"Atlas Amery?"

The penguin nodded. "Yeah, that's me."

The lemur sitting behind the desk glanced at her computer monitor again. Atlas could see his name and profile reflecting off of her glasses.

"Huh," she mused. "With a name like that, I was expecting someone. . . A little taller."

Atlas sighed and rolled his eyes off to the side. "My parents thought I was gigantic."

She snuck another glance further down his profile, then nodded. "Ah. Okay, my apologies." She opened a folder on her desk and handed him a guest ID card out of it. "Room 106 on the right."

Atlas proceeded down the hallway - clean but faceless - until he came to his spot. He swiped the card through the reader and the door beeped, clicked and swung open to him.

The room was already packed, and as far as Atlas could tell, he would be the only person in this room under six feet tall (and only one of three under seven). It looked like a traditional classroom, with exception of the fact that the desks were huge, of course.

Atlas moved along against the wall towards the front of the room so he could look for an empty seat towards the front - there were none. The instructor behind the front desk, a white tigertaur, glanced over at Atlas. He nodded, understanding, and tapped the whiteboard to get the attention of the front row.

"Excuse me. Those of you in front, please move back one for the smaller applicants."

Most of the front row nodded and began to ease out of their seats. All except for one, a muscular equine, who glanced over at Atlas and smirked.

"Sure, but why?" he snorted.

"Because they won't be able to see from behind you. Please move."

"Yeah, but come on, what the hell are they doing here to begin with?" He shrugged. "Fuck em,' right?"

Atlas rolled his eyes and started to walk past him. The tigertaur, however, stepped in front of Atlas to block his path; Atlas saw then, to his surprise, that both of the tigertaur's right legs were prosthetic. He set both of his forepaws on the equine's desk and stared menacingly down at him.

"Leave." He pointed towards the door. "Now."

Atlas watched as the room quieted and every pair of eyes turned towards the instructor and the equine. The equine blinked his eyes with confusion at him.

"Huh? Why? I'm still qualified, aren't I?"

"Not with that attitude," snarled the instructor. "If that's how you treat your future comrades, I can't imagine how you must treat your subordinates." He nodded towards the door again. "Now you've got two options. You can either walk out of here on your own two feet with your dignity, or you can get thrown out of here with a syringe in your ass. Take your pick."

The equine slowly rose from his seat and dragged his hooves on his way out. The instructor set his forepaws back on the floor, glanced over at Atlas and nodded towards the desk.

"Have a seat, son."

Atlas glanced nervously about his piers, then nodded to the instructor and took his seat.

The instructor sat on his haunches on the floor behind the desk. He looked over the room full of hopefuls, then at his watch. A few more hopefuls made their way into the room and into their seats, and when the instructor was content that no more would be coming, the instructor rose back to all fours again.

"I want to thank you all for coming," said the instructor. "I don't think I need to tell all of you why we are here. You come from all walks of life, but you have been chosen from your piers because, in one way or another, all of your lives have been affected by the slave trade. Some of you have prior experience combating it. Others among you have survived it. Your experiences are diverse, your talents varied, but I could never question your devotion. For having made it to this point, all of you are to be commended.

"What I am about to tell you, however, is not something that can be taken lightly." He opened one of his desk drawers and reached into it. "So much so that it can never leave this room. So, if at any point during this demonstration, you decide that you have seen or heard enough and want no part in what we are about to discuss, you will be required to take one of these."

He set a large bottle of blue pills, each individually wrapped in plastic, on his desk for all to see.

"These are memory wipes. If you take one, today is gone to you forever. You will have just enough time to leave the room and check in with a waiting nurse before you lose consciousness, after which your short-term memory will be completely wiped. You will black out and wake up in our infirmary with absolutely no recollection of what has happened here and will only be informed that your application was rejected before you are asked to leave."

He sat his haunches back down on the floor and crossed his arms. "I understand that this by itself may sound extreme, so if you wish to avoid having to take the pill altogether, you may simply leave now. If you've heard enough and have no desire to remain further, please leave."

He sat there watching the class in total silence for a full ten minutes, during which four candidates rose from their seats and left.

"Anyone else?" The rest of the hopefuls shook their heads. "Alright, everybody move forward please." Four candidates from the back row stood up and relocated into the desks left unoccupied by the quitters. At the same time, the instructor counted heads in each row before opening the bottle and putting six packages on Atlas's desk.

"Take one and pass them down please." Atlas nodded and passed five over his shoulder to the rottweiler that was sitting behind him, while the instructor did the same with the other rows. "My name is Brian Nakane. I can tell you that now because any of you with whom I will not be working in the future will not remember my name anyway."

He stepped back behind his desk once everyone had their capsule and surveyed his class, making sure he had the attention of everyone.

"How many of you here have heard of the P.S.L. before?"

After a moment's silence, Atlas hesitantly raised his flipper. Nakane nodded towards him.

"Aren't they a division of the United Nations?" asked Atlas.

"In a way, yes," said Nakane with a nod. "Do you know what it stands for?"

"Um. . . Pets and Slavery Law?"

Nakane smirked. "No, but that is the answer I was hoping for." He shook his head. "The P.S.L. that you are thinking of is the section of the Bill of Humanity regarding the rights of feral or uncertified individuals. The P.S.L. as an organization, however, is not an official affiliate of the United nations, nor is it even confirmed to exist. Because of the nature of our methods, we would like it to remain that way for as long as possible.

"The actual P.S.L.," said Nakane, "stands for Predatory Slave Liberation."

As if on cue, the door swung open and a kangaroo stepped inside. She was massive, twice Atlas's size at least, standing well over a foot taller than even the tallest of the applicants.

"Perfect timing," said Nakane as the kangaroo stood behind his desk. "I've asked Ms. Xenelis here to assist me today." He nodded to her. "Thank you for coming."

The kangaroo, Xenelis, nodded back to him. "My pleasure."

Nakane surveyed the class again, noting quite a few wide eyes in the crowd now. "I sense that some of you are already trying to connect the dots. Don't get ahead of me. I will explain.

"In spite of all the best efforts of humanity, the slave trade has persisted for eons," explained Nakane. "The governments of the world have taken legal action to try and curb it, yet it adapts. It has been fought with everything from tooth and claw to bombs and shells, but it persists. Nothing short of every single species achieving 100% sentience - of becoming the proverbial human being - will ever allow slavery to be nullified by law completely, and even then I suspect the trade itself would persist for centuries to come.

"We of the P.S.L. have sought to adapt along with them. We differ from any other branch of the United Nations in that we have, so long as we adhere to our intended role, been granted permission to determine and identify our own friends and foes. Our enemies are the countries and corporations that sanction slavery and slave traders, and our allies are countries and corporations through whom slaves liberated by the P.S.L. may be granted freedom.

"We have made remarkable progress in recent years. Last year, we, along with our affiliates, took part in the rescue and rehabilitation of over three million captive slaves." He looked around the room nodding his head. "Impressive, yes, I know. But by our estimates, that number only translates into roughly 20% of the yearly worldwide distribution, and that is only in regards to the known trade. To that end, we are always looking for new recruits like yourselves."

He nodded towards Xenelis, who reached into her pouch and took out a huge stack of papers and pens, of which she set a bunch on Atlas's desk.

"Take one and pass them down please," said Xenelis. Atlas did so and took one set of stapled papers off and passed the rest behind him. She did the same for the other rows.

"Before I continue, I want you to please read these over and fill them out," said Nakane. "Do not attempt to forge or copy answers. Trust me, it won’t help."

The first page looked simple enough: It required him to fill out his name, species, birth date, city and country of origin, his parents' species and whether or not they too were human – nothing he hadn’t grown accustomed to filling out from his last work resumes. He uncapped his pen and filled it in. He flipped over to the next page, which included a series of yes or no questions, all beginning with 'Would you be willing. . .'

Nakane scanned over the room, seeming to focus on one seat in particular. Atlas saw he and Xenelis exchange glances and nods. Atlas glanced over his shoulder in the same direction. Three rows and two seats down, a hyena was checking off the answers one after another, answering yes to all of them. In the time it took Nakane to get from his desk to the hyena's, she had checked off three pages worth of yes or no questions.

"That'll be all," said Nakane as he took the still incomplete document off of her desk. "You can take your pill now."

The hyena looked up in shock. "What? Why? I was just filling it out like you-"

"You expect me to believe you were reading it that fast?" He held the papers behind his back. "Tell me at least one yes or no question from the test."

"Huh? Well I, uh-"

"Didn't think so." He crumpled up the form and tossed it over his shoulder into a bucket in the corner. "Just because we're always looking doesn't mean we'll take anyone." He shook his head. "It's over, you're done, take your pill, we never met."

The hyena refused to take the pill, and they went back and forth until finally two large wolves in uniform had to come into the room and carry her out. Nakane returned to his desk with a sigh.

"Sorry about that," he told the class. "Please continue."

Atlas returned his eyes to his own questionnaire:

Would you be willing to assist in the liberation and/or preservation of captives slaves for whom sentience may or may not be psychologically confirmable?

Seemed like a fair enough expectation, so Atlas checked the Yes box.

Would you be willing to assist in the liberation and/or preservation of persons who are presently legally recognized as human?

Atlas had expected this one to come up, so he checked Yes on that one as well.

Would you be willing to accept temporary legal custody of a captive slave for whom humanity cannot, at present, be legally certified?

Atlas once again checked it off as Yes.

Would you be willing to accept permanent legal custody of a captive slave for whom humanity cannot ever be legally certified?

Atlas rubbed under his beak with the blunt end of the pen as he thought that one over. He glanced out of the corner of his eye and saw Xenelis glancing right at him. He took a deep, nervous breath as he slowly checked the No box. To his relief, the kangaroo didn't seem to mind.

Atlas flipped over to the next page and read the next set of questions. His beak hung open with some amount of astonishment at what he was reading.

"Excuse me?" Atlas glanced over into the center of the room at a donkey with a raised hoof.

"Yes?" said Nakane.

"What is 'classified surgery?'" she asked Nakane. "And why are we required to consent to it?"

"A fair question," said Nakane. "Classified surgery is pretty much what it sounds like. It refers to a surgical procedure which was developed for top secret purposes. We cannot allow these procedures to become known of - or worse, become accessible - to the general public, therefore we cannot describe them to you first or allow you to be conscious during the process. We can only tell you what has been done in a nutshell and how that will make your job easier.

"But it's entirely up to you if you consent to it or not. Do not concern yourselves with whether or not your answers will influence your standing with the P.S.L. The only answers that will get you in trouble right now are dishonest answers."

Atlas could hear the pages turning as everyone who had not made it to that page yet flipped ahead to see what she was talking about. The questions on the second and third pages seemed entirely hypothetical and more personal, asking him whether or not he would legally sell himself if he had to, whether he would consent to a gender alteration or gender ambiguity, whether he could live comfortably as a different species, whether or not he would miss having opposable forelimbs, whether or not he believed in the afterlife, etc., etc.

Though the more ridiculous the questions got, the easier Atlas found it was to answer honestly. He could have sworn he could feel Xenelis smiling at him every time he answered an honest no to a question.

The last page had only one question on it. After making himself so comfortable with the questionnaire, the last one made his stomach ache.

Do you solemnly swear to never again take part in or allow the active taking of life or the cause of unnecessary physical harm to another?

Atlas closed his eyes, took a deep breath and thought back, reflecting on everything in his life that had lead up to this point.

He answered no. And as he capped his pen, he could have sworn he'd heard Xenelis sigh.

One by one, the others filled out their questionnaires and passed them forward. Xenelis collected them all and set them aside on Nakane's desk.

"Do I have everyone's?" asked Nakane. All the heads in the room nodded. "Good." He stepped out from behind his desk again. "I'm sure you're all wondering about the elephant in the room-"

A chair scraped across the tiled floor as an elephant stood up from his chair at the back of the room. Everyone chuckled. Even Nakane.

"Poor choice of words, I apologize. Though by the elephant, I of course meant the kangaroo-"

Another chair scraped along the tiles, this time from the middle of the room. Everyone laughed again. Nakane smiled and rolled his eyes.

"Why Ms. Xenelis is here with us today." He paused a moment as if waiting to see if another Ms. Xenelis was present in the room, then nodded, satisfied, and continued. "The truth is that what I am about to tell you is not only classified, but of such a nature that I would never expect any of you to believe it if I were to simply tell you. Ms. Xenelis, therefore, is here to prove that what I am about to tell you is the honest to God truth."

He glanced over at Xenelis and nodded to her before continuing.

"As I said, we of the P.S.L. have a different list of recognized friends and enemies than the rest of the United Nations. We recognize only two types of countries: those that sanction slavery, be it actively or simply by turning a blind, apathetic eye, and those that are willing to stand against the slave trade. Our role is to find and locate slaves held in the former, and to safely and discretely transfer them into the latter.

"Most countries that actively sanction slavery, however, are well aware of the repercussions they would face from the United Nations if their activities were ever publicized, so their borders remain tight to ensure that none of their product can ever stand to testify against them in the future. To that end, we have developed several means by which our agents can pass directly through their customs while still concealing the slaves they intend to liberate."

He glanced up at the clock on the wall. "How long would you say it took all of you to fill out those questionnaires we gave you? About an hour?"

The recruits all mumbled various confirmations. Atlas looked at the time and had to agree: They had been there for much longer than that.

"Yeah, at least that long," Nakane continued. "And my good friend Deva has been waiting patiently right here for the entire time." He nodded towards her. "Go ahead."

The kangaroo, Deva he was now calling her, smiled and stepped in front of the class. "Nothing up my sleeves," she said with a smile and ran her paws along her bare arms. "And, abraca-"

She squinted her eyes shut, clutched her stomach, convulsed, and suddenly a pair of hands protruded from her mouth. The entire room erupted into yells and astounded profanity. Atlas himself almost fell out of his chair completely.

"I warned you it was unbelievable," said Nakane. He continued to speak as Deva fastened her hands around the hands protruding from her mouth, tilted her head back and pulled them upwards, pulling her prey up and out of her mouth until the ears, head and shoulders of a white anthro fox protruded from her jaws. The fox himself actually smiled and waved at the room full of confounded spectators. Deva continued to pull and lift him out from within her, and when his feet finally slid free of her maw, she gave him a nuzzle and tucked him inside her pouch. The fox, completely complacent, snuggled himself in to make himself at home.

Deva smiled at the class, then produced another pair of hands from her maw, causing the class to freak out again.

"There are no smoke and mirrors, I assure you," said Nakane. "Ms. Xenelis has indeed had live foxes in her belly since we first began more than an hour ago. These are the methods of the Predatory Slave Liberation, hence the name. We are able to pass liberated slaves undetected through even the tightest of securities by storing them inside our bodies."

He nodded towards the donkey that had asked him about surgery earlier. "To allow our agents this capacity, many of them have undergone physical modifications, and in some cases, even full body transplants. Obviously, such procedures could be abused extensively, by the very people we have committed ourselves to opposing especially, so we cannot under any circumstances allow the techniques behind these procedures to become known; not even to the people who are receiving them."

By the time Nakane had finished speaking, Xenelis had amassed a total of six foxes of varying colors lined up in her pouch, each and every one of which looked perfectly at ease in the care of the kangaroo that had just regurgitated them. Then she scooped the first one back out of her pouch and gave him a kiss before pushing him back down her throat again.

She only managed to get the one down, however, before one of the other foxes in her pouch tugged at the fur of her stomach and pointed somewhere in the middle of the class. Xenelis followed the fox's finger; her eyes widened and she grabbed Nakane's metal wastebasket and bowled it across the room. She landed it right beside the desk of a wingless, orange-colored dragon in the class, just in time to save the janitors the trouble of having to clean a liter's worth of puke off of the floor.

Nakane stopped speaking and every pair of eyes shifted over to the dragon as he buried his face into the bucket and heaved into it. His eyes glanced up over the rim when he was finally finished, and he began to sag into his seat when he saw Nakane frowning at him.

"Son? Maybe the P.S.L. isn't for you," said Nakane.

The dragon nodded and started to take the plastic off of his pill as he exited the classroom.

Nakane returned behind the desk. "Now where were we. . ." He glanced over at Xenelis, now holding a fox in each arm. Atlas could hear some gasps and whispers from the others as the two foxes snuggled up to her; one even licked at her face like a puppy. Nakane nodded for Xenelis to continue, and the fox that had been licking her actually clambered up her fur and stuck his head obediently into her mouth to be swallowed.

"Ms. Xenelis has received several of our most recently developed modifications, which, as new inductees into the P.S.L., all of you will be eligible for. The actual procedures will be custom-tailored to your individual species, but it all begins with modifications to the jaw and throat to allow quick, easy and painless entry."

Xenelis stuck one of her foxes headfirst into her mouth, then turned herself sideways to the class, tilted her head and slurped the rest of the fox into her mouth, letting them all see the bulge in her throat as she swallowed her down.

"Additionally," Nakane continued, "nerves and muscles can be added to the stomach to turn digestion into a completely manual function of the body, thereby allowing occupants to live safe and unharmed inside their carriers for extended time periods. Additional procedures, such as alteration of the chemical compounds in your digestive tracts, or even a second stomach altogether, can allow the survival of both occupant and carrier, indefinitely if need be."

He nodded towards Xenelis. "Ms. Xenelis presently holds the record for the longest occupancy. Thirteen days."

Her cheeks turned slightly pink and her lips curved into a smile around the tail protruding from her mouth. Atlas could hear the class whispering again, mostly just saying 'Wow' to themselves.

"Additionally, we have developed implants that will allow the rest of your body's organs to be simplified and work just as efficiently on a much smaller scale." He nodded towards Xenelis just as she finished swallowing back down the final fox. She smiled at the class and began to model herself in various poses, showing off her smooth, seamless figure. "These implants will allow us to simplify and reduce in size all other internal functions, thereby increasing your stomach's capacity and allowing even the smallest of you to carry fully grown individuals without bulges, indents, or any other indication of gained weight."

"Tsk. Where's the fun in that?"

Chairs could be heard scraping across the tiled floor as every single pair of eyes in the room turned towards the far side of the class. The offender was a raccoon staring with boredom out the window. After Nakane stopped talking, the coon glanced forward. His eyes widened and blinked twice when he found himself the center of attention.

"Was that out loud?" he squeaked. Nakane nodded disapprovingly at him. The raccoon frowned and took the pill from his desk. "No need to tell me. I'll let myself out."

Nakane waited until the raccoon had left before speaking again.

"So, these are our methods," said Nakane. "Not all of you will be required to undergo these modifications, but one way or another, this is what you will be seeing on a daily basis should you choose to retain your applications."

He nodded towards the blue pill on Atlas's desk. "If you feel this is not for you, the brain bleach is right there waiting for you. I imagine you must have a lot of questions, however, and we shall answer as many and as best as we can."

The room was silent. Atlas himself found himself staring at Deva's belly, which he never would have guessed had six adult anthro foxes in it if he hadn't already seen otherwise. He tried not to let himself get distracted, however, and raised his flipper for something else.

"Thank you," said Nakane, pointing to him. "Yes?"

"You said, uh, that the P.S.L. is not even confirmed to exist?" Atlas asked. Nakane and Deva both nodded. "Right. But, um, if you rescued three million slaves last year by doing this, how do you keep it a secret?"

"A fair question," said Nakane. "And the simple answer is that, truthfully, we don't. We've kept it a tight secret by screening and filtering our applicants, such as we have done today, but the only thing keeping those we have freed silent is their respect and gratitude." He shook his head. "We don't expect the P.S.L. will remain a secret forever, but we want to sustain and make use of our full anonymity for as long as possible."

Deva nodded. "And we are preparing for that day. The slave traders of the world may learn to look out for us, but they will always be hard-pressed to know how to identify us."

With the ice being broken by Atlas, others began to raise their hands as well.

"Those, uh, implants you mentioned," said a gryphon as she raised her hand. "Are there any, you know, side effects or hazards involved that we should know about?"

Deva shrugged. "Everything is custom tailored to the individual, so I couldn't answer that accurately, though so far the only recurring side effect that's ever been reported is hypochondriasis. After I received my first implant, I felt sick, uneasy, or just plain wrong all the time, even though the implant was working perfectly. It takes a while for them to stop feeling unnatural, but as far as I know, they are perfectly safe."

A large New York rat sitting at the back raised his paw. "Well are they worth the risk?" he asked. "I mean, wouldn't all those foxes still show up on an X-ray machine or a body mass index?" he said while pointing at Deva's belly.

"We have thought of that," said Deva, "and a fix for such does exist. I've actually had the procedure myself and I can testify that it does work. I can't tell you how it works, however, because the surgeons never explained it to me.

"As for the body mass index, well, that in itself can't be fooled. Fooling the people who are administering it, however, would be really easy."

Nakane nodded. "The simple solution would be to tweak the date on your ID to having been issued more than one year before the present date. It's possible to gain or lose over 100 lbs. in that time, so it would not arouse too much suspicion. In the case of countries who catalog their visitors coming and going, that too is simple: We just sandbag our occupants with the same amount of weight we expect they'll be bringing back with them."

The rat seemed satisfied with that answer, though the rabbit sitting in front of him promptly raised her hand afterward.

"What about our external appearance?" she asked. "Wouldn't we look anorexic whenever we are not carrying someone?"

Deva cocked her head at the rabbit. "Did I look at all different to you when I had the foxes in my pouch instead of my belly?" There was a short pause before several in the class, including the rabbit, shook their heads. "Well there's your answer."

The class was silent for a brief moment, possibly all wondering the same question, before the elephant that had stood up before rose his trunk and was called upon.

"What's the P.S.L.'s mortality rate?" he asked of them.

Nakane blinked his eyes twice, confused. "Excuse me?"

"Well. . . It occurs to me that, even though you won't explain how the procedures work, somebody could, at least in theory, find out for themselves by hunting one of us down, splitting us open and having a look for themselves. So I think it's a fair question; what are the odds of us getting killed in our work with the P.S.L.?"

"It is a fair question," said Nakane. "Though we actually have yet to lose an agent while in the field. As you already know, we are very selective about who we employ – we've never sent an agent out on a mission that we were not 100% confident would return from it."

Deva nodded. "What few losses we have had were not on our watch. Many of our present agents, myself included, are employed by other branches of the U.N. peacekeepers." She shrugged. "Which is necessary at the moment, given our unofficial nature, but it also means vacancies often turn up in the P.S.L. when we least expect them."

"Does that mean we will need to apply for other branches of the peacekeepers as well?" asked the giant rat.

"Not necessarily," said Nakane. "As long as you're on the record with another division, and can convince anyone who asks that you are a member of that other division, that is all that will matter to us. Whether or not you actually choose to pursue that other line of work is entirely up to you."

A black bear sitting in the front row hesitantly raised her paw. "Well, what happens if we're discovered carrying?" she asked them. "Is there a plan for that?"

Nakane folded his hands behind his back as he thought that over. "In the event that you are discovered, you more or less have to improvise. We're willing to forgive an occasional incident or glimmer of exposure, at least so long as the reports get all of the facts wrong in the end."

"Did anyone here ever see anything on the news about the red panda smuggler that was arrested at McCarran International two years ago?" asked Deva.

A couple of people in the room nodded. "That was you?" asked the bear.

"Nope," said Deva. "The P.S.L. didn't invent predator-carrying. We just perfected it."

Nakane nodded. "If you can make a getaway before you can be subjected to anything too invasive, the assumption will likely be that you were either an amateur smuggler or a vacation predator. That will be easy to clear up with our friends in the allied governments and we would be willing to forgive you.

"Don't worry about that for now," he said afterward. "If we think there's a chance that you could get caught, it's a chance we won't take."

A couple of applicants exchanged glances with each other before an alligator in the middle row raised her hand.

"What's the pay like?" she asked them.

"Lousy," said Deva. "All of your accommodations will be taken care of; you won't have any expenses for as long as you are employed with the P.S.L. But in terms of actual money, the only pay you will get will be your retirement package."

"Assuming any of you ever choose to retire at all," said Nakane. "I can't speak for everyone, but for Deva and I, there is nothing we'd rather be doing."

Atlas could see, out of the corner of his eye, everyone in the front row with him glancing down at their blue pills after she had said that. He took a deep breath before he hesitantly raised his flipper again.

"What does it feel like?" he asked Deva right to her face.

Deva's ears twitched. "What's what feel like? The implants?"

"No, I mean. . ." He sighed and looked off to the side in shame.

"Oh, I see," said Deva. She smiled and patted her belly fondly. "You want to know what it feels like to carry someone?"

Atlas blushed. "Um. . . Yeah, that too, I guess."

Deva blink-blinked, then smirked again. "I see. Well. . ." She started rubbing her fox-filled belly as she spoke to him. "That too is pretty strange at first, but you do gradually learn to love it. It feels like. . ." She sighed. "I don't know. Intimate and fulfilling, for lack of a better word."

She chuckled. "As for what it feels like to be carried, well, I wouldn't know. I've never actually been there myself."

Nakane glanced up at the clock. "We have another session coming in here in an hour, so I'm afraid that will have to be it for now. Ms. Xenelis and I will be available for questions first thing tomorrow morning though, so think about anything else you may want to know and write them all down for tomorrow."

He glanced around the room one last time. "Last chance. Anyone else opting out with amnesia on us?" He glanced around at a room full of shaking heads. "No?" He nodded firmly. "Good. Come with me everyone."

Nakane and Deva shepherded the new recruits down the hall, up a flight of stairs and into an auditorium, in which they were all asked to take a seat and assured that they would all be accommodated as soon as they could work out how to best meet their needs. Atlas, who had previously been following at the back of the group, started down the steps to find himself a seat, but stopped when he felt a hand resting atop his head.

"I won't lie," said Deva as she petted the top of Atlas's head. "I was kind of disappointed in some of your answers Atlas. Though considering what you've been through, I can't say I was all that surprised either."

Atlas frowned. "You read my profile report?"

"Mm hmm." She sighed. "Until you came along, we didn't even know that there was an Antarctic slave trade. Whether you intended to or not, you've piqued a lot of peoples' interest simply by showing up Atlas."

Atlas frowned, and couldn't keep himself from staring at her belly, which he knew still had to be filled with living foxes. "Is there a reason you're telling me this?"

"Well, I thought you might want to know what's being planned for you. I haven't actually been told myself, but if I were in the Chief Supervisor's position, I'd want you working directly under me so I could groom you to become a regional supervisor."

Atlas blinked his eyes, perplexed. "You mean. . . Lead the fight against slavers in Antarctica?" Deva nodded. "That. . . That would be an honor. But why do I need to know that now?"

"Because the Chief Supervisor is an orca whale," said Deva. "I thought you might want to know that before you agreed to any face-to-face meetings with her."

With her hand still resting atop Atlas's head, she could feel him shivering at the thought of such.

"Ah, I, er, yes, thanks for the warning. I'll. . ." He blushed. "I don't know. Don't you think I should start off with something, ah, entry level first?"

"I'm not making an offer," said Deva. "I'm only speculating."

"Kay. Um. . . Well. . . I don't know, I'll think about it, I guess."

She nodded, then finally noticed that he was staring at her belly.

"Yes, they're still in there," she told him. She patted her belly fondly. "And I'm going to need them when Nakane and I bring in the next group of inductees."

"Mm. Seems like you really care about them," said Atlas. "Would you be offended if I asked how you know them?"

"I wouldn't. They're all former slaves that I personally took part in liberating. They're all just as human as you and I are, but. . ." She sighed. "Bred in captivity and deliberately isolated to stunt their development and encourage submissiveness. It's going to make it that much harder to properly rehabilitate them."

She sighed. "Until then, the best we can do is provide them with a safe, supportive environment." She frowned. "Which I hope I'm doing."

They both stood there in silence for a minute before Deva finally glanced back down at Atlas and tilted her head coyly down at him.

"Still curious?" asked Deva.

"Ah-" Atlas blushed again. "Just a little."

Deva chuckled. "Don't be shy about it. Everyone is when they first find out." She ruffled the feathers of his head fondly. "I've got three more demonstrations today, but after that, I think I'm just on call to answer questions for the rest of the week." She shrugged. "So, the next time you've got some time and freedom to roam, if you want to pay me a visit, I'll gladly oblige."

She paused a moment, then gave him a pat on the back and nudged him down into the auditorium. "Until then, have a seat and relax while you still can. Things are going to get easier, but they're also going to get weirder too, so enjoy the relative normalcy while you still can."

Deva winked at him before turning around and leaving the way they came.