Grateful thanks to An Delen Dir for the loan of one of her characters. I will take great care of him. Promise. And to dragon, who not only makes an appearance, but gave me valuable you to both of you. This story is set some time after Calan Geaf by An Delen Dir

Chapter 1

'Coming?' There was no reply, but Straker was used to that. He frowned more in amusement than annoyance and walked on, turning round once to call to his companion. 'I'm not waiting for you.'

He paused, shrugged his shoulders and opened the outer office door, making sure it remained open behind him. Another scorching day, the sun blazing in a brilliant blue sky and the heat-haze shimmering over the sticky tarmac of the car park. Even the brief walk from his vehicle had made his shirt cling to his back. For once, it would be pleasant to spend the day in the coolness of the underground and air-conditioned workspace. He tugged off his sunglasses with a sigh of relief.

'Alone, Commander? Is everything all right?' Miss Ealand gave him a look of concern.

Straker tilted his head and shrugged. 'He's flirting with Janice in Reception. Seems to think he stands a chance of getting what he wants from her. He'll be along soon.'

Miss Ealand held out an envelope. 'And does he? Stand a chance with Janice?' She followed Straker through to his office and waited as her boss slit open the envelope and pulled out the contents.

'No. At least I hope not. I warned her about him, but you know Janice. She's a soft touch.' He leafed through the papers and tossed them on his desk. 'Send him down when he arrives will you? I'll be waiting.'

The uniform convention and his own unwritten code of behaviour required the wearing of his jacket while in transit from car to office, but today he stripped it off as soon as the door closed and the room descended.

Dog days. That was what they called these hot days in July and August. Evil days some people said, but so far this week the evil he fought every day had not appeared. An idle thought wandered though his mind as he waited for the room to stop moving. Perhaps the aliens also had 'dog days' and, like humans, could not be bothered doing anything strenuous during a heat wave such as this.

He stretched, slinging his jacket over his shoulder. Another day. The mundane activities of paperwork and reports and meetings. Straker picked up his briefcase and shook his head with slight irritation. Once, just once, it would be nice to do something different.

He paused for a brief word with Ford before the coolness of his own office welcomed him and he sat with a sigh of relief to begin work.

'Ah. There you are.' Miss Ealand smiled at the sound of footsteps. 'He's waiting for you. Go right in and I'll let him know you're here.'

The office door closed and she flicked the switch connecting her to Straker's underground office. 'He's on his way sir.'

'Thank you Miss Ealand.' Straker's voice was dry and amused. 'I expect he got what he wanted as well.'

Miss Ealand paused. She'd seen the evidence, but it was best not to say anything incriminating. 'I really couldn't say, Commander.' She closed the intercom and carried on typing.

Lt. Ford, forewarned by Straker, was ready for the new arrival. 'Morning.' He smiled and leaned over. 'Wondered where you'd got to. Go on. He'll get worried if you don't get in there pretty sharpish. And I haven't anything for you right now. Maybe later.'

Straker was sipping his first coffee of the day. There had been no time this morning and anyway it had been too sultry. He settled for a glass of cold milk at home but the air-conditioning was as efficient as usual and he could enjoy a decent drink. He glanced up at a movement in the doorway.

'Oh. It's you. Well, come in. I was starting to think Janice had given in and let you have more than just her apple core.' He waved a hand at the corner seat. 'Sit there. Where I can keep an eye on you.' He tried to put the required level of sternness and command into his voice but it was difficult, especially when his companion's response was to tilt his head and move to sit at Straker's feet, mouth open in a wide grin, deep brown eyes staring with unashamed adoration. The thin tail swished back and forth.

It was no use. Straker sighed. 'Very well.' He shuffled his chair back and the whippet slipped under his desk to lie there, head resting across Straker's ankles. 'It gets uncomfortable you know,' Straker informed him. 'But you can stay there for now.'

Calan twitched one ear at him, knowing he would not be ousted from here. Not unless it was necessary, and then, when the alarms sounded and the man had to go and work, only then would Calan settle on the blanket on the corner seat, curled up and lying, awake and watchful and waiting for Straker's return.

Straker left his jacket behind when he went out later but Calan was close on his heels as they left the busy reception area, heading for the woodland bordering the eastern edge of the studio complex. Straker opened the gate and gestured. 'Go on. Be quick. Just five minutes. I'm busy today.'

The woodland - privately owned by the studios - had few casual visitors other than Straker and his companion, and Calan, long tail thrashing in delight, disappeared into the undergrowth to search for stray rabbits and whatever else might be waiting there. Straker leaned on the gate, pondering the changes this small animal had brought into his life. It was a pity he couldn't take the dog with him on this trip, but Paris was no place for a whippet. Jackson would be looking after the dog. It would be the first time as well and, with a rueful grin, he wondered if Jackson knew what he was letting himself in for. He walked along the path for a while before returning to the gate, unperturbed by the non-appearance of his companion. He had not seen Calan since the dog had run into the undergrowth, but he could hear the scuffles of the hound trailing in the scrub and bushes, out of sight but always close at hand.

He looked at his watch and gave a piercing whistle. It had been longer than five minutes, more like fifteen, but the dog needed some exercise and it was dark and cool under the trees. And peaceful. The rustles in the undergrowth ceased for a moment and Straker imagined the scene; the small white head lifting, the ears pricked, the head tilting as if to assess the situation. But it was only the first whistle and the man would not leave yet. Calan continued his serious hunt for rabbits, or foxes or badgers, or whatever might be lurking out of sight, waiting to be discovered.

Another whistle, but the dog continued his pursuits, scrabbling for a brief moment at a promising rabbit hole before darting away to chase an even more exciting smell. Straker gave the obligatory final whistle, accompanied by his name, shouting it in the tone indicating slight exasperation.

It was time to go. Calan bounded up, tongue lolling, eyes bright with the excitement of the chase.

'You're a stubborn nuisance you know that, don't you,' the man said, voice soft with affection as he rubbed his hand over short silky fur and fondled soft ears. 'But I'll miss you this weekend.' It was an admission Straker had never thought to make. A warm tongue licked his knuckles and the two made their way back to the clinical underground headquarters, where there were no interesting smells or rabbits to chase, only the man's feet to lie beside. It was enough. For both of them.

The rest of the morning dragged on, Straker trapped at his desk by paperwork and the weight of a small head pressing on his foot. He scratched a persistent itch on his ankle. Fleas? Surely not. He was meticulous about regular treatments. It was a necessary part of caring for a puppy, along with the correct food and regular exercise. It hadn't taken long to train the dog, although Calan was still far too easily distracted by little things: mice, birds, rustling leaves, apple cores proffered by gullible secretaries, but Straker was sure the pup would settle down soon enough. He shifted his feet as much as possible to ease the stiffness, mindful of the sleeping puppy, and then stretched across for the next folder in the never-ending pile.

Then the alarm sounded. A scrabble of claws under the desk, a yawn from the small sighthound as it emerged from the safe confines, Straker wincing and rotating his feet in an attempt to regain some feeling as he reached for the intercom with one hand, the other stretching to massage his ankle. 'Straker.'

'Positive sighting Commander.'

Calan was already heading for his corner seat. There was a soft thump as the hound jumped up, shuffling round on the blanket before curling up, his dark eyes watching as the man, all thoughts of itchy ankles and sleepy sighthounds forgotten, walked from the room.

Another busy day, another late evening as well from the looks of it. Straker cast a rueful glance at his office. No chance for one last walk before he left. He hoped Calan would understand.