It was chilly outside, as it always was in the Northern parts of the Altai islands, cloudy skies threatening rain but never making good on their claims.  The old stone railings of the minor palace standing out white against the rust red brick that made up the rest of it.  A two foot tall Kitsen yawned, her muzzle stretching wide to add some fog to the copious amounts of it already.  Her grey fur blending well with the soft blue nightgown she wore over her adolescent frame.<br/><br/>"Mommy?"  The small girl asked, looking up the foot and a half to the parental figure, standing against the railing with a saucer and a cup of strong Old Bergensen's Finest.  The glasses standing on the edge of her nose seemed to make her look older than her fourty years.  She was already dressed and ready for work, a brown tweed vest covering a prim white shirt and brown tie.  She pulled it together with a long skirt today, her tail draping tiredly down the back of her legs.<br/><br/>"Yes, Trish?"  The Prime Minister looked down at her daughter, her eyes baggy and tired.  It had been a long sleepless night of being warned by advisors and pestered by her staff.  A hand found it's way to her daughter's shoulder, as she forced a smile on her face.<br/><br/>The daughter hugged the mother, wrapping her arms around the older Kitsen's waist.  "Daddy says you didn't get any sleep last night..."<br/><br/>Victoria knelt in front of her daughter, returning the hug, tightly and unwilling to let her daughter go.  "I didn't, sweetie.  But that doesn't mean that it's that worrisome.  Just that work is a bit of a hassle sometimes, is all."<br/><br/>The tapping of a cane on the stone floor caused both sets of ears to look up, seeing the aged grizzled veteran approaching in his crisp clean dress uniform.  Nothing seemed to touch Sir Arthur Asimov.  Not the long nights, or cold mornings.  Nor the heat of summer afternoons.  His shoulder brushes even stood immaculate with his fur.  Nothing was out of place.<br/><br/>But then, little would be.  He approached leaning on a cane, his joints extra stiff after the long night.  "Madame Minister, we're ready for you in the conference room again."  He nodded, and stood quietly to the side to let her finish.  The perfect soldier, he always envisioned himself to be.<br/><br/>Victoria nodded once, adjusting her spectacles and looking back down at Trish tiredly.  "Mommy needs to go, honey."  She forced the smile further.  "Go on back inside, it shouldn't take that long." With a final hug, the two parted, the young girl looking at her mother as the older man gently offered his arm for Victoria to hold on to.  The two walking back inside though the double glass doors to the conference room.  Oil lamps burned inside to keep the room illuminated, so the Kitsen inside need not strain their eyes too much to read the myriad of reports from the colonies or the field.<br/><br/>"...And<span style="font-style: italic">that's</span>precisely why it's needed!  These projects can prevent wars!  They-"  The aging Kitsen voice stopped dead when it's owner saw Victoria McVallen enter the room on the arm of Sir Asimov.  "Prime Minister McVallen... My apologies, I did not see you come in."  He gave a short bow, putting his monocle back into his coat pocket.  "I was simply explaining to Minister Matthews how the Sebrook Project could help cut defense costs Empire-wide."  His voice was gravelly, like a pair of rocks grinding against eachother amidst a motor.<br/><br/>"And I thought, Minister Williams, that I'd asked to hear no more of it.  It's unethical, and not worth the cost in lives and the risk of war."  Victoria slipped free of her escort, slumping down in her chair, tail threading through the hole at the base, and steepling her fingers beneath her chin.  "Let's move on, people.  We have more work to do and I'm rather tired."<br/><br/>After a murmur of consent, it was Sir Asimov that spoke up first, smoothing down his outer jacket as he stood up.  "Ma'am.  Ministers.  We have received new reports from the Colonial Watchfoxes."  He reached into his jacket and placed an envelope on the table, next to Victoria.  "The most important is from Sebrook.  We've caught sight of troop movements in Vallenstein lands.  We haven't been able to pin down where they're going.  But it's the same as the others we've caught earlier this month."  He stroked his jaw.  "Speaking honestly..."  He let out a sigh, gazing down towards the letters that were now in Victoria's hands.  "...It's more than a mite worrisome for us all.  With the scientist expeditions on the edges of Cos, and how spread out the Colonies are... We may not be able to handle a war with the Vulfen.  We're too spread out, and recruitment has been down."<br/><br/>Across the room, brows were furrowed, and fingers steepled.  Except for Victoria's.  Her hands remained attached to the reports, her eyes searching for some hidden information.  Something Asimov may have missed.  But she wasn't finding it, and was fighting to keep her face calm in the face of potentially one of her greatest fears.