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the Merchant Guild, the women in the Samurai Guild demand equal rights in the Warrior Guild.  The lords argue about things called money and taxes.
    The Gray’s ears tilted forward with interest.  How does King Donovan solve these problems?
    He guides the humans toward a concept called self-government, urging them to solve disagreements for themselves within the Council .
    A wise decision, humans must learn the art of compromise.  You seem to understand politics, Kriegen. The Gray licked his muzzle.  Do the Humans make progress?
    It’s too soon to judge.   Using mind speech, Kriegen must be honest .  Change requires time.  King Donovan intervenes when the packs howl with discord.  We observe civilized tendencies emerging, but it may take many seasons to see the final results .
    The Gray scratched his ear in thought.  And what of the evil one called Jarrack?  Have the scouts determined if he murdered the mind of the cub whose body he occupies?   The Gray’s black-rimmed eyes peered into Kriegen eyes.
    The cub grows like any youngster, adequately tended by his dam.  Our scouts detect Jarrack inside the young mind, but he has not killed the host.   Kriegen felt doubts but his mental voice did not betray him.
    Keep the Council informed.  If the mind of the cub dies, we must take steps to rid ourselves of Jarrack’s evil .   The Gray lifted his nose and howled, joined by the harmonious voices of pack delegates.  Kriegen raised his own voice, knowing that the battle with Jarrack was not over.

4 ~ FREMONT AT THE INSTITUTE
     
    Fremont waited to enter the Director’s office, his nervousness barely under control.  When the Director of the Institute summoned an officer of his rank, it was cause for worry.  He fingered a holo cube with statistics about the escaped scientists, gone for over twenty years.  Fremont knew this meeting was his last chance.
    “You may see him now, sir,” the secretary said and the reception room door slid open.  Fremont detected a note of respect in her voice and felt encouraged.
    “Thanks.”  Fremont entered the luxurious suite.
    “Ah, Fremont.  I’m eager to hear your report.”  The Director looked young and handsome, the result of frequent Transfers.  Fremont longed for the day that he could request Transfer at any time he wished.
    Fremont activated a holo of the galaxy, covered with lines. “We narrowed Dr. Alexander’s location down to sector 45.  As you know, the Zebulon crossed shipping lanes to disguise their ion trail and the lanes contained 368 vectors.  We charted every vector route and ruled them out, except for this one.”  Fremont zoomed in and the trail glowed over a section of the starchart.  “A battle cruiser went missing in that sector seventeen standard years ago and we believe it was destroyed by the Zebulon.”
    The Director leaned back in his chair and grinned. “Good, Fremont.  We’re very pleased with your work.”  Fremont’s face glowed with pride.  “Now I’ll explain your assignment.”  The Director gestured Fremont to sit.
    Fremont prayed he’d get authority to kill Dr. Alexander and Captain Donovan.  He dreamed of killing those traitors since the day they trapped him in stasis and escaped.  Remembering the humiliation, he gripped the arm of his chair in anger. 
    “The Board of Directors originally felt the defection of a group of rebel scientists might be of little concern since they were already scheduled for termination.  They became dangerous to our control of Transfer, and we were loath to track them down.  But during the last two decades, problems with our Transfer equipment became widespread.” 
    Fremont heard rumors about Transfer failure, but he assumed the deaths were part of the Institute’s plan to eliminate trouble makers.  He leaned forward. 
    “Dr. Alexander was part of the team that designed the equipment and might solve our technical difficulties.  You must find the man and bring him