Cast

Disclaimer: All characters herein are copyright © Kitty White. This story may not be sold or used for commercial profit in any way, shape or form, nor may this story be modified in any way. This story may not be posted on any other Internet site without written permission of the author, nor distributed on print, magnetic, electrical or optical mediums.

Dramatis Personae

Blanche du Chat: Age: 30, Species: Domestic Feline

Raised as a Southern Belle, Blanche grew up in Savannah, Georgia, only child of a successful industrialist and his socialite wife. Sent to the University of Georgia to get her MRS. Degree, an economics professor discovered her talent for manipulating money and encouraged her to pursue a career instead of a husband. Her mother finds her incomprehensible, her father finds her somewhat intimidating, and as a result Blanche does not spend much time with her family. While investigating a possible investment opportunity, she met Artemis, rescued her, and has set up a think tank called The Idea Factory with her. Blanche is very self-sufficient. She is sometimes thought to be concerned with nothing but money, but she is extremely loyal to the few friends she has.

Artemis Drake: Age: Unknown, Species: Dragon (or so she was told)

Artemis is a fifteen-foot-long orange dragon, unique in this world. She was found unconscious in the New Mexico desert and brought to a military base to be studied. Once she had recovered and been taught English, the scientists studying her discovered that she was a genius. Capable in all areas of science, she is especially interested in computers and robotics and spends most of her research time involved in those areas. No one knows where she came from, or how she got here, not even Artemis herself. After fifteen years of being studied by the scientists at the base and exploited for her technical abilities by the government, she is discovered by Blanche, who rescues her through a combination of bribery, blackmail, and fast-talking. Artemis now runs the scientific side of The Idea Factory and has bought an apartment building in the rundown neighborhood around the Factory. Somewhat innocent due to being locked up for fifteen years, she has a rather direct way of fixing the injustices she sees around her. She loves children, finding their curiosity and honesty equal to her own.

Helen Waite: Age: 30, Species: Weasel

Counsel of Record for The Idea Factory, Helen met Blanche at the University of Georgia, which she was attending on a scholarship. After joining the same sorority, they became best friends, even collaborating on their senior projects. Blanche covered the financial end of a corporate takeover while Helen handled the legal aspects. After law school and passing the bar, Helen began practicing corporate law and quickly became known for finding loopholes in the most airtight contract. Having grown up poor, she loves the luxuries her success brings her and flaunts her money at every opportunity. Cold and calculating in the courtroom, only her closest friends know her slightly softer side.

Brett Gardner: Age: 35, Species: Lop-Eared Rabbit

Dr. Gardner was arrested when the ecological group he was associated with spiked trees in an old-growth forest, killing five loggers. As the only member of the group who could be found, he ended up being sentenced for five counts of involuntary manslaughter. An extremely talented botanist, Dr. Gardner had been corresponding with Artemis until his incarceration. Artemis sent Blanche and Helen to hire him to head up the botany research for The Idea Factory. Dr. Gardner is an almost fanatical conservationist, insisting on recycling and doing all he can to keep the planet green and growing.

Leroy Brown: Age: 42, Species: Orangutan

Dr. Brown was a promising organic chemist, working on less toxic fuel production methods until he insulted a highly placed general and had his funding yanked. Disgusted with the interference of ignorant officials, he became a bomb manufacturer, selling his services to anyone who could pay his price, provided they promised no innocents would be harmed. Recently, a bomb of his manufacture was detonated in an elementary school during class, killing and wounding many children. Horrified and disgusted with himself, he was prepared to turn himself over to the police when Blanche approached him and offered him a job with The Idea Factory. Dr. Brown is not the most sociable soul, and has a very sharp, very short temper, not to mention extraordinary strength.

More character sketches will be added as more main characters are added.

Chapter one - rough beginnings

Blanche and Artemis stood on the sidewalk, looking at the complex of run-down warehouses before them. Artemis sighed heavily and peered down at her friend. "Are you sure about this, Blanche?" she asked, her voice heavy with doubt. "It’s in pretty bad shape. The buildings will fall down around our ears." She turned back to look at the recently-acquired property again as a chilly breeze blew trash against her scaly legs.

Blanche pulled her gaze away from the buildings in question to smile warmly at her unique business partner. "I told you I’d get you outta that horrible cage, and I did," she pointed out, her Southern accent drawing out her words, lending them a lazy confidence. "I told you I’d find a way for you to earn a livin’ doin’ somethin’ you enjoy, and I have. Now I’m tellin’ you this place is perfect, and it is. The buildin’s are structurally sound – they’re just ugly. Little paint, little landscapin’, and we’ll have one of the best-lookin’ places in town." Blanche patted her friend’s side encouragingly. "You gotta learn to trust me, darlin’." A subtle murmur reached her ears, and the snowy feline glanced casually over her shoulder to catch a glimpse of a small crowd forming in front of the tenements across the street from the warehouses. Blanche chuckled softly to herself, amused by the effect Artemis had on most furs – curiosity and a touch of fear.

Blanche returned her attention to the buildings, mentally planning which structures would be renovated first. Artemis stepped forward and clawed at the barren ground, wondering what sort of landscaping could be done with dirt the consistency of concrete. She flicked aside a couple of used syringes with a moue of disgust. "How can anyone live like this?" Blanche was prevented from replying by the purring roar of a well-tuned engine coming down the street. A 1932 Rolls Royce Silver Phaeton pulled to a stop and a huge ursine in spotless livery emerged to help his passenger from the car. A sleek weasel stepped out of the vehicle, her fashionable yellow suit in sharp contrast to the dingy street.

The weasel picked her way daintily across the street to join the other two fems. "It’s rather… industrial," she said diplomatically. Her gaze wandered dubiously over the warehouses, noting the trash lying about between the buildings.

Blanche laughed. "Now Helen, I know it doesn’t look like much right now, but think of the potential." The weasel just shook her head. "Oh, where are my manners?" she smiled. "Helen, this is my partner, Artemis. Artemis, this is our attorney, Helen Waite." Having performed the introductions, Blanche stepped back to gauge Helen’s reaction.

Artemis watched the lawyer warily. Helen managed to maintain the mildly interested expression she habitually wore in court as she examined the being before her. Golden, slit-pupilled eyes watched her every move as she studied the reptilian head dominated by a mouthful of extremely sharp teeth. The head was mounted on a long, serpentine neck that led to a powerful body and long, muscular tail. The whole was covered in sturdy orange scales, shading from a pale sunrise hue along her spine to burnt orange covering her belly. Short, sturdy legs tipped with wicked-looking talons supported her fifteen-foot length, and vast orange bat-like wings lay folded across her back. Helen took a deep breath and returned her focus to Artemis’ face. "When Blanche said you were unique," she said, eyes a bit wide, "she didn’t say how unique." Helen glanced along the powerful length of what she had always considered a mythical creature. "It is a pleasure to meet you, Artemis, and I must say that I am glad I am working for you." She smiled charmingly. "I believe you would be quite an intimidating opponent."

Artemis relaxed a bit and smiled herself. "It is a pleasure to meet you as well, Helen." She cocked an eyeridge. "From what Blanche has told me about you, I’m quite glad you’re on our team. I may be somewhat overwhelming, physically," she grinned, "but I understand you are the most devious corporate attorney in the country. I would not want to try to get around you in court."

Blanche sagged a bit from relief, glad her best friend and her partner had come to terms so quickly. "So, Helen," she said, waving a hand at the warehouses, "tell us what we need to get this thing going."

* * * * *

Helen began to chuckle as she walked into the Florida room and spotted the huge black and purple tent pitched on the rolling lawn behind Blanche’s house. "Circus in town?" she asked with a grin.

"Hardly," Blanche replied with a slight grimace. "Havin’ a fifteen-foot-long partner requires a bit of ingenuity in the housin’ department." She led the way outside and into the tent where Artemis lounged on a pile of multicolored pillows. Waving Helen to the table set up in front of the dragon, Blanche headed for a smaller table with a large urn and several cups. "Coffee?"

"Please," the weasel replied, setting her briefcase on the table and taking a seat with a sigh. Accepting a steaming cup from Blanche, she opened her case and began removing papers. "Which do you want first, the good news or the bad news?"

Blanche glanced at Artemis for a moment. "The good news, please. Might make the rest more palatable."

Helen nodded and opened the top folder. "The good news is that The Idea Factory is now officially incorporated. Officers are as follows: Artemis Drake, president; Blanche du Chat, vice-president; W.P. George, secretary." She looked up at the dragon. "I didn’t realize you had a last name."

Artemis shrugged a bit. "I don’t. Artemis isn’t my real first name, either, I don’t think. It’s just what the scientists called me. Blanche seemed to think a last name was needed, and Smith or Jones just didn’t sound right."

The attorney blinked a bit, wondering what scientists she was referring to, then returned her attention to the incorporation forms. "Who is this George person? I see a signature, and it looks vaguely familiar, but…"

Blanche laughed. "Don’t tell me you’ve already forgotten your favorite roommate, Helen."

Helen’s eyes opened wide. "Wil?! You made Wil George an officer in your company? Have you finally lost what little sanity you had?!" Blanche just grinned as the weasel shook her head in dismay. "How did you manage to get her signature?"

"It wasn’t easy, believe me," she chuckled, still grinning widely. "I had to wade through the Clydesdale Weight Lifting Team to get to her. Same old Wil." Blanche winked wickedly. "She assures me that their muscles aren’t their biggest attraction." Helen blushed under her fur as Artemis looked on, confused. "It’s okay, darlin’," she continued, trying to reassure her attorney. "Wil promised she wouldn’t take a bit of interest in the company unless we come up with an improvement on Viagra or the Fountain of Youth. She’ll be fine. Promise."

Helen sighed and handed copies of the papers to Blanche. "On your head, lady." Putting her copies back in her briefcase, Helen took a swallow of coffee and stared moodily into her cup.

Sitting back in her chair, Blanche reached over and patted Helen on the shoulder. "So now the bad news. How bad is it?"

Helen set her cup down and rubbed her face with her paws. She looked up at Artemis, then over at Blanche, frustration written on her features. "One for, six against. Again. This time, they said they didn’t think this was an appropriate business for that area." She slammed her fist on the table, nearly spilling her coffee. "I think all our brilliant manuvering in the past has caught up with us."

Artemis stretched her neck to peer at the discouraged attorney. "Let me see if I understand this," she began quietly. "The city council has voted against us again, almost unanimously. We can’t get started until they vote for us, unanimously. This requirement of total agreement came about at the same meeting where we were turned down the first time." She pulled herself out of the cushions and began to pace, her voice and velocity rising with each statement. "We submitted our plans the first time, and were given a list of revisions. We made the changes, and a few more they didn’t ask for, just to show our good intentions. They rejected them again, quoting obscure codes that haven’t been enforced in decades. We made more changes. The property and plans have been inspected at least three times by every petty little bureaucrat with a clipboard in this entire godsforsaken state. We have complied with every idiotic, inane request they have made. We have met every ridiculous requirement! We have more safety features planned than a nuclear plant! Now they say our business is inappropriate for that area! I suppose if we were opening a liquor store, or a pawn shop, or one of those places with all the naked dancers they would approve right away! I have been cooped up in this stupid tent twiddling my talons for five entire weeks and I am sick and tired of just sitting around!! You two are supposed to be the best financial genious and corporate attorney in this entire country and we still are stuck sitting here!!!" She spun around, her head stopping inches from the two fems behind the table. "DO SOMETHING!!!!" she roared.

It took every ounce of her willpower to keep Helen from scrambling under the table in the face of the raging dragon. Blanche swallowed hard. "Calm down, Artie," she said, her voice trembling slightly. Blanche had never seen Artemis quite this angry, even at her former captors. "Look, we’ve tried everythin’ we can, legally."

Artemis pulled back slightly and growled, "So there’s nothing we can do. They win." She flopped back on the cushions in defeat.

Helen straightened her suit, giving her a chance to get her panicked breathing back under control. She glanced at Blanche, who gave an almost imperceptible nod. "She said ‘legally,’ Artemis." The attorney pulled a cell phone and a little black book from her briefcase. Blanche stood and headed for the tent entrance to get her own phone and Rolodex. "Now," she continued, a grim smile stretching her muzzle, "we try a bit of friendly persuasion."

Artemis looked confused. "What do you mean?"

"Listen and learn, darlin’." Blanche paused at the entrance, an evil grin displaying her fangs. "We ain’t licked yet."

* * * * *

Three hours and an urn of coffee later, Blanche set her phone down with a satisfied smirk. "That’s five," she announced, standing and stretching from her fingertips to her toes.

Artemis stared at the two fems, shock and disbelief warring with admiration on her face. "You call that friendly persuasion?" she asked, eyeridges raised. "I’d hate to see you two get unfriendly."

Helen chuckled tiredly and leaned back, her fingers laced behind her head. "Of course it was friendly," she said, smiling. "We never raised our voices, and we only threatened to send their minor naughtiness to the press. We could have been much nastier."

The dragon thought about that for a moment. "Makes me very glad you two are on my side in this," she said finally. "What about the one who’s always voted for us? Can we count on her not to change her vote?"

Cat and weasel looked at each other with identical expressions of disgust. "Oh, don’t worry about her." Blanche waved a paw in the air in dismissal, looking like she’d just bitten into a rotten lemon. "She’d vote yea even if we were openin’ a whorehouse caterin’ to pedophiles, as long as it was run by fems. Women like that give feminism a bad name."

Helen nodded in agreement. "Webster’s going to be a problem, though. He’s the exact opposite." Artemis looked confused again, so Helen elaborated. "He’s a fundamentalist Christian. Believes fems are inferior and belong at home raising kits and keeping house. He’s against any sort of woman-run enterprise. And he’s clean." She shook her head tiredly, then noticed the dragon still seemed lost. "There’s nothing we can use to ‘encourage’ him," she explained. "He’s faithfully married, doesn’t drink or do drugs, no financial shenanigans, nothing."

Artemis rested her head on her forefeet, eyes closed. Blanche and Helen began gathering their notes and tidying up the table. Eyes still closed, the dragon murmured softly, almost to herself, "So we can’t use fear of exposure…" Blanche paused in her cleaning efforts and nudged Helen, cocking her head toward her partner. The feline had seen Artemis like this once before, when contemplating an unorthodox solution to a problem, though that time it had been increasing the torque of a motor. Artemis peered at the others through slitted eyes. "But there are other types of fear…"

* * * * *

Blanche and Helen almost danced into the huge tent after the council meeting, each carrying a magnum of champagne. "We did it!" Blanche shouted, bouncing around in a small circle. "Seven for, none against, the contractors start in the morning!" She dug out a huge balloon snifter, popped the cork on one of the bottles, and filled it almost to the brim with sparkling wine. She handed it to the drake with a grin, then turned to accept a normal-sized glass from her beaming attorney.

"To The Idea Factory!" Helen announced, lifting her own glass in a toast. The three fems drained their glasses, then giggled, all of them giddy with relief. The two smaller furs collapsed into the cushions with Artemis and refilled their glasses. "I do wonder," Helen mused thoughtfully, "what made Webster change his mind. I was certain he would block us again."

Artemis drank down her second glass and grinned toothily. "Just took a little friendly persuasion."

Chapter two - friends in low places

Artemis stood in the street, watching the crews cleaning up the warehouse property. Since the approval of the city council she had spent several hours each day watching the progress, mentally encouraging them to work faster. She had even tried to help once, but gave up when she realized the workers stopped and stared instead of doing something. She sat on her haunches and wrapped her tail around her feet, envisioning the finished complex with a hint of a smile. Her reverie was broken by a small voice near her right foreleg. "Hi," it said brightly. Artemis snaked her head around to spy a little fox kit in a worn coat a size too small and ragged jeans at least two sizes too big looking up at her with a huge smile. "You’re a dragon, ain’t you."

Artemis started to smile back, then remembered her fangs and kept her lips closed. "Yes, I’m a dragon," she answered pleasantly. "What are you?" She examined the child more closely, spotting a blue ribbon tied in a bow around a soft shock of russet headfur and assuming it was female.

The girl giggled. "I’m a fox, silly," she responded. "I knowed you was a dragon. I readed a book once about dragons and it had pictures and you look just like ‘em." She looked Artemis over carefully. "I bet you’re one of them nice dragons."

Artemis raised an eyeridge. "Oh? Why do you think so?"

The little fox pulled at the too-short sleeves of her coat. "I seen you out here every day for a week, and I ain’t seen you eat nobody. So you gotta be nice." Artemis chuckled and the girl smiled. "Will you be my friend, Mr. Dragon? I don’t got many friends here."

Artemis blinked. "I don’t have many friends here either," she said softly. "I would be honored to be your friend, but I’m a girl dragon, not a boy dragon." She held out one talon in an offer to shake. "My name’s Artemis, but you can call me Artie if you like."

The kit wrapped both hands around the proffered claw and grinned. "I’m Keisha. Sorry I thought you was a boy dragon, Artie. You don’t wear no clothes, and you ain’t got no bumps, so it’s hard to tell." Artemis giggled and Keisha joined her. "So," Keisha asked, eyes sparkling, "can you really fly, and what do you eat if you don’t eat people, and where do you live, and how do you find a bathroom big enough, and…….."

* * * * *

Blanche arrived at the complex and was pleased to see that after two weeks of work the area was coming along nicely. The first three warehouses to be occupied now had windows and normal-sized doors, and through the windows in the front building she spied the sheetrock walls that would define the offices of the management area. The garbage that had littered the grounds was gone now as well, though the hard-packed dirt was still less than attractive. "One thing at a time," she muttered to herself and headed for a group of hard-hatted furs pouring over blueprints.

A grizzled beaver noticed her approach and stepped away from the rest of the group, meeting Blanche halfway to the building. "Ms. Du Chat?" he asked. At her nod, he introduced himself. "I’m Colin O’Malley, the foreman. We spoke on the phone."

Blanche shook hands with the head of her construction crew. "Nice work, Mr. O’Malley," she complimented. "Now, what was this about a security problem?" The beaver led her over to the building that was to be the computer lab and stopped. "I see…" Blanche said thoughtfully. The entire side of the building, as well as several piles of materials, had been painted with abstract spray-can art. The feline found herself admiring the artistic ability involved and shook her head at the foolishness of thinking vandalism was pretty.

"You’re going to need some sort of security here at night, Ms. Du Chat," O’Malley spoke up. "That big orange lizard-looking thing does just fine during the day, but somebody is getting in here after dark."

Blanche chuckled softly. "That ‘big orange lizard-lookin’ thing,’ as you put it, happens to be my business partner." The foreman’s eyes got big. Not wanting to make him any more uncomfortable, Blanche returned to business. "Let’s see… A fence around the entire property, with gates at each entrance, and someone to patrol it. Would that work, do you think?"

"That should do it," O’Malley responded. "I know a crew that can have a chain-link fence up by tomorrow afternoon."

Blanche nodded. "Set that up, then, if you would." She thought for a moment. "Can you recommend a security firm? I’m afraid I’ve never needed one before."

O’Malley squirmed slightly, causing Blanche’s eyebrows to lift. "I do know someone," he said slowly. "She’s very good, very reliable, and has a crew on call."

"But?" Blanche asked, watching him closely. "What’s the catch?"

The beaver hesitated, took a deep breath, then blurted out, "She really needs the work." He took off his hardhat and scrubbed a paw through his headfur. "Her last employer expected her to provide other services, if you know what I mean." Blanche nodded slowly. "She ended up having to do some physical damage to convince him no meant no, and he had her blacklisted."

Blanche tapped her chin thoughtfully. "Give me her number," she finally said. "Everyone deserves a second chance."

* * * * *

Keisha screamed "Wheeeeeee!!!!!" as Artemis cupped her wings and dropped her tail, coming to a perfect landing on the apartment house roof. The dragon folded her wings and curled up, letting the fox kit slide from her shoulders. "That was great!" Artemis smiled and nudged her into the circle made from her body and tail, sheltering her from the chill wind. "You’re the bestest friend ever!"

Artemis laid her head on the roof so that she and Keisha could be eye to eye. "You’re a pretty good friend yourself," she smiled. "I’ve had more fun in the last week than I have in the last fifteen years." The girl smiled back and snuggled against the warm, scaly bulk surrounding her. Artemis closed her eyes in thought for a moment, then opened them again. "Tell me about your family, Keisha."

Keisha shrugged. "It’s just Mama and Antoine and me," she said, a serious expression on her little face. "Antoine’s daddy was killed a long time ago, and my daddy wasn’t a very nice man. He used to hit Mama and take all her money to buy drugs and never did nothing else. He went away ‘bout a year ago and took the TV and Antoine’s radio and some other things." Keisha looked sad for a moment, then brightened. "Mama says that’s okay, though. She says he left behind the bestest things – me and Antoine. She says we’re better than all the money in the world."

Artemis tried to keep the sadness from her voice. "Your mama is right. I think you’re better than all the money in the world, too." She thought a moment more. "Can I ask you something else?" Keisha nodded, curious. "Why is everything in your apartment always broken?"

Keisha frowned. "Most of it was like that when we came here. It’s all real old. Mama said that Mr. Miller – he’s the super – won’t fix anything unless we give him extra money and Mama said she barely makes enough to keep body and soul together. She works in a daycare, and they don’t give her much money even though she works all the time and never drops no babies. Mr. Miller must be really rich, though."

Artemis’ eyes narrowed. "Why do you say that?"

"Everything in his apartment works," Keisha answered. "And he has a huge TV that gets a hundred channels and a big stereo with lots of CDs and fancy clothes and tons of food and stuff." She tugged at the too-short sleeves of her coat, trying to keep her thin wrists covered. "Sometimes he invites the big girls in to watch TV or listen to music, and sometimes he gives them jewelry and stuff. But sometimes they’re crying when they leave, and once Taffy came out and she had a black eye and her clothes was torn. Mama said that I should never go in there, not even if he offers me ice cream or candy. She says he’s a bad man."

The dragon’s eyes drifted closed once more. "Your mama is a very smart person," she said softly. "You’re lucky to have her." A comfortable silence held for a few minutes, then Artemis popped one eye open. "It’s getting dark, fuzzball." Keisha giggled at the nickname. "Your very smart mama will be home soon, so you should be too."

Keisha hopped up and threw her arms around the dragon’s neck as far as they would go. "Okay, Artie," she giggled. "I’ll see you tomorrow." Artemis gently mussed her headfur with one talon and gave her a little shove toward the roof door. "I love you!" Keisha called as she skipped merrily home.

Artemis watched her little friend disappear through the door, then dropped her head to the roof again, eyes closed. "I wonder…" she murmured to herself, lost in thought. Twenty minutes later she opened her eyes, stretched, and dove off the roof, her expression one of fierce determination.

* * * * *

Blanche immediately spotted the security expert when she entered the restaurant. Even seated, the khaki slacks and white blouse did nothing to soften the black jaguar’s muscular physique. Blanche approached the table, noting that the feline sat with her back to the wall and continuously scanned the room. "You must be Ebony," she said, holding out her paw.

"Ms. Du Chat," the jaguar responded, standing and taking her paw in a firm grip. Blanche motioned to the chairs, and both sat as a waitress scurried up to take their orders. When the girl had left, Ebony leaned back in her chair. "I understand you’re looking for a security team," she began.

Blanche nodded, then waited until their drinks had been delivered before continuing. "That’s right. I’m startin’ up a business and the site needs a lot of work. We’ve had a little trouble with some graffiti, and I want to make sure that it doesn’t turn into somethin’ truly destructive."

"Wise precaution," Ebony responded. She handed a thin folder to Blanche. "Here is my resume and a few references." Blanche flipped through the papers, scanning the resume quickly but reading each reference carefully. Their meals arrived as she read, and Ebony dug into her steak with ravenous appetite.

Blanche finished reading and watched her dinner companion over the top of the folder for a few moments as the food on her plate quickly disappeared. She set the papers down and asked with a smile, "Tryin’ to get as much of that eaten as you can before I ask why you haven’t worked in two months?"

Ebony swallowed and set down her knife and fork. "Something like that." She shrugged. "I had a bit of a disagreement with my last employer."

"So I heard," Blanche interrupted. "Colin O’Malley gave me your number, and he told me why you needed work." Ebony looked up, defiant, and Blanche quickly added, "I understand you were asked to provide services not covered in the contract. I don’t blame you for doin’ what was necessary to convince your former employer that you were not available for that sort of employment." The jaguar relaxed slightly, but still looked suspicious. Blanche picked up a slim portfolio from beside her chair, drew out a contract, and handed it to Ebony. "I have a complex of ten warehouses that needs to be patrolled while they’re bein’ remodeled," she explained as Ebony scanned the contract. "The property will be fenced by tomorrow afternoon, I’m told. I want the grounds watched day and night, but I’d prefer no dead bodies if you can help it." The jaguar glanced up and smiled slightly. "This contract is good for two weeks at what I understand is slightly above the going rate. After that, we’ll see about further employment. You’ll see that accordin’ to the contract you will be answerable to only myself and my partner, Artemis."

Ebony finished reading the contract and set it on the table. One corner of her mouth quirked up. "I’m sure we’ll get along just fine. When do we start?"

Blanche smiled. "Tomorrow evenin’ should be fine. Welcome aboard, Ebony."

* * * * *

Artemis landed on the street in front of The Idea Factory and flapped her wings a few times before folding them. The scattered trash along the road still annoyed her, but she hadn’t figured out a way to get rid of it. A pile of rags against a building caught her eye because it continued to move and twitch even after the wind from her arrival died down. Curious, she padded over to investigate. As she lowered her head toward the cloth, she heard a small squeak. To her surprise, three pairs of eyes peeked out at her from the bundle of rags. "Don’t be scared," Artemis whispered soothingly. "I won’t hurt you." The rags settled a bit to reveal an adult mel skunk and two little ones. "What are you doing out here in the cold?"

"We don’t have anywhere to go," one of the small ones answered in a squeaky voice. "Daddy doesn’t have a job and we don’t have a house any more." The father looked torn between terror and shame.

Artemis cocked her head in thought as the father shushed his child. "Well, it’s far too cold to be camping out tonight," she said with a ghost of a smile. "You don’t bite, do you?" The two children giggled and shook their heads as the father looked on wearily. "In that case," she continued, "you could stay with me tonight. I’ve always wanted to have a slumber party. Do you like pizza?"

* * * * *

Blanche looked over Artemis’ new abode. The plain walls of the warehouse had been hung with big swatches of gold, yellow, red, and orange fabric, softening the stark lines, and thick, chocolate-colored carpet cushioned the floor. A big pile of pillows in the same colors filled one corner as a bed, couch, or whatever was needed. Half of the big building had been walled off to form a private research laboratory for the dragon, who just then padded through the doorway. "Very nice," Blanche complimented. "Very comfy."

Artemis smiled. "Thanks. Here…" She reached behind one of the wall hangings and pulled out a card table and a folding chair which she set up in front of the pile of cushions. Blanche sat and set her briefcase on the table. "So, how are we doing?"

Blanche opened her case and pulled out a stack of papers, which she handed to Artemis. "These are resumes from the scientists that have applied to us so far. See what you think. Oh, and I hired a security firm to keep an eye on the grounds. They start tomorrow night, so I want you to say hello."

"Sure," Artemis mumbled, looking through the pile of resumes. Blanche leaned back in her chair and closed her eyes, resting while Artemis read. Ten minutes passes with no sounds but the rustle of turning pages. The dragon sighed and sorted the papers into three piles. "These won’t work," she announced. Blanche opened her eyes and leaned forward. Artemis tapped a claw on the first pile. "These pride themselves on doing what they call ‘pure’ research, which means they spend a lot of time and money on things that have no practical application whatsoever." She moved her attention to the middle pile, much larger than the other two. "These are followers, not leaders. They would be fine as assistants, but they don’t get anything done unless they’re told exactly what to do." She picked up the third pile and shredded it, much to Blanche’s surprise. "These don’t set foot on the property," she said with finality.

"Whyever not?" Blanche asked, eyeing the remains of the resumes. "You do realize you’ve just said no to every single applicant we had, doncha?"

Artemis sank back into the cushions and pushed one of the wall hangings aside, revealing a computer terminal on a wheeled cart. She pulled it around so that the oversized keyboard was in a comfortable typing position and peered over the monitor as her talons blurred over the keys. "The folks in that last stack would sell their best friend for a cup of coffee, Blanche. Even the worst of the scientists that were holding me wouldn’t work with them." Artemis pushed the computer cart off to the side a bit as the quiet hum of a laser printer came from behind another hanging. "We agreed in the beginning that you would handle all the financial and legal stuff and leave the science to me," she pointed out. "There’s no point in starting out with idealists, plodders, and spies. You’ll be broke within six months if we do." The printer noise stopped and the dragon fished out a small stack of paper and handed it to Blanche. "These are the scientists we want. They’re imaginative, practical, and among the best in their fields. Believe me, I’ve followed all their work closely."

The cat began to read the top sheet, then gasped and stared at her partner in disbelief. "This one’s in jail on five counts of manslaughter!" she exclaimed.

"Involuntary manslaughter," Artemis corrected. "He was the only one of the group they caught, so he took the punishment. He didn’t actually do the crime."

Blanche turned to the next page. "And this one is suspected of makin’ the bomb that killed ten and wounded over a hundred at that elementary school last month!" she exclaimed.

"They lied to him," Artemis insisted. "He was told the bomb would be detonated when the school was empty."

Blanche flipped through the remaining pages, then looked at Artemis. "You’re askin’ me to hire terrorists and criminals, Artie. Have you lost your ever-lovin’ mind?"

Artemis leaned forward, resting her head on her crossed front legs. "No," she said quietly. "I’m telling you to hire talented scientists who have made some bad choices but are the best in their fields. They are the type of people we need, Blanche. You do want to make a profit, don’t you?"

Blanche considered for a long moment as Artemis’ eyes drifted closed. "Okay, fine, Artie," she said finally. "I’ll see what I can do." She shook her head wearily. "Anythin’ else?"

"Do you have a few minutes to talk, Blanche?" Artemis asked. Without waiting for a response, she continued, "Why are the people who live in those buildings across the street so poor? Some of them work very hard, but they don’t have much of anything."

Blanche settled back and tried to figure out how to explain the nasty side of reality to the relatively innocent dragon. "Well," she began, "some of it is drug and alcohol abuse. Some of it is all this downsizin’ goin’ on. People who had upper level jobs have been laid off and are takin’ the lower level jobs, forcing those without much trainin’ or education out of the workforce. And some of them are just lazy, Artie. It’s not pretty, but it’s the way things work."

Artemis thought about this for a few minutes. "I guess I understand," she said. Another silence stretched, then she asked, "You buy a lot of stuff, don’t you?"

Blanche smiled. "I sell a lot, too. Why?"

The dragon, eyes still closed, replied, "If you see something you want, but you don’t know if it’s for sale, or even who owns it, how do you find out?"

"Depends on what it is, Artie."

"A piece of property. Say, a building, for instance."

"Oh, buildin’s are easy," Blanche said with a grin. "Just look up the address at city hall. That’ll tell you who owns it. But Artie, buyin’ a buildin’ takes money, and I’ve got most of my capital tied up in the Factory."

Artemis shook her head. "This is personal, Blanche, not business. You just told me what I needed to know. Thanks. I’ll see you tomorrow."

Blanche stared at her partner. "What are you fixin’ to do, Artie?" she asked, worried.

"Nothing you need to worry about," she answered with a grin. "Just a little project to keep me occupied. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I think I’m going to call it a night."

Blanche stood and headed for the fur-sized door set in the larger, dragon-sized one. "Okay, Artie. Just don’t get in over your head. G’night."

"Good night, Blanche. And don’t worry, everything will be fine."

"Famous last words," Blanche muttered as she stepped out into the night.

Chapter three - good help is easy to find, if you know where to look

Artemis thumped to the street in front of the Factory and shook a thin coating of ice from the edges of her wings before folding them. The weather had turned nasty, typical for this area, with a freezing mist making the air feel even colder than it actually was. She turned to enter the complex and gave an exasperated sigh when confronted with the new fence and gate. "Three days and I still can’t remember this is here," she muttered to herself, unfurling her wings and backing up a few steps to loft herself over the barrier.

Just as she was about to take off, a familiar voice started yelling, "Artie! Artie! She took Antoine! You gotta get him out before she hurts him! Artie!"

Artemis swung her head around to see Keisha running full-tilt toward her, tears streaming down her face. The dragon dropped her head to block the girl’s rush. "Calm down, Keisha," she said soothingly. "Who took Antoine where?"

Keisha skidded to a halt just short of the dragon’s muzzle. "A big black cat lady took him in there!" she shouted, pointing at the management building of the Factory. "She’s gonna hurt him. I just know it! You gotta help him, Artie!" The fox kit stood there, panting and looking scared and miserable.

Must be the new security person, Artemis thought to herself. Blanche did say she was a black feline. "I’ll take care of it, Keisha, but I need some information first." She peered at her little friend. "What was Antoine doing inside the fence in the first place?"

Keisha ground her toes into the street nervously. "He said not to tell," she whispered. Artemis cocked her head and waited. The girl wriggled about a few more minutes, and then concern for her brother overwhelmed her duty to not be a tattletale. "He was gonna paint the buildings," she said softly. "He climbed the fence and was gonna make s’more pictures, and then that mean cat lady grabbed him and took him inside and I don’t know what to do!" The last came out as a wail, accompanied by more tears.

Artemis nodded and shushed the child. "Calm down, calm down. I’ll take care of it. Now, is your mama home?" Keisha nodded miserably. "Okay, here’s what we do. I’m going to go inside and see what’s going on. You go get your mama and bring her to the gate. I’ll have someone let you in and we’ll get all this straightened out." Keisha sagged with relief that a big person was going to take over, then ran off to her home. Artemis turned, took a few running steps, and launched herself over the fence, landing next to the management building, which also housed the security offices.

She pictured the blueprints in her head, then walked around to the back of the building to find the door marked ‘Security’. She stared at the fur-sized door for a moment. "I told Blanche we needed bigger doors," she muttered, then tapped on it with one talon before pushing it open. "Knock, knock, anybody home?" she inquired politely before sticking her head through the opening.

Artemis started a bit when the black jaguar whirled and dropped into a shooter’s crouch, her jaw dropping as she aimed an automatic pistol between the huge golden eyes confronting her. "You know," Artemis said thoughtfully, looking at the gun, "unless you have armor-piercing bullets in that thing, all you’re going to do is give me a headache, even at this range." The cat blinked twice, but the gun never wavered. "I’m Artemis. I work here. I live here, in fact. Didn’t Blanche tell you?"

Ebony closed her mouth and slowly lowered the gun and stood, still watching the dragon warily. "She didn’t mention your species." Artemis chuckled. "I caught your trespasser." Ebony stood aside, revealing a teenage mel. Artemis studied him carefully. He was built like a fox – same ears, pointy muzzle, and bottlebrush tail – but instead of the normal russet fur with black accents, he was black with white hands, feet, throat, and tail tip. He also looked extremely nervous.

"Wh… what are you?" He asked in a wavering, awed voice.

"I’m a dragon," she replied with a smile, which seemed to make him even more uncomfortable. "Didn’t your sister mention me?"

The monochromatic fox’s eyes widened until Artemis was afraid they would fall right out of their sockets. "I thought she made you up," he whispered.

"Afraid not, Antoine," Artemis grinned. She turned to Ebony. "His mother and sister should be waiting at the gate. Would you bring them in please, so we can get this resolved?" The cat nodded and headed for the front of the building through an inner door, since the back door was blocked by several tons of dragon. "So you’re our mysterious artist," Artemis said, turning her attention back to the cringing fox. "Just out of curiosity, why have you been decorating our buildings?"

She watched him form and discard several responses before he answered. "They were there," he said with a shrug.

"This place is pretty boring to look at," Artemis said thoughtfully. "However, you were trespassing, which is illegal. You will have to be punished in some way." Antoine slumped in the chair, glumly awaiting his sentence. Several minutes of silence passed, then the inner door opened and Ebony escorted Keisha and a matronly, middle-aged fox in a worn but scrupulously clean coat into the room.

"Oh, thank you, Artie!" Keisha exclaimed as she ran over to hug her brother. She turned and pointed at Artemis. "This is my friend Artie, Mama," she said. "I told you she would fix things."

Dragon and fox sized each other up for a moment. "How do you do? I’m Brenda. Keisha has told me a lot about you." Artemis nodded in greeting. The woman turned to her son. "We will discuss this at home," she said sternly, causing the boy to slump even further. She turned back to Ebony. "Will you be pressing charges?"

Ebony looked to Artemis, who stood silent for a moment, impressed with the fox’s composure. Most couldn’t meet her eyes without trembling. "I don’t think that will be necessary," she said slowly. "After all, no real harm was done." The boy brightened. "However," she continued, much to Antoine’s dismay, "I do think some sort of restitution should be made."

Keisha’s mother took a deep breath and sighed. "We don’t have much money, but he will pay whatever you think is appropriate."

"Actually, I had something of a trade in mind, rather than a fine," Artemis corrected. She turned to Antoine. "You’re right. The buildings are kinda plain. So how about you fix that. You paint my home and the computer lab for free – I’ll supply the paint. If I like what I see, we can discuss the rest of the property and payment for your work." She turned to his mother. "Does that sound fair to you?"

The woman thought, looking at her son. "He can only work on weekends," she said. "I won’t have this get in the way of his education."

Artemis nodded, smiling. "That is acceptable." She held out a talon to Antoine. "Welcome aboard."

* * * * *

"Hey, Gardner," the guard called. "Your lawyer’s here to see ya." The rabbit stood and brushed the dirt of the vegetable patch off his coveralls, then headed for the main building.

His progress was suddenly blocked by a young wolf who had gang symbols shaved into his head and facial fur. "Awww… what a sweet wittle bunny wabbit," the wolf drawled. "Wanna play chase, bunny?"

Much to his surprise, the wolf found himself flying through the air to land in a heap on the ground. Two hulking tigers leaned over the rabbit. "You okay, Brett?" the larger of the two asked. Brett nodded, pulled a bag of green leaves out of his pocket, and handed it to the tiger. "The good stuff?" the other whispered furtively. Brett nodded again. The two felines hi-fived each other and walked away grinning. "You da man," one hollered over his shoulder. The rabbit just shook his head and continued on his way, vaguely annoyed that circumstances had forced him into paying for protection with illegally grown catmint.

In the visiting area, only one table was occupied. Brett stopped and stared, confused. His lawyer was an old rat, a public defender whose clothes never fit quite right and always stank of onions and old cigars. Instead of that tired attorney, two lovely, well-groomed fems sat at the table. The feline was snowy white, her long fur perfectly groomed, her purple suit beautifully tailored and obviously expensive. The weasel next to her almost glowed in a pumpkin-orange suit that contrasted sharply with her rich brown pelt. "Brett Gardner?" the cat asked in a pronounced Southern drawl. The rabbit nodded slowly. "Have a seat," she continued, indicating the chair across from her. "My name is Blanche du Chat, and this is my attorney, Helen Waite." Brett sat, wondering what other charges they had decided to manufacture against him. "We’re here to offer you your freedom and a job," the cat said with a smile.

"I’m afraid you’re wasting your time, ladies," Brett said, frowning. "I’m serving twenty to life for five counts of involuntary manslaughter. I don’t think the position will be open that long."

Helen reached into her briefcase and pulled out two folders. She opened the first one and set it in front of Brett. "This is a pardon, removing all charges from your record," she said, her face expressionless. She opened the second folder and set it beside the first. "This is an employment contract. Sign the second and the first goes into effect."

The rabbit closed both folders and crossed his arms. "I don’t sell out," he said firmly. "Not to government, not to big business. Find someone else to make your profit."

Helen sighed and turned to Blanche. "I told you this was a waste of time," she said. "Let’s go."

The feline peered at her companion. "He was at the top of the list," she said pointedly. "If we come back without him, she is liable to come down here herself to talk him into it." The weasel started to shrug, then her eyes widened. Blanche smiled sourly. "You did say you didn’t want any publicity about this."

Helen took a deep breath and faced Gardner, her expression determined. "The Idea Factory," she began, "is a think tank of sorts, dedicated to practical research. It is privately funded – no government grants, no big business money. I handle the legal aspects, Blanche is in charge of financial and administrative details, and her partner, Artemis, directs the science activities." She glanced at her notes, then continued. "You will have freedom to choose what you work on, provided it has practical application. While Artemis may make suggestions of areas of study, they will be just that – suggestions. You will have input on what is done with any patents you acquire, and will receive fifty percent of royalties, sale proceeds, etc. Twenty-five percent will go to fund additional research, and the remainder will be used for bonuses, salaries, and so forth. We have a 32,000 square-foot, four-story warehouse set aside for your laboratory, and your first task, should you choose to join us, will be meeting with the architect and contractors to decide how the lab should be laid out, and what equipment and supplies you will need." Helen set her notes down, clasped her hands on the table, and spoke earnestly to the slightly stunned rabbit. "This is the closest to complete research freedom you will ever be offered, Dr. Gardner. Artemis insisted that the first scientists we hired be creative, diligent, and good at what they do. You were the first one she wanted us to hire. She was quite adamant that you were the best person to head up the botany research and that we should do whatever was required to bring you on board."

Brett sat, his mind racing. My choice of research, my own lab, no government lackeys breathing down my neck – it almost sounds too good to be true. "What am I supposed to live on until I develop something I can patent?" he asked, trying to find the catch in the offer.

Blanche smiled and pointed to the folders on the table. "If you’ll look at the contract, you’ll see salary information, as well as a sign-on bonus." Brett opened the contract and glanced down, barely able to contain a gasp when he saw the amount of money they were offering. "I realize housin’ may be a problem right away," she continued, "so I’m offerin’ the use of my guest house until you find a place to live." She grinned. "Transportation will be provided as well, if you don’t have a car of your own. Really, Dr. Gardner, we’ll do whatever is necessary to hire you. Won’t you at least consider our offer?"

The rabbit examined the offer, tempted by it but still wary. Suddenly, something in the lawyer’s pitch clicked. "You said the person in charge of the actual research is Artemis?" he asked. The two women nodded, then glanced at each other and back to him. "Is this the same Artemis who was doing a variety of research at a military base in New Mexico?"

The women exchanged a long look. "Yes, it is," Blanche answered slowly. "She decided that she could accomplish more in a less… rigid… setting."

"I’ve been corresponding with her for a while. She is absolutely brilliant." Brett smiled, thinking and if she’s half as pretty as she is smart, this could be the perfect job! He began flipping through the contract, then looked up at the women. "So where do I sign?"

* * * * *

Artemis circled the area over Keisha’s building, peering down into the streets until she spotted the trucks from the construction company. She landed in front of the stoop just as the first truck turned the corner. "Rise and shine, Mr. Miller!" she bellowed. "The sun is shining and it’s a beautiful day for a new beginning!" As she waited for the super to make an appearance, the rest of the trucks pulled onto the street and parked, idling noisily.

Just as Artemis was afraid she would have to try to worm her way into the building to find him, the door opened. A middle-aged possum, filthy khaki pants and a ratty bathrobe covering his greasy fur, stood blinking in the thin winter sunlight, muttering curses. "Good morning, Mr. Miller," Artemis said cheerfully, wearing a toothy grin.

The aging mel looked up and abruptly panicked, faced with a huge fanged lizard. He flailed around a bit, then sat down hard. Artemis heard a giggle and spotted Keisha peering out the doorway, a handful of other tenants behind her. "What th’ hell are you?" Miller asked in a slurred voice.

Artemis leaned down so she was eye-to-eye with the abruptly seated possum and nearly reeled from the stench coming off of him. "I," she said loudly enough for those standing in the hall to hear, causing the hung over super to wince, "am the new owner of this building, Mr. Miller. And you are fired." She swung her head around to four very large construction workers standing beside the first truck. "Would you four be so kind as to escort Mr. Miller to his former residence and see that he removes his belongings please?" The four grinned and nodded, having been prepared for this by Artemis before leaving for the site.

They climbed the stoop, two of them taking Mr. Miller by his arms, their noses wrinkling as they got a whiff of him, and the other two opening a path to the super’s apartment. "You can’t do this to me!" he yelled as he gained his feet, struggling with the mels who held him.

Artemis leaned in close and spoke very softly, so that only Miller and the two holding his arms could hear. "Oh, I can, and I have. You should be grateful, Mr. Miller, that I prefer my meat cleaned and cooked." She pulled back as the sudden, sharp scent of fresh urine hit her, smiling at the spreading stain on the possum’s trousers. Glancing at the front of the building, she saw that many of the tenants had gathered in the entry hall as well as at the windows. As the construction workers dragged Miller off to his apartment, Artemis raised her voice again. "Ladies and gentlemen, my name is Artemis and I am the new owner of this building. I apologize for the early hour, but there is much to be done and I wanted to get as much done today as possible." The sound of a motor caused her to glance around, spotting the catering truck pulling into the vacant lot next to the building. "To make up for dragging you out of bed," she continued, looking back at the tenants, "I have provided breakfast for all of you." A hearty cheer rang out at that announcement. "I would like to explain what I plan to do today, so if you would listen just a moment more I would appreciate it." She turned and waved the construction crews forward. "These ladies and gentlemen will be coming to your apartments and making a list of everything that needs to be fixed or replaced. Please tell them exactly what needs to be done so we can make an accurate list. After you have spoken with them, come down, get some breakfast, and meet your new super. Thank you for your patience and understanding."

The construction teams headed into the building as the three skunks she had rescued stepped shyly forward. "Are you sure about this, Artie?" the father asked, staring at the building apprehensively. "They aren’t going to trust anyone after what that last super put them through."

Artemis smiled down at him and the two children hanging onto his pants legs. "Mike, once they meet you they’ll know you’re what they want. Trust me. I haven’t been wrong yet, have I?"

The adult skunk shook his head, but still looked unconvinced. Suddenly, Artemis felt something tackle her right foreleg. "Hi, Artie!" Keisha chirped, arms wrapped around the massive limb. "Is this the new super?"

The dragon laughed, nodded, and performed introductions. "This is my friend Keisha," she said, swinging her foreleg around to the skunks, causing the fox to squeal with glee. "Keisha, this is Mr. Mike Entrekin and these are his children, Drucilla and Jackson."

Keisha let go of the dragon and solemnly shook hands with all three skunks. "Nice to meet you," she said formally, then broke into a grin. "Wanna get some food before the grownups get all the good stuff?" she asked the kids. They looked to their father, who nodded with a smile. "Race ya!" Keisha shouted and took off for the catering truck, the little skunks on her heels.

Mike and Artemis smiled after them, then were busy speaking with the tenants who were emerging from the building in twos and threes, all of them stopping to say hello before getting breakfast. "Excuse me, Artemis?" She turned to see Jason Philips, the head of the construction company coming toward her, a frown on his normally cheerful lupine face. "We’re having a bit of trouble with Mr. Miller. He refuses to remove his belongings."

Artemis raised her eyeridges. "He does, hmm?" She turned to Mike and the tenants gathered around. "Will you excuse me for a moment, please?" She strode back to the building, Jason hurrying to catch up. Stopping at one of the windows of the super’s apartment, she gently tapped on the glass to get the attention of the bear standing in the living room looking exasperated. He stepped over and raised the window. Artemis poked her snout inside. "Oh, Mr. Miller," she called sweetly. The possum stepped into the room, standing flat against the wall furthest from the window. "These gentlemen are here to help carry anything to heavy for one person to lift, and to make certain you do not damage the property in a fit of misplaced rage. They are not your servants." She grinned, making Miller press himself into the wall. "You will be removed from the premises in two hours with whatever you have managed to get out of the apartment. The rest will remain here for the new super. I suggest you get busy." The possum’s mouth opened and closed a few times with nothing but the occasional squeak coming out. Artemis pulled her head out of the window, still grinning, and headed back toward the main gathering of tenants.

A group of tenants, led by Keisha’s mother, stopped Artemis halfway. "Good morning, Brenda," she said with a smile. "Nice to see you again."

Brenda smiled and nodded, then turned serious again. "We would like to ask you a few questions, please." Artemis cocked her head, listening politely. "The two most important questions first. Are we going to have to pay for the repairs to our apartments? And how much is our rent going to go up?"

The dragon blinked in surprise. "You most certainly will not be expected to pay for the repairs. Building maintenance is the owner’s responsibility, not yours. I checked to make sure." The group of furs sagged a bit in relief. "As far as the rent, what are you paying now?" Brenda named an amount, and Artemis had to put a foreleg on her tail to keep it from lashing out in anger at the way these people had been robbed to live in a building just this side of being condemned. "I was thinking more along the lines of…" She named a figure half what Brenda had told her. "If all the apartments are occupied, that will provide enough to cover the property taxes and routine maintenance."

The tenants looked stunned, trying to grasp their sudden good fortune. "Could we have that in writing, Artemis?" Brenda asked.

"Absolutely," the dragon replied. "My lawyer’s assistant should be here any minute with the new lease agreements."

Brenda finally smiled. "Thank you. I hope you can understand our worry."

"I can, and it’s legitimate." Artemis caught sight of Jason heading for her again. "It looks as though my contractor needs to see me. If you have any more questions, I’ll be happy to answer them later, if that is acceptable." The tenants nodded and headed back to the breakfast. Artemis swung her head around to meet Jason. "More trouble with Mr. Miller?"

The wolf shook his head and grinned. "Nope, he’s moving and moving fast now. This isn’t so much a problem as a question." Artemis made a ‘go on’ gesture. "Some of the tenants have construction experience and have asked if we’re hiring." He stopped, looking expectant.

Artemis thought for a moment. "If they know what they’re doing, and you can use them, I don’t see why not. They’re likely to work harder if they’re working on their own homes." Jason nodded in agreement. "Put them to work, then. Today if you like." She paused. "Hmm… I wonder…" Shaking her head to clear it, she smiled at the contractor. "Anything else?" Philips gave her a quick rundown of what they had found so far, then went back to work. The dragon lowered her head to the ground, eyes closed, lost in thought, half-formed plans whirling around in her head. At one point the corners of her mouth quirked in a little grin as she murmured to herself, "And won’t Blanche be surprised…"

* * * * *

Leroy stood across the street from the police station, hands clasped loosely in front of his knees. He knew that turning himself in was the right thing to do, but he hated to give up his freedom just because he had believed those idiots. His grip tightened until his knuckles turned white as he tried to keep from hitting something or someone – whatever was closest. He felt a tap on his shoulder and turned slowly, breathing deeply, trying to get his temper under control. Beside him stood a white, longhair feline dressed in worn jeans and a University of Georgia sweatshirt. "Excuse me," she said in a soft drawl. "Are you Dr. Leroy Brown?" Leroy nodded once, abruptly. "My name is Blanche du Chat," she continued, tucking her hand into the crook of his elbow. "May I buy you a cup of coffee and offer a better alternative than self-incarceration? If you don’t like what I have to say, you can still turn yourself in." He shrugged and began walking toward a nearby coffee shop, figuring it couldn’t hurt to have one last jolt of caffeine before going to jail for the rest of his life.

As they walked, Blanche studied the scientist walking next to her. Dr. Brown was about six feet tall, with the incredibly long arms and bowed legs of his primitive orangutan ancestors. He was covered in tufts of orange fur and his face bore an almost permanent scowl. Blanche rolled her eyes, knowing this was going to be a hard sell. They entered the restaurant and the mel immediately sat in a booth, back to the wall. Blanche walked to the counter and returned with two coffees. Dr. Brown took his and blew on it, still scowling. "So what’s your alternative?" he asked grumpily.

Blanche reminded herself that he had to be good at his job if Artemis wanted to hire him. "Why should you lock yourself away just because you believed a smooth talker?" she asked. "Everyone gets fooled occasionally."

Leroy glared at her. "Because I got fooled," he spat, "eight children lost their lives. If I’m that dangerous, I should be locked up." Blanche sighed and tried to think of another tactic.

"Wouldn’t it be better to use your knowledge to come up with ways to prevent the bombs arrivin’ in the first place?" she asked after a few moments. "With your knowledge of explosives, you should be able to develop ways to spot them as well."

"Oh, yeah, sure," he snarled. "I find a new bomb sniffer, and the government takes it away and only gives it to the ones it thinks should have it. Lotta good that’ll do."

Blanche grabbed her tail and tucked it under her thighs so its twitching wouldn’t betray her mounting annoyance. "Look, have you ever heard of a researcher named Artemis?" she inquired, remembering the effect the name had on the botanist.

"Sure," he replied. "She developed the robotics for the newest bomb retrieval units the SWAT teams are using. Why?"

The cat managed to hide her surprise. She didn’t realize Artemis had completed any research in the last few years. "Artemis is my business partner. We’re startin’ up a think tank dedicated to practical research. She gave me a list of scientists to hire, and you were second on the list. If she ranks you that high, you must be a real genius."

The mel’s scowl deepened. "I’m damn good at blowing things up. So?"

Blanche didn’t quite manage to hold back a sigh. "Accordin’ to Artemis, you started out findin’ useful organic compounds with little or no toxic waste, but lost your fundin’. What happened with that?"

The sound of Leroy’s fist slamming into the table startled everyone in the room. "A government official came by one day as I was writing up an alternative fuel I’d been working on," he snarled. "He said, and I quote, ‘That should put those stinking ragheads where they belong – under our heels.’ I decked him. An hour later, they confiscated all my equipment and notes and escorted me off the property."

"That won’t happen with us," Blanche said, encouraged. "No government contracts, you work on what you want as long as it has a practical application, you have a say in how patents are distributed. As long as you don’t do anythin’ illegal, you can do whatever your little heart desires." She summoned up every ounce of sincerity she could muster. "Won’t you at least give us a try, Dr. Brown? You can always go surrender to the police if you don’t like the way we work."

Leroy shrugged. "Sure, why not. A few days won’t hurt." Blanche handed him the contract, watching him sign with angry strokes. "There," he announced, shoving the contract across the table. "Thanks for the coffee."

Blanche sat staring at the signed contract for a few moments as Dr. Brown stalked out of the restaurant. Finally she shook her head tiredly and muttered, "I hope that oversized hunk of lizard knows what she’s doin’."