From the darkness, the old man laughed.  "You're a clever one, planty," he said.  "Yeah, sure, go on and take me with you.  You keep forgetting that I'm insane.  When this whole staged 'break-out' happens, I'm just gonna run right up to the guards and dare them to shoot me.  And they won't, you know.  The Bitch is tired of slicing me up, so maybe she can go at me mentally, stage a breakout, make me feel safe, and then I'll spill my guts.  I'll play along, if that's what you want."<br/><br/>There was a pause.  "Wait.  You were Eric's friend?  HAH!"  He bellowed out a few loud laughs.  "He never mentioned you, fella.  Never said, 'Hey boss, I ever tell you about my furry plant friend, Bubba?'  HA HA!"  His laughs changed to moans.  "Shit.  My ribs..."<br/><br/>-----<br/><br/>The man outside Fort Blotar knew what he saw.  In anger he threw up his weapon, determined to kill everyone he saw for the murder of his comrades.<br/><br/>There was a gunshot.  Pain lanced across his chest as his shirt was torn open and a long scar appeared on the flesh beneath.  His free hand clamped over the hot, burning wound.  Someone had winged him!<br/><br/>He whirled to seek out the source of the shot but could only see a child-sized bovine-fur climbing up a distant rock wall.  He looked back at the man and the cat-fur and saw one of them fiddling with a crossbow.  His gun still upraised, but pain shooting through his chest, he tightened his trigger finger and began firing.  The gun's kick and his pain turned what would have been a lethal stream of bullets into a volley of wild shots.<br/><br/>Feldana managed to get her chin and elbows up over the top of the rock wall and heaved herself up, rolling over and landing on the other side with a thud.  Like most children, she immediately got up, apparently unfazed, and began wiping the dirt off her nightgown, only to find a few tears in the fabric.  Then she heard firing on the other side of the rock wall and jumped, giving a shout.<br/><br/>-----<br/><br/>The cop, a well-uniformed anthro-coyote, stopped waving and took a few steps toward the truck, listening to Baz's words.  Then he came up to the truck's window and leaned on it.<br/><br/>"Look, pal, I could spend all day listening to your sob story, but I've got orders to clear this highway of civilian traffic.  The city's going into lockdown and the military's taken control of the Vein.  They're gonna be setting up checkpoints and stuff all along here - when they're done with that, THEN you can use the road again.  But right now I don't care where you're going, just get off the damned road, got it?"  He stepped back from the truck and waved a sedan carrying some furry refugees around the truck and onto a side road.  Behind him, more cops stood, waiting for more cars to show up.  The battalion of furry troops had assembled into ranked formation and were being given loud but unintelligible instructions by an impressive-looking cat-fur officer.  The cop glared at Baz.  "Come on, pal!  Move it!"<br/><br/>-----<br/><br/>They made it!  The First Sergeant waved everyone to a stop as they came into the thick grass and trees of Crown Park.  There looked to be plenty of activity here - lots of Resistance soldiers were milling about.  Presumably this was Fourth Brigade's HQ.  The First Sergeant turned to Emiko, Jenten and Marice.<br/><br/>"Wait here," he said.  "I'll be back."  He motioned to one of his sergeants.  "Keep everyone in sight!" he ordered, then he turned, heading deeper into the park, looking for an officer.  He asked a passing soldier where the brigade commander was, and after being pointed in the right direction, he walked into the gazebo.  "Is the brigade commander in here?" he asked everyone.<br/><br/>Colonel Merelli stepped forward.  "You would be looking for me, then?" he replied.<br/><br/>The First Sergeant saluted.  "I'm First Sergeant Dave Millhouse, sir, from the Second Platoon of Fifth Brigade."<br/><br/>Merelli returned the salute.  "I am Colonel Merelli, Fourth Brigade.  You must be the escort for the Sentience Equality Movement.  Where is your lieutenant?"<br/><br/>The First Sergeant hesitated only briefly, remembering his late leader's last moments - laying in a pool of his own blood, one arm severed, then disappearing quickly down a wolverine's throat.  "He was killed, sir," he said.  "We were attacked by the furs."<br/><br/>Merelli frowned.  "Did you lose any civilians?"<br/><br/>"Just one, sir.  The leader of the peace group was captured.  We pushed the furs back, though.  This happened before we were told to come here, sir."<br/><br/>"Yes, of course," said Merelli.  "Take me to the survivors, First Sergeant."<br/><br/>"Yes sir, they're over here..."  The First Sergeant led the way to the group.<br/><br/>Merelli looked over the civilians and the soldiers that had brought them there, his gaze imperious and his hands folded behind his back.  "If I may have your attention," he announced.  "You have come under the protection of the Resistance.  Your leader has been taken by the furs.  It has been decided that you are to be protected from further harm."  Merelli did not know why the S.E.M. was so important to Lentan or the Resistance as a whole, but his was not to question.  "You will remain here in the park under our care until new orders arrive."  He stepped closer to the group, raising one finger for emphasis.  "But know this: your leader will be returned to you."  He lowered his hand, returning it to its partner behind his back.  "If you are in need of refreshment or other amenities, please inform the First Sergeant here.  Otherwise, make yourselves comfortable and remain here.  Do not move from this spot, and do not disturb the work of my soldiers."  He turned to the First Sergeant, speaking quietly into his ear.  "Keep your men in a perimeter around them.  If they act up, you may use any passing soldiers to keep them stationary."<br/><br/>"Yes sir," said the First Sergeant.  "Uh... sir?"  He pointed at Emiko, Jenten, and Marice.<br/><br/>Merelli raised his eyebrows and approached the three.  "And you are...?" he asked.<br/><br/>In the gazebo, a radio crackled to life.  "DROP CHUTE!  ALERT!  ALERT!" came the call.  "We are under attack!"<br/><br/>The operator keyed his handset in reply.  "Confirm, Lockbox, confirm.  Hostile forces in contact?"  The brigade's second-in-command came over, listening in.  The handle "Lockbox" was used to designate the Third Platoon, advancing northward a mile or so from the HQ's position.  Lockbox had been on a rear-guard mission to serve as a reserve force in case Fifth Platoon, farther north, or the HQ itself came under attack.  It was meant to rush to aid either force.  The fact that Lockbox itself was under attack meant that the enemy had bypassed Fifth Platoon somehow.<br/><br/>"HOSTILES ARE DEFINITELY IN CONTACT!!" came the impassioned answer.  "BATTALION-STRENGTH AT LEAST!  ONLY--"  the radio cut out.<br/><br/>The operator keyed his handest.  "Lockbox, come in.  Lockbox, respond."<br/><br/>"--NOT ARMY.  REPEAT, NOT ARMY FORCES!  THERE'S FURS, HUMANS, ALL SORTS--!"  There was a brief cut-out.  "WE'RE GETTING SLAMMED HERE!"<br/><br/>"Lockbox, confirm you are not under attack from Kazmer Army forces," said the operator.  The second-in-command grimaced.<br/><br/>"--FUCKING CONFIRMED!" came the reply.  "WE NEED--" static overtook the transmission for a few moments.  When the voice returned, feral screams and howls could be heard in the background.  "--PULLING BACK!"  The transmission was muffled and the voice could be heard calling for a full retreat.  "WE ARE PULLING BACK TO YOUR POSITION, OVER!"<br/><br/>The second-in-command stiffened, and the operator looked at him.  "No.  Tell them to hold," he ordered.<br/><br/>The operator keyed his handset.  "Lockbox, negative, negative, negative!  Hold your positions and resist hostile force!  Confirm!  Over."<br/><br/>The radio had gone silent.<br/><br/>"Lockbox, this is Drop Chute, reply now," said the operator.  Silence.  "Lockbox, Drop Chute, respond!"<br/><br/>"Shit," spat the second-in-command.  "Keep trying."  He rose and began to head for Merelli.