Fictional Life

EXODUS

— by Jeff Karamales

Chapter 29
Purpose

Ramad looked at the patchwork water that the plane flew over, the colors alternating between the almost indigo shades of the deeper Mediterranean and the turquoise shoals that shone bright and clear as glass. A gentle dip of the forward portion of the cabin indicated that the pilot had started the descent into Maltese airspace. The ride was as smooth and level until the pilot called out over the intercom. “Herren Hassid? If you’d look out the starboard wing you’ll see Herren Gustavsson’s yacht. That is where you and the others will be staying during your time in Malta.”

“Which one?” the snow leopard Fur asked with an amused tone. “The bay’s full of boats!”

The intercom system was one that enabled the pilot and flight crew to hear the passengers if they spoke and the pilot smiled as she spoke. “The large one in sky-blue and white trim. She’s called the Neibelung.”

Ramad, his eyes far sharper than they’d been as a full human scanned the different yachts that sat at anchor within the protected confines of the bay, though the protection of the breakwaters was superfluous as the water past the barriers of rock and concrete were as serene as could be. The myriad boats and small ships bore flags from all over Europe and even a few from across the Atlantic. Then he saw one vessel that bore the Swedish flag, the light blue almost camouflaged against the shimmering water though the gold colored cross stood out like a luminous beacon. Along the stern in flowing script was the name Neibelung with the nation of Sweden as its registered origin beneath.

“That’s no yacht!” the Fur exclaimed with awe. “A small cruise ship, sure!”

The warm contralto of the pilot sounded from the overhead speakers. “With the founding of the Furmankind Institute Herren Gustavsson wanted to ensure that anywhere he went would also have a communications center so that he could maintain continuous communications with Stockholm,” the pilot informed her passenger. “If you think that is impressive, you should see the plane that he now has at his disposal. This one would be considered a toy next to it!”

“Just how rich is Ásmundr?” Ramad asked before he could think on how inappropriate the question was.

Again there was a peel of warm laughter from the cockpit mixed with the deeper male tones of the copilot and navigations officer. “Wealthy enough,” the copilot replied, his accent thicker than that of the pilot.

As the snow leopard looked at the yacht he saw that not only was it massive, but it also had a surprising number of auxiliary craft. Located in recessed berths were a matched pair of boats that combined inflatable and rigid hulls like several of the other watercraft that zipped about the bay leaving wakes of white churned froth.

On the aft of the ship was a landing pad with a strange looking aircraft that was part plane and part hovercraft. The triangular wing was situated so that the base faced forward and tapered towards the tail. In the ends of the points were three large fans. Ramad had seen such aircraft while with the Air Force. The fans would lift the craft straight up before rotating to provide thrust though the small vehicles were less finicky than similar aircraft such as the V-22 Osprey and its relatives. Power was generated by a pair of top mounted turboshaft engines that drove the generators for the fans’ electric motors. Slung under the odd wing shape was the passenger compartment, a sleek affair that looked more like a blunt nosed bullet that was made more of clear polycarbonate panes than it was anything else.

The flying craft was popular as it ran on hydrogen with high-efficiency solar cells that were incorporated into the wing’s lifting surface and was much quieter than more traditional planes and helicopters making it the preferred transport and light cargo choice for populated areas. The one that sat on the aft of the yacht was painted a cheerful combination of white with blue and gold trim. As he swept his gaze towards the fore of the small ship Ramad saw figures basking in the sun on the wooden decking and while he couldn’t be sure, two of the five individuals looked to be Furs. They also appeared to be dressed in swimsuits, of all things.

Shaking his head, the Fur sat back in his seat with a bemused smile pulling at the corners of his mouth. He’d already learned the hard way that anything other than the clothing that had been specially made for he and the other hybrids was uncomfortable at best and often painful. When he’d tried to get back into the habit of wearing regular underwear under his furman clothing he found that not only did it bind, but the elastic waistbands, designed to go against skin, pulled fur every time. Then of course there was the binding of certain parts of his anatomy that he hoped to someday forget.

The landing was smooth and before Ramad knew it the pilot had taxied the plane to a private hangar and stood before the Fur with her own travel bag in hand. She was easily as tall as he was and her short, buckwheat blond hair curled a little at the ends framing a heart-shaped face with clear, pale skin that was the trademark of nearly everyone that Ramad had encountered in Sweden. Her eyes were a dark, stormy blue color that sparkled delightfully and her lips were a rose pink and full. She looked very professional in her dress white shirt with epaulets that were adorned with four bars of gold embroidery.

“I know the seats are quite comfortable, but I can’t leave you on the plane, Herren Hassid,” she told him in her warm, rich voice that sent a shiver down the Fur’s spine. He couldn’t help but smile up at the woman as her words felt like warm silk and was as friendly as her smile. “Herren Gustavsson would have me dismissed if I failed to bring you along. He and the others are awaiting your arrival with anticipation.”

“I couldn’t be responsible for that,” the snow leopard said as he unfastened his seatbelt and turned for the overhead compartment that held his own travel bag. The rest of his belongings were being sent directly to his apartment at the Institute so he’d been able to travel light. “Ásmundr would be losing one of the best pilots I’ve ever met, and I’ve met some truly outstanding stick-and-throttle jockeys,” he said using common vernacular from his time in the USAF as a translator. “Are you going to be on the yacht as well?”

The woman nodded, the gesture causing her small gold earrings to sparkle with the motion. “Yes. Herren Gustavsson tends to be generous with free time for his flight crews. I think it comes from his understanding how strenuous flying can be at times. Fortunately the weather was very cooperative on this run.” They’d all moved towards the exit and she held her hand out to indicate the sun drenched tarmac. “After you, Herren Hassid.”

“I think I’d like it better if you just called me Ramad,” the Fur told the woman with a smile that he made sure kept his teeth concealed. “I’m nothing special.”

“Then you must call me Novalie,” the pilot replied with another dazzling smile that warmed the snow leopard to his core. “As for being nothing special Herren Gustavsson would disagree. I was strictly ordered to ensure your comfort and to see that you were delivered promptly to the yacht.”

“I certainly wouldn’t want to be the reason that you got in trouble,” Ramad said as he exited the plane and waited at the bottom of the staircase. No sooner had Novalie reached the bottom and stepped onto the concrete tarmac then the Fur’s paw-like hand shot out to grip her arm and steady her as the pilot stumbled a little from the fatigue that was setting in earning. Once she got her feet under her Ramad withdrew though not before Novalie gave him a look of gratitude and another dazzling smile. She walked beside the snow leopard in silence, though close enough so that she occasionally brushed his arm. The small group piled into a waiting shuttle van that had darkened windows for the ride to the waterfront. The lack of conversation caused the Fur’s mind to wonder as he turned the visit with his family over in his head.

Before and after the wedding of his sister, Ramad had talked to the Imam at the mosque that his family attended, the man that had devoted his life to the Quran far more moderate than many of the Muslim faith and welcomed the Fur with genuine delight. He’d listened patiently and with almost paternal concern as the young snow leopard hybrid voiced his doubts and concerns as to his place in the world and how what he was impacted his floundering faith. Over the course of several meetings, some at the mosque, others at his parents’ home, Ramad was told that there was no precedence for the snow leopard’s situation.

“You are on unknown ground,” the Imam told him in a deep, gentle voice. “I have contemplated and prayed on your situation and the only advice that I can give is that you must discover your own course. I believe that Allah is forgiving, and that He is understanding of the situation that you find yourself in. Unfortunately I cannot help you.” He’d watched as Ramad sat back, his ears and tail falling in a frustrated depression that there were no easy answers before the man placed a hand on the Fur’s paw-like one. “This is unlike anything in the entire history of the world. You are a bridge between that which is man, and that which is animal.

“I have no doubt that there are many that would scream for your blood, to see your death for being an abomination. I, however, am not one of them. What I see is the chance for you to take a new path. Perhaps you were chosen to discover a way for others to undergo what you have and to keep their connection to Allah. Or, perhaps this is a test for you alone.

“The only thing that I can counsel is to live your life as best you can, to do as your heart and soul decree. As Imam I cannot tell you with a clear conscience that the Quran will have your answers. But, as a man, I can say that if you live as if you were still a man yourself and not completely animal, that if you treat those that you will encounter as you would before all of this, then that is all that anyone can truly expect of you. Be decent and forthright in your treatment of others, be compassionate in your decisions, honor Allah in what you do and keep his laws in your heart, then it may be that when you stand before Him at the end of your life, he will see past what it is you are now, and look instead into your heart and judge you accordingly.”

Ramad had left the meeting depressed that he was once again left without answers. Then, as if reaching something of an epiphany, the Fur realized that the only one that had the answers was the hybrid himself. Perhaps Allah would still see him as a man, and perhaps not. The forced alteration of his physical body hadn’t affected how he treated others, only in how he viewed himself. The realization was somewhat liberating and allowed the kernel of hate and anger in his heart to finally unwind, to drain away like an abscess that had been lanced. Things would fall as they would, but Ramad wouldn’t let himself worry about it any longer. The final catalyst in finally emerging from the darkness that had filled him came one evening after his visit with the local Imam and the snow leopard was approached by his father.

“Did your talk help you with the heaviness upon your heart?” Ahmed asked.

Ramad shook his head slowly as he stared unseeing into the deepening gloom of the night before turning to look at his father, light grey feline eyes meeting dark brown human ones. “I am none the closer to learning if I am still seen as a man or if I am an animal in Allah’s eyes,” he replied in a morose, soft voice in his family’s native Syrian.

“Does it truly matter?” the elder Hassid asked as he sat next to the Fur and put a large, strong hand on the other’s shoulder. “Man, animal, or a blending of the two, you are Ramad ibn Hassid and you are my first child and what you look like will never change these things. You have always made me proud. You served this country by putting on a uniform, a truly noble thing. And you are still the one that saved your sister from those men that would have done terrible, unspeakable things to her. That you look different has no bearing on that. And if God does not see this, then I will follow him no longer.”

Ramad stared at his father with wide eyes, the Fur’s mouth falling open at his father, one of the most devout Muslims he’d ever known, made his feelings on the matter known. The next thing he knew was that tears fell from his eyes as his chest filled with love for the one that had taught him everything about being a good man and felt arms that hadn’t lost any of the strength he remembered from his childhood as they suddenly embraced the snow leopard with unwavering support and warmth.

With his new outlook the world no longer looked so bleak and Ramad found himself wanting to experience things that he had long denied himself or that he thought he was unworthy of. The snow leopard also discovered that smiling came far more easily as did genuine laughter, the change being noted by the bodyguards that had been sent to accompany and protect the Fur.

Now, as the pilot of the plane that had carried him across most of the United States and the breadth of the Atlantic Ocean took his arm in a friendly manner that held no promise of anything more than just friendly company, the warmth of her hand radiating through the fur that now covered his body, Ramad felt a joy for life that pulled a rich, deep purr from his throat that was flavored with a soft laugh at the feelings that now filled him.

“Maybe if we’re lucky our cabins will be close to each other,” the pilot said softly as she leaned closer to the Fur. “I think I’d like for you to tell me what it is like to be what you are. I think that I will be dealing with furmen for the foreseeable future and would like to know all I can so that I can do my job better.” She looked at the snow leopard with an honest and open expression. “If you don’t mind, that is. I was intimidated by you when I first met you, but you’re actually very polite and respectful, and I enjoy talking to you.

“You know, I haven’t really talked about it other than to anyone other than journalists and reporters,” Ramad admitted. “I think it would be nice to just have a conversation. I mean, of course I’ve spoken to the other Furs about this, but not to a non-Fur.”

Novalie smiled at his response. Then, as if a switch had been thrown, the pilot gave in to the exhaustion that had been growing with every passing moment since the plane touched down and she let her eyes close and within the span of a few breaths drifted into a comfortable snooze that soon found her resting her head on Ramad’s shoulder much to the amusement of the copilot and bodyguards.

While he smiled along with the others, Ramad found he didn’t mind the woman using him as a pillow in the slightest.

***

A small launch carried Ramad, his two bodyguards and the flight crew across the glassy water of the bay and out to the yacht after a taxi took the group to the waterfront from the Valletta airport. The crewmembers on the yacht had the launch tied up alongside one of the vessel’s recessed bays and the snow leopard was surprised when Ásmundr himself stepped forward to greet him.

“You’re looking well, Ramad,” the Swede said as he shook the Fur’s paw-like hand and graced the other with a smile. “Should I take it that the trip to visit your family helped?”

The snow leopard nodded, unable to keep the return smile from tugging at the corners of his feline mouth. “It did, indeed. My father and mother send their regards.”

“Gladly accepted,” Ásmundr said as he guided the Fur back so the others could disembark the launch while crewmen took bags and luggage, transferring them into the interior of the yacht. “And how was the wedding? Is your sister happy?”

“Very much so. She has married a good man. She said that my arrival was the best gift that she could ask for,” Ramad said as he helped Novalie from the launch, mildly surprised when the woman didn’t let go of his paw and stood almost shoulder-to-shoulder with the Fur.

“I’m pleased to hear this, Ramad,” Ásmundr said with genuine emotion in his tone of voice. “I want to hear all about your visit but there are other considerations at the moment that I have to attend to. Would you mind recounting the story of your trip tonight at supper? We won’t be dining until eight so that leaves you plenty of time to recuperate from your journey. That, and some of your fellows are most anxious to welcome you back as well. You can find them on the foredeck enjoying the sun and good weather.” the Swede gestured to the crewmen who were dressed in khaki shorts and collared sports shirts in cornflower blue. “Helta and Skorï will show you to your cabins. Feel free to raid the galley if you feel the need, just remember I have a most excellent dinner planned and would be rather remiss if you ruined your appetite. Oh, and there is a very well-stocked wet bar in the main salon. Please, feel free with anything that you find. Now, if you’ll excuse me I truly do have a great deal to take care of.”

The man turned to Novalie and spoke in rapid Swedish, the woman answering in kind. Ásmundr then nodded at the woman and Fur where their fingers were entwined and said something Ramad didn’t understand, though the tone in his voice and the knowing grin was all the translation the snow leopard needed as Novalie’s cheeks flared in an attractive blush that also manifested on the insides of Ramad’s ears.

“Do I want to know what he said?” the Fur inquired softly as they followed the crewman that had their bags into the interior of the yacht.

“He wanted to know if we needed to be further below decks so that we wouldn’t disturb the others onboard…” The woman grinned at the Fur as she regarded him through her thick, lashes. “I told him that wouldn’t be necessary as I enjoy expressing passions in a more…physical manner than vocal.”

“Y-you said…what?!?” the snow leopard replied with a shocked expression.

Novalie let him fret for a moment before laughing. “Actually we said no such thing. Herren Gustavsson simply commented that the flight must have been better than his flight from Stockholm and asked if I kept my word to see to your comfort.”

“Oh,” Ramad said in a small voice as his ears continued to burn.

“You are too easy to tease!” the woman told him in a whisper that riffled his fur as she leaned close and rubbed her nose affectionately against the side of his head. “I should warn you that when I’m not in the cockpit of a plane I tend to be gregarious and a terrible flirt. It isn’t always proper, but it is terribly fun!”

Ramad swallowed hard, not trusting his ability to speak at the moment. “I’ll keep that in mind,” he finally replied as they were shown to their cabins on the small luxury ship.

***

Two of the individuals on the foredeck of the yacht that Ramad had seen from the air were indeed other Furs, though the male was one of the Canis that the snow leopard had only had the briefest of introductions with. Lucien Marceau had come from the bayous of Louisiana in the heart of Cajun country and his thrumming voice was accented heavily with the rolling manner of speech that dominated that portion of the US. When he was excited or agitated it was quite common for him to bounce back and forth from English to French or a pidgin mix of the two languages. That his hybrid form was based on that of Belgian Malinois seemed to reflect the ironic and twisted sense of humor the woman that had warped all of the Furs had possessed. His body was a tawny golden color with a swath of chocolate brown and black on his front that began below the waist band of the shorts he wore and continued up his throat to envelope his muzzle while his triangular ears and thick tail were also highlighted by the darker color giving Lucien a striking appearance.

The Felis that had been on deck was certainly female and while she wasn’t wearing a swimsuit per se, it was an attention getting outfit that exposed substantial portions of her striking fur pattern and coloration to the best effect. The light halter of swirled sunset orange and magenta matched the sort of loin cloth that was fastened over her nether region by thick ties exposed the ripple patterns so that even when she was still the petite catwoman seemed to be in fluid motion. The effect was only enhanced when she walked with a sensual roll to her hips that caused Ramad to openly gape in a way that made Novalie laugh musically.

The savannah cat walked towards the snow leopard in a calculated manner that caused her hips to roll sensually, the kind of strut that runway models used, though much slower and with an almost defiant, challenging air to her posture.

“Enjoy your vacation?” the strange Felis asked Ramad as she put one paw on an out thrust hip and let the other hang along the line of her body as she looked up at him with fiery eyes.

The snow leopard opened his mouth to respond before pulling back slightly, his eyes narrowing. Then his nostrils twitched as he took in her scent, something that was as automatic and natural as his own heartbeat since becoming a Fur. The strange female was familiar, though Ramad couldn’t recall where he’d met her as he definitely would’ve remembered her coloration and there was no way he could forget eyes the orange color she had. Then the moment where recognition of certain things clicked into place with such clarity it made the leopardman flinch.

“Ha…Halley,” he whispered as his ears stood fully erect and his tail stuck straight out, the fur bristling almost as if it were full of static electricity.

“You didn’t forget about me, did you?” the savannah cat said as she and the other Felis fell into the kind of warm embrace that only good friends could manage. “So what do you think?” she asked when they finally parted, the woman and Lucien both excluded from the reunion for the moment.

“Just a little,” Ramad admitted with a wry smile. “You look incredible, though!” The snow leopard broke contact and motioned the woman forward. “Novalie, let me introduce you to some of my friends. This is Halley Kane,” he said gesturing between the woman and savannah cat. “And this is Lucien, correct? I’ve known Halley since…well, for quite some time. Lucien I didn’t meet until we were all brought to the Village.”

Novalie’s expression was friendly up to the moment that she learned Halley’s name. “I have heard of you,” the woman said with a noticeable cooling of both her tone and expression. “You were one of the ones that were responsible for this.”

Halley silently nodded after a moment, though it was Lucien that came to the catwoman’s defense. “Yes, Halley was a part of the scientific contingent at Fort Freedom,” the Malinois said in his thick Cajun accent, “but she is the reason that many of us survived. Ma’mselle was as much a prisoner as the rest of us.”

Ramad blinked in shock that the Canis was aware of what happened and the dog man chuffed out a small laugh. “No, mon ami, I did not go through the memory wipe like the others. It was felt by M’sieur Ásmundr that I should be spared the alteration due to my professional knowledge.”

“I…I thought that only Wyatt and I had been spared, though there have been many times that I wished otherwise,” the snow leopard admitted. Ramad then turned to the woman. “He does speak the truth. Many of us owe our lives to what Halley did for us. She tried to protect us as much as she could at great danger to herself.”

Novalie looked at the three Furs before finally settling on Halley and dropped her chin. “Then you will forgive me for my rudeness. I haven’t had long to know Ramad, but I do know that he’s been forthright with me so far and there are things to this story that I’m sure I don’t know yet. May we consider my poor behavior as a result of being on the verge of exhaustion and begin anew?” The woman held out her hand to the shorter Fur while her face took on a friendlier expression.

“I think we can arrange that,” Halley told the woman as she took the proffered hand. The savannah cat expected something like a silent show of hostility, perhaps a hard squeeze of her furred fingers or something along that nature, but the grip was just firm enough to show that the apology had been heartfelt. “Both of you look like you’re about ready to drop. Why not go and catch a nap. We’ll have plenty of time to talk later.”

“That’s not an altogether bad idea,” Ramad agreed. “I was able to doze during the flight but I don’t think you had that opportunity,” he told the woman.

“A nap does sound good,” Novalie said before stifling a yawn with her hand. “Pardon me.”

“Pfff!” Halley said with a grin. “Completely understandable. Go and get some rest. I’ll make sure someone gets both of you up in plenty of time to get ready for dinner.” She turned both towards the door that would lead from the deck and into the main salon of the yacht.

Once Ramad and Novalie left Halley turned to Lucien and the row of sun chairs they’d been lounging on. Her drink was mostly melted ice and she picked it up before looking at the Malinois.

“Actually a nap sounds pretty good,” the savannah cat said with a stretch and roll of her shoulders. “I think I’m finally thawed out from all of the snow and cold and right now curling up on my bed sounds like a great idea.”

Lucien had just gotten ready to reclaim his own lounger when Halley made her decision known. “If Ma’mselle wishes,” he told her with a nod.

“Ma’mselle definitely wishes,” Halley said with a smile and reached forward to take the Malinois’ empty glass inside as well. “I was also thinking we could continue that conversation we were having.”

Lucien blinked rapidly at what the savannah cat was suggesting, particularly as their conversation had been one about several topics before settling on the subject of both simply wishing for romantic partners without the obligation a full blown relationship would require. Both normally had extremely long days filled with furthering furmankind research and knowledge, and didn’t have the energy for anything more than an occasional tryst. “Are you saying what I think you are, Ma Petit?” Lucien husked, his tail wagging fitfully as he tried to smother both his interest and enthusiasm.

Halley turned her head coyly as her ears pinkened. “The only way for you find out is to come to my cabin,” she told him softly before turning for the door that the others had gone through.

While the shorts that had been made for all of the Furs had sufficed for Lucien to lounge about on the deck in the sun, Halley had been given an ensemble that was little more than a sort of loincloth and an abbreviated halter that enabled her to maintain a modicum of coverage that humans would find comfortable. As far as the Malinois was concerned it only added to the savannah cat’s allure and not for the first time he was regretful that he’d been in one of Emily Lesko’s canine test groups. He’d never been overly fond of dogs, an incident with his Grand Mamma’s Pomeranian when he was only four causing a streak of fearful wariness where canines were involved. He had, however, loved cats, and found them to be delightful animals. They had roamed with Carte Blanche around his house outside of New Orleans and during his school years he’d broken several rules by bringing in a pair of kittens he’d found one night after a thunderstorm, the mewling pair of fuzzballs too starved and flea ridden to run from him. He’d nursed both back to health and kept them until old age had taken them. As it was his attraction to Halley only seemed an extension of a lifelong affinity for all things feline.

When Halley paused at the round-cornered doorway that led into the main salon and leaned back with her halter hanging from one claw-tipped finger and a smoldering look cast in his direction, Lucien’s jaw dropped and his tail froze in shock at the blatant promise before he lurched forward at the unspoken promise of delights that awaited him. The clicking of his toe claws on the deck planking quickened at the rich purring chuckle that came from the savannah cat as she vanished into the darker interior of the ship.

***

Halley sighed with a smile that seemed as if it would touch her ears as Lucien spooned up behind her and held her tightly to his front, the savannah cat reveling in the way his coarse guard hairs gripped her far softer fur and nuzzled harder against the feel of his muzzle laying against the line of her own jaw. “I could stay like this until time to head back to Sweden,” the catwoman purred softly in the twilight gloom of her cabin.

“I don’t know, Ma Petit,” Lucien drawled sleepily as he squeezed her a little tighter and then licked the edge of her ear. “Cats and dogs normally don’t do what we just done, but I will admit that you have made me feel very special.”

The savanna cat’s purr turned into a chuckle as the thumping of Lucien’s tail on the mattress could be felt as well as heard. “Then all those other cats and dogs don’t know what they’re missing!” Halley rolled over in the circle of the other Fur’s arms, her paw-like hands immediately going to his chest so that she could pet the rich chocolate colored coat, enjoying how the slightly rough top gave way to the softer undercoat and the way it felt on her finger pads. “At least we don’t have to worry about having an accident.”

“Mmm,” Lucien intoned as he put his chin atop her head between the Felis’ ears. “That scare with them foxes was bad enough, Ma Cherie, that is for certain. I don’t think that Ásmundr is ready for a passel of pups and kits and cubs. Most of the staff is still getting all accustomed to the rest of us without furry babies to be contending with.” The Malinois pulled back far enough to look into the female’s sardonyx eyes. “I will be very honest and say that the practice of making them with you is right fun, though.”

She play slapped his chest and laughed. “Lucien! Bad dog!” Halley continued to chuckle as she snuggled against her Canis lover. “Well, no. Not really. You’re a good dog…a very good dog, but you shouldn’t say things like that.”

“Ah, but it is true, Ma Petit. I think you enjoyed it very much as well.” Lucien let his fingers run through the thick fur of her neck and back with the occasional touch to her ears that Halley seemed to like so much, not unlike his cats growing up, further proof that none of them were fully human or animal. “I just…I want to make sure that you are not regretting any of this.”

It was several moments before the Felis answered. “I thought I would,” Halley admitted. “You’re my first since Wyatt. After he…I didn’t want to lose the memory of him. I didn’t want anybody but him. Then I became so wrapped up in the work. I guess I used it as a shield. But the pain faded. It didn’t disappear altogether, but it grew less intense. When the realization that I could be with someone else hit me, it scared the hell out of me. You scared me.” She was the one to pull back so that she could look into the Canis’ amber-brown eyes. “Does that make sense?”

“Very much so,” Lucien said as he swept her whiskers back with a gentle swipe of a thumb pad that turned into a caress of her cheek. “There isn’t a single Fur that didn’t like, admire and respect Wyatt, even after the others had their memories altered. He was an amazing person. And being afraid to let your walls down and another in was a very big step for you. No one can blame you with everything that you’ve been through.”

Halley and Lucien had spent the better part of a week talking before coming to Malta, the savannah cat finding her traveling companion surprisingly easy to talk to and had shared things that surprised her. For his part, Lucien was completely honest about the reason he’d been on death row and how he’d wound up at Fort Freedom as part of Emily Lesko’s experiments.

Lucien Marceau, Formerly Doctor, had been one of the first in his family to attend college and had felt a strong pull towards medicine. He found the challenge and satisfaction of being a physician quite fulfilling and eventually found himself in field of general surgeon of internal medicine. Unfortunately the long hours of his internship and residency led him, like so many others, into the world of drug abuse in an effort to keep up with the demanding pace of a large metropolitan hospital. Uppers and stimulants kept him going, downers and tranquilizers brought him down enough to grab a couple of hours of sleep before beginning the cycle all over again. When it got to be too much he turned to pain killers to numb his senses. It wasn’t until a terrible storm in the form of Hurricane Trevor sacked the Gulf Coast from Tampa Bay, Florida to Galveston, Texas, and a marathon of patients slammed him and every other surgeon in the southeastern United States that Lucien’s world imploded.

High on amphetamines and morphine to combat fatigue and the aches of being in an operating theater for over thirty hours, Lucien began to lose patients from sepsis. It was later discovered that things such as sponges, small scissors and such had been left in many of his patients. When an investigation was formed the extent of his problem surfaced and his license to practice medicine was immediately revoked.

Then the trials began.

Due to a crackdown on medical malpractice that had come with a newly elected President and the changing of State officials with midterms, more and more doctors were being found guilty of gross negligence and malpractice. Lucien happened to be the one that was targeted for being made an example of and sentenced to die for his guilt in the deaths of over a dozen people including a child of nine. Despite the sentence, no person on the planet could have judged the wayward doctor any harsher than he did himself.

“I did more than break my Hippocratic Oath,” he told Halley on their second night aboard the yacht as they stood on the aft deck looking at the moon that set the water of the Mediterranean sparkling like a blanket covered in diamonds. “I took a big ol’ crap on it. I thought I was the best at what I did, let my pride get in the way of what was best for my patients. Pride and arrogance have already caused enough strife and terror in our poor world, and there I was doing it myself. I deserved that death sentence, but in the end it would have been the easy way out. I still suffer now, nightmares, the faces of all those people and that little boy looking at me at night when I close my eyes…”

Lucien had shuddered then and his breath audibly caught in his throat as silent tears darkened the fur under his eyes.

“Letting me live would have been the most fitting thing because there isn’t a day that goes by that I don’t ask forgiveness from God, from the families that I destroyed with my hubris and that I think about what I did and wish with all my heart that I could change things.” He’d turned to look at Halley and gave her a sad smile. “Guess we have that in common, huh? Wishing we could alter the past, change that one little thing that would have set here and now on a different path. But here we are and we need to live with all that happened to bring us to this point.”

Halley hadn’t known what to say and watched the Malinois as he turned from the rail for his cabin. He avoided her the entire next day as well. On the third night she found herself at his door wanting to somehow make Lucien feel better, to maybe lessen the burden of guilt he carried. Though something completely different happened when she knocked on his door and he opened it with his normal miserable expression he wore if he’d had any time alone and his demons came calling. She’d said nothing and stepped close, her arms wrapping around his solid chest and simply held him, her purr felt more than it was heard by the Canis male. She’d been vaguely aware of his drawing her into the cabin and shutting the door. Next she knew was they were sitting on his bed and she held him as he wept for the things he’d done that had cost the lives of people that had looked to him for healing.

When he’d gotten the worst of it out of his system he pulled away, ashamed at what he’d done, at being caught at such a vulnerable moment. Halley still hadn’t said anything and in silence she wiped at the tears soaked into his fur for several moments before a subtle change happened within her and she replaced the soft touch of her finger pads with small kisses. With a flaring of passion in both that sprang up like a fire suddenly out of control they began to tug on clothing in frantic desperation. There was nothing gentle about the first time, their thrashing and twining more a release of so much pent up frustration and anxieties. By the third time they had slowed and mellowed to something that could be considered affectionate.

“Forgive me, Ma Petit,” the Malinois husked from where he lay next to Halley panting. “I acted like a man possessed.”

The savannah cat smiled as she held his head in her paws and touched her nose to his. “Accepted,” she whispered back, still winded herself. “The real question is do you feel better?”

Lucien nodded. “I…I truly do.”

“As do I. Let’s both let our ghosts go for the night and just be together,” she suggested. “I think we’ve paid enough of a price to enjoy a night, don’t you?” Her purr rumbled loudly through the cabin when all Lucien did in response was to nuzzle the fur of her throat and neck and gently nip at her in a bit of love play that she responded instantly to.

As she eventually lay in his arms, a sense of warm contentment flowing through her, Halley relished the feeling of letting go, of enjoying an act that was as natural and right as breathing and snuggled against the warmth that cradled her from behind and the arms that held her securely. She would always love Wyatt, a portion of her heart and soul that would always be his no matter what, but there was room in her life for others, too. They might not be the life-altering feelings that she’d had for her dead lover, but that didn’t mean they weren’t comforting. Sighing, she fell asleep with a smile on her short feline muzzle.

Now she lay almost in the same position she had the first night she and Lucien had made love and felt that same sense of satisfaction. She was brought out of her reverie with the smile that split the Canis’ muzzle.

“What?”

“Nothing, Ma Petit,” Lucien whispered as his paws began to gently explore her body. “I just enjoy seeing such a happy look on your face when for such a long time you looked so sad it was enough to break my heart.”

“I think I’m in a better place,” Halley said before a moment passed and the Malinois began to grin. “Mentally and emotionally,” she amended with a snort of amusement. “Though here isn’t bad at all. The feel of being held is quite nice.”

“Just being held, Ma Cherie?” Lucien teased. His fingers found the spot on her lower back that caused the savannah cat’s eyes to close in pleasure as she arched her body.

“That, too,” Halley murmured in her thrumming soprano voice. “Just…as long…as we have time…to shower,” the Felis said between rapid breaths as her lover awoke her ardor once more.

***

“The symposium is a yearly event where more than just advancements in space exploration are displayed,” Ásmundr told the others as a steward set plates of prawns in front of the dinners while the Swede’s personal sommelier showed the wine selected for the evening’s meal to the man at the head of the table. “It’s also a time for inventors and scientists to make proposals for special projects and young people that come from all over the world to demonstrate different experiments and projects. In fact, the winner of a science fair from a couple of years back was sent to study at both Oxford and MIT for his idea on an orbital module that is slated for incorporation on the Sebra Space Station project. While just beginning high school he came up with a method for growing plants in a zero gravity environment using a combination of tubing and hydroponics so the plants take root in a semi permeable substance of his own creation. He even demonstrated that in gravity the tubes could be hung upside down with absolutely no loss of the nutrient solution that filled them. Truly brilliant.”

The man paused long enough to pop a portion of a prawn into his mouth before continuing after a sip of wine.

“It’s no secret that one of the reasons that I stepped in where you Furs were concerned was for employment as advance planetary scouts. The debacle on Khepri showed just how ill-suited humans are for dramatic climate change without the inclusion of substantial supplies in an already limited allowance for both weight and space. Moving things from one planet to another is extremely expensive, though with the Pep-Am disaster there was a substantial amount of poor planning that only added to the final outcome. The problem is scouting missions are vitally needed to ensure a planet is suitable for eventual human colonization. That is where you and other Furs will come into use.”

Ásmundr looked around the table with a bit of seaweed salad on his fork, a somber expression on his face.

“With the official launch of the Furmankind Institute and the Anthro Human Colonization Program, I plan on offering existing Furs, and those who volunteer to undergo the process, a lifetime contract. The primary downfall to this is that the contract is a guaranteed expulsion from Earth to whatever planet the AHCP directorate, myself in this case, along with a select board including Doctor Dimitri Kavalos, approve of for a starter colony. Upon landing, Furs will establish their settlement and begin documenting the vagaries of their world.

“The initial period will be five years, from what we’ve seen on other worlds so far this is enough time to learn if the immediate area of settlement will support a human colony. The end of the first period of five years will see all surviving colony Furs being paid a bounty of one million dollars, US currency, seven hundred and fifty thousand Euros at the present rate of one dollar to point seven five each Euro, or two million credits, international. At the time that a human colony is landed, the Furs that established the primary settlement will either be given the option to stay on that world, or if another planet has been approved, relocate to begin the process over for another five year period.”

Ásmundr looked at the three Furs, his knife poised over another prawn.

“Does this sound like a fair deal to each of you?” the Swede inquired.

“More than fair,” Ramad said, Lucien nodding in agreement.

“But the contract means that any Fur or later volunteer that goes through the process will sooner or later be banished from Earth?” Halley asked.

“It’s the only way that Furs will be allowed to continue on,” Ásmundr said. “For better or worse, none of you are human anymore. And this world cannot continue to support the vast population on it, even with the advances in so-called sustainable agricultural practices. We need to spread to other worlds or this one will literally be consumed to lifelessness. If you go to another world, learn it, understand how to make a living on it, this way even if humans can’t make a life there and Furs can, it will still be counted as a success. But the primary purpose for Furs will be pathfinders, guides for the masses that will follow their lead to the stars.”

Instead of protesting out of hand, Halley gave it some thought. Her wine glass, filled instead with sparkling mineral water, caught the light from overhead and she stared at the way the bubbles within were illuminated without really seeing. It would be a hard existence, one without modern conveniences that were so much a part of life, even now. Whatever they ate they’d have to grow, wherever they’d live, the Furs would have to build themselves. It would be similar to life in the 1700’s, though with slightly better tools.

On the other hand, what would she and the other Furs face on Earth? Slavery still existed, no matter how law enforcement agencies strove otherwise. At least twice a year news agencies reported on sting operations closing down a human trafficking ring. Prejudice was alive and well, even in supposedly enlightened countries. If humans could happily kill strangers that were only slightly different or had a shade of skin than their persecutors what chance did Furs have? The US still had racial problems, as did Great Britain, France and the seething cauldron of Russia. Asia enjoyed a year or two of peace at a time before tensions began to escalate. As for the Middle East, the less contemplated, the better.

Could an alien world be any worse? At least potential threats would be easier to identify.

“It would be quite possible, however,” Ásmundr continued, his words breaking into Halley’s ruminations, “to keep a small number of Furs on Earth for the sole purpose of assisting volunteers in their acclimatization in their choice of becoming furmankind themselves.”

Halley nodded then waved her paw-like hand in an unconscious effort to coagulate her thoughts. “But none of the Furs back at in the Village…back at the Institute, know a thing about what it would take to start a colony on another world. Most of them are lucky to be functioning at an adolescent level.”

The Swede nodded. “This is true. That is why I sent Todd on a recruitment mission. He’s going to be contacting individuals skilled in various aspects of survival. Woodland, tropical, arctic tundra, desert and coastal regions to be precise. I’m bringing in hunters, those skilled in trapping, skinning, farming and primitive crafting. Other teachers that can teach other skills such as the care and treating of livestock, equestrian skills and field medicine are also on the list. All of these individuals will be running classes to impart as much knowledge as possible in the skills we’ve seen would be used on another world without close and immediate support from Earth, and we can add or alter teaching schedules as needed. As it stands starter colonies won’t be sent without any information on the world they’re assigned to. New TCC regulations dictate that exploratory probes will deploy satellites for a minimum of one terrestrial year for orbital mapping and surveys with the norm being two years due to the necessary funds required for any round-trip interstellar flight.”

It was Lucien that spoke next. “So we’ll be trained for colony life? What about medical personnel?”

“That has been a point of contention,” Ásmundr admitted. “It would be optimal to have three trained medical professionals per colony endeavor, and by that I mean at least one doctor and one nurse with another skilled in emergency medicine, such as a paramedic. The board is considering different incentives to attract medical professionals to the furmankind program, but in the end we’ll just have to hope. If need be, we’ll ensure that those with the proper aptitude will receive all the training we can give them.” The Swede looked at Lucien and smiled widely. “When we get back to Stockholm, Dimitri will show you the training analogues he and some of the others have been making. Truly astonishing.

“As it stands, even with qualified volunteers there’s going to be a period of intense training to bring any doctors, nurses or paramedics up to speed on the vagaries of furman anatomy. You’ll be spending quite a bit of time with Dimitri and the others once you return to Stockholm, Lucien.”

“Me, mon ami? Why me?”

“Because you were a surgeon. A talented one prior to your troubles. You’ll need to learn the nuances of all four furman types plus the differences, the obvious ones notwithstanding, between males and females.” Ásmundr turned back to his food and resumed eating while the Furs digested more than just the food. “That is also one of the reasons that the three of you are with me on this trip. I want…no. I need your input on this. I need your insights, your feelings, your opinions. Help me. Help do what I must to make sure that any Fur that is sent out there is prepared as best as I can make them.”

— NEXT CHAPTER —