The vast underground cavern was dimly lit and stank of dead things and putrid water, not that the inhabitants noticed. Angry snarls echoed in the air accompanied by loud yips and barks of encouragement. Two giant combatants fought in the middle of the cavern, spurred into a great fury by the circle of onlookers.
Bonebreaker sat on his stone throne and watched, already bored with the fight. He was the current Alpha King of the Lupinious Nation, but that could change quickly. On Lupinia, things occurred daily. One moment you had power; the next you could have jaws around your neck taking your life. To rule, you had to be the toughest, strongest and meanest. And you had to bring battles.
The last few forays into Gatoan space had proven fruitful. They had captured four planets and were working on a fifth. Those Gatoans, not killed during the takeover, were enslaved or served as food for his armies. It was his spies' information that gave him his biggest break in the war. The wretched Gatoans had traveled to Earth seeking help from the humans. It was laughable, really.
"Ah, King LoudRoar. You thought to meet them first. Too bad for you that you're twenty years too late," he laughed quietly, not wanting to catch his Beta's attention. Lastbite was second in height only to him and Bonebreaker kept a constant, wary eye on the younger ambitious male.
A roar went up from the fighting circle when the smaller Lupine defeated his larger opponent with a vicious snap of his neck. He lifted his bloody muzzle, howled his triumph and plunged into the crowd. There was some shuffling and the victor emerged, pulling a struggling female behind him.
Bonebreaker yawned, scratched his muzzle and stood as the pair approached. "I declare you victor, Headslow. Go enjoy your spoil."
The males cheered the grinning winner as he dragged off his unwilling prize. The others dispersed to find food or the arms of a willing bitch.
Bonebreaker sat down again. He noted Lastbite's unguarded expression of disdain at the departing pack members. "Problem?"
"No, my Alpha." Lastbite stiffened, his neutral mask slipping into place. Bonebreaker wasn't fooled.
"My Alpha, we will be receiving a report soon from our human spy about the Gatoans' plans. Whatever has called them to Earth will be neutralized."
Bonebreaker chuckled. "You are young and dumb, Lastbite. They seek allies. We will make sure they have none. It is that simple. Now go. I find myself in need of a bedmate." His eyes glowed as he leered at the now tense Lastbite. "Unless you want that privilege?" He sneered at the other male's frantic head shake. "No? Then to avoid that honor, you'd better bring me news that will keep your backside safe."
"Yes, my Alpha." Lastbite dropped his head in submission.
Amused at the hate shining in his Beta's eyes, Bonebreaker left his throne, stalked to the younger male. He put his nose an inch away from Lastbite's throat. "Don't try to betray me, whelp. They didn't give me my warrior name as a joke." He smelled Lastbite's embarrassment and fear. He licked Lastbite's neck slowly and growled against the Beta's bared neck. He stepped back and headed for his harem's quarters. Time to work off some of his lust.
* * *
Rialla lounged on the divan, her tail swishing back and forth. They had been in orbit around the planet Earth for several days. Renten hadn't bothered to grace her bed or accept any of her comm calls. She was bored, in heat, and peeved by the lack of attention.
In fact, her husband hadn't mated with her in weeks. She was confident that he didn't know her secrets or her plans. And she wondered if maybe he was slinking away into some other female's bed. That thought angered her; her tail swished back and forth harder.
The door chimed, and her attendant scurried to answer. Rialla heard the rumble of a male's voice. She perked up and smoothed her paw down her fur. She'd just finished her bath, and the brushing had left her with a nice silky sheen.
The attendant returned, not with Renten, but with a lean Mezalik in tow. Rialla straightened, her eyes narrowed.
"Get out! All of you." She ignored the hasty scramble of her attendants as they rushed to do her bidding.
Assured that they were completely alone, she sauntered over to the male. "I see you've lost weight, Lord Fearnone. Not as much unrest to stir up business?"
Her visitor snorted. "There is always business to be had, my Queen."
"I pay you for information. So what do you have for me?" Impatiently, she tapped her foot.
"It seems that the Crown Prince has a new interest."
"Really? Do tell?" This would be good. Something to hold over Dex's head.
"A certain human female has earned hands-on treatment from your stepson."
"Hm. How hands-on?"
"He healed her. She was dying, and he saved her life. He also interrupted a discipline session to try and save the female. And the most intriguing tidbit—the humans have psionic abilities."
"What! Do they know of ours?" Rialla demanded even as she plotted how to use the news to her advantage.
"I do believe so. What would you like me to do, my Queen?"
"Go spy on her. Find out what my dear stepson sees in her. If necessary, make sure she dies and he takes the blame. Anything that discredits him before his father and our people is a bonus. I assume this will cost your usual fee?" She stretched, her breasts bouncing a little.
Fearnone's nose twitched, and Rialla bit back a laugh. Males, so typical, thinking with their members and not their brains.
"Yes, standard fee," his voice grew husky, his heated gaze devouring her.
She preened under his scrutiny and stroked his fur. Soon Rialla would tremble beneath his skillful hands, but not before her own lust had built. "Come, my favorite hunter, enjoy your reward." Fearnone obediently took Rialla's paw and let her lead him away.
Neither saw Nala hurry from her hiding place and out a side door.
* * *
The sun shone brightly, but Dimitri felt no warmth. He'd received the latest reports from Manroe, and he was incensed. Dimitri had served through two wars, the American-Eurasia War and the Great War of 2086, but never had he seen so much corruption and misuse of power stemming from one man.
The door chimed, and Zenath and Hinson entered, followed by a morose Brion. Dimitri frowned, checked the calendar, and realized that it was Thursday. Every Thursday, he met with his top advisers for status updates on the various military and psionic operations going on worldwide.
"Gentlemen, please have a seat. Has anyone seen Chris today?"
Everyone shook their heads.
"Figures, he'd be late," Dimitri grumbled.
"Mr. President, I'm sure he'll pop up," Zenath assured him.
"I know, Derek, but I don't like his sudden appearances. Very distracting."
"I agree. Such a pain," harrumphed Hinson.
"You're jealous that you can't pop in and out like that, Terry," Brion chided the older man.
"Calling the kettle black, aren't you, Xavier?" Zenath rebuked.
Brion shrugged. "Maybe."
"Regardless of his arrival method, we need to get started," Dimitri sternly reminded his friends. "Now, what is the progress from the shipyards?"
"We are ahead of schedule. The crews have been in training for the past six months and are eager to show off what they've learned," Derek answered before glancing down at his data pad. "Weapons testing, too, is farther along than we'd hoped to be."
"That's welcome news indeed. Xavier, what's our status with the internal investigations?"
"All agents are watching the intended targets and will be prepared to move in and apprehend all suspects. Maybe after this cleaning of house, we can all relax."
Dimitri gave a tired smile. "Perhaps, we'll see. Terry, how is the PR campaign faring?"
"All ideas have been implemented and are ready to be fed to the news stations at your command."
Dimitri leaned back in his chair. A sense of relief hit him. They were in the homestretch. They only had to make it through September 22, and then they would be in the clear.
The door chimed, and everyone glanced at it in surprise. It opened, and Colonel Manroe strolled in.
"Well, I'll be a monkey's uncle!" Derek gaped at Manroe's ordinary entrance.
"What, no fancy arrival today?" Xavier taunted.
"We have a problem."
Tension filled the room, and Dimitri stood. "We do?"
"Yes. The Gatoan Prince's actions from yesterday have changed the scenery."
"What!" shouted Zenath.
"You're kidding, right?" Hinson frowned.
"I told you!" Xavier crowed.
"Silence!" Dimitri roared. He focused completely on Manroe. "Chris, this had better be a joke. We set everything up according to what you saw. If it's changed, then we're screwed."
Chris reached up and removed his shades. The others gasped. His eyes were glowing.
"I am telling you, the scenery has changed. Our little problem has taken a giant leap forward and will be arriving on the 11th. We're out of time."
"Dangit, Chris, your timing sucks," Terry complained.
"You'd better be glad everything was ahead of schedule or we'd be taking a serious butt-kicking," Derek pointed out, clearly unhappy with the latest turn of events.
Dimitri couldn't blame his advisers for being pissed. He was still stunned that Chris's vision had been wrong.
Chris slid his shades back on. "I've told all of you, a thousand times if not more, that what I 'see' can and does change. Be thankful that I got you the warning that I did. Otherwise, we'd be up a creek without a paddle. I have to get going. I have to pull the psionics that we need. You'd better put a rush on all related projects as well. And may destiny have mercy on us all." He stomped from the room and slammed the door.
The quiet lasted for a few minutes as each man pondered the implications of Manroe's news. Finally, Dimitri broke it. "Okay, he gave us a day and a half's warning. Put in the overtime, our budget can cover it. I refuse to go down without a fight. Gentlemen, let's make this happen."
"Yes, Mr. President!"
They stood and filed out of the room. Dimitri waited until they were gone to fling himself into his chair. He picked up the picture frame that sat on his desk. He traced the delicate features of the woman's face. "Patricia, I will keep my promise." He gave the photo a loving tap before setting it aside. Time was of the essence. He had vid calls that needed to be made.