jeriendhal | Fic: The Summer Intern (cont.)

Nan climbed gingerly into the conversation pit and started to give him a summary of what they'd found on arrival at the Furrow's farm. The First One listened, his green eyes narrowing in increasing anger at her description of the scene.

"Did the bodies match what Greycoat and the fire marshal told ya?" he asked.

"I looked at them myself," Freya answered. "I'm afraid they did. They had both been shot by energy weapons. Master Furrow in the chest, his son in the side. My best initial guess is that they might have been investigating something and came upon the... er, intruder," she stumbled briefly, evidently trying to give the buck the benefit of the doubt. "Furrow was probably shot first and then his son as he turned to try and run."

"Bion signatures?" the First One asked.

Skyler shook his head. "I quartered the area, but I didn't feel anything except some leftover traces from when were there before. But if they were going to kill somebody, they might have been smart enough to cover their trail."

"Physical tracks?"

"The rain has been so heavy recently that a a grass chaser could have been running around and its tracks would have been washed away," Freya said.

"So there's no real evidence as t' who did it, except that the buck leading his troupe had a bad attitude towards the Furrows," the First One said, running his fingers through his graying hair.

"There was one thing," Nan said, speaking up. "I wandered over to look at the grove of gravis fruit trees that had started all the trouble. They'd been stripped clean, not a one left."

"Great, that's just frelling terrific," the First One muttered. "Freya, I want you to liaison with Brokentoe's civil protection group. See if you can find any evidence, anything, that might indicate that someone besides that buck had a grudge against Furrow and his son. And get the ferin rangers to start searching for that damned buck. Even if the buck did the dirty deed on his own, his troupe must be laying a trail somewhere in the forests."

Freya frowned. "First One, even if the troupe isn't shielding themselves completely, they've had half a day at least to make themselves scarce. If they don't want to be found, they won't be. You know that."

"I know, but I can't let him get away with this." He shot to his feet and started pacing in a circle around the edge of the conversation pit. "The Council of Farmer Lords are the only protection my people have against... everything." He waved his hand in the direction of the clouded sky and the universe beyond it. "Lose that, make them think that we're just the vicious animals everybody else says we are, we're fragging screwed."

"The Council would never rescind their protection, sir!" Nan exclaimed.

"Think they wouldn't, Vix?" he asked, turning towards her. "That asshole cop Greycoat isn't the only vulpine who thinks we're worthless. There are plenty of countesses in the Council who think the price the vulpine have paid politically to protect the ferin hasn't been worth it. Hell, we've got more support with the Military caste, who don't want to live without the cheap power we provide for their battlecruisers."

"Uncle Teri, that's not true," Lady Brushtail said. "No one is going to forget what you did for us when the Bloody Plagues threatened us."

"I was fifteen then, Meribeth," he said to her. "It's been a hundred years since. There aren't any countesses on the Council who were even born yet when that happened. Sure it's in the history books, but when I'm gone it's just going to be... history." The last word came out in a sibilant hiss. He paused and rubbed his forehead. "Never mind. Meribeth, you've got the sensors tuned on the White Knight to search for ferin bion patterns, right?"

"Yes, Uncle Teri," she confirmed. "It's useful when I'm trying to nail down the pickup point when I'm doing a rescue."

"I want you to start quartering the area around the Furrow's farm. Even if you can't find the buck's troupe you might find another that might have seen them." The First One gestured to the ranger. "Freya, I want the rangers to make contact with every arboreal troupe that's carrying an emergency radio. Not all of them bother, but I want the ones that do to be given the word to watch out for the buck's troupe and spread it among whomever they meet."

"Some of them aren't going to play along. The really feral ones would just as soon misdirect us," she pointed out, frowning.

"Let 'em know the stakes then. Let 'em know that if they are stupid enough t' lie, that the First One might be pissed enough to kick 'em and their whole troupe off world."

"Uncle! You wouldn't do that!" Lady Brushtail exclaimed.

"For this, the hell I wouldn't," he declared. "If I find that damned buck and it turns out he did murder the Forrows, I might just send him back into the same bloody power cell he got pulled out of."

Nan cleared her throat and dared to ask, "What do you want me to do, sir?"

The First One looked her over with his green eyes, his expression unreadable. "Start stamping my signature code on any paperwork that comes in. I need to ride this problem until it's fixed, and I don't want any frelling bureaucrats whining t' me about their forms not being filled out proper. Got it?"

"Yes, sir," Nan mumbled. The First One stomped out of the treehouse, Ranger Freya, Lady Brushtail and Skyler followed to attend to their duties. When they were gone she booted up the First One's terminal and started to grind through his e-mail, trying to pretend that she was useful...

TBC