Nexus

Chapter Twelve: The Nexus

Back inside the warehouse the doctor in the lab coat was leading the small group through a series of interconnected rooms.  Gunderson stayed beside the doctor, followed by Ryan and Dixie, with Lieutenant Lawson holding a gun on them bringing up the rear with a frown.

The first stop was a delivery room.  It had a gurney with stirrups to lift up and hold a birthing mother’s legs apart and stations to wash, weigh and swaddle a baby, as well as an incubator and instruments for emergency surgeries.

“As you may be aware,” the doctor was saying as he pointed out the specialized equipment in the room, “Anthros and Humans cannot breed with each other, at least not yet.  But Furries like Miss Dixie are the nexus, the connection, between Humans and Anthros.  They are the gateway that allows the two to breed.  Offspring of Furry and Anthro matings show the DNA of both their Human and animal ancestors.”

“And by selecting certain strands,” Gunderson interrupted, “we can register the offspring as either Furry with Human ascendants, or Anthros.”

“Yes, quite.”  The doctor resumed as he led them to a room outfitted as a nursery.  Most of the clear plastic cribs held hairy babies with varying degrees of animal features.  Anthro females in white nurses’ uniforms and medical masks attended to them.  Flynn noticed that those babies on the right were more like Furries, and they were in groups of two, three or four; twins, triplets and quadruplets, she realized.  Such multiple births were common among the less developed Anthros, but still rare among Humans and Furries.

“We can code furry-Anthro offspring to have more Human features and a similar lifespan. That means a full nine months in the uterus however, and only up to four offspring at one time, very inconvenient, and inefficient.  Overall, however, the high price people are willing to pay for male offspring with traces of their DNA in them makes the practice profitable.”

“As does providing furry ‘daughters’ that grow up fast to people like Aaron Li.”  Gunderson injected before looking back over his shoulder at Lawson.  “Or a fluffy little Anthro doggie for those whose tastes lean that way, eh, Lieutenant?”

“Uh, yes.”  The doctor continued while indicating the other side of the nursery, one populated with much more animal-like babies in group cribs of six or more.  “We can produce Anthros coded to develop more along the lines of their animal ancestors, with shorter gestation periods and larger litters, but that means proportionately shorter lifespans.  The sex trade, however, has a high turnover rate, so a useful life span of ten to twelve years is acceptable.”

“Not for them.”  Dixie muttered as they moved into an observation room with a one-way glass that gave them a view of a room full of toddlers.  The Females looked older and more developed than the males, although they assumed that there were all from the same generation.  The males also looked more like Furries and less like Anthros than the females.

“Why the sudden interest in breeding your own slaves, Gunderson?”  Ryan asked

“I have you and your partner to blame for that Detective Sergeant Ryan.”  Gunderson replied.  “Your success in exposing the Anthro trafficking rings supplying the clubs has created a furor at levels that I do not control.  National legislators are drafting laws as we speak that will ban the import of foreign Anthros for any reason. That will lead to a nation-wide shortage, but I will already be producing home-grown Anthros for the sex trade, along with Furries for the adoption business.  Producing my own sex workers will not only reduce my own overhead, it will also allow me to expand my territory when other gangs cannot get new stock.  Quick growth and short lifespans means my Anthros will move quickly into service but create a continuous need for replacements.  I may even sell sterilized workers to gangs in other cities until I am ready to take over there too, thus financing my breeding program at their expense!  It is basic economics, Sergeant Ryan, and a ‘Win-Win’ situation, as you say here.”

“Bull shit, Gunderson.”  Ryan spat as he leaned forward threateningly, causing Lawson to raise his gun.  “This is too elaborate for that.  What’s the real catch?”

The big Norwegian chucked, waved Lawson back and drew a deep breath. 

“I never could fool you, Ryan.  Yes, that is only what I tell my, uh, business partners …”

“Like the Mayor?”

“Amongst others.”  Gunderson waved a hand dismissively.  “In any event, the real business behind the illicit breeding scheme is in Anthro’s altered with specific Human DNA to match tissue types for transplants, but with their animalistic ancestor’s rate of growth, meaning they are physically mature at one year, albeit with a baby’s intellectual development.  They are coded to match rich clients that will require transplants in the foreseeable future.  We raise them, give them simple jobs and keep them healthy until the organs are needed.  Genetic matching means no rejection from the host.  The organs go for a fortune, and depending on what was harvested, we may be able to keep the ‘donor’ alive on life support until more are needed, or freeze them for future use, with the client paying the cost either way.”

“How is that possible?”  Dixie wondered aloud.

The doctor was only too happy to answer as he led them through empty operating rooms and cryogenic facilities. 

“Transplants used to rely on tissue typing to ensure that an organ from a donor will be compatible with its recipient.”  He explained.  “The closer the match, the more likely it is that an organ or tissue transplant will succeed. A better match could reduce the number of anti-rejection drugs required.  An exact match would require none.

“To date, more than thirty-five thousand variations of the proteins that govern organ acceptance or rejection have been identified.  This makes it extremely difficult to find good donors for transplant recipients.  The more similar the antigen patterns are, the more likely it is that those people can be donors.  Identical twins have the same patterns, but siblings only have a one-in-four chance of having an identical match.”

“So,” Gunderson took over the explanation, “for someone with a bad heart, we grow a species with a strong heart that matches the buyer’s proteins one hundred percent.  The offspring is genetically coded to mature as their feral equivalent would, but the heart is coded to last much longer.  Once the animal reaches maturity we harvest the heart or, as previously stated, we put the animal to work at something suitable for it’s species and diminished intellect until the recipient needs it.”

“Why not just grow organs in human fetuses?”  Ryan asked.

The doctor responded with a shrug.  “Too slow, plus the courts have ruled that the donor subjects are legally human, so killing them for organs is technically illegal.  Not so for Anthros, though, especially those that are intellectually diminished.”

“What about breeding regular animals for organs like they’ve been doing for a hundred years or more?”  Dixie protested.

“They were using pigs, as they were the closest match to Humans.”  Gunderson explained.  “But a good portion of the world’s population won’t take organs from pigs for religious reasons.  Even their more enlightened rulers can’t accept them because their followers would turn on them for doing so.  Besides, animal organs, even those modified with Human DNA, still carry foreign proteins that trigger the rejection process.  That means a lifetime on anti-rejection drugs, a suppressed immune system and a high risk of infections from things everyone else is immune to.  Our clients prefer not to take that risk.”

“By using eggs from Furry mothers, like Miss Dixie here,” he added, turning to cup her chin in his big hand, “we can avoid that risk, as they already carry Human proteins.  The good Doctor here just assures that the transplant affecting proteins that are passed on to the half-Anthro offspring are a perfect match for the recipients.”

“We have a very high success rate.”  The doctor said proudly.  “Almost fifty percent.”

“What happens to the ‘offspring’ that don’t match?”  Dixie asked in a subdued voice as she surveyed the latest room, which contained several large plastic trash containers and a large, cylindrical machine labelled ‘Incinerator’.

“Every manufacturing process involves some wastage.”  Gunderson replied as he led them back to the large room near the entrance where they had started. 

“You’re a monster, you know that don’t you?”  Dixie said as she fumbled with a cigarette from her purse.

Gunderson knocked it from her hand.  “Smoking is a filthy habit, Miss Lee, and not allowed in my labs, but I should thank you for your habit.”

Ryan’s head tilted to one side.  “Why?”

“I got to know Miss Lee very well, previously.”  Gunderson said, turn to Ryan.  “She only smokes when she is nervous, and she reeked of tobacco every time she came to see me about my employment opportunity.  That was enough to tell me that you had cooked up some scheme involving her.”

Gunderson laughed when Ryan’s face fell.

“Don’t feel too bad, Sergeant Ryan.  I have always been three steps ahead of you.” Gunderson paused as the door to the warehouse opened and his two Furry wolf guards escorted Flynn into the room. 

“Or maybe four.”  The big man concluded.  Both he and Ryan could see that the wolves’ expensive suits were a little messed up, as was Flynn.

“She was fighting to protect these.”  The lead wolf said as he passed a small receiver and recording equipment to Gunderson.  The other wolf put Flynn’s weapons on a table and began to scan her for electronics, but found none.

While the old Norwegian and his thugs were occupied, and with Lawson behind them out of the line of sight, Ryan caught Flynn’s eye.  He flicked his gaze from the electronics Gunderson was examining to the ceiling.  Flynn nodded slightly, also casting her eyes skyward. 

The corner of Ryan’s mouth twitched as he suppressed a smile.  The plan had required Flynn to place the main receiver with the satellite uplink, which was required to send anything their transmitters picked up to a secure location in the cloud for retrieval, on the roof of the building she was hiding beside.  Fighting to protect what was essentially their backup set rather than going with the wolves peacefully had convinced them that she was not hiding anything.

Dixie's eyes flicked between the two detectives, wondering why they were so pleased with themselves.  She had caught the exchange and new that they were referring to the other receiver, but with all their transmitters disabled what good would that do?

Ryan saw her perplexed look and winked.

Gunderson turned to face the three after assuring himself that the equipment his guards had seized was disabled and incapable of transmitting their conversation.

“I knew your dog would not be far behind, Ryan.”  The gang leader stepped up and examined Flynn’s features while Lawson held her arms behind her back.  “Hmmmm … a fine example.  She should bear good, healthy pups.  We’ll keep her a while, eh Doc?” 

Then Gunderson noted the way Lawson’s eyes had gone half closed and the way his breathing had deepened as he pressed himself up against the Anthro Detective’s backside.

“Maybe the Lieutenant would like to break her in, eh?”  Then he moved over to Dixie and rubbed her head affectionately.  “As for you, I know that your father will be happy to find you safe and secure here, where he can visit you between confinements.  Ha!” the big Norwegian barked in laughter.  “You get my joke?  In this language, pregnancies were once referred to as confinements.  Very appropriate given your situation, Miss Dixie.”

Then Gunderson stepped back and sighed.  “If only you had agreed to cooperate, Miss Dixie, I could have spared you the humiliation, but I need the support of Mister Li and all the Mayor’s other rich friends, so you must do double duty.  As for you …”  He continued, turning to address Ryan.  “You are no use to us, so we just kill you now, quickly and simply.”  He waved his armed wolves forward.

The big man had just turned his back on them when a muffled explosion came from the front of the building.  Turning on their heels he and his guards were just in time to see the front door of the warehouse fall to the floor in a burst of smoke and light.  Before the smoke cleared two metal cylinders came spiralling in though the doorway, exploding with a blinding flash and an ear shattering bang.

Flynn recognized the Flash-Bangs as they flew through the air, and she covered her ears and closed her eyes before they went off.  When she opened them, she saw that Ryan had also tried to avoid the effects of the non-lethal grenades, but he had not reacted quite quickly enough.  Gundeson had been quicker, she noted, but Lawson and his wolves were completely disoriented.  She took advantage of that to rush to the table and snatch up her projectile weapon. 

Officers in full tactical gear flooded in through the open doorway.  Seeing the wolf Furries and Lawson feebly trying to raise their guns and aim through watery eyes they unleashed a volley of electric suppressor and blunt force projectiles.  The three dropped their guns and fell to the floor twitching as thousands of volts passed through them.

Gunderson and his geneticist raised their hands as the Tactical Officers approached.  Flynn recognized Chase as one of them and noted the nervous grin he shot her as he zip-tied Lieutenant Lawson’s arms behind his back.

Then she recognized the big Human wearing a tactical vest over his dress uniform behind Chase.  It was Chief of Detectives Fanning.

“Chief!”  Ryan exclaimed, also recognizing his old boss.  “What the fu- … what are you doing here?”

Fanning walked up to Ryan with a smug smile on his face.  “What?  You think that I grew stupid as soon as I put on the Chief’s hat?  All those questions you and Flynn were asking about Lawson made me a little suspicious, so I had him monitored … Flynn too.  That’s how I came across your friend with the misplaced loyalty here.”  The Chief indicated Chase, who was trying to hide in the background.

“Anyway,” Fanning said as the tactical officers surrounded Gunderson and the doctor, “Chase here informed me of your plan, and I modified it a bit to increase the firepower.”

“Thank God you’re here Chief.”  Lawson said, pulling away from Chase’s grip.  “I found out that Ryan and his partner were trying to shakedown Gunderson and followed them here, but his wolves got the drop on me.  If you hadn’t of showed up when you did …”

“Save it for the inquiry.”  Fanning snapped.  “We’ve been monitoring the channel Flynn set up with her IT guy, Clarke, who is actually the Department’s IT guy.” He added with a frown toward the Anthro Detective.  “You, uh, sleeping with any other Police Department employees I should know about, Flynn?”

Gunderson barked out a laugh.  “You are bluffing, Chief Fanning.”  He said with confidence, tilting his big head toward the smashed electronics they had taken off Dixie and Ryan.  “You have nothing that will stand up in court.  It’s my word against a disgraced alcoholic, a Furry slut and a dog.”

“It’s true that we don’t have any bugs on us,” Ryan said as he dusted off his suit, “but you do.”

Ryan smiled at the Gunderson’s puzzled frown.  “It’s in the barrel of the gun you took off me.”  He said, pointing to the pocket that Gunderson had slipped the pistol into.  “Close enough to pick up every word you and your pet scientist here said.”

Gunderson’s hand went to the pocket with the pistol, but he stopped before pulling the gun out when a dozen assault weapons were suddenly pointed to his chest. 

Ryan held his hand out for his pistol, but just then a burst of gunfire erupted from behind the big Norwegian.  A dozen gunmen, big blond Norwegians by the look of them, were firing from an upper gallery that had seemed unoccupied.  They were firing to either side of Gunderson, avoiding hitting the big man by accident.  Ryan, Flynn, Dixie and Fanning, as well as several of the tactical officers were safe, shielded by the big Norwegian, but several Tactical Officers standing to the sides went down under the barrage.

“You’re not the only one that can call on reinforcements.”  Gunderson spat as he pushed the doctor into Flynn, blocking her line of fire.  He reached out with one big arm and grabbed Dixie by the neck, pulling her against him as a Furry shield.  At the same time, he pulled Ryan’s gun out.  Backing away under the covering fire of his gang he pointed the pistol at Ryan’s chest and fired.

“Antonio!”  Dixie cried as Gunderson dragged her away.

Flynn saw Ryan clutch his chest and fall to his knees.  Fanning was beside him instantly, trying to stem the bleeding.

Snarling in a way that would have made her canine ancestors proud, Flynn pushed the hapless scientist out of the way and raised her gun.  Gunderson had retreated out of sight, but the tactical Squad had already recovered and was suppressing the fire from Gunderson’s gang, so she charged after him.

She was not surprised to find Chase at her side as she reached the door to the Delivery Room.  Falling back into her Tactical Officer training, she let the better armoured Chase go through the door in a crouch while she provided cover over his shoulder.  The room was empty.

The nursery and the toddlers’ room showed no signs of Gunderson or his hostage either, although the scene behind the glass in both was one of chaos, with nurses and guardians trying to calm wailing infants and sniffling children.

Room by room Flynn and Chase entered and cleared them as quick as they could.

“Don’t worry about him getting away.”  Chase told her as they passed through an empty operating room.  “Fanning had the building surrounded before we went in.  Gunderson isn’t going anywhere.”

Flynn did not respond.  Half her mind was on her wounded boss, Ryan, and the other half on Dixie, who had proved her loyalty to the big, dumb Irish-Italian lug.  If Ryan was dead then she had to save the feline Furry; she owed him that much.

They found Gunderson in the corner of the cybernetics chamber.  He had managed to squeeze himself between two containers full of liquid nitrogen.  A wild shot would turn him and his hostage into icicles in an instant.

“Let me go or I’ll shoot her.”  The big man screamed, holding Ryan’s gun to Dixie’s head.

Knowing that reinforcements would be along soon enough, Flynn played for time.

“And where will you go, Gunderson?” She yelled.  “The building is surrounded, and you’ll have to shoot your way out.  Dixie will be killed in the crossfire, so there’ll be no reason not to shoot you too.  Even if you survive your ass is grass.  Most of your gang are dead or under arrest by now, and Aaron Li will never let the Mayor forget it was your fault that his precious little kitten was killed.  Your so-called friends will abandon you and you’ll rot in jail.”

“You think that I do not have a soft landing already arranged?”  Gunderson yelled back as Flynn and Chase tried to find better positions.  “Mister man, let me tell you, I have places you can’t touch me at, and all you have to do is call off the officers outside, have them put down your guns, and let me out that exit door there.  You’ll never see me again and your precious Miss Dixie will be freed.”

“Don’t believe the prick.”  Dixie yelled after tearing Gunderson’s big hand off her face.  “He’ll kill me and you too if he has the chance.”

Her words were cut off as Gundeson grabbed her by the loose skin at the back of her neck and shook her hard. 

“You just go from the ashes to the fire, don’t you Missy?” he snarled before pulling her back against him.

“That’s ‘out of the frying pan into the fire’ you ignorant Viking prick.”  Dixie hissed.  She managed to twist out of his grip, but there was nowhere for her to go; her body was still blocking any shot Chase or Flynn might take.

“You have a shot?”  Flynn asked. 

“No.”  Chase said from behind her.  “You?”

“Maybe.”  Flynn took a breath, let it half out, and drew a bead on Dixie’s face, which was blocking that of the Norwegian gang leader.

“Xialia!”  Flynn shouted, making both Gunderson and Chase flinch.  But it had a different effect on Dixie, whose eyes went wide for an instant before she let her legs buckle and dropped to the ground, exposing Gunderson’s head and upper chest.

Flynn took no chances.  She squeezed the trigger as soon as she could see the old Viking’s eyes go wide with surprise.  The first round went right between them.  The second and third obliterated his face.  As soon as Dixie was out of the line of fire, Chase followed with a burst to the big man’s chest.

The rounds that passed through Gunderson buried themselves harmlessly in the wall behind him, far from the tanks filled with deadly liquid nitrogen.  Despite his obviously lifeless body Flynn kept her gun up and her head low as she moved in to confirm the kill.

 “Suspect down.”  She said, holstering her gun before keeling down to embrace the trembling form of Dixie Lee.

“My Chinese is still a little shaky.”  She said to the shivering feline.  “Was ‘Xialia’ okay?”

“Dixiatou would have been better.”  Dixie replied through sniffles and tears.  “It means ‘duck your head’, but I got the idea.”

Then Dixie turned her big green eyes up to Flynn’s golden-brown orbs.  “Flynn,  Ryan … is he … ?”

Flynn pulled the feline Furry’s head against her chest and hugged her tight as tears filled her eyes. 

“Dixie … I … I don’t know.”

Epilogue

Flynn clutched a bouquet of flowers when she accompanied Dixie to where Ryan was resting.  She had heard that flowers were appropriate on occasions such as this.  It was a nice, grassy, green space, she noted.  A very quiet place, fitting its purpose.

They stood in silence for a moment when they came to where the detective was resting.  Dixie was the first to speak.

“Jesus, Tony.  When are you going to get off your ass and rejoin the living?”

Ryan opened his eyes slowly, taking the two in as they stood with the convalescent home he had been recovering in behind them. 

“You are ruining a lovely morning with your potty mouth Miss Lee.”  He told her.  Then he turned to Flynn.  “Are those flowers for me?”

“Yes.  Yes, they are.”  The Anthro Detective replied as she stepped forward and held the bouquet out at arm’s length.

“I told her that she should have sent them while you were still in the hospital.”  Dixie said as Ryan took the flowers.

“It’s the thought that counts.”  Ryan said, sitting up on the bench in the rest home’s garden. 

“These near-death experiences are really mellowing you out.”  Dixie said as she sat down beside him.

“How are you doing, Sergeant?”  Flynn asked tentatively.  All they had told her initially was that Ryan had come very close to death after Gunderson shot him with his own gun.

“Better than expected.” Ryan replied.  “Most of the superficial damage was from the transmitter hidden in the barrel.  It helped deflect the bullet, so it missed my heart and lung.  I was never in any real danger of dying.”

“Bullshit.”  Dixie exclaimed.  “It was touch and go for a while and you know it.”  She pulled a cigarette out of her purse and fumbled for a lighter.  “Next time you won’t be so lucky.”

Ryan plucked the cigarette from her lips and replaced it with a quick kiss.  “No smoking allowed here, Babe, and you can put them away for good.  I’ve decided to take you up on your offer.”

Flynn’s head tilted to one side.  “What offer is that, Sarge?”

“Her kind offer to set me up in my own office as a Private Detective.  This injury is bad enough to net me a full pension on medical grounds, and she’s rolling in dough since her father offed himself rather than face a trial as Gunderson’s accomplice.” 

“You’re not aching to get back on the streets?”

“Nah.  With Gunderson dead and most of his thugs in custody there’s not much left for us to do in Clubs and Cabarets.  Most of the action will fall to Guns and Gangs as whoever is left fights to takeover the old Viking’s turf.”

“Come on, Sarge.  You know that Fanning has to put you back on Homicide now.”

“No.  Dixie has convinced me to take things a little slower.  Background checks, locating lost lovers and corporate security are more my speed now, so I turned in my resignation last week.  I’m not your Sergeant anymore, Flynn, so call me Tony.  I’ve taught you all you need to know, and besides, I have a new partner to break in.”  He added, squeezing Dixie’s hand.

“Senior partner.”  Dixie corrected.

Ryan laughed, holding the side of his chest where they had removed the splintered bullet.

“How are things going out there, Flynn?”  He asked in a more serious tone.

“About what you would expect.”  She answered.  “The Mayor is in full cover-you-ass mode.  He replaced the Police Commissioner, the Chief of Police and several judges.  He’s also backing the move to give Anthros the vote, to make up for the voters he’s lost over his ‘friend’ Gunderson’s exposure.”

“There is also a movement to recognize the rights of Anthros, as possessors of Human DNA.”  Dixie added.  “When that scientist of Gunderson’s spilled his guts it made it clear to the people that there won’t be any genetic difference between Furries and Anthros and Humans in a few more generations.”

“That’s good.”  Ryan said.  “Maybe our kids will grow up in a better world.”

“Kids!”  Dixie almost screamed.  “Where do you get off thinking that I want kids?  Besides … you know …”  she said, placing her hand on her abdomen.

“You heard the Doc in the warehouse, Sweety.  You don’t need working tubes to get pregnant, and until you’re ready we can practice the old-fashioned way when we’re not working a case … which reminds me …”  He turned to his former partner.  “Flynn, how would you like to join us?  Not in the baby making, I mean,” he said as his face went red, “but in the Detective Agency we’re setting up?”

“I’m going to give that a pass … Tony.  I’ve just been promoted to Detective Second Class and Fanning is moving me onto the Major Crimes Squad.  Clubs and Cabarets is going back to Bylaw Enforcement.  I’ve still got a few things to prove before I head out on my own, besides, I’m going to need a steady income if Chase and I are going to find a place in a nice neighbourhood to raise our family.”

“Hey, good on you Flynn.”  Ryan said with a wide smile.  “Congratulations, on both the promotion and the family thing.  I hope it all works out well for you.”

“Oh, I forgot to tell you.”  Flynn said, shaking her head at her forgetfulness.  “I’ve decided to make another change.  Flynn is going to by my last name from now on.  I’m taking the name Betty, after my Great-Grandmother.  Once the paperwork goes through I’ll be Betty, Betty Flynn.”

Ryan stood up awkwardly, favouring his right side, and gave her a hug.

“Congratulations, Betty.”  Then he held her at arm’s length and looked her over.  She was still wearing a business suit and skirt, but no vest, and with a frilly blouse over a bra she had a tailor in her neighbourhood modify to fit her canine frame.

“Betty.”  He said.  “It suits you.”

Dixie also gave Flynn a friendly hug.  The two had grown closer since the shooting, sharing their mutual concern for Ryan while he was in surgery and later during his stint in intensive care.

“You call me when you’re ready to start looking.”  She whispered in Flynn’s ear while their embrace lingered.  “There’s a nice place near my building that takes Anthros, and the owner owes me a favour.”

Flynn nodded and straightened up.

“I’ll leave you two alone to discuss your future plans.”  She said, backing away.

“Thanks, Flynn.  And thanks for the flowers.”

Flynn turned and left before things could get awkward.

Ryan and Dixie sat together on the bench, holding hands and gazing off at the gardens.  They stayed like that for a good while until Dixie cleared her throat.

“What’s next for us, Babe?”  She asked, with a slight tremble in her voice.

“Who knows?”  He said, his voice as calm as his demeanour.  “But we have a connection now, a nexus, you might even say.  So, whatever it is, we’re going into it together.”