This story is a bit wordy and fairly long, so if you are looking for immediate gratification, you might want to look elsewhere.
The following story is a work of fiction. Any resemblance between these character and events and any real person or events is strictly coincidental . . . and pretty darn impressive seeing as it is a science fiction story. Do not reproduce or copy this story without the consent of the author.
In my magical, mixed-up world, characters don't worry about STDs or unwanted pregnancies except occasionally as a plot device. The author encourages the practice of safe (and hopefully satisfying) sex.
While this is a science-fiction story, it may at different points contain sexual behavior that might fall into other categories. You can rest assured however that there will be NO depictions of Non-Consent, Mind Control, or Incest for any purpose other than as plot devices, and certainly not for sexual arousal. Anything else is fair game.
The following story is based in the same world as "To Protect and Serve." While this series can stand alone, reading the afore mentioned series would be helpful.
Proofread by "Cristalball"
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Farmer sat in an oppressive silence, her number-two man Jack sitting in the seat next to her as they hurtled down the highway towards Montana. Things had not gone well for her small band in the last twelve hours. Not well at all. They had been ambushed by a highly trained and well equipped band of werewolves attempting to collect a bounty that had been put on the head of Princess Vanesse Bellethial, heir to the elvish throne. While the werehyenas had not lost anyone despite multiple wounds, Vanesse's bodyguard, lifelong friend and . . . perhaps something more . . . had died. To make matters worse, she had died saving Farmer.
Not that Farmer was not used to having people around who would put their hides on the line for her, but Trina . . . it should not have been her. The elvish battle-dancer had been a thing of grace and beauty, and she should have been defending her Princess. But she had put herself between Farmer and a gun loaded with silver bullets. And even if the bullet wounds had not been enough to kill her, the elvish maiden had been bitten by a vampire, then had her neck broken.
Vanesse had been, and still was, an emotional train wreck. She had emptied most of her magical energy stores saving the lives of her werehyena friends (a strange word for those who had technically started out as her kidnappers), but she drained the pool dry trying to save Trina. It was to no avail. A necromancer could heal, cheat death for a while, or raise the dead as a zombie or ghoul, but no one could truly resurrect one who had gone beyond.
It had taken an hour to pry the Princess away from the frozen body of her friend, and another hour to convince the elvish noble that they could not take the body with them. They were doubling up on bikes as it was, as some of their own equipment had been destroyed or damaged to the point it could not be ridden. They had lain the body of the battle-dancer in a shallow grave, dug by Jack's clawed and bloody hands, with only a small mound of stone to mark where she had fallen.
Vanesse had gone into a state of near catatonia. She had not spoken since the convoy started moving again, and her eyes seemed to exist only as an outlet for tears. They certainly did not seem to see anything around them.
"Jack," Farmer said at last, her voice filled with a dark and chilling rage, "I want to know who those guys were. I want to know where to find them, and I want to know ten minutes ago."
"But the mission --"
Farmer's eyes snapped to her right and she barked a laugh that had nothing to do with humor. "We get her to safety, then we go after them. And this time . . . oh yes, there will be blood." She grabbed one of the satellite phones, as did Alani and Jack. The lesser werehyenas would start hitting up their underworld, black market contacts in an attempt to find their attackers. Farmer had a much tougher call to make. As the phone rang, she kept one eye on the road and the other on the rear-view mirror, watching the hollow visage of her royal passenger.
"Yes?"
came a sleepy voice.
"This is Farmer," the matriarch said, her voice still tinged with anger. "I need to speak to your . . . associate."
On the other end of the line, the Alpha, the most powerful lycanthrope on the planet and therefore their representative to the Council, made a coughing sound.
"You know that I can't --"
"Sir, things have gone very badly, and I need to know how far he's willing to go with this."
"What happened?"
"We got hit. Werewolves, and a lot of them. They had hi-tech gear, access to a fuckin' helicopter, and there was a vampire with them. Female, and she was scary powerful."
"The Princess?"
"The Princess is alive," Farmer said, then she growled, "Trina is dead."
On the other end of the line, there was silence.
"I'm sorry."
"Sorry doesn't cut it. They shot her in the back, then . . . Damn it, she was saving my life. I'm not letting this go."
"Just get the Princess to Atlanta. Once the Council hears about this --"
"Screw the Council! I'm not going to wait for these guys to try again or move operations. This isn't about Council politics or elvish politics or any of it. This just became so fucking beyond personal that I can't even describe it."
"We can't have a were war right now,"
the Alpha said sternly.
"Not with the Unveiling so close. The Council WILL side with you, but we just need time --"
"Sir, this is not something that I'm discussing with you. It's something I'm telling you. I will find out who did this, and I will personally --"
The Alpha's voice rose to its full power.
"You still have a job to do. If you go after whoever this is without my say-so, I will consider it a challenge to my authority."
Farmer's gaze was going red. "So that's the way it's going to be? You care more about politics than justice now?" She knew what he meant by 'challenge'. They had gone into an agreement, and you did NOT break an agreement with the Alpha without his consent. If she ignored his order, then it meant that she thought she was bigger and more powerful than he was. It meant that they next time that they met, it would be a fight to the death.
The other werehyenas were quiet now. With their enhanced hearing, they were picking up every word, and they knew how important the next ones were going to be.
The Alpha growled on the other end of the line.
"There will be justice, but it will be done the right way."
"Sir, she was staring in MY eyes when they shot her before the vampire . . . I'm not letting this go." Despite her intent and her rage, she did not want to challenge the Alpha. Because as strong as Farmer was, she knew that she would lose. She had seen the big man fight. He would kill her. Pride was a powerful drug though, and it was in the driver's seat.
"I'm not asking you to let it go, just . . . just show a little restraint."
Farmer gripped the steering wheel so hard, it started to crack. "Be in Atlanta when we get there. If I don't like what I hear, it may put a . . . crimp . . . in our relationship."
"Be very, very careful,"
the Alpha replied,
with what you say and who you say it to. I am not yours to command."
"Consider it a polite request then. Just like me wanting to talk to you-know-who is a polite request."
