The Autonomous States

“You’re certain you don’t know who this was?” Brolath asked, lukewarm coffee dripping from his chin fur.

“Positive,” Abel nodded confidently. In truth, he wasn’t sure. Back when he got the first message to go to New Orleans, it had indeed been a Vulpeculan bartender who gave him the note, but in this case he was not certain if it was the same one. It was a bit of a relief that he honestly could not tell, fearing that if either of the Guards were to smell a lie on him, that they might round up an honest resistance member.

Rorgh was staring at Abel with a knowing smile across his muzzle, “A fortuitous lead, I’d say.”

Abel didn’t look the look that the Lupiad was giving him. Even if he had explained the entire truth of what had happened, no doubt the Lupiad wouldn’t believe that he wasn’t bullshitting them the entire investigation.

Which was not necessarily untrue.

“Bern...” Brolath rifled through some papers on his desk. Frontus had announced irregular periods of network security maintenance under the guise of protecting against Lacertan hacking attempts and the team had responded by printing out as many files as they could, “...that’s in the Autonomous States, isn’t it?”

“That’s correct,” Abel responded, biting his tongue and holding back the snark. Just about everyone on Earth, whether they obeyed or rebelled, knew that the Autonomous States were just an experiment designed to fail so that the Regulians could say that humans were incapable of governing themselves.

“Earthen Parliament…humans governing themselves...” Brolath sneered at the papers, “...what a silly little game the Empire is playing.”

Brolath placed his mug on the table and edged it towards Abel.

“Refill it,” Brolath ordered without looking away from the papers.

“That’s not my job,” Abel responded flatly.

Brolath slowly raised his gaze to meet Abel’s. Even though Abel had lived among Regulians his entire life, it was a bit difficult to read their expressionless faces, but it looked like Brolath was more surprised than outraged. The Regulian had his ways and he expected a human to obey, just as one would expect foaming if you added vinegar to baking soda. Brolath was not angered at Abel’s disobedience, merely baffled that something he figured was an ironclad law was not working out the way he planned.

Rorgh, on the other hand, could not hid his amusement at the whole scenario. Lupiads were significantly easier to read, wearing their emotions on their faces.

“I...” Brolath licked his lips nervously, “...I ordered you to refill my coffee.”

“And I told you that it’s not my job,” Abel said. There was no need to pretend to be a submissive human anymore, not while Abel had renewed hope, “I’m here to assist in this investigation, but I am still a free citizen of the Regulian Empire, not a slave.”

“Brolath paused, the brown Regulian furrowing his brow, “The other day...”

Perhaps it was partly his fault, Abel figured, for going along with his little fantasies of having an unlucky human who needs to beg and plead for the big, strong Regulian to rescue him from the cruel world he lived in.

But that was then and this is now. Abel knew he had to shoot down his affections before they got any worse.

“Perhaps, Captain, we should focus on the plan,” Rorgh interjected.

That broke Brolath out of his stupor, the Regulian shook his head, “Yes, yes, of course.”

The Autonomous States, located in what used to be Switzerland and parts of Austria, along with the Vatican; was the closest thing to a free nation beneath the Regulian boot. Which in turn was a good litmus test for the relative level of freedom on the entire planet, for the Autonomous States still operated with the threat of the Regulian government storming in and shaking things up if any shenanigans happened and all transportation infrastructure leading in and out were Regulian-managed.

All of this became quite obvious when Abel’s plane was an hour late and was subjected to a very thorough search by the Regulian airport security guards. While he was stripped down and prodded with claws, paws, and intrusive instruments in his most delicate areas, the guards complained to end about how chaotic this little “Human experiment,” was and how the humans can’t even make a garbage truck run on time.

“What was your purpose of visit, again?” a tired Regulian groaned as she fluttered through paperwork. Rubbing her temples, her apologized. “Sorry, the department switched to paper after a local hacker breached our network. It is quite difficult to adapt.”

“Purpose of visit is-” Abel grunted as something thin, cold, and metal was shoved up his rear by the white Lupiad standing behind him as he bent over, “-ahem, you’ll have to call my Father at the Ministry of Culture in Ralothburg about that. Nothing serious, just a little personal matter we’re trying to keep quiet.”

“Right, right,” the Regulian sighed and turned a sheet over, “he called in, yeah...”

“Is everything okay?” Abel asked before hissing as the probe was pulled out of his rear.

A sharp beep rang out beside Abel’s temple.

“He’s bugged,” the Lupiad grumbled, waving a scanner over the human’s face, “audio and video.”

Abel hid his surprise, he was certain that he was bugged with some kind of specialized audio device, but a video recording device? How was that even possible? Where was it?

Audio was one thing, but sending the Guards a picture of any rebels would put the innocent in trouble along with the guilty.

“Of course,” Abel shrugged, “for more information, you’d have to call-”

“Yes, yes,” the Regulian dismissed Abel’s statement with a wave. An electric kettle clicked and the female Regulian poured hot water into a cup before dipping in a catnip teabag, “call your Master, we’re very much aware. Alright, you’re free; put on your pants and get out of here.”

The Lupiad released his grip on Abel and the human began hiking up his pants.

“On an unrelated note to your little...personal matter...” she put on an unnerving smile. Abel was beginning to suspect the Regulians who learned to smile knew just how terrifying it was to humans, “the Claw sent in a human informant to Bern a few months ago on a case...”

“And…?” Abel asked. There were humans in the Claw building but Brolath had mentioned to him at some point that the Claw was not using human informants effectively.

“Oh,” she twiddled with her teabag, swirling it around in the cup, “disemboweled and hung upside-down from the Nydeggbrücke.”

Abel felt his skin grow cold.

“Welcome to the Autonomous States,” the Regulian stamped a document and leaned over to pass it to Abel. A crucifix on a chain slipped out the neck of her uniform. “May God have mercy on your soul, human.”

For the capital of this little experimental Human State, Brolath found that the city of Bern was quite sleepy. There were not a lot of tall buildings and most of the homes were quaint affairs made of brown stone. In fact, the tallest construction was a suspended railway hanging in the air that never got any use from the locals.

Humans of all shapes and colors had been herded here, granted special permission to showcase to the Empire at large how capable they would be at managing their own affairs.

If anything, Brolath figured, staring at a mural depicting five human martyrs being gunned down by faceless Regulians, it has proven just how necessary the Empire is to maintain order.

Despite the fact that the windows of the car were tinted dark enough to cover the fact that three aliens were in it, just about every eye they passed locked onto the vehicle. Even a couple of hooligans, each wearing bright colors of some dead nation or a sports team, stopped trying to pound the other to glare at the luxury sedan rolling through town.

“They’re staring at us, Adjunct,” Brolath mused as they stopped at a red light. A pale human with a sharp nose leaned into the window, trying to get a good look at the occupants.

“Ignore them, Captain,” Rorgh flipped his turn signal on. “We had a choice between showing our faces or showing off our wealth. For all they know we’re just some rich asshole or a crimelord. Technically we shouldn’t even be here, it’s out of the Guard’s jurisdiction.”

“But not the Claw’s,” Frontus butted in. The Sirian was proving to be quite annoying during the trip, constantly trying to catch a glance at Brolath and Rorgh’s datapads, “good thing we’re so kind to let you flagrantly violate the autonomy of the Empire’s dear subjects.”

“Can it, dog,” Rorgh snarled, uttering a human slur for Sirians, “you know damn well this whole autonomy experiment is designed to fail.”

“Interesting reaction, Adjunct!” Frontus sneered, poking his nose between the seats and leering at the Lupiad mischievously. “It sounds like you’re a little dissatisfied with things. That could be a pr-”

Frontus’ threats were cut short by a beer bottle crashing against the window he was sitting next to. The Sirian yelped, his fine fur puffing up like a frightened pup’s.

“DEATH TO THE INVADERS! FREE THE CANTONS!”

Brolath pulled out his pistol and charged it up, “Shit, we’re under attack.”

“No, no,” Frontus shook his head, “this is just how things are here. We’re respecting the human custom known as ‘Free Speech.’ Until the bullets start firing, we’re to let them be.”

“They just called for our death!”

“No, no, the wording was very specific. They were wishing for our death but not actively calling for it. Any intervention at this point would contaminate the ‘experiment,’ as your Lupiad friend would call it.”

“This is madness!”

“If you don’t like it, hand over that cute little human of yours to us and we’ll take it from here,” Frontus yawned, “I repeat, you’re not even supposed to be in this part of Earth.”

A cobblestone thumped against the window this time and more jeers cried out. From one side, a man praised the “Free Irish Republic,” and on another a woman cried out, “Vietnam undefeated!” and a shrill little boy somewhere screamed, “FREE CONGO! FREE CONGO!”

“It would seem you’re attracting a multicultural selection of dissidents collected from across the globe. I would suggest leaving at a moderate pace before they form a united front and skin us alive,” Frontus smoothed down his frizzled fur. “The windows might be bulletproof but if they flip us over we’re not going anywhere.”

“VIVE LE TERRE!”

“ES LEBE DIE ERDE!”

At this point, Rorgh had begun cautiously driving away at a brisk but not hasty speed, so as to not agitate the crowd further, who were beginning to some some seditious song about freedom that Brolath could not comprehend.

Thankfully, the crowd only got a few more steps behind the unmarked vehicle before they were distracted by something more immediately anger inducing. A light hum filled the air and an observation train passed over the immediate area.

The sight of about twenty or so rich aliens and their cubs, mostly Regulians, pressing their snouts against the glass and staring down at the poor ‘savages,’ quarreling in their filth was enough to direct the crowd’s rage. A barrage of liquor bottles, stones, and rotten fruit flew into the air with only a few hitting the plexiglass carriage.

All of this just made the nobles laugh as their children cowered behind their parents legs. Brolath could practically hear them, twenty feet in the air, disparaging the locals and the shambles they lived in.

“We’re supposed to be better than this,” Brolath murmured.

“Hm?” Rorgh peered back as they crossed over a stone bridge.

“Protecting the people, giving them a better life under the Regulian system,” Brolath looked back up at the train as it zipped out of sight, “even slavery has its dignity compared to this.”

“This is protecting them, yes?” Frontus looked through the back window at the crowd contemptuously. “65% of humans who are accepted into the Autonomous Zones express regret for the decision and would prefer to return to their Duchy, even if it means less freedom. We’re teaching them a lesson.”

“The virtues of the Empire are obvious, there’s no need for-”

“Oh come off it, Captain! You’ve experienced enough resistance by now to know that the natives aren’t simply going to bend over just because we beat them in a war! They need to be taught harsh lessons in conditioning!” Frontus explained. “We’ll let a few of them back to the Duchies in exchange for a few terms: some will make public tours talking about their horrible experiences, a few will agree to sign themselves into slavery...fuck, Captain, you know what these people would do for a can of meat? Go on down to the Red Light District, it’s one of the few places our kind are welcome, and see what you can buy!”

A Red Light District? Brolath pondered. Perhaps that would soothe some of his anxiety after the human, Abel, rebuked his display of dominance.

“We’re not here to make humanity love the Empire, we’re here to make them obey the Empire,” Frontus said, “I thought the Emperor’s favorite Captain would understand that fact, perhaps you’ve been coddled a bit too much.”

A walled compound approached them and the train disappeared past one of the steel peaks. The first Regulians they’d seen since entering the Zone were here, wearing white Ambassadorial Security uniforms that elegantly stretched to their knees and wielding sub-machine guns. More were hidden in circular pillboxes and behind the armored cover of anti-vehicle turrets. Just in case all of this wasn’t clear, a series of signs lined the streets declaring that no humans without permission were allowed in the area and that all humans wishing entry must go on foot to the rear entrance.

They drove past one guard wailing on a middle-aged human with a baton without so much as blinking and with one flash of his Guard ID, Rorgh secured entry into the Imperial Quarter.

Despite using much of the existing infrastructure for the Quarter, the streets were almost pristine, no doubt cleaned by an army of slaves desperate to make this little spot of Imperial Territory as clean as possible, lest they be punished. Not even a minute into the Quarter and Brolath spotted what was likely the source of their biggest fears: a large warehouse advertising a slave auction tonight with words such as, “All shapes and sizes,” and “Excellent souvenirs.”

Wherever the slaves were now, they were not out in the public at this moment, save for a few human figures leaning against the shadows in a narrow alleyway lined with red lanterns.

“They let a bunch of humans in every day so they can get some cash servicing the tourists and the ambassadorial staff,” Frontus pressed his snout up against the window, hoping to get a peek of a prostitute, “most aren’t slaves, least not on paper.”

Try as he might, Brolath could not stop thinking about the possibilities that lurked down the alleyway. The Emperor and Rorgh were right, he needed someone to take his tension away and a free human might be more ideal than a slave. Brolath still remembered his harsh lesson in reality on the cruise liner that he got from Rorgh.

“By the Emperor!” Frontus pinched his black nose and waved his gloved paw. “Someone here needs to either get laid or apply more anti-deodorant and that someone is not a canine!”

Brolath cursed the Sirian’s nose silently and refused to rise to the occasion, quietly ignoring the Claw Agent as they pulled into the driveway of the Empress Hotel.

A Vulpeculan dressed in a bright red concierge outfit, much like the ones in a traditional Earthen hotel, pulled open their door and waved them in.

“Ah, Master Frontus! Welcome again! Your usual room, I presume?” the Vulpeculan bowed and the steel of his collar shimmered a bit beneath the tall, red collar of his uniform.

“Naturally,” Frontus sauntered out of the car as an army of Vulpeculan servants began rooting through the trunk and pulling out pieces of luggage, “you put these two someplace nice, won’t you?”

“But of-” the Vulpeculan’s eyes glistened as he caught a golden crown Frontus tossed at him, “thank you, Master!”

Frontus swished his tail arrogantly and turned back to the two Guards, “You two have fun! And remember to check in with me before you do anything beyond the scope of our agreement! Anything that happens outside of these walls is Claw business!”

One of the Vulpeculans following Frontus closely was carrying one of Brolath’s bags. Brolath snatched him by the tail and refused to let go until the Vulpeculan handed over his bag with an apology.

“I hate that guy,” Rorgh muttered.

“That makes two of us,” Brolath sighed as he picked up his bag and headed into the hotel.

Bern was not a happy town for Abel.

At no point in his life did he ever believe the Autonomous States were anything but a twisted form of Regulian torture, but he had hoped it was not as bad as he expected. Unfortunately for him, it was much worse.

Most of the historical buildings beginning to crumble without any repairs, likely a consequences still from the initial invasion. The average human looked malnourished and there were several food banks and ration depots that all made it clear their food was coming from generous Regulians.

In such an environment, one inevitably turns to hatred or submissiveness.

That must be what the Regulians want, Abel thought, though it was not a truly profound bit of introspection because in the end, they were quite obvious about it. Make humanity submit, use them for their own benefits whether that be a beloved piece of property or a meat-shield in a war with lizards that truly meant nothing to Earth.

Yet all along the stone buildings lining the narrow road were murals and graffiti celebrating countless rebel groups from around the world. Likewise, the Autonomous Zones had humans from all over the world on its streets, all joined together by hatred of the Regulians.

Whatever the case was, Abel was here on a mission. The sky was getting dark and he hadn’t left his seat in the bench by the Bear Pit for several hours now. Watching a pit with a couple of grizzlies in it had grown a bit boring with the only bit of excitement being when he was handed a petition to replace the bears with captured Ursines from the war, which didn’t seem to be getting much traction from the locals.

Abel suddenly whipped out his datapad and unconsciously dialed home. Within only a few rings, Yin’s vulpine face appeared on the screen.

“Master Abel! You arrived safe and sound?” Yin beamed joyously.

“Yeah,” Able cleared his throat, “sorry about the short notice of this all, but I need to study pre-invasion Earth.”

It hurt to lie, it truly did. But it was either lie about Professor Rowth giving him an assignment or tell them the truth that he has gotten wrapped up in espionage and his head is on the line.

“Oh, that’s good! Please, please be careful over there! I’ve heard horrible things, absolutely dreadful things! Not quite as bad as Beta Vulpeculae, that’s for sure, but still, watch your back!”

Yin looked so excited and happy that Abel was okay that it was hard for Abel to imagine the Vulpeculan as a criminal like the Claw Agent suggested, a murderer no less.

“Yin, how did you and Father meet?”

Yin’s smile slowly left his face and his eyes narrowed, making the fox almost turn invisible in the dim light of the living room, were it not for his white chin. It was enough to make Abel’s skin crawl.

“S-sorry,” Abel stammered. Until Abel had learned that Regnath and Yin were in a relationship he had just assumed Regnath bought him somewhere. Perhaps that was still true, “I-I just...I wondered how I’ll know when I meet someone-”

“Is this a secure line?” Yin suddenly whispered in a gravely voice unbecoming him.

Abel tapped a few buttons but halted before the encryption could begin. The Guards were listening.

“No, it’s not,” Abel whispered.

Yin’s left ear flicked.

“Next time we have a moment and your Father isn’t around, we’ll talk.”

“Sorry Yin, I shouldn’t have asked.”

“It’s perfectly fine, Abel, you’re at an age where you want to know things and I think we should start sharing a bit more,” Yin cleared his throat, “I think you can tell me and your Father are a bit...close, but as to how we met...”

Yin looked past the camera wistfully before his ears perked up and a smile returned to his face.

“Make sure you eat a good dinner while you’re there! I’ve heard they have something called rosti there, I hear it’s delicious with sausage and gravy!”

“I will, Yin,” Abel couldn’t help but smile, “anything I should bring back for you?”

“Just yourself, Master Abel!” Yin licked his lips. “Oh, and perhaps some of the famous Swiss chocolate?”

“Only humans can eat those.”

“That’s what filter pills are for, Master Abel!” Yin gasped and his fur rose up on end. “Shoot! I forgot about dinner, it’s going to burn! I have to go, love you!”

“Love y-” Abel blurted out as the connection cut out.

The words were a bit strange coming out but Abel didn’t regret them. He had two alien dads at this point, which was strange to hear in his mind.

An Earth free for humans and aliens alike…

Something cold and metal pressed up against the back of Abel’s neck. Abel jolted and began to spring up when a muffled voice whispered.

“Don’t move, just stay calm.”

The voice had an accent but it was impossible to place, hushed as it was by what sounded like a thick scarf. It was a woman though, unmistakably human.

“I’m calm,” Abel whispered.

“We’re just looking at the bears, two tourists...”

“Yeah.”

A cool gust of wind blew through the area along with an uneasy aura of silence. People walked to and fro, but no one seemed to pay Abel and his visitor any mind. Abel’s thoughts went to the security official’s warning about the informant who got hung off the bridge. If that could happen here...

Perhaps this was all an attempt to silence him? Abel felt fear for only a moment, followed by acceptance.

For the resistance…

“Are you interested in a second chance?” the voice hissed. “With an employer that’s a bit more ambitious?”

“What does that mean?”

“Yes or no.”

“Yes,” Abel replied without hesitation or thought.

“Good.”

Paper crinkled and Abel felt something poke him in the sides from between the slots in the back of the bench. Abel reached down and grabbed an envelope.

“Open it in a private area and follow the instructions,” the woman whispered, “we are putting a great deal of trust in you. The last person we trusted had a Claw video bug on him, we dealt with him. Do not betray our trust.”

“Humanity’s clock has reached midnight but we can still turn back time. Count to ten and then leave.”

Abel complied and he felt the pressure on him left, followed by the presence of the mysterious figure vanished. By the time he reached ten, he turned around and found that he was alone.

Down in the pit, one of the brown bears stared at him with his head tilted to the side in bewilderment.

You think you’re confused? Abel shook his head.

The Claw’s safehouse was a charming two story home made with brown bricks on the outskirts of town. Outside were only a few dots of light in the distance, most likely no one even knew that Abel was here, sipping whiskey and waiting for his handlers to show up.

Ostensibly, this was a pension for weary travelers, at least that was what it was listed as on the Extranet, but it was clear by just how pristine that the sheets and furnishings were that it didn’t see much use, except by Claw agents who left no trace of their stay, not even a strand of fur.

Two beams of light shone into view on the narrow road outside and a dark car appeared for a moment before turning left into the driveway. Abel heard the garage doors below rattle open.

Taking a sip of whiskey, Abel got up from his chair and headed downstairs.

Upon entering the living room, Abel could hear his handler’s arguing in the garage, but could not make out words between the muffled growls and barks. Sitting down on a leather couch, Abel grabbed the bottle of whiskey and poured himself another round before placing the bottle back on the coffee table next to his datapad and the envelope he received today.

The garage door clicked open and Brolath’s harsh Regulian voice came shooting up the hallway, “-we need to ensure his safety!”

“Captain,” Rorgh’s voice growled, “I agree his safety is paramount but removing his bugs is too risky! We stand to lose our only informant!”

“You heard what Frontus said! The Claw’s informant was killed after they detected state of the art stealth bugs on him! We’re dealing with people who know how our technology works!”

Rorgh sighed, “You may have a point, Captain, but I don’t like giving the human too much of a leash.”

“Has he ever shown signs of disobedience?” Brolath asked. “I think that terrorist incident really scared him straight!”

“How about when you ordered him to get coffee?”

There was a silence before Brolath continued, “That was unrelated to the investigation.”

Finally, Brolath emerged from the hallway and into the living room. The brown Regulian’s eyes met Abel and he slowly shuffled up to the couch and sat down on it on the opposite end from Abel. Rorgh came in, shaking his head before plopping down on the floor across from them by the coffee table.

“You have a lead, I understand?” Rorgh asked, black nose twitching as he sniffed the air.

“Yeah,” Abel nervously reached for the envelope and passed it to Brolath, “I haven’t read it yet.”

Slicing open the envelope with one of his claws, Brolath pulled out a green sheet of paper with red ink on it. Brolath rubbed at his temples.

“Still getting a headache from these damned implants…” Brolath growled as he scanned the document. “Pour me a drink, Abel.”

Abel closed his eyes and inhaled, he had no patience for Regulian dominance displays in normal life but had even less when it involved a sexually frustrated Guard hoping to take him home to store in his own personal evidence locker.

“Abel,” Rorgh smiled, “may I please have the bottle?”

Passing the bottle to the brown Lupiad, Abel pondered just what to make of Rorgh while he poured a glass for both him and his Captain. Rorgh confided in him that one day and even shared a bit about his past, but Abel had a feeling he was playing the good cop to Brolath’s bad cop. Bad cop tried to sexually dominate the informant while good cop soothes him. Abel didn’t even know if Brolath was aware of what Rorgh was doing.

“There’s an address and a time,” Brolath murmured, “then a bunch of psychobabble about turning back a clock that’s stuck on midnight. Something about a Great Disinfectant coming...”

“Some kind of religious cult?” Rorgh offered Brolath a glass. “Seen a few of those turn terrorist and they put out letters like that.”

“Political fanaticism does this too,” Brolath lifted his glass to his lips and licked up some of the brown liquor, “no evidence of Lacertan involvement either yet.”

“We’ll have to learn more when Abel goes to meet them.”

“Speaking of which...” Brolath took another lap from his glass before setting it down and pulling out a tool from his pocket, “...lay down, Abel.”

Abel looked at the tool, a narrow metal rod that ended in a sharp tip, and shook his head, “What the fuck is that?”

“Ever since you’ve been captured by the Claw, you’ve been bugged with video and audio feeds,” Rorgh sipped from his glass, whiskey drooling down the sides of his black lips, “I’m guessing you already figured that out.”

“This will remove them, it will only pinch for a bit,” Brolath hushed and planted his heavy paw on Abel’s shoulder, “lay down and hold your eyelids open.”

As much as Abel did not want to comply, this was exactly what he wanted to be rid of before meeting up with the rebels, so he laid back down and Brolath crawled over him, pinning the smaller human down.

Abel felt like a weak, prey animal caught by a vicious lion in the moments before their death. Brolath’s paw was on the front of his shoulder, occasionally pressing up against his neck and choking him a little.

It felt shameful being forced down like this but not as shameful as when Brolath shifted his weight and Abel felt his erect cock brush up against his knee. Abel did not object, for the metal rod was approaching his eye and he had no wish to complete this mission blind.

There was a slight pinch as the rod poked against the inner corner of his eyelid followed by a very small tremor as something was lifted out of his eyelid.

Brolath tapped the metal rod against the coffee table, releasing a bug that was no bigger than a flake of dust, before moving onto Abel’s right eye and removing the remaining one.

“Alright,” Brolath sighed and stared down at Abel with both of his paws pressed against the human’s shoulders, “everything alright?”

Every move of Brolath’s lips revealed his skull-crushing fangs and his voice caused the air to shake around Abel. Abel was helpless underneath the Regulian and Brolath no doubt knew it. The physical difference between a human and Regulian was too great and Abel never wanted to find himself in such a position beneath one, having to accept his physical limitations.

“Get off of me,” Abel said slowly.

“Oh!” Brolath exclaimed, accidentally spitting on Abel’s face in the process, before scrambling off. “Anyway, uh...”

Abel grabbed his datapad and began idly thumbing through it. Being in a position of weakness made him seek out something that would give him warmth and began playing the recording of his video conversation with Yin with the sound off.

“You’ll have to note down and record things as you go along with the group, Abel,” Rorgh explained, “we won’t be able to support you as much as we have anymore, at least not directly.”

Yin’s face smiled, that was all Abel was paying attention to. Even if Yin was an apologist for the Empire, he was still a good Vulpeculan.

In the lower left corner of the screen, Abel’s face was also caught by the datapad’s camera and it was disconcerting seeing how calm and relaxed he was despite the situation.

“Obviously we are taking a risk here, Abel, but it is for your own safety, I hope you realize this.”

A dark figure came into view behind Abel’s head on the camera and Abel immediately paused the video. He switched from Yin’s face to his own on the camera to get a better look.

Right away, Abel recognized the face behind him. Though a medical face-mask was wrapped around her mouth, and she was wearing a set of shades along with a wide-brimmed brown hat, Abel knew who it was. His old friend, Hada.

Abel jumped as Brolath patted him on the shoulder from the front.

“You okay?” Brolath asked, staring at Abel.

“I’m fine,” Abel closed the video, “sorry, could you repeat what you said?”