The Hunter And The Game

Jefferson Ball stood outside the window of the department store, waiting for it to open for business. She liked what she saw in there, very much.
 
It was the early spring of 3205, and a chill was evident in the morning air. The citizens of Hugopolis, the great port city on the Habermas River in the country that used to be the United States of America before the “blast” of 2100 obliterated the human race and made the canine race its genetically engineered successor, were beginning their day. Jefferson was among them as she paced impatiently in front of the store window. In the old human days she, with her black leather monogrammed bikini that gave a vivid, sexy contrast to her brown fur pelt and matched the color of her nose exactly, plus her ever-present whip, might have been mistaken for a practitioner of what the humans used to call “S and M”.
 
But that was no longer an issue: Jefferson dressed like this because she, like all females in this post-apocalyptic world, was a member of the dominant ruling class-that allowed her to dress and act as she wanted. Besides, wasn’t she also an intergalactic bounty hunter, adventuress, business lady, gambler and fearless fighter against any and all aliens and other pond scum that threatened her planet, her town and her life? ‘Nuff said. Indeed, she could tell other people what to do with their lives, as she frequently was want to do.
 
Jefferson (or 'Jeff', as she preferred to be called), despite her swaggering individualism, was very much a part of the culture in which she lived, and so, to better understand her, said culture and this story, it is necessary for us to fill in a small bit of diversionary background
 
II.
The overthrow of the dreaded Chrome regime in 3014 may have restored democracy to the Earth, but for half its citizens, it was the most undemocratic period of their lives. It was assumed by the most intelligent and power-hungry femmes that the reason for the fall of the original pre-Chrome canine democracy lay straight in the eyes of the male of the species. He had been, of course, the larger and more violent of the traditional breeding pair, and this, coupled with a misguided but effective resurrection of the 'feminist' principles of the late twentieth century (albeit in name only), led to the surrendering of the male’s rights and status as citizens in a controversial, ill-managed 'vote' in 3150 that 'passed' despite the opposition of the males, who were justifiably not prepared to go gentle into that good night. But, as was so often the case in the following years, they were ignored.
 
The bias soon had its desired effects. Males were barred from holding high office, voting, owning property and having legal identities separate from the females who 'kept' them. At virtually all times, they were sequestered from the females, whose living conditions were considerably better than theirs. They were, in effect, wage slaves, except for the technicality that they were not being reimbursed for their duties in any beneficial way. 
 
They were taken for granted except for reproductive duties, and even then, as one contemporary advertising slogan put it, they could easily be put back in their place.
 
The insidious nature of these actions became even more severe by 3175, with the introduction of reproductive production standards that geared the reproduction cycle to favor female biological cycles, with the result being smarter, faster and stronger females to serve as the professionals and soldiers. The odd male pup was still born, but he was immediately told in word and action how much he did not matter in this society. Breeding of this kind rapidly reduced outward signs of aggression, as males became more domesticated, submissive and compliant. Just the kind that made it easy for females to inflict what used to be called 'domestic violence' on them regularly, with no fear of or intercourse by the law.
 
Jefferson Ball was a product of these times. Having entered the world in 3200, she was now a seasoned veteran and survivor in a difficult land. She grew up believing the world was her oyster, as did all the 'ladies' of Earth, and she wasn’t going to let anyone stop her from having fun. She had tried being a soldier, but the routine quickly bored her.
 
After going AWOL (and then serving time in the pen when the forces caught up with her after a drunken brawl), she got out and redeemed herself by becoming the most ruthless and efficient hunter of evildoers in the known galaxy. Aliens, who seemed to invade far more often than they had done in the human times, were no match for the punch of her fist, the kick of her hob-nailed booted leg, or the slashing sting of her constant companion, her beloved whip. Robots, no matter how big they were, were no match for her either, and usually she had them down on their metallic knees begging for mercy.
 
Medieval wizards? Enchanted witches and warlocks from other planets and dimensions? ESP-powered mutants? No prob. Or at least that was the way Jefferson wanted to think it was. Her other constant companion, Hamilton Pomeranian, knew better, having already seen Jeff through most of her toughest times.