by T. W. Embry
“You know many things spinner, perhaps too much for your own good,” growled the master in response.
“I know who is at the heart of the conspiracy to kill the king,” retorted SSlice in his whispery voice.
“And who might that be?” hissed the assassin master, already knowing the answer.
“You are,” whispered SSlice simply, as he sealed the security chamber.
Laughing, the assassin master mewed, “You are made to think I am. I am being, how do you say, ‘set up’. I have the proof of my innocence. I do not however have enough to start a formal investigation. I do know that the conspirators are very close to the King and that they cover their tracks very, very well. It is my belief that a former student of mine, one of my finest, whom I disgraced in ritual combat not long ago, is involved,” mewed the assassin master.
“I will listen to your proof. If you fail to convince me you will never leave this room alive,” whispered SSlice.
The assassin master knew he was no match for the huge spider in such close quarters. With a slight bow he motioned for a place at the communication console. He brought up a secure channel with his home world’s computer network. With his last keystroke, an alarm trilled, alerting SSlice to the master’s impending download.
“What are you trying to download, feline?” whispered SSlice as forcefully as he could manage, crouching prepared for the master’s attack.
“Only a security video. Easy, SSlice, I realize I have misjudged you. Please accept my apologies for my rude behavior,” mewed the assassin master as he relaxed into that statue-still, icy calm that was so unnerving.
As the file finished uploading, isolated by two firewalls, SSlice brought it up on the main viewer. It was too dark and the features of the two felines were blurred, making it impossible to identify them.
“I think I can clean that up enough to see who they are,” whispered SSlice after he listened to the audio.
“That is the best image available. I also have several encrypted communications that originate from the older of the two. However, my clan’s best computer techs were unable to put a face with the voice,” smirked the assassin master, unaware of SSlice’s true skills.
“I am not your ordinary computer specialist,” whispered SSlice as he deftly manipulated the control board. “You see,” he explained, “I wrote the image clarification and the facial recognition algorithms that the Galactic government uses in the military and the security service. I have also improved its accuracy by twenty percent.” In proof of his boasting, the two images came into sharp clarity.
“That is a clan leader I recognize, and his advisor. Are they here?” hissed the assassin master loudly.
“They are due to arrive in the next few long time units,” whispered SSlice.
“Then we have time to prevent a clan war,” growled the assassin master.
“There has not been a full scale clan war on your planet in over one hundred generations,” whispered SSlice.
“Yes, not since my clan defeated the last of the rebel clans one thousand years ago. Now they seek vengeance. My nephew, the king, is foolish enough to challenge one of the rebel leaders and get himself killed. He is a poor fighter. He just passed the trial of attainment, those marks were given out of respect for the king’s position, not the king himself,” mewed the assassin master.
“We must tell Snarth, whispered SSlice, “- this is his estate and he may be blamed. I cannot allow that,” he whispered flatly. “My people owe him a life debt for saving our planet from the galactic fleet. I will do anything I have to, to help prevent him from being blamed.”
“Have Snarth meet us here as soon as he is able to get away from his guests,” growled the assassin master. “I hope that the distraction with the human will buy us some time.”
“His name is Tom and he is my friend, and I do not like him being used as bait in a clan war,” whispered SSlice, as furiously as he could muster, crouching to strike one again.
Realizing he had struck a nerve, the assassin master mewed softly “There is much more to the matter, the conspiracy runs much deeper than I care to admit. Perhaps even some from my own clan. The clan leader in the security recording is very close to several of my second and third cousins. Too close for comfort,” he growled.
Shaking his head, the assassin master mewed regretfully, “Things are worse than I feared. If the king is killed, his only surviving litter mate, his sister, will become queen. She is with child by the human Tom. That means the next king may be half-feline and half human. That will be unacceptable to the other clans. A civil war will break out.”
“And what if Human Tom passes the trial?” asked SSlice.
“Then the history of my planet will change forever, as the only way Human Tom will pass the trials is by killing the king in ritual combat to the death. That would make him king,” mewed the assassin master.
“I place my bets on Tom. Your niece has trained him well and now you are here to complete it,” whispered SSlice.
“The human could kill the king without my help,” mewed the assassin master. “However, if he is not named Ja Ha Don it will have the same effect, a clan war at the very least, if not civil war,” he hissed, agreeing with SSlice. “And for what?” he continued. "The king has no real power. The autocrats robbed him of that long ago. There is something else behind this, something much bigger,” he hissed.
“I think we need to call my friend Howler,” hissed Snarth as he entered the security chamber.
“You may be right,” whispered SSlice. “His shuttle will be here sometime soon. His security detail would not give an exact arrival time.”
“I am beginning to think a bloodbath isss coming,” hissed Snarth angrily.
“We may still have time. I must alert my clan. It would be much faster if I could use your communications array,” mewed the assassin master. “Privately,” he added, after Snarth just nodded in agreement without moving toward the door.
PART TWENTY-SEVEN
Let the Party Begin
The Irishman and Rowl were greeting arriving guests, scanning them, and checking them against the guest list. So far, the only unannounced guests were young ones and that was perfectly acceptable to Snarth. No weapons had to be confiscated and so far no squabbles over social decorum had broken out.
“Tell me azsss sssoon azsss Howler’sss ssshuttle arrivesss. Have him meet me in the sssecurity chamber immediately,” hissed Snarth into the Irishman and Rowl’s ears.
“Yes sir,” they answered in unison.
“Wonder what that is all about?” the Irishman asked Rowl. “I didn’t see his name on the list.”
“I did not know he was coming either,” woofed Rowl, confused.
“Hey look, your parents are on the list and confirmed to arrive this light cycle,” said the Irishman.
“Yeah, I saw that,” woofed Rowl happily. “I am looking forward to seeing them. It has been two years since I visited home.” I wonder why Snarth invited them, he mused. In an odd twist of fate and planning, the very next shuttle to land was Rowl’s family.
“Mother, Father,” Rowl howled as he rushed forward for greeting smells and embraces after seeing the shuttle occupants.
Seeing a pause in the family affection the Irishman interrupted, “Rowl why don’t you show your parents to their quarters. I can handle this for a while.”
“You sure?” woofed Rowl.
“Sure, take your time and get your folks settled in,” added the Irishman, calm on the outside yet bursting with worry on the inside.
Worry that his friend might catch a glimpse of the next shuttle occupants before it was time. SSlice had clued him in that very morning that Rowl’s betrothed, Kareen, was coming, with her parents and Rowl’s sisters. That poor fool has no idea what’s about to happen, thought the Irishman; I only hope he doesn’t get mad at me even if it is for his own good.
Seconds after Rowl and his family disappeared around the corner of the hallway leading to the gu
est quarters, Kareen’s family shuttle arrived. The Irishman stood as straight and tall as he could, brushing back his long, curly black hair for the twentieth time. After all, it is not every day that you get to meet your best friend’s betrothed for the first time. He wanted her first impression to be a good one. Even though the Irishman had seen pictures of Kareen, he was completely unprepared for the striking appearance of the white wolf, Kareen herself.
With wild and hauntingly beautiful green eyes, a long slender muzzle framed by a heart styled mane, her long gracefully curved tail held proud, she flowed down the shuttle’s ramp way. She strode across the landing pad to greet the Irishman, stopping conversation as many of the newly arrived guests turned to stare at such a beautiful creature. He doesn’t stand a chance, she is just his type, thought the Irishman, completely entranced by Kareen. Her beauty and grace belied the obvious power in her six-foot frame.
Kareen stood in front of the Irishman, her right paw extended in greeting. Suddenly the Irishman realized Kareen was talking to him.
“You must be Kyle,” she repeated, “I have heard many good things about you, and a few bad,” she giggled. “I feel as if I already know you. I hope you and I become good friends.”
“He told you my first name,” groaned the Irishman.
“As well as what it means,” said Kareen. “I have a big nose too,” she laughed. “I dare anyone to say so,” she snarled, her lips curled showing her huge fangs, eyes glinting savagely. Surprised by Kareen’s lightning fast change in attitude, the Irishman stepped back, his mind reeling with the fact that someone else might actually understand nose hatred and the nicknames that went with it.
As the rest of the room suddenly came back into focus, the Irishman realized people were staring.
“I will show you to your rooms,” he stammered, not wanting to cause a scene but unable to avoid it.
“So where is Rowl?” Kareen asked at the door to her room, “Or must I howl for him?”
“Not so loud, Kareen, he might hear you. Rowl doesn’t know you are here, or your family or his sisters,” hushed the Irishman.
Kareen grabbed the Irishman by the front of his tunic, lifting him off his feet “You did all this for Rowl,” she growled, immediately understanding the situation.
“Not just me,” squirmed the suddenly uncomfortable Irishman, “the whole team helped.”
“Then I owe each of you a debt of gratitude,” she growled as she nearly crushed the Irishman in a bear hug. “It is obvious to me that Rowl has chosen his friends well. When are you planning to tell Rowl that I am here?” she growled.
“I was hoping you might have some suggestions,” said the Irishman with a rushed exhale, relieved that the secret was out and he was still alive.
“The dance is tonight is it not?” asked Kareen.
“Yes, right after dinner,” answered the Irishman, confused.
“See to it that Rowl attends and leave the rest to me. I have waited for this moment for a very long time,” whined Kareen, wistfully. “I wish, however, that you had given me a little notice, so I could have come better prepared,” she said in a low growl.
“Snarth says the entire estate is at your disposal, said the Irishman. “He also said that if you need anything, have it sent and don’t worry about the cost, it’s on him; a wedding gift.”
“But the dance is tonight,” lamented Kareen.
“I know just the person you need to talk to, her name is Mona, she is my mate and unfortunately for me an expert shopper,” said the Irishman. “Don’t worry about the short notice. When Snarth calls, they send shuttles of merchandise to him just as fast as they can get it here. He never steps foot inside a seller’s shop, they come to him. Besides, do you think you are the first female canine Snarth has ever entertained?” he said with a grin. “I will send Mona to you right away, she will get you started.”
It was much later when the Irishman awoke, long after all the guests had arrived and been assigned quarters, with a start, in a sweat, visions of Kareen still dancing through his head. “I can’t,” he thought, “Rowl is my best friend. I won’t,” he promised himself with a cold, iron hard resolution, as he rolled over, gazing hungrily at Mona’s nude body curled up next to him. She really is a perfect redhead and she is all mine, he thought. He and Rowl were much more than friends; they were brothers of different mothers. A bond so strong it crossed species bias. Still, he was tortured with images of Kareen in his dreams.
PART TWENTY-EIGHT
The Plot Thickens
“ssSo who isss behind the plot to kill the king?” Snarth hissed, asking Howler.
“Whoever it is they cover their tracks very, very well,” growled Howler. “My guess is that whoever is causing the trouble is motivated by a rumor that the feline council is going obtain a substantial number of banking jewels as clan tithe. That kind of a credit influx will certainly reignite any number of claims over longstanding debts,” Howler growled warningly. “The feline council is not known for paying its debts if pressured. If confronted aggressively, they usually just assassinate whomever they owe credit to rather than pay. If the rumors are true, then the galactic council will likely get involved to negotiate, perhaps even get them dragged into a peacekeeping situation. The felines are on the galactic council and their voice carries a lot of weight in some circles of the council,” Howler growled wearily.
“You wouldn’t know anything about where or how the felines are going to get their hands on a large supply of banking jewels would you?” Howler growled asking Snarth, his attention zeroed in on Snarth’s reaction.
Snarth realized he had two choices, and he paused before answering. He could lie to his old friend and protect his secret. Or he could tell Howler the truth about the banking jewels and then ask for his help. The secret was going to come out anyway, perhaps this way Snarth could control the political spin and market jitters such a large influx of jewels would have on the galactic economy.
“Yesss I do,” hissed Snarth simply. “I will tell you what I know if you tell me where you got your information,” he bargained.
“Fair enough,” woofed Howler. “Our source is compromised anyway. We have an agent working for Sniggle as a lower echelon smuggler.”
“When ssSniggle findsss out, your agent will die, if he isssn’t already dead,” hissed Snarth.
“He knew the risks, Snarth, you of all beings should know what they are,” growled Howler.
“My team and I discovered a cache of banking jewelsss hidden by the Onesss on a remote planet whossse location ssshall remain a sssecret,” Snarth hissed as he explained.
“How many?” growled Howler.
“One hundred thousand one hundred and ten that we know of,” said Snarth, hissing his answer softly, letting the weight of his words sink in.
“That is more than enough to start at least two small wars almost immediately, with several bigger conflicts not far off,” Howler growled flatly. “When were you planning on telling me?” he woofed at Snarth.
“You are here now, are you not,” hissed Snarth grinning as only he can.
“I am only going to sssell a few of them ssslowly until I make my profit and each one of my team matessss getsss their fair ssshare,” Snarth hissed, now all business. “After that, you can do whatever the galactic council wantsss to do with them. I will even deliver them. That way the exissstence of my treasssure map can remain between usss. The planet’sss location must remain a sssecret. I sssay thisss becaussse I know there are many, many more jewelsss yet to be found. Enough to easssily dessstroy the galactic economy,” he hissed.
“Where did you get a Ones treasure map?” growled Howler in amazement.
“I ssstole it from a mutual friend of oursss, ssSniggle,” hissed Snarth. “ssSSlice dissscovered itsss exissstence sssome time ago. Then not long ago my team and I pulled a raid on ssSniggle’sss essstate while he wasss away on busssinessss. I made a copy of the map. ssSSniggle doesss not know and I would prefer to keep it that way if
you pleassse,” hissed Snarth.
“Of course old friend; what Sniggle does not know will do him no harm,” growled Howler, suddenly lost in thought.
“It could be the Hibi banking clan that is stirring up trouble on the feline home world. They hold a great deal of the feline council’s war debt,” Howler growled.
“That would be foolish on their part,” mewed the assassin master. “If my clan loses control of the council the Hibi will lose all of the credit they have extended to the council and their leaders will become prey. As I am sure they know,” he hissed.
“It hasss to be the Gemanomes,” whispered SSlice They and they alone hold the Hibi banking clan’s leash.”
“They will be the first to claim war reparations as it was their fleet that destroyed the Ones’ home world,” growled Howler.
“If it is the Gemanomes, they could not have picked a better time to try to take control of the council,” SSlice whispered. “Several galactic consulate ships have gone missing. Gemanome bandits would be the prime suspects especially if the king were attacked and killed.”
“There is a raging debate in the council as to which course of action they should take. The issue of attacking or negotiating with the Gemanomes has deeply divided the Security Council. The Gemanomes desperately want a seat on the security council,” added Howler.
“If it becomes known or even suspected that the Gemanomes bandits or Gemanomes military is behind the attacks on the consulate ships then it will be war. One that will either unite the remaining galactic alliance members, or tear the alliance apart,” finished SSlice.
PART TWENTY-NINE
An Unsuspecting Rowl
Kareen and Mona spent the rest of the afternoon shopping at the dozens of merchants that showed up in their portable showrooms. With just a single long time unit’s notice they came, quickly filling Snarth’s private landing pad.
“Are you sure that is what you want to wear?” asked Mona, puzzled to the edge of her social algorithms by Kareen’s choice.