The Drekan were running out of money. This wasn't anything new, before each conquest they had made a habit of taking out loans and paying them off with the riches they acquired after the campaign was finished.

This cycle was good for everyone involved, besides of course the poor species about to become ration packs. Or the Drekan soldiers themselves for that matter, who were viewed as nothing but cannon fodder by the upper ranks.

Banks would issue a loan, which the Drekan would use to purchase materials and weapons, often from themselves. This would keep the oligarchs rich and the banks happy because the loans were always repaid. Or rather, had always been repaid until now.

The Drekan getting their asses kicked by a bunch of herbivorous farmers and hairless apes had disrupted that cycle. Now all of the formerly friendly banks had begun demanding repayment and nobody would lend them so much a single credit to continue their war.

When they asked why the answers varied but all carried a similar theme. "You're a bad investment." Said the representative of the First Avian Bank.

The representative of the Limmisian Lending Association was much more direct. He didn't even bother offering a beverage or any other form of hospitality to the Drekan Ambassador. Reffen of Clan Jerr just sat there resplendent in his official robes, untold riches woven into his grey fur, not speaking.

As he looked at the hunting trophies on the wall Ambassador Quomma started to recognize a common theme. They were almost all the heads of large predators, some of which might have even been fellow sapients. Below each one was a small plaque detailing what it was, where it had been killed, and how.

The one that caught his eye was a large insect-like head that had been smashed flat to the point where it had become almost two dimensional. The plaque below simply read, "Scourge Deathstalker, Limissian Home System, Hoof."

Finally Reffen spoke, his low voice like a rumbling stampede. "We will not be able to extend you credit at this time because dead species don't repay loans. And besides, we would much rather back the Kinter than some upstart war mongering predators."

"We will remember this." Hissed the Drekan Ambassador, showing his fangs in an obvious threat display. Ambassador Quomma had been a power player in Drekan politics for a long time and was used to getting what he wanted. He wasn't about to let some herbivore insult his people and go unchallenged.

"Only for the rest of your life, which won't be long." Replied the Limmisian as he stood up to his full height, towering over the smaller predator. His horns almost touched the ceiling. "And it will be much shorter if you ever disrespect me or my clan again."

The Limmisian banker paused, seemingly pondering something. "Perhaps there is one who might be willing to do business with you." He rolled the idea around in his mouth and savored the taste before he continued. This would be sweet. "Have you ever had dealings with the Katzen?"

"No. Why would I?" Ambassador Quomma asked, his fur still standing up from the earlier confrontation. He didn't trust this sudden shift towards helpfulness and civility. "We're both felines but they're just some nomadic uplifts with no homeland while we are proud warriors. It's like the difference between a pistol and a ship mounted rail gun."

"That analogy is much better than you know." Mused the Limmisian as he sat back down. "One of their representatives is here in town and may be willing to speak to you if I were to make an introduction. He's an old friend of mine."

"And what will that cost me?" The Drekan Ambassador asked.

"Only your teeth." Replied the Limmisian. "You were so bold with them earlier and I found myself wondering what they might look like wrapped in gold. Two fangs will buy you two minutes with their representative, unless you know of someone else who might be willing to help you."

There it was, the Limissian wanted a new trophy for his wall, the teeth of a Drekan Ambassador. Repayment for the earlier insult.

"No." Replied Ambassador Quomma. "I won't play this game."

"Yes. You will." Promised the Limmisian. "When you're desperate enough you will come to me and beg me to pull your teeth. You will call me friend."

"Never!" Spat the Drekan, showing his fangs by reflex. He flinched back and covered his mouth but it was too late. The Limmisian lurched forward and grabbed him by the back of the head then slammed him face first into the table with a savageness and ferocity that was surprising.

The Drekan reeled in confusion as he was repeatedly bashed against the table. He couldn't fight, he couldn't think, all he could do was go limp and wait for death.

---

Sometime later the Drekan representative was sitting in a different, much more comfortable office holding an ice pack. One of his eyes was swollen shut and the whole side of his face was an uninterrupted bruise. Thankfully there didn't seem to be any trophies on the walls.

The black furred Katzen sitting in front of him was amused. Amusement was a kind of ground state for Katzen. They always seemed to be enjoying a private joke, usually at someone else's expense. "Reffen said I was to give you ten minutes of my time."

"Yes, he said you might be able to help me." The Drekan tried to regain his defiant poise and posture but failed. He was bruised and beaten. All the fight had left him. "Nobody will lend us money."

"And why do you think that is?" The Katzen asked, not bothering to introduce herself. She sat on the edge of the desk and leaned in close. Her golden eyes flashed as she looked at him. Her clothing was simple, gray slacks and a knit sweater. The only adornments she wore were a golden collar and matching ear cuffs which he assumed to be symbols of her rank. There was also a smell he didn't recognize but would later learn was sandalwood.

"They think the humans will win." The Drekan said, hating the words.

"No." Corrected the Katzen, not unkindly. "They know the humans will win. But that's not why. There is still money to be made off the losing side. Tell me, which sentient species do you think is the most powerful?"

The Drekan knew this one, the trophy earlier had jogged his memory. "It's those bug bastards. The whatever you call them… scourge?"

"No. It's the humans." The Katzen informed him. "The scourge at their height had dozens of worlds. But humans have footholds on almost every major planet. You don't notice them because they're spread out but even your own homeworld of Eyrwn has a population of nearly a million humans."

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"By a conservative estimate they outnumber the scourge ten to one. If we're talking about economic power it's more like a hundred to one. No bank is going to risk pissing off the most powerful species in the galaxy for a few hungry predators with lax population control." She flicked her tail with annoyance. "Especially not when the Hunds have decided to get involved."

The Drekan furrowed his brow and immediately regretted it as a shot of pain shot through his face. Hunds were nothing but bounty hunters and mercenaries, why were they getting involved in the war?

"Oh, you hadn't heard about that." The Katzen laughed. "The Council has pledged the full force of their military to the Kinter as well as extending them credit so that they can rebuild after the war is over."

"I'm not worried about a few uplifts." The Drekan said, trying to play off his surprise.

"You should be." The Katzen warned, brushing off the accidental insult. "The Humans underestimated the Hunds once and it cost them dearly. Tell me, do you remember the Vressian Empire?"

The Drekan's eyes narrowed with suspicion. "I've heard of them before." He admitted, wondering if this Katzen knew about what his people had acquired from that now destroyed planet.

The Katzen nodded. "Then you know that once war broke out with the Humans suddenly they found themselves unable to acquire even the most basic of resources. Their people starved and they were unable to replenish their lost units, in essence they were at an extreme disadvantage from the start."

"The Demons may be pariahs, but they're still Humans. So once the news gets out about this little war of yours even if we did give you the credits you need nobody will sell to you, not at a reasonable price at least."

"So what can you do for me?" The Drekan asked. "I'm assuming the answer is nothing." He pointed to his ruined face. "All of this was for nothing."

"On the contrary, I can help you quite a lot." The Katzen purred. "I'm about to make you the offer of a lifetime." Then she explained to him step by step what he was to do and how he would be rewarded.

"Surely that would be…" Quomma stopped. That was a lot of money.

"It is all above board and perfectly legal." The Katzen winked. "I believe there is even precedent."

Ambassador Quomma considered his options. It was in his power to do this. He knew the players and all of their dirty secrets. This was possible…

"I know you're conflicted." Purred the Katzen. "Anyone would be. But doesn't this sound so much more fun than going from bank to bank getting told no, suffering insult after insult, trying to accomplish an impossible task and getting nothing to show for it? Don't you deserve more?"

"I do." Quomma whispered.

"So then it is decided. Go do what you're good at. Do what you do better than anyone else and I will reward you with riches beyond even your wildest dreams." The Katzen smiled human style, showing perfect white teeth. "Go make us some money."

---

The assembled titans of industry discussed the document Ambassador Quomma had brought before them. It had taken every single favor he could call in just to get all of them in the room. He had bribed, threatened, even murdered to get this done. His directives were clear, any decision makers not in this meeting had to be either in the ground or atomized.

"This is an outrage!" Snarled a grotesquely fat male Drekan. "You can't nationalize our companies!"

"Yes they can, Ledoux." The Ambassador said calmly, forcing them to quiet down and listen. "During the last conquest you pushed to have the government nationalize that start up with the missile tech. You know, the one that we then promptly sold to you for a fraction of the real value. So there is a precedent already set for nationalizing a company of vital strategic importance. This is all legal and above board."

"The President-" Ledoux started to say before being cut off by Ambassador Quomma.

"The President has his tail caught in a vise. You already started production of a replacement fleet and the military will overthrow him if that is what they have to do to get ahold of those ships." The Ambassador let out a theatrical sigh.

"Look, none of this is anyone's fault. The Kinter entered into this war under false pretenses. They pretended to be weak to goad us into attacking. They tricked us and our war mongering generals fell for the bait."

He could see now that the assembled figures were nodding along with him. "All we have done is perform our jobs to the best of our abilities." He pointed to the bruise on his face and opened his mouth to show the cracked teeth. "And now we're being punished for it. That's not fair. Why should we suffer for their mistakes? Don't we deserve better?"

There was a murmur of agreement followed by words that were like the sound of angels in his ears. "Well, what do you think we should do?" Asked the head of a major arms manufacturer. "There has to be some other option."

Ambassador Quomma sat back and pretended to think. Finally he spoke. "There may be a way out of this, but we have to move quickly…"

---

"They what?" Screamed Admiral Fluffanoc, checking to make sure his ears were not deceiving him. The last thing he had heard was that the President was going to finally nationalize the few remaining shipyards not destroyed by the humans. Now he was getting reports that the ships he had been promised were all gone.

The aide shrugged. He was used to Fluffanoc's outbursts by now. "Someone must have warned them that the President was planning on nationalizing the shipyards so Ledoux took every ship capable of warp travel, packed them full of whatever wasn't welded down and then left."

The aide consulted his notes. "From what I have been able to glean, Ledoux has sold his company in its entirety to the Katzen."

"He can't do that!" Fluffanoc shouted. "That's treason!"

"Per Drekan law it is perfectly legal for Ledoux to sell his company if he so chooses. What the Katzen then does with those ships isn't his responsibility. Technically he has committed no crime."

"What about Drexxon?" The Admiral pleaded. "Please tell me our fuel reserves are still there."

"Also sold." The aide tapped away at his data slate. "It looks like what they couldn't transport they destroyed instead. Apparently it was quite a show." He pulled up a picture of a smoking crater that had once been a refinery in the heart of a large industrial city.

"Now that can't be legal…" Admiral Fluffanoc said before he remembered that the President had passed a law after the first campaign that a company contributing to the war effort could not be held liable for any accidents or loss of life. "Who else did we lose?"

"Northrop Drekan, Drektheon, Mockheed Drekan…" The aide went down the list, his voice devoid of emotion.

By the time the list was finished Admiral Fluffanoc had realized that this wasn't just a few industrialists throwing a fit over being nationalized. The entire Drekan military industrial complex had abandoned them all at once. Everything that could kill, maim, or even mildly inconvenience an enemy had been sold to the Katzen at bargain basement prices.

As a knock-on effect hundreds of senior officials had fled as well, some out of cowardice but many more had simply followed their corporate masters.

He had no manufacturing capacity and no ability to repair or even maintain his current ships. Soon things would start to break and with no replacement parts whole starships would go dark for want of a single circuit board, a circuit board that he was unable to replicate because of the anti-counterfeiting technology baked into their ships.

"We have to sue for peace." The General finally said, once he stopped swearing. "We don't have any other option."

"We can't." The aide replied. "We need the Ambassador and the President to sign off on the peace agreement. Both unfortunately seem to have fled."

"Surely… no…" Admiral Fluffanoc looked up in horror. "Are you telling me that we have no government?"

"Not unless you want to start a new one." The aide's fingers hovered over his slate.

"So you're telling me that if I want to stage peace talks I have to start a coup first? That's insane." Admiral Fluffanoc shook his head in frustration. "Why are the Katzen doing this? What could they possibly gain from it? What have we ever done to them?"

The aide shrugged. "I have no idea why this is happening but it's not our fault. We've done nothing wrong." He paused as if deep in thought before continuing. "I might have found a way out for us but we have to move quickly…"

---

The former Drekan Ambassador sat at his desk and let out a smile. His face still hurt but it was healing. A fat stack of cold hard cash was better than an ice pack.

Those companies he had helped the Katzen acquire had already been resold at a profit to the Kinter with loans secured by the Hunds. And he had earned commission on all of it.

"Do you like your new office?" The black furred Katzen asked, its golden eyes glinting with mischief.

"I love it!" Quomma exclaimed. "Thank you so much for giving me this opportunity, Sir."

"Please, just call me Gershwin." The Katzen purred. "Everyone else does."