Technofox

Chapter Two

Written by Nathan Cowen

Copyright © 2007 by Nathan Cowen, all rights reserved. Reproduction and distribution of this work by any means without the expressed written permission of the author, or hotlinking from another website without the expressed written permission of the author and BondoFox, is expressly forbidden. Similarity to any person, living or dead, is coincidental.

Author's Note — Happy Birthday ANTIcarrot (May 29)

"Will you do it in Atlanta?" Andrew asked.

"Goodness, no," Technofox replied, shocked at the notion. Firefox lifted an eyebrow, enquiringly, so Technofox explained. "Unless a perfect opportunity just drops into our laps, which probably won't happen, these jobs take days or weeks to plan. For someone as high profile as Morgan, I'd want a couple of months. Just the fact we have tickets to Atlanta means we can't do it in Atlanta. That's a huge red flag — pure amateur hour stuff."

She paused, and went on, almost as much for Firefox as for Andrew. "When Firefox takes him out, there is going to unimpeachable evidence that at the same time, she was in the Vatican, having her feet washed by the Pope in front of a congregation of two thousand." She hesitated. "I don't mean that literally."

"I guessed that," Andrew said, nodding.

"And that sort of thing takes time to arrange," Technofox finished. Firefox hesitated, and nodded. Technofox felt relief. She had been worried that Fire might get impatient, but she seemed to be her usual, pragmatic self.

"Would anyone suspect you?" Andrew asked.

"ICON would suspect me," Firefox said. "I told Doctor Clayton about him."

"You've mentioned him before," Andrew said. "Who exactly is he?"

Firefox looked at Andrew dubiously, as though wondering if he were pulling their legs. Technofox shrugged, and frowned.

Technofox suddenly blinked, understanding. "Gosh, you never met him, did you?" Technofox said, surprised.

"You're right," Firefox said. "He hasn't."

"We've got to fix that," Technofox said, "after we get back from Atlanta."

"Right, of course," Firefox agreed. "Huh. Damndest thing."

"That there are people who haven't met Doctor Clayton?" Andrew asked.

"No," Firefox said slowly. "That's not it. We know people who don't know Clayton, but—"

Technofox lifted a claw. "I get it. It's because Andrew's our only close friend who knows that we're in ICON who doesn't have clearance, and who isn't even an ICON operative."

"Yeah, that must be it," Firefox said, relaxing. "I'm sorry, Andrew. Doctor Clayton's important to us. We just assumed you knew who he was, ."

"It's sort of like …" Technofox struggled for an example. "Sort of like realizing that your lover of one year never met your parents."

"He's that important? I'd be glad to meet him. But who is he, exactly?"

"Oh, right," Firefox said. "Doctor Matthew Clayton is a chimera psychologist and behaviorist who works for ICON. He oversees non-human resources, sets up and trains all chimera and mixed human chimera teams, and monitors them for psychological issues."

"The all chimera teams are his idea," Technofox explained. "There's ... a few other units in ICON." Technofox had to catch herself — Andrew didn't have clearance.

"There are?" Andrew asked, surprised. "What is your relationship with ICON anyway? Do they own you? No, you said you were self-owned."

"Right," Firefox explained. "ICON's our sponsor. Chimera like us are expensive. Basically, ICON decides they want a chimera ops team. They buy us from the factory, pay for our training, and get a mortgage on each of us from the bank. The mortgage is signed over to us once we're certified as legally human, so we're technically self-owning. ICON then pays us a stipend plus bonus for mission execution, and we use that to pay for our mortgages. Since we hold our own mortgages, we're not owned by ICON."

"Except that you have to buy yourself," Andrew said.

"We're not human," Technofox said quietly. "We don't have parents to pay our bills while we figure out what we want to do. For our kind, this is as good as it gets."

"I was going to sign Saffron's title over to her."

"For our kind, this is almost as good as it gets," Firefox said, correcting Technofox.

"Saffron?" Technofox asked, her hackles starting to rise. "Your wife's name was Saffron?"

Firefox lay two fingers on the side of her snout. That was an ops signal meaning, roughly, "You are going somewhere we don't want to go. Tone it down and follow my lead."

"Milton knows that Saffron was in Blue Diamond," Firefox said, smoothly. "She was a friend."

Technofox didn't speak. She couldn't speak.

Technofox remembered what Tigre had said, standing between Technofox and the server farm that ran Blue and its subroutine, Tigre:

"I used to be someone named Saffron."

And after, Technofox had sent the bitch to hell, wishing she could make Tigre's passing hurt.

"She was a friend," Firefox had just said.

Technofox felt like she had just been kicked under the ribs. She wouldn't queer Firefox's pitch. But she would never follow that lead.

"Anyway," Firefox said, changing the subject, "ICON knows what Travis Walton did to me, and to I don't know how many others."

"And they don't care?" Andrew said, appalled.

"ICON does not stand for Impeccable Champions Of Niceness," Firefox replied. "It's a for-profit organization financed by like-minded interests. They have an agenda, and I have mine."

"When we do it, ICON will suspect," Technofox elaborated. "And even if they didn't share their suspicions with the police — it would look bad if ICON subcontractors started going rogue — they might start looking into it themselves. Possibly even settle the matter privately, if they thought there might be fallout. No, we want ICON to consider the possibility, and then reject it for solid forensic reasons. I'm with you, Firefox, but we must be careful." Technofox bit the inside of her lip. She had just accidentally quoted a Hercules movie. She hoped Firefox would not think she was joking.

"Thanks, Tech," Firefox said. "I've got a lot invested in this. Emotionally. And that could make me stupid." She grinned. "I'm counting on you to be my brain here."

"You've always been my spine," Technofox heard herself reply.

"Tech," Firefox said softly.

Technofox hesitated. It was hard for her to say things like this. "Back in — there, I leaned on you a lot. We all did. You were always strong for us. And your example always made it easier." She looked away, uncomfortable. "Thinking about you made it easier to fight," she said.

"Thanks," Firefox said. She looked as though she wanted to say more, but shook her head.

"Okay, that's settled," Technofox said. "I'll get to work on this. You'll want to say goodbye to Andrew, so I'll take the T back."

"Uhm, no," Firefox said, blinking. "No offense, Andrew, but —"

"No, of course not," Andrew said. "Nobody's kicking you out, Technofox."

"I have to pick up some mouthwash anyway," Technofox said.

"Tech, I can give you a bottle of mouthwash."

"Scope?" Technofox asked hopefully, "the green kind, travel sized?"

"Not travel sized," Andrew said.

"Oh well," Technofox said, disappointed.

"You can pour his mouthwash into your travel-sized bottle," Fire said, sounding slightly exasperated.

"Yeah, I could... but this isn't about mouthwash. It's about having the courtesy to step out when a friend is going to get some," Technofox explained.

"Mouthwash?" Firefox asked, keeping a straight face.

"Tech," Andrew said, rubbing his sinuses, "Firefox and I said goodbye this morning already, and I'm not up to saying goodbye again, especially not after a Shadowfox breakfast."

"Oh. Okay then." Technofox nodded.

"Thanks," Firefox said. "I appreciate that, Andrew. I care a lot about her."

Andrew shrugged. "So do I," he said. Technofox blinked at him uncertainly; he grinned and touched her nose. "Beep," he said solemnly. "Good luck in Atlanta."

"Saffron was a friend?" Technofox hissed after Firefox closed her car door.

Firefox sat for a moment, fastening her belt, gathering her thoughts. She was swallowing her reflex response, trying to phrase things better.

"Tigre was a meat puppet," Firefox said, finally. "A lobotomized corpse run through remote control by a machine intelligence running as part of Blue."

"Oh," Technofox said, understanding, and feeling stupid. "And Saffron was the body?"

"Right." Firefox looked over at her, angry, and Technofox didn't blame her. "And you're not going to tell him that they used his wife's animated corpse to teach slave women about whips."

"No — no, of course not," Technofox said, her voice shaky. "Of course not. God, no. She didn't die when I crashed Blue. So there must have been some brain function left..."

"Yes," Fire replied shortly. "Some of Saffron was still there." Mollified, Fire looked through the windshield. "My fault. I should have told you. I should tell the others, too. I guess I just hoped it wouldn't come up, that we could just pretend it never —" Fire's voice cracked.

"Of course," Technofox said, trying to sound reassuring. Tigre had spent a lot of time and attention on Firefox. Firefox had spent entire nights with Tigre — and just thinking of that, of what Tigre must have done to Firefox, made Technofox's intestines clench. It had been rough on Fire in ways Technofox couldn't even imagine, and Firefox never had a word of complaint. Firefox made Technofox ashamed of her own despair.

Technofox tried to think of a way to change the subject. "Do you think he meant what he said about me?" Technofox finally asked.

Firefox pulled onto the road. The way back to their apartment led through Cambridge. Boston was an old city, with roads that predated motor vehicles. A lot of the roads were one-way, so it was only rarely possible to take the same route both ways between two points.

Firefox looked over and down at her and smiled slightly. "That he cares for you? Of course he does." She looked out at the road again. "Does that bother you? It doesn't bother me."

"Well..." Technofox hesitated. "No, I sort of like it. I mean, back then, back there, I didn't feel ashamed with him. And so I guess I like to think he likes me too. Does that sound stupid?" she asked, hopefully.

Fire shook her head. "You like someone you had sex with and hope he likes you back. That doesn't sound stupid. In fact, that sounds anti-stupid."

Technofox nodded. A few of her regulars in Blue Diamond had offered more than respite from the whip, but Andrew had actually helped to get them out. She didn't hate every client she had serviced, but in front of the others, Andrew was the only one she felt comfortable admitting to.

"Hope you're not jealous," Technofox joked.

Fire considered and shook her head again. "I don't know, maybe it's the circumstances we met him under... but it doesn't bother me that he and I like the same woman. It's sort of hard for me to feel possessive about him. Back in Blue Diamond, I needed him so much." Her voice shook, just slightly. "I sort of ... encouraged him with you three. Like I'd share water in a desert. Maybe I've gotten used to thinking of him as someone we share. And you're Foxforce. I mean, he's slept with Silver, too."

"Obviously," Technofox shrugged. It was funny, but Firefox had responded to her joke about making her jealous as though she took the possibility seriously. Which was silly. "I don't know about Shadow, though," Technofox finished.

"He took her a message when she was a footstool," Firefox reflected. Shadowfox had spent most of her working time in Blue Diamond topless, in stocks and a chastity belt, kneeling in front of a chair occupied by a series of clients. "I don't know if she actually—"

"Oh, crud," Technofox moaned. "That reminds me — I forgot the mouthwash."

Firefox laughed. "There's a drug store up ahead. I think we can park there." She hit the turn signal. "Other than that, I don't think he's been alone with Shadowfox. I was there when he took pictures of her. God, if you think that picture was hot, you should have been there with her in the fur. It was all I could do to keep from hopping her bones."

Technofox was silent. She didn't want to talk about how the other three were in his portfolio when she wasn't.

Firefox pulled into a parking space and stopped; by reflex, Technofox looked at the charge level. Of course, it was nearly topped off. "Is there anything you need?" she asked, getting out.

"Oh, I don't know," Firefox said, leaving the car. "Maybe a magazine for the flight. I just can't resist shopping."

"Buy a magazine here?" Technofox asked. "You mean, on paper? Why not just download it?"

"It's something to do during takeoff and landing," Firefox explained.

"Hey, good idea," Technofox said, impressed.

"Thanks — I think it might catch on," Firefox said.

Since they were chatting, they both missed the "NO UNESCORTED CHIMERA" sign on the front door.

When they stepped in, the pimple-encrusted high-school reject at the front of the store looked over at them as though he smelled something. Firefox turned back at him steadily, eyes going cold in an instant. He shifted his gaze to Technofox, who ignored him and scanned the aisles for mouthwash.

"There's a policy against unescorted furs in—" he started.

"We're legally humans," Firefox replied gravely. "Where's the mouthwash?" She sniffed, theatrically. "No, how would you know?"

Technofox moved quickly down past him; he put out a hand, and she walked into it. She came to a quick stop. They looked at one another a moment, each surprised at the contact.

"Get your hand off her," Firefox ordered.

He hesitated. Technofox pushed his hand away. He tried to move it back; she slapped it away by reflex. "No," she snapped. He moved his hand up. She took a step closer to him, planted a hand firmly on his chest, and pushed.

He stumbled backwards, surprised by her strength. Technofox's eyes narrowed and her ears flattened, encouraged by his retreat.

"You don't understand 'no?'" she asked. "Is that your problem, boy? You need me to explain it?" She stepped close to him, pushed again, this time lifting him slightly off the floor. The anger seemed to flow out of her, from something she didn't understand. He landed awkwardly. "You understand 'no' yet, you little fuck?" Technofox pushed him again and as he staggered backwards his heel hit the edge of a shelf, sending him down.

Technofox crouched to pounce. A hand gripped her shoulder. Hard.

Shocked, Technofox snapped her head around, and set up to kick. It was Firefox's hand. Behind her was a manager and a cashier, and all three had almost identical expressions on their faces. Firefox forced a nervous smile.

"Easy, Tech," she said. "Chill."

Technofox swallowed, hard.

"I think you need to leave," the manager said quietly.

Firefox turned sharply towards him, and hesitated.

"Yes," she said finally. "We do."

Telling individual chimera apart was surprisingly difficult. DNA testing was almost useless, since entire production runs of hundreds or even thousands of individuals were clone brother and sisters. Even humans, so highly optimized by evolution to recognize one another by sight that they could see faces in clouds or other random shapes often had trouble telling chimera apart by appearance. Chimera tended to recognize one another by scent, by tone of voice, and not by vision.

For machines, the problems were worse. Although chimera were engineered to use human tools, chimera hands were different enough from human hands that fingerprints or finger-length measurements were difficult to take and not very reliable. Instead, chimera were usually identified by an chip implanted in the left hand.

Technofox's identification chip could be tuned to respond with any code she set into it; she made sure it was set to give her real signal, and rested her hand on the check-in sensor, which spat out a boarding pass. She put her bag on the scales; the sensor confirmed the weight, slapped a tag onto the bag, and sent it down the conveyor belt. There was something troubling about that. She couldn't think what it was.

Firefox waited for her, and they turned to find their gate.

"Something bothering you?" Firefox asked.

"Uhm," Technofox said, thinking. Then her eyes widened.

"I just checked in and got a boarding pass," she said.

"Right," Firefox agreed, clearly wondering where Technofox was going with this. Technofox hesitated, so she could draw her thoughts into words.

"And nobody took a picture of me. What if, say, you needed an alibi? We could get you a plane ticket, I could check in with my identifier chip set to return your signal, and as far as anyone knew, it would be you who checked in and arrived."

"That would work. A human would use a driver's license, but the same thing applies."

"What if 7.62 works with a partner? With a forged ID, he could do the same."

"If the airport were set up that way. Pretty much. I'm sure some airports are too small to need automated check in. Remember that one in Indiana?"

"Suppose Stanthrope did something like that? I took him off the list because he was on a plane that landed in New York the day before a hit in Vancouver. Maybe that was premature."

"Ah," Firefox said, nodding. "Yes, that's a good point. He doesn't seem the type to have a good support network, though. Odenberg's more the team builder."

Per Odenberg was their best suspect at the moment — the only one that Technofox had not crossed off the list. They walked past a drugstore and Technofox was going to suggest they stop to buy some mouthwash, but decided she didn't want to remind Fire of the afternoon. That had been stupid of her. Technically, since he had touched her first, she was entitled to self-defense, but the security camera video wouldn't have looked good in a court, and besides it was a bad idea to get in trouble with the local police.

"Absolutely. But I don't think Odenberg's our man. Odenberg's known to work with chimera. 7.62's killed a chimera advocate for free."

"Probably for free. The hiring party might be way, way behind the scenes."

"Yeah. Still, if we assume he did it for free, it doesn't fit. Odenberg doesn't seem to have a problem with chimera. Heck, the Legion had him working with an all-chimera infiltration group in the Ivory Coast."

"He's not a bigot — some of his best friends are chimera," Firefox said sardonically.

"Yeah, I know it's a cliché, but there's a good point to it. The NAAAP is about as mainstream as chimera rights groups get. Heck, it's never even been run by a chimera. Anyone who couldn't stand Ashok Mehta wouldn't have many chimera friends."

"Yeah, maybe, unless it was blue on blue? 7.62 is a radical chimera rights advocate who killed Mehta because he was too much of a pussy?"

They were coming close to the security gate, so they switched subjects. It just wasn't a good idea to talk about a murder investigation where screeners might hear. Why make people worry unnecessarily?

Once through security, Firefox pointed to the food court. "Grab something for dinner?"

"Fast food?" Technofox wrinkled her lip.

"Either that or airplane food," Firefox pointed out.

"Good point. That Chinese place looks okay. Maybe they have General Tso's."

"Yum. Suppose 7.62 is a chimera rights activist."

Technofox considered. "It's possible. But it doesn't solve the problem," she said, finally.

"No?"

"Well, if 7.62 killed Mehta for free, then that means 7.62 has some pretty strong feelings about chimera rights. Maybe con, or maybe pro. Either way, it's something he cares about. We wouldn't be wondering about how many chimera friends he had. It would be in big flashing letters on his dossier. He'd be in the Pure Human movement if he's anti or New Genesis or something if he's pro. Most people aren't activists, and even activists don't kill all that often. You know?"

"Yeah," Firefox agreed, reluctantly. "Good point." Firefox paused, and then summarized the problem which had been nagging Technofox. "We've got two good suspects for 7.62 — but neither of them seem to be the type who'd want to kill Mehta. At least, not because of race issues."

They ordered General Tso's chicken and shrimp egg rolls, and took it to their gate.

"Maybe we're wrong about 7.62's motives. He killed Mehta, fine — but it had nothing to do with chimera rights. What if Mehta balled his girlfriend?"

"Stanthrope's gay," Tech reminded her. Firefox gave her a dirty look. "Oh," Technofox said apologetically. "Well, maybe," she said. "Mehta collected Nagaraj comics, and comic book fans are worse than wild animals."

"You don't think Mehta said something nice about John Byrne on a chat board," Firefox gasped.

"They'd strangle him through the monitor," Technofox assured her. Firefox smiled. "I win," Technofox said gleefully.

"So it would be worth our time to see if Mehta's connected somehow with the suspects," Firefox said.

"Absolutely. Of course, everyone's three steps from everyone else, so it wouldn't be conclusive." Technofox considered the matter. Business? Family? Friends? Mehta was pretty clean — no real scandals in his background. His biography had been scrutinized by political opponents looking for dirt, and they hadn't found anything worse than a stock deal which might have been insider trading, or pure luck. And people didn't commit murder over someone else's stock portfolio.

"No, but there's got to be something." Firefox sat down heavily, mixed her chicken in with her rice. "Odenberg's got a bolthole in Atlanta, doesn't he?"

"He's got an apartment there under someone else's name, yes. And probably one in another eight cities. But it's not absolutely clear he's even in the business."

"Oh, he's in the business," Firefox snorted. "He smells of it. He might not be 7.62, but he's a professional killer. A Foreign Legion sniper retires and then grosses two hundred grand a year selling downloads for tabletop role-playing games? Come on."

"It's not impossible," Technofox said.

Firefox looked at her. "People associated with the Tataglia family spent sixty thousand last year on Elf Storm."

"It was a pretty good module."

Firefox looked unconvinced, so she explained. "You see, the Elf King was dying, and his heirs were..." Firefox looked at her and Technofox swallowed. "You're probably right, but there's nothing that would stand up in court. Game downloads. That's probably how he launders his money."

"Probably. If he's not in town, it might be worth checking out his apartment."

"Yes. Especially if Shadow's tip doesn't pay off. Not sure if we want to risk it otherwise."

"How do you feel about Shadow's rumor? Just your gut hunch," Fire asked. Firefox believed in hunches, and Technofox did not, so she always had to strain for an answer.

Technofox shrugged. "There's not a lot of data there to work on. She said that she heard that the Conners offered 7.62 a contract in Atlanta, and he begged off because he already had an engagement there and didn't want to risk two hits in the same town too close together. He hasn't been active there recently, as far as anyone knows. Now, maybe he was just telling a white lie — maybe the real reason he doesn't want to do a hit in Atlanta is that he's got a bolthole there, and he doesn't want to draw attention to Atlanta. Maybe the rumor is false. Still, it's worth chasing down. I just wish her rumor had more details. Like who 7.62 is gunning for."

"Wouldn't it be great if he were after Walton?" Firefox asked, laughing.

"Then we need to get there just a little bit too late. That would be perfect. But it's not likely. We think 7.62 killed Mehta for free because the mob has nothing against Mehta. They have nothing against Walton either."

"We know that the mob was using Blue Diamond to take women out of the picture," Firefox said. "That's an NAAAP talking point. They're making a big deal of that."

That was a good point. Some of the chimera in Blue Diamond did know things that various crime organizations wanted kept secret. A few had been impounded by Federal prosecutors and then put into Witness Relocation. At least one turned out to be a free human woman. Unfortunately, the conspiracy and RICO charges against Blue hadn't even made it to a Grand Jury. Blue claimed to be acting in good faith when it had purchased them, and Foxforce's testimony to the contrary wasn't "compelling enough to stand in court." By which, of course, they meant it was the word of four chimera against the word of a machine intelligence.

"Still a stretch. They might kill someone to keep the story from going public, but once it was out of the bag, why bother? Maybe if Mehta were in the mob and they were cleaning house, but he didn't have any links to organized crime."

"Yeah," Firefox agreed reluctantly. "I guess it's natural to think everything involves chimera somehow, but it's not so."

"No, it's not." Technofox scratched her chin. "I am a bit worried."

"About what?"

"Well, suppose you're a made man with the Conners and you suspect that some girl you know is a cop. Suppose you make up a story about a hired killer and Atlanta, and then the girl and her roommates go to Atlanta?"

"Yeah, I thought of that," Firefox admitted. "We might have just blown Shadow. If this rumor turns out to be fake, I'm pulling her out of cover."

"She won't like that. She's spent a lot of time, uhm, ingratiating herself."

"Blown is blown and we cut our losses," Firefox replied, tersely. "7.62's probably gunning for one of the Atlanta families. The Korolevs control that town, right?"

"Yes. You think it was right to tell the police?"

Firefox lifted an eyebrow. "ICON has a firm policy of co-operating with the local constabulary in any operation," she said seriously. "We are decent, law-abiding citizens, not some sort of corporate vigilante service."

"Fine. You think it was smart to tell the police?"

Firefox snorted. "It's not like the four of us can guard every major figure in the Korolev family."

"Do we care if some Korolevs get hit?" Technofox asked.

"If catching 7.62 means guarding the Korolevs, then we safeguard the Korolevs."

"Right," Technofox agreed.

"ICON doesn't think the Atlanta police are compromised. And even if they are, all they can say is that ICON told them there was going to be a hit. The police don't know who we are, or that ICON's even sending a team." Firefox shrugged. "If the rumor's wrong, no harm done. If 7.62 scores a kill in Atlanta and gets away, the police can't blame us for it after the warning. If the police catch him, fine — ICON avoids some headlines, and the cops owe us for some nice publicity. But if 7.62 kills someone in Atlanta, and the police find out we could have warned them, well, that's going to make it hard to operate there."

"Makes sense," Technofox agreed. She fiddled with her egg roll. "I think these shrimp are sea monkeys."

"Ugh," Firefox said, pausing in her chewing.

"It feels like this case has two parts, and we haven't been able to link them," Technofox said, finally. "7.62 is probably Stanthrope or Odenberg. 7.62 probably killed Mehta, and what's more, did it for personal reasons. But it's not coming together — Stanthrope and Odenberg have no obvious reasons for killing Mehta. The circle isn't closing."

"Uh huh," Firefox agreed.

"Then Shadow finds evidence that 7.62 is going to Atlanta, but there's nothing that says Stanthrope or Odenberg are going to Atlanta. It's like there's two investigations going on, and they're not quite crossing over."

"Maybe we goofed. Maybe 7.62 isn't Stanthrope or Odenberg."

Technofox shrugged. "Maybe. But ICON's pretty good at generating those short lists. Remember how they fingered Big Wheel?"

"Well, yeah, but Ruger revolvers are a bit more distinctive than 7.62 rifle ammo."

"Doesn't 7.62 use hand-loaded rounds?" Technofox asked.

Firefox paused to gather her thoughts. "7.62 uses hand-loaded 7.62x51mm military rounds. They're distinctive. What's more, he hand-loads them to match spec, so he's good at it, but not suspiciously good — there's lots of hobbyists who can do similar work nowadays. The bench loading toolsets they've come out with in the last few years are phenomenal — I've been thinking of playing with them." She looked wistful for a moment.

"Bad idea. You're much more anonymous using factory loads. Changing your brands from time to time is even better." Technofox hesitated. "I know what you mean, though — I hate it when there's a new toy I want that I can't use because it's not practical or it's too expensive."

"Like that Japanese woodworking kit?" Firefox asked.

"That wasn't impractical. It just makes more sense for a saw to cut on the draw. Besides, I used that for the gun hideaways in our apartment. And I expensed it."

Firefox laughed out loud. "Hope you had an easier time than Andrew did."

"Huh?"

Firefox looked at her. "Moving to San Diego and back to Boston, then going to Blue Diamond, and on top of that hiring women there. Blue Diamond cut him a deal for the photos, but he spent a lot up front that he didn't get back, because Blue Diamond shut down before they put him on staff or cut a check. ICON finally compensated him a couple of months ago."

"Oh." Technofox blinked. "I thought he was an operative. You're saying he's a civilian? Why did he help us?"

"Because he's not scum, and he thought we could rescue Saffron." Firefox said. "We didn't know she was beyond saving."

"Ah."

"Maybe I can get a hand loading kit when I pay off the mortgage on me. But yeah — that's the first thing we know about 7.62. He uses different types of weapons. He uses hand-loaded ammo as a calling card. He's deliberately establishing a reputation. He's trying to become fashionable. Foxforce doesn't need word of mouth, and we're better off being deniable."

"Retainers are nice," Technofox agreed. "And I'd hate to worry about marketing our services. Where do you advertise?"

"Anyway, 7.62x51 is a slight modification of .308 Winchester, a civilian rifle round. 7.62x51mm is a military round, with specs set by NATO. It was used in most battle rifles for a few decades after World War II, it's used in machine guns, and it's a popular sniper cartridge. A lot of people think .223 is too light for a man-killing round, and 7.62 is a step heavier than that. So there's nothing surprising about the round."

"And that pistol of his?"

"An afterthought," Firefox said. "He started with a rifle, then came up with the idea of using hand loads as a calling card, and then got jobs where he needed a pistol. There's lot of gunsmiths who make pistols like that, usually to show off some new recoil handling system. I've seen home-built .50 caliber pistols being fired by teenage girls."

"But that would be a pretty big pistol, wouldn't it?"

"Probably," Firefox agreed.

"And a lot of that size is to make it easier to control, right? Recoil compensators, gas vents, adaptive floating barrel?"

"Right..." Firefox seemed to see where she was going, but was letting her finish her thought.

Technofox looked off. "You know," she said, "if I were a chimera hitman, and I used customized weapons, I'd get something designed just for me, to take advantage of the fact I'm pretty strong. I mean, a lot of human women my size have trouble shooting a 9mm, let alone a .45." When Technofox went armed, she normally carried a little .357. At the shooting ranges, men twice her size sometimes had trouble controlling it. It was always fun to watch them try. "I wonder how small you could make a 7.62 rifle round pistol if you stripped out the gadgets?"

Firefox looked thoughtful and nodded. "Pretty small," she agreed. "How would you get something like that through airport security?"

"I'd have the frame made of polycarbonates," Technofox said immediately. "Break it down into pieces that don't look like a gun. Put it in check-on luggage. Or, just declare it. It's perfectly legal to carry weapons on a plane flight, as long as the weapon is declared, unloaded, and in checked luggage. I wouldn't suggest that, though — airport screeners would remember a 7.62 pistol. But I don't think it's likely 7.62 uses airplanes. He probably drives. That's the best way to cover long distances inside the US without leaving a trail."

"Unless you use toll roads."

"Right. Odenberg and Stanthrope both live on the West Coast and they've both been ticketed for traffic violations in small towns in the Midwest. They were probably on the way to a job, got ticketed, and aborted."

"Uhm," Firefox muttered. "And neither one has a transponder in their car, of course?"

"Of course."

The flight took a bit under three hours. The food was inedible. The airline seat was murder on her tail. The only good thing about flying coach was that she was small and so the seat gave her plenty of room.

Firefox had the window seat, and she was napping, arms folded, head resting against the wall of the plane. Technofox liked to watch her sleep, the way her mouth would part slightly and close, the way she'd twitch in a dream, the way her head would nod, and especially she liked to watch the movement of her breasts as she breathed. In Blue Diamond, they were kept in adjoining cells. They would make love through the bars, so the guards wouldn't hear them talking about escape. She had looked forward to that. Even there, there were things to look forward to.

Technofox had always liked looking at Firefox, and liked her scent. She had always entertained thoughts about her. She reminded herself of that, because what Silverfox had said was bothering her. If Blue Diamond had made Silverfox like men, did Blue Diamond make Technofox like women? Blue Diamond wanted all their women bisexual, or very good at faking it.

She had to admit that her thoughts about Firefox were now more visceral. They weren't just about making love to Firefox as a woman, they were about breasts and teeth on nipples and the taste between her legs, the tone of her call as she climaxed, her body writhing as she closed her eyes. She loved Firefox, but added onto that was something animal, something that would enjoy her body for its own sake. Or was that just because they had consummated their relationship?

But still, she thought, looking at her friend and scenting her, and resting her own head against the seat, there was nothing wrong about that feeling. Something so precious and sweet couldn't come from Blue Diamond. It was okay to lust for Firefox. There was nothing abusive, cruel, or wrong with that. Firefox was a beautiful woman, and Technofox was bisexual. She just hadn't realized it before she had made love with women, and that had first happened in Blue Diamond. It was a coincidence. Nothing more.

What she felt wasn't tainted by Blue Diamond.

There was nothing wrong with her.

She was a free woman.

She wasn't a slave dog.

***

She was on the floor, nothing between her fur and the linoleum but the thin fabric of a white blouse, torn open in front, and a skirt, flipped up past her waist. She wasn't muzzled, and when she screamed, it seemed to fill the room. Her scream hurt her own ears. Her throat was raw, just from screaming. Not only from pain.

"Shut up, you," he said sharply. He hit her across the face. The impact slammed her head around, her snout struck the wooden floor. She barely felt that. She was beyond noticing.

She felt his buddy's hands on her wrists, holding them down, kneeling on her fingertips. Her head was between his knees. His pants were down. His cock was out, shrunken, flaccid, spent. She could smell herself on him. He had already poured himself into her. He had won the toss. He hadn't put his pants back on afterwards. Was that to save time if he felt the urge again, was it to add a level of indecency to this — waving his cock in her face because it was a thrill?

Now it was his buddy's turn. Two buddies, having some fun together. And she felt him driving into her. She could hear herself crying out in time with his thrusts.

Her body was sore and bruised. She could taste blood in her mouth. She tried to fight them, but she had to fight the fatigue of her own body. She had to force her leg to kick, to twist, to try to pull her hands free. Her body didn't want to fight. It wanted to move with him, it wanted to bask and exult in him, to hold him tight inside her, to take his seed.

Her body gloried in this. She had fought, she had lost, and her body felt it was right she be used this way. It was their reward for wanting her, fighting her, winning her; and her reward was the semen in her belly and the delight that drove thought from her mind.

Her skirt was pushed up, panties torn open, still wrapped around one leg. Her blouse and bra were agape, tattered. They must have been scored or pre-ripped; clothes didn't tear that easily. She wasn't sure if she struggled or writhed. The man between her legs watched her breasts move as her chest heaved when she gasped. The man holding her down watched too, and dangled his cock in her face.

Over there, a tigress watched. The tiger. Tigre. Like a professional safari guide, who stalks the prey for clients and steps back to watch them consummate the hunt, watching to make sure they didn't get themselves hurt in the process. Tigre wore a collar, black with chrome studs: she was a slave too, but she was a tamer. Among tamers, Tigre was in a class by herself.

They were in a classroom, whiteboard at front, poster of the periodic table, portraits and dates of US Presidents in a long strip along the ceiling. The tigress sat on one of the students' tables that had not been knocked over in the struggle. She was too big to use one of the chairs. White fur, black stripes, black leather, a holstered dildo on one hip. She held a whip in one hand and she tapped the handle lightly against her lower lip. Reminding Technofox not to fight too effectively. She watched Technofox, listening to her cry out, expression not flickering when a moan of pleasure was torn out of her. When it was a cry of pain she would smile, just slightly, savoring it.

Technofox shuddered, cried out, and pulled an arm free. She meant to rake it across his face, to drive a finger into his eye — but instead it went around his shoulders, pulled him tight down against her, pulling his body against her as her small frame was wracked by her second climax. He came as she did, and she panted, staring at his face through half-closed eyes as he came into her.

She was clutching a rapist to her body and staring at him with eyes filled with passion and pleasure and love. She knew what she looked like. She ached from where he had hit her, but she held him, legs crossed behind his back, as he flowed into her. Her orgasm filled the room with a soft rosy glow. She wanted to drive a finger into his eye. But he was so beautiful. So beautiful.

"Her arm," Tigre said in low tones, rising from her desk. They held her wrist down, and he pulled himself out of Technofox. She cried out softly, her legs dropping weakly to the ground.

"You have to be very careful about arms, sir," Tigre said. "She's not tamed and they'll play possum sometimes."

"Man..." said the one who won the toss. He shook his head and laughed. "Like balling every teasing bitch in High School."

"That was great," agreed the second, falling back awkwardly and laughing. "Worth taking your sloppy seconds, Todd."

"Next time, you go first," Todd promised him.

Technofox wanted to curl into a ball, to heal, alone with her misery.

Tigre came over and secured her easily, wrists together behind her back, ankles to her wrists. Technofox didn't resist. She was still and didn't move, and she didn't resist. Tigre would probably beat her once she was bound. Tigre's handling of her was brusque and cruel. It was still better than what Tigre would do if she fought. There was nothing worse than what Tigre would do if she fought.

Technofox was watching Tigre, ignoring the men. Todd's buddy grabbed at her. His hand was on her skirt. Technofox braced herself for another assault. Instead, he wiped his dick off on her clothes, and flipped it up. Technofox was on her back, blouse open, ankles under her butt, her loins forced up and parted, as though they strained towards him. "You've done rape fantasy with a bound girl, right?" he asked. "Is that better?"

Rape fantasy? For a moment, she thought he had been speaking to her. Of course, that was wrong. Why should he do that?

"Well," Todd said thoughtfully, pulling up his pants and fastening his belt, "it's different. There's more time to get romantic with her, and you don't have to work to hold her down. But there's not as much energy in it. It's more relaxing. Less of a workout."

"I'll have to try that," the other said, thoughtfully.

"I can arrange for some girls, sir," Tigre said respectfully.

"Thank you, Tigre," he said. "After dinner?"

"Yes, sir," Tigre replied. "An e-mail with some choices will be waiting in your room."

"Surprise me, Tigre," he said. "Pick a woman yourself. Your taste is excellent."

She inclined her head. "Thank you, sir."

"Now we tip the girl," Todd said after a pause. He fished in a pocket. Two quarters bounced on the floor by Technofox's nose. The clients were only allowed to tip twenty-five cents each, or five dollars for an entire night. The tiny amount was another violation, another casual slap across the face. Technofox wanted water, but right now, it felt good just to lie there.

They talked and laughed as they left, agreeing to meet in the bar after a shower. They didn't look back at her.

Technofox heard the door close behind them.

Through that, she was barely aware of what was being said, and she didn't process enough to actually respond. Then thoughts began to flow.

She was alone with Tigre.

She was alone with Tigre.

She rolled over on her side, tried to bring her knees up to protect herself. She wanted water. She knew better than to ask for it.

"Not bad," Tigre said. "You put up just enough of a fight. It was fun watching."

She seemed to be in a good mood. Technofox felt herself relaxing, or relaxing as far as possible near this woman.

"Still, I'm a bit cross with you," Tigre said. Despite her words, her voice was smooth and even pleased. She drank Technofox's growing terror like a cat drinking cream, and her contentment showed.

"Whu— why, ma'am?" Technofox forced herself to ask.

It was a part of their ritual, a special thing that was between Technofox and Tigre alone, a catechism of question and response. And so was the tip of Tigre's toes, driving up under her rib cage, forcing the air out of her lungs with a single rush.

Tigre paced up and down in front of her, as Technofox struggled to breathe. She tried to cry out. She fought to scream, because it would please Tigre. But she couldn't scream. And she wanted to. This was part of Tigre's way. This satisfied the tiger. And if Technofox weren't careful, the tiger would come up with something worse. With Tigre, there was always something worse. If you could not imagine it, Tigre could. Technofox was half ripped out of a schoolgirl uniform, spattered with the semen of two men, bruised, and yet more terrified of what would happen next than what had happened before. This was what Blue Diamond wanted. There had to be something worse than anything the guests might to do you. Her name was Tigre. She had a whip.

Thinking of the whip flowing across her body made Technofox sick. She didn't have to imagine the pain. She could remember it. Tigre made rape look good. Technofox understood whips. Technofox shivered uncontrollably, eyes wet, knowing that nothing she said or did would make any difference, desperately trying to think of something she could do that would satisfy Tigre.

"Here I've arranged a perfectly wonderful time for you," the tiger said, in a voice as smooth as cream in a contented cat, "not just one, but two, gentlemen, paying you all the attention and affection a girl could reasonably want. And are you licking my foot in thanks? No, you are not. You are not," she repeated, amazed at Technofox's ingratitude, looking down at her in mock astonishment, so perfectly feigned that Technofox wondered if she really was surprised. Her voice went softer, angrier. "What a selfish little cunt you are."

Technofox wanted to sob and beg forgiveness. No. It wouldn't help. She was afraid, but she imagined what Firefox would think. Firefox wouldn't back down. And for a moment, having Firefox be proud of her was more important than the beating Tigre would probably give her anyway.

"They raped me. You helped them," Technofox accused. It was less defiance than despair. There had to be some part of Tigre, however submerged, that would respond to that. Something feminine, something that could acknowledge the outrage.

Tigre grabbed the ruff at the back of the fox's neck and pulled her to her knees.

"Let's have some fun," Tigre decided. "My sort of fun."

It was coming, the beating, coming with the terrible inevitability of the tides and bad weather. "You helped them, ma'am," Technofox heard herself say, voice dry and thin.

The tiger looked at her in blank disbelief, and laughed. It was so unexpected, Technofox felt herself grin sheepishly in response. Tigre shook her head in amazement, and let Technofox go. She fell over, unable to hold herself up.

The tiger looked down at her, and seemed to consider the matter. Perhaps she decided Technofox wasn't strong enough to take a flogging just then. Perhaps she was just amused. Tigre sat back on a desk. For a moment, she caught Technofox's eye. Technofox looked away, terrified.

"You are a Blue Diamond girl, and you were just used as a slave in accordance to Master's will," Tigre said firmly. "The fact you did not co-operate reflects on you, not the clients. Don't use words like 'rape' when a slave is forced to give service. It cheapens the word. That offends me. No, there's only two things in the world you need to think about. Cocks and whips. Rape isn't on the menu. It doesn't happen here. It will never happen to you."

Technofox shook her head weakly.

Tigre knelt down, bringing her face closer to her. "You're an intelligent woman," Tigre said seriously. "How can it be rape, when you want more?"

***

Technofox woke with a start. Firefox's eyes snapped open at almost the same moment. They were in their seats, sitting sideways, the tips of their muzzles barely touching. The lights were low.

Slowly, experimentally, Firefox's tongue slipped out and touched Technofox's lip. Technofox parted her teeth, allowing Firefox to enter her. Firefox closed her eyes, tenderly licked inside Technofox's mouth. Technofox felt the thrill move through her. Not just the pleasure of the contact, but the promise carried with it. She wondered if someone saw them, and envied Technofox for the woman who licked her muzzle.

"Mmm," Firefox said. She opened her own mouth, invitingly. Technofox flicked her tongue in, tasted her hard teeth, her soft tongue, her gum.

Technofox felt tears welling up in her eyes.

"What is it?" Firefox asked softly.

"I had a Tigre dream," Technofox explained. "I had a Tigre dream, and I woke up, and I saw your face, and you're so beautiful, and I'm so relieved—" Technofox stopped, feeling humiliated. Firefox knew she was excited; she could smell her arousal. And she had just admitted it was a Tigre dream that had done it.

"You're beautiful," Firefox said. "I love looking at your pretty little face. And you smell of everything I want right now. Are you thinking what I'm thinking?" Firefox whispered. The lights were low. The humans across the aisle probably couldn't even see them clearly.

"About the lights in our apartment?" Technofox asked.

"...Wuh?" Firefox asked, blinking.

"I'll have to swap some of them out for bigger bulbs. We have good night vision, and we keep the place too dark for our guests."

Firefox looked at her for a long moment. "No, I wasn't thinking about that," she confessed calmly.

"Oh." Technofox considered for a moment.

"We are making our approach to Hartsfield-Jackson International Airport," said the PA system. "Please turn off any electronics and return your seats to an upright position."

"How far is our hotel from the airport?" Firefox asked.

"About three kilometers," Technofox replied. "We're using corporate housing, at the Best Condominium."

"I should hope so," Firefox said primly.

"It's on Best Road," Technofox explained. "It's a ICON safe room, with an equipment cache and secure communications. We've got a car there, too."

"Okay, so that's our CP. And Silver and Shadow are about ten miles east, in a long term residence?"

"Right — they're setting up clean."

Fire nodded. Clean meant without specialized equipment, which was always a bit worrying. "Shadowfox was able to get a gig?"

"Vlad Korolev likes a strip joint called Geronimo Atlanta," Technofox said. "Shadowfox will be there starting tomorrow night. They'll be staying in a Super 8 about a kilometer north of that."

Fire nodded, with a bit of a grimace. Places like Geronimo Atlanta still cut close to the bone, but they were a good way to arrange meetings between Shadowfox undercover and targets. The actual touchdown caught Technofox by surprise, and she jumped a little in her seat.

They got through baggage claim quickly, and as they often did, they swapped suitcases: Firefox's was usually lighter. "Please be careful," Technofox said. "My laptop's in there."

"Weren't you using your laptop on the flight?" Firefox asked.

"No, that's my notebook computer. My laptop's really too big to carry around," Technofox explained. "And the battery life is just terrible."

"Oh. So you brought a laptop and a notebook."

"The notebook is a little bit pokey."

"Naturally. And did you bring your handheld too? The one we bought so you would always have an Internet connection?"

"Of course. I bought that for travelling," Technofox said, holding it out.

"Leaving it behind would be wasteful," Firefox agreed.

"It's great for checking email when I'm at lunch."

"I thought you used your neural implant for that."

"That's got a cellular modem, and it just plods."

"How many pairs of pants did you bring?" Firefox asked.

"The one I'm wearing. Why?"

"Never mind. Do you remember if a shuttle is meeting us?" Firefox asked.

"They were supposed to —" Technofox started fretfully. She caught her breath. Standing just outside the baggage claim area was a male Alsatian chimera, wearing a suit tailored to conceal armor and at least one pistol. He wore sunglasses and a phone headset in one ear. He was big, a light infantry model, and was pretty obviously a bodyguard.

"Check it out," Firefox sub vocalized. "Let's see if he'll follow us home."

Technofox chuckled, nervously. "Don't joke."

He reached inside his jacket and took out a rolled-up banner, which he held up. It read BEST CONDO.

"There is a God," Firefox said reverently. "And He loves us." Technofox giggled.

They walked up to him. There weren't many chimera about, and he was obviously expecting two female vulpines. "David Torrance's party?" he asked politely.

"We work for International Exports, yes," Firefox replied. The ICON saferoom was theoretically owned by International Exports Corporation and used most frequently by Torrance. Technofox wasn't even sure if there was a "David Torrance," or if ICON just had an agent show up periodically pretending to be him.

"My name's Morgan. May I take your bags, ladies?" he asked.

Technofox handed hers over gratefully, and he took one in each hand, and walked them towards a parking garage. "Welcome to Atlanta," he said. "I hope you'll enjoy your stay here. Mister Torrance arranged for snack baskets and flowers for you in the apartment."

"That was very thoughtful of him."

"Dave's a peach," Technofox muttered under her breath. Snack baskets were businesslike; flowers were not. Apparently, Torrance was supposed to have a bit of a thing for fox chimera. Technofox wondered if that would make things easier or worse. At any rate, she noticed that Morgan hadn't asked what, exactly, their jobs with International Exports involved, so he probably assumed they were the boss's hookers. And, of course, she couldn't say that they were computer technicians, because that would sound defensive. One of the drawbacks to looking like Firefox was that when she said she was a computer technician, people laughed. When Technofox said it, they took her seriously.

Morgan used his neural implant to open the back of the van and loaded their suitcases, and then popped the locks on the doors. Technofox sat down in the back, and was surprised when Firefox sat next to her. It was late, and dark, and Firefox took Technofox's hand. The contact felt good, and then Firefox stroked her hand with her thumb, the way Technofox liked. It was odd that Firefox wasn't paying attention to Morgan.

"So you drive the van?" Firefox asked.

"Sort of," Morgan replied. "Ma'am, with respect, I know Shadowfox, and I know about Foxforce. You see, Victoria Simmons' father holds my indenture. He has a place in Best Condominiums. When I heard you were coming, I volunteered to meet you. I don't know who you really work for and I won't ask."

Firefox twitched with surprise; Technofox tried to remember the name. "Who's Victoria?" Technofox asked, finally. It was a neutral thing to say, and now Firefox could decide how she wanted to play this: she could play along with Morgan or feign confusion, and then Technofox could back her.

"Victoria," Firefox said. "Remember the girl who was ... who had the vampire look?"

Technofox swallowed. Firefox had decided there was no point to pretending. Technofox remembered Victoria now. A Blue Diamond girl, a busty blonde with skin like porcelain and elongated canines, who played against the usual Gothic waif stereotype, who had the vocabulary of a drunk longshoreman when clients weren't around. The daughter of the man who ran Chicago Newsnet, the Tataglias had kidnapped her in revenge for some investigative reporting and convinced her that her human memories were delusional before selling her to Blue Diamond.

"Oh, right," Technofox said. "You're still in touch with her, aren't you?"

"Yes. She told me she's working towards a GED — how is that going?" Firefox asked Morgan.

"A GED? She never graduated High School?" Technofox asked.

"She was only sixteen when she was kidnapped, ma'am," Morgan reminded her. Technofox kicked herself. Victoria had been in Blue Diamond for three years. "She's doing well, I'm glad to say. She's probably working too hard at it, too anxious that she won't make it. But at least she's able to focus and get the work done. Considering what she's been through, that's pretty good."

"I can relate," Technofox said.

"Sorry, ma'am." Morgan replied, glancing into the mirror.

"Sorry, I wasn't being sarcastic," Technofox said. "I didn't mean it that way. I don't do sarcasm. I just say stupid things sometimes."

"No offense taken, ma'am," Morgan replied.

"Will you keep it quiet about us?" Firefox asked.

He glanced at them in the rear-view, surprised. "Of course, ma'am." He looked away. "Victoria's a good kid. Your team got her out of a mess. I still owe you, ma'am."

Firefox smiled. "Thanks, Morgan."

"Thank you, ma'am," Morgan replied.

"Is Victoria's father in Atlanta?" Technofox asked.

Morgan looked at her in the mirror. "No, ma'am," he said politely. "I'm on loan. Atlanta is a pretty decent place," he said. "Unfortunately, it's like any other city — watch the no chimera signs until you know where people don't really care. It probably won't happen, but if the human staff at Best gets out of line, call me. I mean it. I'm wakeable, twenty-four seven." He didn't offer to give them his phone number or e-mail address: it was unnecessary. Their neural implants had already interrogated one another, recorded their unique identifier, and cross-referenced to public databases. Morgan's contact information was sitting in a temporary buffer ready to be given a mnemonic and stored permanently.

A gate opened, letting him pull into an underground parking lot. He parked, opened the door for them, and took their bags to a freight elevator. Technofox hit the button for the eighth floor. They didn't need mechanical keys — Best Condos had an electronic lock system and they were cleared.

"A lot of the tenants have chimera — slave, indents, self-owned," he said on the way up. "They've fixed up a sort of a lounge on the tenth floor. It's a nice place to hang out."

And that, Technofox thought, was about as obvious as possible, short of giving her cash to buy a movie ticket. She sighed. She had really been looking forward to some time alone with Firefox, but she wasn't about to get touchy about it. She was pretty much a perennial third wheel, and it didn't bother her. Morgan put the suitcases down in the hall, and Firefox opened the door.

"Thanks, Morgan," Firefox said. "Would you be offended if I tipped you?"

"Yes ma'am," Morgan said politely.

She smiled and shook his hand. "Good night — I hope the three of us can have lunch tomorrow."

"I'd like that, ma'am," he said, showing no visible disappointment and returning the smile. "If you have any spare time while you're here, the town's worth seeing. You might consider the diner on the first floor for breakfast. Avoid the home fries. Good night, ma'am, ma'am."

"Uhm, good night, Morgan," Technofox said, taken aback. After the door closed behind them, Technofox looked at Firefox. "I thought you were going to invite him in."

"I've got a date," Firefox replied. Technofox blinked. Firefox turned her around, smiled down at her, and pulled her into an embrace. Her lips parted, and came down on Technofox's. She pushed the smaller fox against a wall, moved one hand down to her tail, and lifted her up higher. Firefox's other hand went onto Technofox's breast, and she touched her groin lightly to Technofox's. She squeezed Technofox's breast, stroking the sides and pinching her nipple through her blouse, sending a jolt of pleasure through Technofox's body and a moan out of her throat.

Bewildered but thrilled, Technofox broke off the kiss, opened Firefox's jacket. The bigger fox was wearing a pullover shirt under that, made from a silky fabric designed to pull sweat away from the body and provide good circulation. Firefox didn't sweat; but she liked the way it felt; Technofox usually liked the way it clung to her. But right now, it was an obstacle between her lips and Firefox's breasts. She pulled it out of the waistband of Firefox's pants, ran a hand over Firefox's belly.

Firefox undid Technofox's blouse, slipping buttons open with one hand. She opened the clasp on Technofox's bra, and she pulled her breast free. She was too tall to reach her nipple with her mouth, so she pinched and teased it, between two claws. Technofox lowered her mouth, kissed Firefox's nipple through the shirt.

Firefox half pulled, half lifted Technofox, taking control, and looked around the room. It seemed Technofox could read her mind as the bigger fox decided. Couch? No, too small. Where was the master bedroom? She opened a door at random; she was lucky. There was a queen sized bed; luckier.

They fell onto the bed. Technofox pulled away from Firefox and stripped her jacket off. Firefox looked at her for a long moment and lifted her arms, as though in surrender. Technofox grabbed Firefox's shirt, pulled it off over her head, tossed it onto the floor. Firefox's hair and fur were mussed, turned against the lay, the disarray making her look even more erotic. She was wearing a blue jog bra. Technofox grabbed the bottom of her bra, pulled it over Firefox's breast; her teeth found the nipple, she pushed Firefox down onto the bed, kneading at her breast and suckling. Firefox moved her hand up, Technofox held it and pushed it lightly down onto the bed.

This woman was beautiful, so beautiful, and Technofox knew every man who saw Firefox wanted her, and this magnificent creature was in her bed, and it was her tongue on this breast, this nipple was stiffening against her touch —

"Ow," Firefox whispered.

Startled, Technofox stopped. "S — sorry," she began to stammer.

Firefox smiled at her. "No, I like it. Harder."

Technofox moved her teeth down to Firefox's other nipple, bit lightly, and then harder. Firefox gasped, moaned, and thrashed. Reflexively, because it seemed natural, Technofox took Firefox's other wrist and pinned it down. Firefox cried out softly. Technofox looked down at her, suddenly aware that she was holding Firefox down by her wrists. Firefox looked up at her, a touch of fear in her eyes.

Technofox looked down at her, shocked at herself. What was she doing to Firefox? Why did she want to keep doing it? What would Firefox think of her?

Firefox smiled, just a little. "Tech," she said softly, "if you go too far, I'll say your name. Okay?"

"I'm sorry," Technofox said uncertainly. "I don't know why I did that."

"Hey, hey," Firefox said softly, touching the side of Technofox's face with her hand. "Do you hear me complaining?"

She sat up, straddling her. Firefox's breasts moved as she breathed. Was Firefox exaggerating that, jiggling deliberately? Maybe.

"You're so good to me," Technofox said. "Here I am, and here you are, and I was pretending I was…" She shuddered. "And you're pretending you like it."

"I'm not pretending anything." She touched Technofox's face again. "I'm not doing this for you. You're beautiful, and I want you, and I like what you do because it's you doing it."

Technofox sat, still and quiet.

"Yes," Technofox replied. "But —"

"Tech," Firefox repeated, "It's okay. I love you, and I love what you do. If you want to play … something, I'm happy to play with you."

"What if you're not into it?" Technofox asked.

"I'm into you," Firefox said, holding Technofox's hand to her lips and kissing her. "If it makes you feel better, let me pick the game next time."

"Pick what game?" Technofox asked.

"I don't know yet. You are not raping me, Tech," Firefox said quietly. "I know the difference. So do you."

"Do I?" Technofox asked, her voice trembling a little.

Wordlessly, Firefox pulled Technofox down onto her. Technofox knew she should leave, but Firefox was so beautiful that she couldn't bear to. Just lying next to her, breathing in her scent, and hearing her breathe was so intoxicating that Technofox couldn't do the right thing and leave.

"I won't be offended if you call Morgan," Technofox said finally.

"I want you," Firefox said. She kissed Technofox. "I want those pretty little breasts, I want to taste those nipples, I want to taste your lips." She stroked Technofox's face. "Can you imagine how hard it was for me, all those years with you, back before … you wanted to try me? Living with a beautiful animal like you that I couldn't have?"

"Do you think Blue Diamond made me bi?" Technofox asked.

"Remember that party Silver's girlfriend threw for us at Books-4-Dykes?"

"The store's called 'Womynfyre,'" Technofox corrected.

"Whatever. They hit on you, right? They picked up on something you were suppressing."

Technofox brightened. "Do you really think so?"

"Heck, yeah. They didn't give me a second glance, and I lost my virginity with Silverfox," Firefox said.

She took Technofox in her arms, started to kiss her. She stood Technofox up on the bed, pulled her shirt and bra off, and then her pants and underwear. She sat next to Technofox expectantly, smiled as she awkwardly pulled off her clothes.

Both naked, they embraced and moved together, Firefox the first to slide down, to bring her tongue against Technofox's center. Technofox lay on her back, legs parted, gripped the covers, and let Firefox work on her.

Afterwards, they held one another, in that strange lassitude that follows.

"Why do you want to go to sleep after good sex?" Firefox asked.

"Maybe it's the exertion," Technofox suggested. "Or an evolutionary thing — to keep us quiet as the ova are fertilized."

Firefox laughed. "And here we are, two sterile women. Boy, talk about atavism!"

They laughed. "I'm sorry," Technofox said.

"For what?"

"You know."

"Tech, I told you it was okay." Firefox touched the end of Technofox's nose. "You were a tiger." For a moment, Firefox looked uncomfortable. "I mean, you made me feel wanted. Sometimes it's fun when someone gets aggressive." She kissed Technofox on the nose. "Isn't it?"

"Uhm," Technofox said, rubbing the bridge of her nose. "Are you hungry?"

"A bit."

"Let me check the cupboard," Technofox said, hopping out of bed. She was nude — in fact, she wasn't entirely sure where her clothes had ended up. The refrigerator was empty apart from a variety of soft drinks and coffee; the cupboards had the bare shelf-stable essentials, none of which appealed to her particularly. Then she saw the two gift baskets, wrapped in transparent plastic. She took one, and was pleasantly surprised to see that instead of fruits and preserves and candy, it had an assortment of jerked meats, sausages, cans of meat spreads and crackers. Whoever bought it put some thought into it; canid chimera by and large didn't have much of a sweet tooth.

She carried it back into the bedroom. Firefox had opened up the gun safe; she held a matte black .40 Combat Master in one hand, and was testing the laser sight, playing it across the room into a mirror and then back on the wall behind her. On the nightstand next to her were three magazines and two boxes of .40 ammunition; one each of dumdum and tungsten. She liked to alternate them in a magazine. Also on the nightstand was a Ruger SP101 revolver with its cylinder out, and a box of .357. Firefox hadn't bothered getting dressed.

"You look like the cover of a very bad movie I wish they'd make," Technofox said.

Firefox grinned at her. "Stainless steel on your revolver, I'm afraid."

"Oh," Technofox said, without much enthusiasm. She liked the little five-round revolver, but she preferred a flat finish.

"That's the problem when you fall in love with something that's a bit out of the ordinary. I gave the laser a look-see a moment ago — it's true."

Firefox was pretty good at spotting sighting problems without equipment. "Thanks. Were they able to find 10mm Hocpacem for Silverfox?" Technofox asked, putting her basket down on the bed. "And two Glock 20s?"

10mm was common enough, but 10mm Hocpacem — the c's were pronounced as hard k's, from the Latin — was an exotic round: a matrix of Teflon coated frangible lead pellets around a tungsten penetrator core. If it hit unarmored skin the lead pellets would dump their energy into the target, producing wounds even nastier than most 10mm rounds, while the penetrator would go completely through, even if it hit bone. If it hit fabric armor the lead would crumble away and allow the core through the weave. The core wouldn't do a lot to a person, but it was better than nothing, and Silverfox never put just one bullet into someone.

After one incident, the forensic examiner had insisted on reporting that Silverfox and Technofox had, between them, shot a man twelve times simply because he didn't believe Silverfox could draw two guns, and then hit a man with six rounds from each before he fell. Actually, Technofox hadn't even been armed at the time.

"Yes. The boys in Logistics know she puts out now," Firefox said abstractly, preoccupied with the Combat Master. She put it down and Technofox took up the revolver. It had been cleaned before being delivered here; she loaded it, carried it and the .357 ammunition to the other night stand, snapped the cylinder back in, and put it in the drawer. She felt a momentary twinge, wondering if maybe Firefox would rather she sleep in the other bedroom or on the couch. She heard Firefox put her .40 in her drawer, and Firefox didn't comment on where Tech put her pistol. Of course, she wouldn't say anything that might hurt her feelings, Technofox realized.

"Can we even carry these in Georgia?" Firefox asked.

"Yes, because we have Massachusetts full concealed carry permits and we are acting as bodyguards for David Torrance," Technofox explained.

"Are we? I mean, of course, we are. Is Torrance even in the state?"

"He will be, if the police need him to explain," Technofox said. Georgia did not recognize chimera as legally human, so David Torrance was technically legally responsible for their actions — as though they were his pets. It was a distasteful part of the business they didn't like to talk much about. Hopefully they would be able to pull this off without getting involved in any legal action.

"Oh, that looks tasty," Firefox pointed at the snack basket. She poked a hole in the plastic with a claw and tore it open, selecting a packet of beef jerky. Technofox took some Italian pork sausage, and moved the basket off the bed before laying down.

Firefox crawled under the covers with her a moment later, lay on her back and slipped her arm under Technofox, pulling the smaller fox against her.

"Did you call Ted before we came down?" Firefox asked.

"Why does everyone keep bringing up Ted?" Technofox asked, just a little cross.

Firefox glanced at her before shrugging casually. "No skin off my nose. More Technofox booty for me."

"I'm sorry," Technofox said.

"I don't mean to pry or nag," Firefox closed her eyes and faced the ceiling.

"No, I—" Technofox hesitated. "I feel like Blue Diamond changed me."

Firefox opened her eyes and looked at her. "It changed all of us. You don't go through something like that and come out the same."

"And it's like... seeing Ted again will make me see how different I am now. And I don't think I want to know."

"I know," Firefox said. "Still, I think you need to talk to him."

"Why?"

"Because he's more than just a friend, and you should treat him better. You've been putting him off for, what? Six months now? He must be worried sick."

That was true. "It was a mistake taking him to bed."

"That happens," Firefox agreed. "But that doesn't make it okay to cut him out."

"No, I mean it was really a mistake. I mean... I don't know, but it was always like I was just sort of there. I mean, he tried, but I never felt anything with him."

"Ah." Firefox nodded. "Maybe you should give him another chance. Maybe you'd like it more now."

"Maybe that's what I'm afraid of," Technofox whispered.

Firefox gave her an extra squeeze, and Technofox half rolled over on top of her. She closed her eyes. Firefox felt good; not just because it was Firefox, but because she was a delicious, beautiful woman and Technofox wanted her.

Technofox wished she could pray. Please, she thought, please let me dream about Firefox tonight. She's beautiful, magnificent, I'm lucky — no, I'm blessed to be in bed with her. Please, let me dream, let me dream about something that excites me and doesn't make me feel filthy for being excited, let me dream about her...