomorrow morning,” she said. “We don’t have any deliveries tomorrow, so we can go downtown right after breakfast and dazzle them with our charm!”

Aramis chuckled, the first time he had done so in some time. “I don’t know,” he said as he scratched his chin and glanced at the boxes stacked up around them with a critical eye. “This job will be hard to beat.”

The Samoyed laughed and swatted him on the shoulder. “You stinker,” she said. “Do you want to give it a try or not?”

“Yes, we can give it a try. If we don’t get it, we’ll still have this job to keep us fed until something else comes along.”

“Good. After breakfast together, then.”

Aramis tilted his head a little and looked back at her. “Are you inviting me to breakfast?” he asked in a quiet voice.

The Samoyed’s eyes narrowed as she considered the implications of his words and then she nodded. “Yes, yes I am,” she said with a wink. The wolf returned her smile for a moment, but then his expression faded. “What is it?” she asked. When Aramis did not reply, she sat back in her chair and said, “Let me guess. You have a wife, right?”

Thorne sighed and shook his head. “Had a wife,” he admitted with downcast eyes. “She died a few weeks ago.”

“So that’s it,” the Samoyed said in a gentle voice. “I wondered why you seemed so quiet all the time. I’m sorry.”

Aramis looked up at her and gave her a weary smile. “That’s okay, you didn’t know. Listen, Deidre, I think breakfast might be too soon for me. How about I just meet you in the morning and we can go apply for this ship together?”

Deidre leaned forward and gently licked the side of his snout. “Okay, we can do that,” she replied. “We’ll go in and impress the interviewers with our skills and personalities!”

Aramis chuckled again, thankful that the awkward moment had passed. He glanced back down at her paper and said, “Now if we can just figure out where this place is downtown.”

***

The next morning, Aramis was back in his dark suit. Deidre wore a light blue dress, accented by a few colorful bangles on her left wrist. The wolf tugged at the tail flap of his slacks as they walked from the public bus stop to the address the Samoyed had written on a scrap of paper. The previous rain had ended sometime in the night, and the air smelled clean despite the local traffic.

“What’s the matter?” Deidre asked her companion.

Aramis gave her a lopsided smile. “My tail flap is too tight,” he said. “I rarely wear suits and should have had it adjusted for the thickness of my tail last night. I just hope this doesn’t take all day, or I may have to unbutton the flap altogether.”

Deidre stopped and looked at his backside with a critical eye. “Your tail curls up out of the spilt in your suit coat, but I can’t see your tail flap from back here. Unbutton it and let me see if it’s noticeable.”

The wolf hesitated for a brief moment, but then did as she said. “How’s that?” he asked.

Deidre studied his tail and then nodded. “I still can’t see your tail flap through your coat,” she replied. “So long as you don’t take off your coat, you should be fine.”

“Then the coat stays on. This feels better,” Aramis said. He raised an eyebrow at her and added, “You can stop looking at my tail now.”

The Samoyed grinned at him and then slipped an arm through one of his. The pair walked together for another block and then came upon a rented office with the name of the business taped to the inside of the glass door.

“Here’s the place,” Deidre said.

Aramis opened the door to the small building amidst the tinkling of tiny bells and allowed Deidre to go in first. There was already a small group of people in the reception area, and a white rabbit dressed in a rainbow tie-dye shirt and orange shorts greeted them inside with a clipboard.

“Hello and welcome to Blue Horizon Shipping,” said the bunny. “I’m Lorelei.” She shook hands with both of them and then held out the clipboard to Aramis. “If you’re here about an application, sign in here, please. If you’re here to schedule a pick up or delivery, you may talk to Samantha at the desk over there.”

Aramis took the clipboard with a professional smile and then wrote his name on the first available line. He then handed it to Deidre and tried not to stare at the bunny’s bright garments. Deidre handed the clipboard back to the rabbit.

“Thank you,” Lorelei said as she set the clipboard on a chair next to the door. She picked up two more clipboards with pens from a box at her feet and handed one to each of them. “Please fill out these applications and then turn them in to Samantha at the front desk. The interviews haven’t begun yet, so you have plenty of time.”

“Thank you, Lorelei,” Deidre said with a smile. The bunny seemed pleased to have been addressed by name and grinned widely.

“You’re welcome, dear!”

Aramis and Deidre moved further into the room. There was only one chair available next to an old stone fireplace, so Aramis leaned up against the hearth to allow Deidre to have the seat. A bulldog in the next chair gave her a look of annoyance, as if her presence diminished his chances for employment.

Thorne frowned when he looked over the sheet of paper. Listing his past experience and employment would be tricky, especially if this place checked the references. He did not think it would be wise to list “Captain of the SS Hoenix, Altus-class pirate vessel.” He briefly wondered how Duster and the others were doing, but then shook his head to clear his thoughts. He glanced around the room at the other applicants before his eyes fell upon a printed magazine on a wooden table near Deidre’s legs.

The front cover showed a color photograph of the remnants of the broken planet Mainor from spatial orbit and boasted in-depth articles about the recent destruction of its civilizations near the end of the Siilv War. Aramis nodded to himself and went to work on his application. With the exception of his recent employment at the warehouse, he listed his actual experience with fictional references to reflect a colorful past working for Mainoran businesses and vessels. They would not be able to confirm employment with businesses on a world that no longer existed as anything more than slag and rubble.

He completed the document and then walked it over the desk. A Border collie seated in front of a computer tablet looked up at him with a smile. She took the clipboard from him and gave the application a quick review.

“Thank you,” she said. “Everything looks complete. If you will wait until your name is called, someone will be with you when we begin the interviews. Your references will be checked while you’re waiting.”

Aramis gave her a slight bow that was similar to the one that Ringo had often given him. By the time he returned to his spot by the fireplace, Deidre had finished her application.

The bells at the door jingled and a large Mainoran lion dressed in slacks and a nice shirt stepped inside. The rabbit at the door turned to greet him, but then the smile on her face wilted. Aramis watched in interest. He did not see anything specifically frightening about the lion, but there was something about him that seemed to distress the rabbit.

The lion gave her a smile and then a pat on the head with a few quiet words. Lorelei nodded and said something in return before handing him the sign-in board.

Deidre returned to her seat as the lion moved into the room with his application. He sat down on the fireplace hearth next to Thorne and began his work on the document.

“Great, another applicant,” muttered the bulldog next to Deidre. “I wish they would jest lock the door.”

Deidre looked over at him. “What good would that do?” she asked.

The bulldog snorted. “Every person who walks through dat door takes away from my chances at gettin’ a job here!” he said in a voice loud enough for everyone in the room to hear. The Border collie glanced up at him in annoyance, but said nothing.

Deidre crossed her arms. “What position did you apply for?” she asked.

“None of yer business!” he snapped at her.

A gloomy quiet fell over the crowd as everyone waited for something to happen. The door jingled several more times, each time punctuated by degrading comments from the bulldog.

Deidre tapped Aramis on the leg and then whispered to him when he leaned over for her. “It’s a good thing there were no shipments planned for the warehouse today. This may take a while.”

“We passed a corner diner up the street,” Aramis whispered back. “If they give us a break around noon, we can go there for lunch.”

“Are you asking me out, Thorny?” she teased him.

Aramis frowned and gave her a perplexed look. “For lunch today, yes. If they let us.”

“I accept.” The Samoyed gave him a big grin and batted her eyelashes at him. Aramis groaned and stood back up when she chuckled at his reaction.

The door bells jingled again and a buffalo and a red vixen stepped inside. Lorelei gave the fox a hug and then shook hands with the buffalo. Just as the bulldog started another grumble, the vixen held up her hand and cleared her throat for everyone to hear.

“Hello everyone, I’m Taro Nichols, the business coordinator for Blue Horizon Shipping,” she said, “This is Abner Corwin, the captain of the Mooncrest.” She looked up at a clock on the wall and continued. “He and I will look over your applications and then we will begin calling names to interview for the positions in about a half hour. Thank you for waiting.”

“It’s about time dey got here,” the bulldog grumbled under his breath. Captain Corwin turned and looked in his direction with narrowed eyes. He whispered something to Nichols as they got to Samantha’s desk and the vixen nodded quietly. The collie handed Taro a sheaf of paper applications and pointed out something on her tablet. The vixen looked up suddenly, but the one she peered at was not the short bulldog, but the large lion standing beside Aramis.

The look of animosity on her face was there for only a heartbeat, but Thorne had seen it. He glanced up at the lion, who had occupied himself by reading a comic book he had pulled out of a back pocket. Aramis frowned and wondered what kind of background this guy had.

***

The day had drawn out longer than anyone had anticipated due to the number of applicants that had arrived in hope of being chosen. The bulldog, Walter Maverick, had proven to be an irritation to everyone else in the room. He complained each time someone came in the door or was called back for an interview, and had especially been vocal that he had not yet been called. Aramis suspected that the bulldog’s application might have been purposely shuffled to the back of the stack by the Border collie at the desk. From the look on everyone’s face every time Maverick opened his mouth, it was evident he was on everyone’s nerves, but no one chanced to bark back at him for fear a show of anger might hurt their chances of being chosen. After all, one of the requirements of life aboard a freighter was the ability to get along with other people.

They had been given an hour break for lunch, and everyone but Maverick had gone up the street to the local diner. The bulldog had brought his lunch and he ate it noisily in the closest chair to the office desk, no doubt convinced that if he left the building, his chances would be lost.

The afternoon dragged on. Names were called, some of them multiple times, but not everyone had been through the process yet. Samantha had turned on a vidscreen mounted up high on the wall to give those waiting something to watch. INN became repetitious after a while, so the channel had been switched to a film about a specially trained team’s adventures as they combated an encroaching threat on their world.

The process slowed further at one point when Captain Corwin had to leave for a short while, but he had finally returned and the interviews resumed, much to the relief of those who had to listen to more of Maverick’s complaints.

“Deidre Rennerfelt,” Samantha called out when a ringtail lemur walked out of the back room. The Samoyed stood up and gave Aramis a wide grin.

“Wish me luck,” she told him.

“Luck,” said the wolf.

Deidre went to the front desk and then Samantha led her along a narrow hallway. The lemur that had just come out walked over to Deidre’s vacant seat and sat down. She looked up at the wolf beside her and gently touched his hand.

The sudden contact startled Thorne, who had been thinking of the Hoenix, and he jerked his hand up to his chest.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” the lemur said with wide, red eyes. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

Aramis raised an eyebrow at her. “Did you need something?” he asked quietly.

“I just wanted to say Hello,” she replied. “You looked like you could use someone to talk to. You have sad eyes.”

Aramis sighed and leaned back against the fireplace. “Sad times will do that,” he admitted. “Not something I really wish to discuss, however.”

“That’s okay,” the lemur said with a shrug. “If you change your mind, I don’t mind listening.”

“But I do mind listening to yer chatter,” Maverick muttered from her other side.

The lemur turned and gave him an icy stare. “I wasn’t addressing you,” she said in surprisingly conversational tones. “Mind your own nose. It’s already dirty.” Maverick sputtered incoherently, but got up and stormed to another part of the room.

A female bobcat in a nearby seat snickered in amusement. “Thank you,” she whispered. “I’m so tired of listening to that guy!”

The lemur and the bobcat began whispering among themselves, so Aramis allowed himself to relax now that he did not have to field questions about his troubles.

Sometime later, Deidre emerged from the back. Samantha consulted her tablet and then called out, “Armando Jensen.” The Mainoran lion beside Aramis stood up and walked forward. Since her earlier seat was now occupied, Deidre stopped in front of Aramis and gave him a weary smile.

“How did it go?” the wolf asked quietly.

“I’m not sure,” Deidre replied with a shrug. “They seemed pleased with my skillset, but they did not give me any indication whether or not I might be chosen. However, they did appear impressed with my attitude when I told them right off I was the one for the job. You might try that. They’re hiring for nine positions, so I’m sure that not everyone in here is after the same job.”

“Maybe you should tell that to Mr. Maverick,” Aramis said dryly.

Deidre snickered, but shook her head. “That might please him, but I doubt it would shut him up.” She gestured for him to sit on the hearth with her and then she began to quietly detail everything they had gone over in the back room.

The front door opened to a jingle of bells and all eyes in the room looked up to see who else had arrived. A grey wolf and a cheetah stepped inside the front door and removed flight jackets in unison. Nearly everyone in the crowded room looked up when the pair came in, but Lorelei was half asleep in a chair by the door, the clipboard in her hands leaning heavily toward the floor.

“Good evening,” the wolf said to the assembled crowd as he slid the bunny’s clipboard back into her hands. Deidre and Aramis smiled courteously back at him, but they had been there all day and were tired. The wolf passed through the crowd and then moved toward the back room as the cheetah gently prodded the bunny.

“Hey!” exclaimed the short bulldog, “Yer gonna hafta get signed in by the door and wait like the rest of us!” The wolf stopped and turned to look at the canine. Aramis watched the exchange with interest. The newcomer had the look of authority about him.

“I don’t have to sign in, sir. What is your name?” the wolf asked.

“Walter Maverick, what’s it to ya?” the dog said haughtily. “I’ve been here all day an’ yer not takin’ cuts! Ain’t no one the likes of ya is going to jest walk right in!”

The wolf stared at him for a moment and then looked up at the cheetah with a twinkle in his eye. “Mr. Thornton?”

“Yes, Mr. Sinclair?” the cheetah replied with a smirk.

“Please escort Mr. Maverick off the premises. He will not be selected for the job he is applying for.”

“What?” bellowed the bulldog. “Who do ya think ya are?”

Sinclair shook his head and smiled with brandished teeth. “I’m the owner of the ship’s business who decides who will be working for me,” he replied in a firm tone.

The bulldog’s eyes went wide and he sputtered as he tried to issue an apology, but the wolf tilted his head toward the cheetah that stepped up beside the man and gestured toward the door.

“Please leave,” Thornton said in a clear voice. “It will be easier for everyone if you walk out on your own.”

Maverick looked mad at first, and then hung his head in embarrassment. He turned and walked out the door without another word. When Sinclair looked up at the faces around him, he was greeted by smiles all around, as if to let him know that they were worthy of employment. Aramis gave him an abbreviated salute and the other wolf nodded in return.

“Excuse me, folks,” Sinclair said with a pleasant smile. He turned and walked toward the back room. The Border collie at the desk grinned up at him when he stopped beside her near the hallway. The wolf leaned over and gave her a quick kiss, and then began to talk to her in a quiet voice.

The Mainoran lion came out of the back while they were talking. Aramis watched the wolf grab him by the elbow and then steer him back out of sight.

“I wonder what that was about,” Deidre said. She leaned over and rested her head on Thorne’s shoulder, who frowned at the contact.

“You two look like a nice couple,” the lemur said with a smile. “How long have you been together?”

Aramis opened his mouth in surprise, but Deidre chuckled and answered, “Three weeks.”

“Newlyweds?” asked the bobcat.

“Uhm, no,” Aramis said quickly. “Actually, we’re only friends.”

Deidre sat up with a giggle. “You’re no fun,” she teased.

“You’re not married?” the lemur asked.

“No.”

“Uhm, lovers?”

“No,” Deidre said with a wide grin. Aramis tried to hide his embarrassment and the lemur felt foolish.

“I apologize,” she said sheepishly. “I thought…”

“That’s okay, dear,” Deidre said. “He’s fun to tease, though.”

The lion came out of the back room with a pleased look on his face. Before Aramis could inquire about it, his name was called. Thorne stood up and walked to the front desk.

“Follow me,” Samantha said.

“Good luck!” Deidre said from across the room.

Aramis followed the Border collie down a narrow hallway and then she opened a door. “Please go in,” she said.

When he stepped inside, he was faced with the vixen, the buffalo and the wolf that had come in earlier. All three sat behind a long folding table covered with applications and résumés, and a small computer terminal hummed quietly in front of the red fox.

“Welcome to Blue Horizon Shipping,” the wolf said with an extended hand. “I am Captain Merlin Sinclair. This is Taro Nichols, my business coordinator, and this is Abner Corwin, the captain of the freighter that needs a crew. Please have a seat, tell us who you are, and why you believe we should hire you.”

“Thank you, sir,” Aramis replied. He sat down in a plush, high-backed chair and put his hands in his lap. “My name is Argent Silverthorne, and I am the Engineer you have been looking for…”

***

Jason Talos stood on the bridge of the Hoenix during the second watch, his arms crossed and his attention riveted to the small vidscreen. His steady yellow eyes darted to the tracking sensors at the small words trailing the blip of the ship they quietly followed. 

PA1138

Okami-Class Freighter 

This cargo hauler looked to be harmless and the Hoenix was in need of a hit. The crew was disoriented and confused over recent events, and the black wolf knew that a raid on a freighter would boost their morale. He did not know what Captain Thorne had in mind by sending the Hoenix back to their home base on Castelrosso without clearer instructions, but as the ship’s first officer, Talos intended to follow his orders. At least the captain had also given him the freedom to go out after other jobs as the opportunities came to them.

The intercom speaker emitted a sharp whistle and then Errol’s voice came from the crackling speaker. “Bridge, we’ve got a drain in the power reserves somewhere!”

Talos frowned and picked up the hand microphone from a hook on the starboard wall. “What’s the cause, Mr. Colfax?” he asked with a sigh. His eyes went back to the vidscreen, where the magnified view kept their prey in sharp focus. The two-tone blue flying saucer was moving at standard cruising speed, and had not shown any indication that it had not noticed the pirate vessel trailing it.

“We haven’t located the source of the trouble yet, just reporting the symptoms.”

“Okay, keep me informed.”

“Aye, sir.”

Talos went to the gunner’s station and put a hand on the miniature pincher’s shoulder. “What about it, Cal?” he asked in a low voice.

“No,” replied the canine in a disgusted tone as he checked over his readings. “With the power drain, we don’t have enough juice in the weapons array to do much more than mess up their paint job.”

There was a sudden shudder throughout the vessel and then the freighter jumped out of sight. The Hoenix had slowed to sub-light speeds.

“That’s done it!” Errol growled from the crackling intercom system. “Our energy transfer unit just had a stroke.”

“Meaning?”

“It means, sir, that we’re going nowhere for several hours.”

“But our prey…”

“…is now long gone,” Chalmoy confirmed.

About the Author

Ted R. Blasingame has been a writer since his 8th grade Creative Reading class in 1975. Already an avid reader before then with the stories of Kenneth Robeson, Robert Heinlein and Ray Bradbury, he decided to try his own hand at storytelling. As with all new writers, the stories that began with The Hydrazine Project were not well written, nor were many of them seen to completion, but Ted continued to have fun with his tales.

It was not until he had discovered ElfQuest in 1979 that he actually completed a story called Brothers in All but Blood that was later published in the first issue of WaRP Graphics’ authorized Yearnings fanzine. Thereafter, he joined twelve separate chapters of the ElfQuest National Fan Club and spent the entire decade of the 1980s writing EQ-based stories. In 1984, he created and operated his own ElfQuest chapter named the Timber Valley Holt until it shut down in 1990 following a six-year run with over sixty members.

In the early 1990s, he joined an Amateur Press Association (APA) group called Mind’s Eye, which focused on stories, poems and artwork relating to the ESPers popular in Japanese animation programs of the 80s. It was there that Ted began work on what would later become a novel-length esper-related tale called Treasure Hunt. At the behest of friends, he tried to get his book published, but was unable to find a buyer for the tale. With a relatively new concept called POD (publish-on-demand), Treasure Hunt is now available as a self-published paperback through Lulu Press.

Following his interest in Espers, he was introduced to the genre of anthropomorphic fiction by friends Mark Barnard and Steve Carter in a brief membership with Tales of the Tai-Pan Universe, where he wrote three stories which never saw print. He was then involved in writing stories and typesetting of the two-issue run of Mark Barnard’s furry-fanzine, Midnight Sonata (which later spun off the successful comic book, Havoc, Inc.). After the end of Sonata, his interest in anthropomorphic fiction continued and evolved into a seven-year online story project called Blue Horizon with his wife Eileen and friend Steve Carter.

The story you have just read is a spin-off of the Blue Horizon universe.

Through the years, Ted has worked with several friends in a number of publications that have seen print and distribution and has enjoyed his life as an amateur writer spanning over four decades.

***

Hoenix was nominated as Best Anthropomorphic Novel of 2004, one of the four finalists of the Ursa Major Awards, and although it did not win, Ted was extremely pleased to have made it that far. He submitted Hoenix to several Science Fiction publishing houses, but it only gained favor with one, Baen Books, a place well-known for giving new authors a chance.

The manuscript made it through the first two editorial levels and then up into the Senior Editor’s office, but unfortunately for everyone, Jim Baen suffered a stroke and later passed away before a final decision could be made on the story. The company in chaos for the following months, the new Senior Editor got bogged down under a mountain of manuscripts and began culling them in a measure of self-preservation.

Unread by the new editor, Hoenix was culled simply out of sheer numbers.

For other works by the author, visit

http://trblasingame.com