Zig Zag is Copyright © Max Black Rabbit. Sabrina, Darke Katt and R.C. are Copyright © Eric W. Schwartz. James Sheppard, Marvin Badger, Rhonda Badger, Yohni, Alexi, Michael, Esteban, Mia, Wanda Vixen and Tamara Rabbit are Copyright © James Bruner. Alex O'Whitt is © Tigermark. The B-Team is © Silver Coyote. Jean LeBrun, Gabrielle Ryder, Timothy Bigglesworth-Farthington von Salzburg, Malcolm Grazer, Doctor Fox Jones, Peter Spermophilus, Miranda Spermophilus, Dina Spermophilus, Leo Leon, Miriam Redtail, Lizzy Doe, Emma Grey, Professor Moose Nicholson, Professor Erica Belge and Pethouse Magazine is © Joan Jacobsen, 2005. All other characters appearing in this story, except where otherwise specifically noted, are likewise © Joan Jacobsen.

Legal Notice: This story is Copyright © 2005 by Joan Jacobsen. This story may not be sold or used for commercial profit in any form or fashion. This story may not be modified in any way. This story may not be posted on a mirror site or any other Internet site without the written permission of the author. This story may not be distributed on print, magnetic, electrical or optical mediums.

Permission to use characters that are Copyright other individuals was obtained prior to the appearance of said characters.

The author, Joan Jacobsen, hereby asserts moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

This is an independent work of fiction with no connection whatsoever to Max Black Rabbit, Eric W. Schwartz, E.S. Productions or James Bruner and is in no way meant to imply any connection with Max Black Rabbit, Eric W. Schwartz, E.S. Productions, or James Bruner. This story contains characters created by Max Black Rabbit, Eric W. Schwartz, James Bruner, Tigermark and Silver Coyote. Events and characters occurring in this story should not be considered part of the storylines for either 'Zig Zag', 'Sabrina Online' or 'Sabrina Online - The Story'.

In fact, as far as 'Zig Zag', 'Sabrina Online', 'Sabrina Online - The Story' and 'Zig Zag the Story' are concerned, this story does not exist. The artists disavow any knowledge of and do not officially sanction the events in this story.er nodded. "I'm sure."

To Kabul

Days had passed. Long days of training, paperwork and phone calls. Leo was tired of waiting. He had reached the point where he really wanted to get a move on, and get to Afghanistan. Sitting around in Pennsylvania, waiting, was getting intolerable. His unit was ready. Much as he would like to, he couldn't really claim responsibility for it. Lieutenant Rojo, whom he had taken over for, had done a great job on the purely technical parts of the job. As a result, Leo was in charge of a battery of M198's that could turn a medium-sized hill into a crater in two minutes, tops. He himself had managed to put some sense of discipline and pride into the troops, however, and he felt good about having accomplished that.

Even the best gunner was useless if he couldn't follow an order, and if he thought he knew better than his commanding officer or NCO.

That, at least, wasn't a problem anymore.

"Good morning, Sir," the voice said from the doorway.

Leo looked up. PFC Brock saluted him. Behind him, PFC Twain pulled out his kali-tag to show that he did, in fact, have it around his neck. The lion chuckled. Ever since he'd dressed down Corporal Mofeta, the entire platoon had made a habit out of showing him their tags at any given time.

"Good. You're both here. I've got some last minute details to take care of, and some of it involves you two," he said.

"Yessir!" the badger said and entered, followed by the big, pitch-black shape of PFC Twain.

"We're flying out in a couple of hours, and I have some last moment adjustments to the platoon structure to make. Corporal Mofeta and Sergeant Pardinus are already loading up the guns, so I'll need you two to help me out here."

"Any time, Sir," PFC Twain answered, smiling. "It'll be good to finally get going."

Leo looked up at the equine. The others called him 'Dark Horse'...for obvious reasons. The equine was without question the most anti-authoritarian soldier in the platoon, but Leo had noted with some sense of satisfaction, that any order he or Sergeant Pardinus issued was followed immediately.

"Indeed it will, indeed it will," he said, good-naturedly. "Anyway, on to the business at paw, eh?"

PFC Brock nodded. "Absolutely sir. What do you need from us?"

"For you to stand at attention for a moment."

Both furs snapped to immediate attention and Leo stuck his paw into his pockets, looking at them. He nodded, thoughtfully and smiled. "You're good soldiers. And I need a clear command structure in my unit. So...I had a word with Captain Cervus and he decided that you two need an extra chevron. Congratulations, corporals Brock and Twain."

He pulled out his paw from his pocket and gave each of the two furs in front of him his new insignia.

Both saluted, smartly.

"You have two hours to get these onto your sleeves. I think even with your inept needlework that should be possible," Leo said with a crooked smile. "Get a move on, already. And if I drop in on you while you're working on this and I don't see your SAW's within reach, I'll be down on you like two tons of bricks!"

The former PFC, now corporal Twain grinned. "Not a chance, Sir. I sleep with it, these days."

Leo nodded and saluted, before heading off to see to other last moment arrangements.

###

Emma scratched her neck and yawned, shuffling to the kitchen to get something to drink. It wasn't all that early, but she had allowed herself to sleep in. She'd come across a very good book, and it had kept her awake until twenty past two in the morning.

"I hate Umberto," she muttered to herself and flopped down in a chair, after turning on the coffee-machine and getting a mug. "Why must I love his books so much that I can't put them down?"

Not surprisingly, the mug didn't answer, but then again, it had been a purely rhetorical question.

She had to go looking for a place to stay, today. She had written a few emails the day before, and hadn't gone anywhere. Lizzy had already gone off to work. She had been a little stressed out the day before. Probably due to the letter she had written to Leo.

As far as Emma could tell, it was a letter involving the whole story of what Lizzy had kept hidden so far. It was quite a thick letter too. Many pages, by the end of it.

The mink could hardly blame her friend for being nervous. It wasn't as if Lizzy was telling Leo about a broken plate or a flat tire. It was a lot more serious. Still, Emma wasn't worried about Leo's reaction. If there was one thing she felt certain of, it was that the lion would go through fire and water for his girlfriend.

Somehow, waking up seemed like an insurmountable task.

Perhaps checking her e-mails would help clear her head. It couldn't hurt, at least. The coffee would be just about done by the time she'd checked. She didn't really expect any replies to what she had sent off yesterday.

Shuffling from the kitchen to the living room, she turned on the computer and sat down, accidentally sitting on her tail out of pure sleepiness.

"Ouch..." she muttered and adjusted slightly.

She waited for the beeping and flashing to be done and clicked her way onto the internet. Yawning, she managed to type her password correctly in only three attempts and she scratched her neck with a little sigh as she realized she had nineteen new emails.

"All junk, I bet..." she mumbled to herself and began highlighting every last one for deletion.

She only just noticed the one mail in there that wasn't junk. A split second later and it would've been deleted, unread.

Instead, her paw trembled as she opened it.

She nearly fell out of the chair, too, as she read it.

###

Hantaywee looked at the paper in her paw. She pondered it for a while. It was good work, she felt sure of that. Hannah's abandoning the group hadn't done damage that couldn't be repaired. That, at least, was reassuring. The mere thought of Hannah annoyed her though. The students on campus were dividing into three factions already. Silently, but it was happening. One faction backed Miss LeBrun's right to teach. They were thankfully fairly numerous, and Hantaywee counted herself as one of the ringleaders. The next group wanted Miss LeBrun fired on grounds of her sexual orientation, or at the very least barred from contact with students. They were more numerous than Hantaywee liked, but still a small group. They were simply very vocal. The final group was the majority of students at campus, who were sick and tired of the whole thing already and who simply wanted to study.

Quite frankly, Hantaywee couldn't blame those who were sick of the whole thing. Most students at campus had never met Ms. LeBrun in a teaching capacity...if at all. They had no reason to have an opinion on the matter.

Except...

America was supposedly the land of freedom. Rights and justice and equality for all?

"Liberté, Fraternité, Egalité," she muttered and shook her head.

"What? I'm sorry, I was a thousand miles away in my own thoughts," William answered.

Hantaywee looked at the mink. "That'd put you...where exactly?"

"Not quite sure. Maybe it was only 997 miles," William jested and closed the book he had been reading. "Are we ready for the meeting today?"

Richard grinned as he entered the room from the kitchen with three mugs and a pot of coffee. "I doubt we'll get more ready than we are now, at least. We're pretty much up to speed."

Hantaywee nodded and grabbed a mug as Richard offered it. She was about to speak up when an almighty crash stopped her. Not to mention the flying splinters of glass that suddenly filled the room.

"FREAK LOVERS!!" a voice roared from outside...then the sound of three or four furs running away could be heard.

The puma hadn't moved a muscle. Her eyes were the size of saucers and she swallowed repeatedly. A large shard of glass had landed in her mug. She had splinters of the stuff in her hair as well and she looked very frightened.

Richard, having jumped backwards in shock, tried to compose himself. It wasn't easy. He had coffee all over his shirt and down his pants. It was hot and it stung, but...at least it was already cooling off. His heart was hammering in his chest, though. There was a half-brick on the floor next to the table. It had some paper wrapped around it. Probably some obscene message.

Hantaywee was already reaching for it, when William's paw closed around her arm to stop her.

"No! Don't touch ANYTHING. Take the papers we need for the meeting with Miss LeBrun and then call the cops. Don't touch a thing until they get here," he said, calmly.

Richard swallowed. "Will...this isn't a murder-scene..." he protested.

"I know," the mink said. "But your case will be stronger if the very first thing you do is call the police, instead of starting to clean the house. Let them see the damage done."

Hantaywee nodded. "You're right...let's get the police here..." she whispered. She was pale as a sheet and shaking all over. "Bastards...fucking...bastards," she whispered, her voice nearly breaking.

Richard was already on his way to the telephone.

###

Leo looked at his platoon. They were all lined up, standing at ease, divided into squads. He noticed with satisfaction that Brock and Twain were in place at the forefront of their respective squads, new distinctions on their sleeves.

"FURS!" he called out.

The entire platoon snapped to attention.

He himself stood at ease, looking at the faces arrayed in front of him. Crew cuts all along. These were good soldiers, even if they weren't front line combat troops. They knew how to do their jobs and that was what counted. Taking a deep breath, he concentrated on how to go about this.

"When I give the order," he said, matter of factly "...you will turn left and march into the waiting aircraft over there. Take a good look around you, furs. This is the last time for many months that you have your feet..."

He looked at Corporal Twain...

"...or hooves..."

The equine grinned crookedly but kept his gaze fixed straight ahead.

"...on American soil. Enjoy your last lungfuls of American air. Somehow, I don't think Afghani air will taste much different, but I swear to you...everything else will. Where we are going, the world will be upside down, compared to what you are used to. The natives will either love you or hate you. In all likelihood, they will all fear you. What I want you to understand...and what I demand that you live by...is that you are United States Soldiers and any action you take will reflect back not only on yourselves...but on your squad...your platoon, your company, your regiment...indeed your country itself. I expect that each of you will do your country proud, and that you will compose yourselves with dignity. With honor and bravery! Finally, I want each and every one of you to consider the words of a great fur, who at the eve of a great battle, many years ago, spoke to his troops."

No one spoke. Every fur in the ranks in front of him, looked straight ahead, attentive and concentrated. For a brief moment, Leo thought of the first time he had seen these furs. Fooling around...without focus or concentration...without soldier's pride.

Soldier's pride.

He, who had until a few years ago been a complete party-animal, was thinking of such things in all solemnity now. The world was topsy-turvy indeed.

Looking back up, he quietly cleared his throat. When he spoke, his voice was calm and clear. Measured...almost paternal, without being patronizing. It came natural to him. There was a peace to his whole being as he recalled the words, and spoke them:

"This is a different kind of army. If you look at history you'll see furs fight for pay, or femmes, or some other kind of loot. They fight for land, or because a king makes them, or just because they like killing. But we're here for something new. This hasn't happened much in the history of the world. We are an army out to set other furs free. America should be free ground, from here to the Pacific Ocean. No fur has to bow, no fur born to royalty. Here we judge you by what you do, not...by who your father was. Here you can be something. Here you can build a home. But it's not the land. There's always more land. It's the idea that we all have value, you and me. What we're fighting for, in the end, is each other."

Waiting a moment, to let his words sink in, he made sure to look at the faces of his troops. As he had hoped for...many of them looked slightly dreamy.

"Think of these words, when you meet the Afghanis. We are not there to conquer or subjugate. We are there...to set other furs free," he said, calmly.

A few furs made slight nods in the ranks. Leo knew he had reached every single fur under his command.

"Platoon...LEEEFT...FACE!" he snapped.

As if possessed by one mind, the entire platoon turned left. As Leo watched them march towards the open rear end of the transport airplane, he felt a paw on his shoulder. He turned his head and looked at Captain Cervus.

"Good speech, Lieutenant. Mind if I ask a question?" the elk said, looking at the marching column.

"Feel free, Sir."

"Who said that?"

Leo smiled a little. "An actor...portraying the then Colonel, later Brigadier General, Joshua Lawrence Chamberlain before the battle of Gettysburg. Chamberlain said a great many interesting and apt things...but that particular quote came to me this morning. I believe these words were at least true to the spirit of Colonel Chamberlain, sir. He's one of the few soldiers my girlfriend likes. That's how I learned of him, originally."

"She's a pacifist?" Captain Cervus asked with a raised eyebrow.

"She's a historian," Leo answered, truthfully.

Captain Cervus nodded. "Ahh...yes. That would explain it. Even military historians tend to get a rather grim opinion of soldiers after a while. It was a well chosen quote, Lieutenant. You are an excellent leader of furs. Don't think I haven't noticed. Carry on."

Leo saluted as the elk left. Then he turned as well, putting his cap on and straightening his uniform slightly, before walking towards the airplane.

###

Jean closed the door to her office behind her and sighed. The pressure was getting worse by the day. The protesters were just a minority, but they sure as Hell knew how to make her life miserable. Naturally, they stayed away from her lectures, but they clearly tried to influence the remaining students. Fortunately, so far, they had been completely unsuccessful. Not one extra student had left her classes, but it was obvious that while the rest supported her, they felt uncomfortable too.

She sat down and rubbed her face, before picking up the receiver. Putting it down again she muttered to herself and turned to her computer, looking up a telephone number.

"Try finding the number first, Jean," she growled at herself, irritably.

A moment later, she had dialed the number.

"Yes...hello. Sorry, there's some noise on the line, did I reach the 'Parthenon'?" she asked and waited a moment for the reply. "Excellent. I'd like to book a table for four for tomorrow evening, if that's possible?"

She waited another moment before sighing yet again. "I see. Saturday then?" she asked, "At seven PM, if possible? Ahh, excellent. The name is Jean LeBrun. L-E-B-R-U-N...yes...that's it. Thank you."

She hung up again and leaned back in her seat. She wanted to spoil herself. It had been ages since she had done so. Again, she picked up the telephone and made placed a call.

"Hi Yohni...It's Jean," she said, smiling at hearing the mongoose's voice, despite her weariness. "Can you and Gabrielle meet Esteban and me this Saturday at seven PM at the 'Parthenon'? I'm thinking we could hear more about your vacation then. No...I'm not going to take no for an answer."

She waited another moment for Yohni to reply, then smiled. "Excellent. And sure we'll split the bill. Don't worry...I'm not going to embarrass you two by insisting on taking care of the bill. You're the highly paid porn-stars, remember? Good, that's a deal then."

She hung up...only to realize Richard, Hantaywee and William had entered her office quietly. The three looked like they didn't quite know what to say.

Jean couldn't help herself and burst out laughing. "My former roomie," she explained. "She works for ZZ Studios these days. Come on, I thought it was common knowledge around here that I did a script for them a few years back?"

Hantaywee looked even more surprised...although both William and Richard looked at each other with knowing glances.

"Erhh...well, y'see..." Richard began.

"I really don't want to hear about it!" Hantaywee broke in, although she was smiling.

Jean grinned. "Hey, don't look at me like that. I've been a poor student myself, who had to make ends meet...doh...wrong expression in this context..."

William hid his face in his paws. His shoulders were trembling and it sounded like he was sobbing with laughter. Richard just tried desperately to look like he hadn't caught on. He didn't succeed.

Hantaywee sat down and smiled wearily. "Anyway, sorry we're late. It's just..."

Jean nodded, quite serious. "It's okay. You look rattled. Is something wrong?"

"I'd say so," William added, wiping his eyes. He didn't laugh anymore. "Someone threw half a brick through Hantaywee's window, shouting profanities. We had to wait for the cops to get there. Then we had to answer their questions and so on."

Jean sighed. "I can almost guess why..."

Hantaywee shook her head. "Miss LeBrun, I was worried until they showed me what the half-brick had been wrapped in."

Richard grinned and shook his head. "Yeah...good grief, that just defied reason, didn't it?"

Jean looked like she didn't quite understand. "Please explain?" she asked.

"They had wrapped it in bible-pages. Paul's letter to the Romans. You can probably guess what parts they had underlined."

For a moment, the vixen looked like she was about to start laughing. Then she looked disgusted. Then she shook her head and sighed with a crooked, overbearing smile. "So they'll defile their own Scriptures to show their disgust with me. Fundamentalism...it's just plain ugly. I don't care if we're talking religion, politics or animal husbandry...it's just plain ugly," she said and crossed her legs.

"Not to mention unbelievably stupid..." William added.

"Amen, brother," Richard chuckled. "Anyway...we sent you an e-mail a couple of days ago, Ms. LeBrun. Did you get to read it?"

Jean nodded and smiled. "I did. You've done a lot of work...but there are some problems. Let's see, where did I put my notes..." she said and started digging through the stacks of paper on her desk.

###

"Joe...what in God's name is going on up here?" 'Slam' asked.

The tremendous shape of the half-puma, half-canid showed up in the cockpit of 'the Bitch', looking like he was in a good mood to bend someone in half.

"What's wrong?" Joe Latrans asked, looking over his shoulder. "It's just that we're being redirected...rather urgently."

"I'd say so, I just narrowly escaped taking a damned crate of bolts on top of me down there in the cargo bay!!" the large male in the doorway grumbled.

"Then complain to 'Randy'. He's the loadmaster. If the cargo gets loose and gets damaged, he's the one who will fry for it," Steve said from the Co-pilot's seat.

Joe nodded. Slam muttered a few well-chosen and general obscenities before heading back into the cargo bay.

"What is up anyway?" Steve asked once he and Joe were alone in the cockpit once more.

Joe looked sidelong at his friend. "Didn't you hear?"

Steve tapped his headset and groaned. "Not a sound. Just generic static..." he began, then looked like someone hit the light-switch behind his eyes. "God DAMNED it..."

Joe grinned as Steve got out of his seat and began to do a complete radio systems check. "I take it 'The Bitch' is being temperamental again?" he asked, trying to sound like he thought it was a big joke. In reality, he was quite worried. If the radio set went out completely, he couldn't hear directions from the ground either and considering what had just happened, he didn't like those prospects at all. He'd be flying deaf, and right now that was worse than flying blind.

"You didn't answer my question, Joe. Stop stalling..."

"Steve...if I stall in this baby, we'll all be doing the giant-pizza-on-the-ground-routine VERY shortly," Joe answered, brusquely. "Anyway, we just got redirected, that's all. Seems the nearby airbase inconveniently forgot to tell us that they have a whole damned company flying out today. Look...there's another one..."

Steve stopped what he was doing and looked out the window with a longing sigh. "Daaamned, Joe...that's a niiiiice piece of equipment..." he said, wistfully as the C-17 roared past them. "Must be some serious equipment they're moving out if they're using the Globemasters."

Joe nodded. "Tanks or heavy artillery would be my guess," he said, shrugging. "Probably the latter. That's the third Globemaster I've seen taking off. Four C-130's so far."

He gently eased the controls over to the side and pulled up alongside the gigantic aircraft slowly leveling out next to 'The Bitch'. Raising a paw, he waved out the window. It took a few attempts to get the attention of the pilot in the C-17, but finally, the wave was returned.

"So what do we do now? If they're flying a whole company out of there with guns and all, we're going to have to take a big detour or risk running into circling Hercs...or worse..." Steve asked.

Joe nodded. He agreed with Steve, but taking detours meant extra fuel expenditure...and with a radio that was currently in the process of croaking, it was hazardous enough in itself.

"Now I know how Earhart must've felt," he muttered and smiled grimly. "Strap yourself in, Steve...we're in for a bumpy ride..."

Steve nodded and sighed, sending a nasty look in the direction of the radio-set, before sitting down again. "I suppose we can always hope the damned thing pops back to life on its own..." he muttered.

Joe just nodded. Stranger things had happened.

###

Leo looked out one of the side windows and smiled. The civilian transport-plane turned in front of his eyes and left his field of vision. He turned back and looked at the M198's, securely strapped into place in the belly of the plane. They were impressive pieces of hardware...and he couldn't help feeling a slight amount of pride in the fact that he hadn't lost his touch with them while being out of active service.

He also realized that now everything would change. It was one thing to win the confidence, trust and respect of his troops. It was a different thing to lead them in a hostile territory. Even if it wasn't in actual combat-situations, everything would require different thinking on his part.

He picked out a letter from his pocket. He hadn't had a chance to read it yet. It had arrived that morning, and he had been so busy that he had only barely managed to get everything together in time.

This was a good time to sit down and read it, though. It was quite thick. No doubt, Lizzy had a lot to say. He was happy that she had actually written him something. That it was a real, actual letter. Something to take with him and keep around to remind him of home. It was sappy...he knew it. But that didn't bother him. One look around the faces of his troops showed him that several of them were engrossed in reading letters of their own. They too needed something to anchor them to home.

It was only natural.

Fitting, even.

"I don't care...it's a SHITTY time to send someone a 'Dear John'!" one of his troops burst out and tossed his letter to the floor, putting his head in his paws.

The two furs next to him immediately patted his shoulders to show some sympathy. The private just kept his face covered. Leo looked at his letter again and sighed. He was at least certain that the contents wasn't a 'Dear John'. Still, he felt sorry for the soldier across the cargo hold, trying to get a grip on himself.

Instead, he sat down and flicked out a claw to open the letter.

He unfolded the many sheets of paper...

...And started reading.

###

"Hey Emma, you look like you're in a good mood, today?" Lizzy commented. She tossed her jacket over the back of a chair and headed directly for the bedroom to change into some less constricting clothes.

Emma beamed widely and nodded. "I think I've been a very good mink today, so I've got every reason to smile," she said.

Lizzy peeked out around the door and blinked. "Wow. That sounds very positive indeed. What have you been up to?"

Pointing to the computer, Emma smiled even wider if that was even possible. "I just got a very nice message today, that's all."

"What's that?"

"Remember I said I'd apply for that archivist job...way back?"

Lizzy turned her brain upside down to remember. Slowly, it dawned on her and she nodded. "Yeah...Ohio Historical Society, wasn't it?" she asked.

"Precisely. Jeremy made me recall my application. I wrote to them...I explained to them what had happened. Everything, in fact. I even explained that after the trial, what I needed more than anything was to get on with my life. I honestly thought they'd write back and say 'no thank you', but...I figured honesty was the best course of action, since I had applied once already."

"Didn't they already fill the job with someone else though??" Lizzy asked, sensing where this was going.

Emma was positively beaming. "Apparently...no. Good archivists don't grow on trees these days and it seems they had difficulty finding someone qualified. To make matters even better, the femme who wrote me back said she had followed the news about the trial with some interest and she would like for me to come to an interview, because she thinks they might have use for me anyway..."

Lizzy went back into the bedroom but only for a brief moment before she reemerged, pulling a T-shirt over her head. She too was smiling widely. "That's GREAT news!"

Emma nodded and blushed a little. "I took a chance and it worked out..."

"Sometimes, that's how it goes."

"I know...but it's not something I'm very good at."

"Not yet, you mean," Lizzy chuckled. "I'm proud of you. We'll get you a new place to live on top of things. I promise. And even if it takes some time, you know you're welcome to stay here until we succeed. Especially now that Leo isn't here. It's nice to have a friend around."

Emma nodded yet again and smiled gratefully. "Even so, I should find a place of my own as fast as possible."

"You will. Don't worry about that part," Lizzy chuckled and headed into the kitchen. "Omelet for dinner?"

"I'm a mink...and you ask me if I'll have eggs?" Emma grinned. "That's like asking Leo if he likes steak, isn't it?"

Lizzy giggled from the kitchen. A moment later, the snap of eggshells breaking could be heard. Within a few minutes, the scent of Spanish omelet drifted through the air.