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#41
Fan Art & Fiction / Re: Sapient Plague ( No Commen...
Last post by cairn destop - Oct 15, 2018, 07:46 AMThe beer acquired a bitter taste with the news. It also killed any jovial mood his officers displayed when they first stepped into the bar. Major Riven dismissed them one at a time, allowing each a few moments on the street before sending the next. He offered the waitress a generous tip before he too took his leave of the tavern. The way the locals watched him, he had a feeling the appearance and sudden disappearance of six ferrets would dominate local gossip for a week. No way to fix a cracked egg.
He checked his comm and his watch. If the information proved accurate, he should find his last two companions around the next corner. Perhaps he did feel a bit paranoid. It took him almost ten minutes covering a distance of four blocks. He kept watching every morph passing him until they rounded a corner. His eyes searched the dark for anyone paying him too much attention. With no time to spare, he rushed to his meeting place and groaned. If he thought his officers acted like idiots, his two contacts just made them intellectuals.
The presence of an otter in this section of town might draw some attention but this one made sure others noticed him. The fellow wore his dress black uniform announcing to one and all that he belonged to the space patrol. Bad enough he wore his rank insignia, he also wore his name tag and ribbons. His rolling gait might have been misconstrued as inebriation but the uniform said he hadn't been dirtside for an extended period.
His companion stood out as well in his army uniform. Like the otter you could tell the ferret's name, rank, and unit. At least he didn't have any combat citations. Not that he should have any as a veterinarian. If anyone missed his designation, the medical bag he carried told all his profession.
Major Riven hailed a cab and they rode in silence to the theatre district. Once the cab left, they walked towards the opera house and sat on a nearby bench. Fifteen minutes later, the doors opened and the patrons exited. Some made their way to the local tram and others for their personal vehicle. The three of them mingled with the crowd waiting for cabs. A moment later, the driver whisked them to the intercity tram line.
When the Gold Line arrived, they took one of the open cars. Major Riven read the discarded program he found while his two companions sat in silence across from him. After a two-hour ride, the train came to a stop. The three of them exited the car and stood on the maintenance platform until the train left.
As they descended the stairs, a car flashed its headlights. They climbed into the back seat and the car pulled away from the tram line. It took another hour before the car pulled off the paved road and followed a gravel path through the forest. Security checkpoints didn't delay them too much. Driver flashed his pass and the guards waved them onward.
At last, their final destination. They walked into the stone mound and rode an elevator down to a large meeting room. Every enlisted ferret they left the day before was gathered here. Even the officers he met earlier tonight mingled through the crowd. Major Riven ordered everyone to their seats and the briefing started.
"Until now, everyone was told we were going to go on a commando raid deep into human territory. Stealth was such an imperative that we had to use paw held weapons. I'm here to tell you our real mission. Tomorrow morning at 0900, we will return to Earth."
Major Riven waited for the shock to evaporate. With the undivided attention of his audience, he revealed everything he thought these soldiers needed to know. Photos from Earth were projected on a screen, showing their ultimate destination. Maps were distributed and each officer learned his part in this raid. He withheld all information regarding the human spy. None would believe it. He sure didn't.
Good thing nobody asked how or where they got this material. When he mentioned the wormhole, most looked like they couldn't believe such a thing. Telling them they would be chasing humans got several hungry looks. They all had a score to settle with these hairless monkeys and this seemed like a great opportunity.
The meeting ended. The soldiers went to their bunks while the otter joined Major Riven in the commander's office. Seemed they had an additional briefing to attend. Turned out he could have stayed out, it only concerned their pilot.
Maybe he should have stayed with the other soldiers as ignorance is bliss. According to the scientist conducting the briefing, every sun or star had two jump spots. One was called apex since it sat above the planetary orbits and the other was nadir, which was below the planetary orbits. A massive human fleet departed Yang for the apex jump point earlier today.
The problem was the human space force. They had almost five times as many ships as the morphs, though none could be classified higher than light-to-heavy class. They too lost all their capital ships during the battle for the space station. Based on the position of the moons, the humans intended escorting their jump ship and defending apex with all possible space assets. If they kept the morphs away for an additional thirty days, the humans would have completed their mission and be guaranteed an uneventful return via the same wormhole.
With every human spacecraft committed to assuring the Hydra's safe conduct, the nadir point remained unguarded. High Command believed the humans could not shift its force in time. They also concluded the humans couldn't split their forces and guard both jump points as they didn't know how many capital ships the morphs replaced.
What the humans didn't know was the extent of the morph space fleet's losses last year. The morphs had no capital space assets and wouldn't for another year. Their High Command focused on defending the planet from any attacks launched from either moon so they concentrated on short range fighters.
It might appear the humans conceded the nadir jump point but that wasn't true. A large sector of space between the planet and the nadir point had automated stealth defensive platforms. So far, every attempt at crossing this barrier cost the morphs a minimum of one major combat vessel. They couldn't afford any additional losses even if they had any capital spaceships available.
As for the humans, they continued modernizing and expanding this space barrier. At its current size and based on Terratwo's position, it would be twenty-eight days before they could circle the automated defenses. The morph High Command couldn't wait that long.
Sleep eluded him. Major Riven wanted to believe they could be successful but running a suicidal gauntlet wasn't his idea of a winning solution. Morning came and he entered the ship feeling more like a condemned prisoner than a soldier on a vital mission. By 0800, Captain Jakes joined him on the bridge. Than came the inevitable delay. Six hours later, the countdown commenced.
Technicians swarmed over the bridge as they made final preparations for launch. The spacesuit felt like it weighed a ton as he couldn't move. Leather belts secured every inch of his suit to the launch couch. Major Riven had mobility, to a minor degree within the suit, which brought up an image of rations stuffed in a tin can. He hoped this flight wouldn't have him bouncing within his suit.
As the last technician prepared to leave, he rushed over to his chair. The terrier within the suit gave him a wink and used a small prybar to get some space between one belt securing him and his suit. He held up a computer flash drive and shoved it under his belt. A quick look around to verify everyone had departed before the dog placed a suction cup on his facemask.
"Major Riven, we met earlier when I was with the Prime Minister. For your eyes only."
The voice rebounded within the helmet and the sudden silence when the dog removed the suction cup emphasized the importance of whatever the flash drive contained. With no way to communicate, all Major Riven could do was watch the morph flee the bridge.
Made him wonder which form, terrier or retriever, was the intelligence officer's real breed. One cannot switch breeds so Major Riven wondered if the morphs already had a portable holographic unit. It would explain the sudden change in breeds. It might also explain how the morphs managed to infiltrate the human's version of their High Command. His head hurt trying to determine which story was real.
All command bridge hatchways closed with an audible clang. Captain Jakes' voice came over an interior speaker as he read down an extensive list. When he sneezed, the otter pilot never reacted. At least now he knew he couldn't transmit. Jakes continued his prelaunch routine with a monotoned voice as he spoke with Launch Control. Their pace increased, signifying their imminent departure. Instead of excitement, he found the wait taxing his nerves.
A loud boom from somewhere outside announced the final countdown. One lick of his lips to remove a drop of sweat and another explosion rocked the ship. Unlike the first one, this one reverberated as if it ran nonstop. Everything shook for a second before silence. A final deafening roar and the ship moved. Each passing second had the pressure increasing until he wanted to scream.
Over his earphones he heard Captain Jakes sound what must be some spaceman's cheer. Nothing but the sound of pure joy, that's what he detected from the otter. All he could do is lay back and endure the launch.
He didn't know what changed. One moment he couldn't move. The next, some computer control released every strap holding him. He had just enough sense to snatch the flash drive and slip it into one of the many pockets before the otter turned to him.
"Our skin tails from R and D have come up with a solution for our travel arrangements. That's why the delay on liftoff. Bad news is that it cost us our medium lasers though now we have one large laser. If we run into that Hydra, ol' Jake here had better be hitting the center ring every time."
As far as Major Riven was concerned, insulting the rats who devised this plan wasn't a smart thing to do. Karma had a way of nipping at your heels at the worst of times. Better to credit the rats in research with ingenuity as anything else turned their mission into a suicidal one.
He checked his comm and his watch. If the information proved accurate, he should find his last two companions around the next corner. Perhaps he did feel a bit paranoid. It took him almost ten minutes covering a distance of four blocks. He kept watching every morph passing him until they rounded a corner. His eyes searched the dark for anyone paying him too much attention. With no time to spare, he rushed to his meeting place and groaned. If he thought his officers acted like idiots, his two contacts just made them intellectuals.
The presence of an otter in this section of town might draw some attention but this one made sure others noticed him. The fellow wore his dress black uniform announcing to one and all that he belonged to the space patrol. Bad enough he wore his rank insignia, he also wore his name tag and ribbons. His rolling gait might have been misconstrued as inebriation but the uniform said he hadn't been dirtside for an extended period.
His companion stood out as well in his army uniform. Like the otter you could tell the ferret's name, rank, and unit. At least he didn't have any combat citations. Not that he should have any as a veterinarian. If anyone missed his designation, the medical bag he carried told all his profession.
Major Riven hailed a cab and they rode in silence to the theatre district. Once the cab left, they walked towards the opera house and sat on a nearby bench. Fifteen minutes later, the doors opened and the patrons exited. Some made their way to the local tram and others for their personal vehicle. The three of them mingled with the crowd waiting for cabs. A moment later, the driver whisked them to the intercity tram line.
When the Gold Line arrived, they took one of the open cars. Major Riven read the discarded program he found while his two companions sat in silence across from him. After a two-hour ride, the train came to a stop. The three of them exited the car and stood on the maintenance platform until the train left.
As they descended the stairs, a car flashed its headlights. They climbed into the back seat and the car pulled away from the tram line. It took another hour before the car pulled off the paved road and followed a gravel path through the forest. Security checkpoints didn't delay them too much. Driver flashed his pass and the guards waved them onward.
At last, their final destination. They walked into the stone mound and rode an elevator down to a large meeting room. Every enlisted ferret they left the day before was gathered here. Even the officers he met earlier tonight mingled through the crowd. Major Riven ordered everyone to their seats and the briefing started.
"Until now, everyone was told we were going to go on a commando raid deep into human territory. Stealth was such an imperative that we had to use paw held weapons. I'm here to tell you our real mission. Tomorrow morning at 0900, we will return to Earth."
Major Riven waited for the shock to evaporate. With the undivided attention of his audience, he revealed everything he thought these soldiers needed to know. Photos from Earth were projected on a screen, showing their ultimate destination. Maps were distributed and each officer learned his part in this raid. He withheld all information regarding the human spy. None would believe it. He sure didn't.
Good thing nobody asked how or where they got this material. When he mentioned the wormhole, most looked like they couldn't believe such a thing. Telling them they would be chasing humans got several hungry looks. They all had a score to settle with these hairless monkeys and this seemed like a great opportunity.
The meeting ended. The soldiers went to their bunks while the otter joined Major Riven in the commander's office. Seemed they had an additional briefing to attend. Turned out he could have stayed out, it only concerned their pilot.
Maybe he should have stayed with the other soldiers as ignorance is bliss. According to the scientist conducting the briefing, every sun or star had two jump spots. One was called apex since it sat above the planetary orbits and the other was nadir, which was below the planetary orbits. A massive human fleet departed Yang for the apex jump point earlier today.
The problem was the human space force. They had almost five times as many ships as the morphs, though none could be classified higher than light-to-heavy class. They too lost all their capital ships during the battle for the space station. Based on the position of the moons, the humans intended escorting their jump ship and defending apex with all possible space assets. If they kept the morphs away for an additional thirty days, the humans would have completed their mission and be guaranteed an uneventful return via the same wormhole.
With every human spacecraft committed to assuring the Hydra's safe conduct, the nadir point remained unguarded. High Command believed the humans could not shift its force in time. They also concluded the humans couldn't split their forces and guard both jump points as they didn't know how many capital ships the morphs replaced.
What the humans didn't know was the extent of the morph space fleet's losses last year. The morphs had no capital space assets and wouldn't for another year. Their High Command focused on defending the planet from any attacks launched from either moon so they concentrated on short range fighters.
It might appear the humans conceded the nadir jump point but that wasn't true. A large sector of space between the planet and the nadir point had automated stealth defensive platforms. So far, every attempt at crossing this barrier cost the morphs a minimum of one major combat vessel. They couldn't afford any additional losses even if they had any capital spaceships available.
As for the humans, they continued modernizing and expanding this space barrier. At its current size and based on Terratwo's position, it would be twenty-eight days before they could circle the automated defenses. The morph High Command couldn't wait that long.
Sleep eluded him. Major Riven wanted to believe they could be successful but running a suicidal gauntlet wasn't his idea of a winning solution. Morning came and he entered the ship feeling more like a condemned prisoner than a soldier on a vital mission. By 0800, Captain Jakes joined him on the bridge. Than came the inevitable delay. Six hours later, the countdown commenced.
Technicians swarmed over the bridge as they made final preparations for launch. The spacesuit felt like it weighed a ton as he couldn't move. Leather belts secured every inch of his suit to the launch couch. Major Riven had mobility, to a minor degree within the suit, which brought up an image of rations stuffed in a tin can. He hoped this flight wouldn't have him bouncing within his suit.
As the last technician prepared to leave, he rushed over to his chair. The terrier within the suit gave him a wink and used a small prybar to get some space between one belt securing him and his suit. He held up a computer flash drive and shoved it under his belt. A quick look around to verify everyone had departed before the dog placed a suction cup on his facemask.
"Major Riven, we met earlier when I was with the Prime Minister. For your eyes only."
The voice rebounded within the helmet and the sudden silence when the dog removed the suction cup emphasized the importance of whatever the flash drive contained. With no way to communicate, all Major Riven could do was watch the morph flee the bridge.
Made him wonder which form, terrier or retriever, was the intelligence officer's real breed. One cannot switch breeds so Major Riven wondered if the morphs already had a portable holographic unit. It would explain the sudden change in breeds. It might also explain how the morphs managed to infiltrate the human's version of their High Command. His head hurt trying to determine which story was real.
All command bridge hatchways closed with an audible clang. Captain Jakes' voice came over an interior speaker as he read down an extensive list. When he sneezed, the otter pilot never reacted. At least now he knew he couldn't transmit. Jakes continued his prelaunch routine with a monotoned voice as he spoke with Launch Control. Their pace increased, signifying their imminent departure. Instead of excitement, he found the wait taxing his nerves.
A loud boom from somewhere outside announced the final countdown. One lick of his lips to remove a drop of sweat and another explosion rocked the ship. Unlike the first one, this one reverberated as if it ran nonstop. Everything shook for a second before silence. A final deafening roar and the ship moved. Each passing second had the pressure increasing until he wanted to scream.
Over his earphones he heard Captain Jakes sound what must be some spaceman's cheer. Nothing but the sound of pure joy, that's what he detected from the otter. All he could do is lay back and endure the launch.
He didn't know what changed. One moment he couldn't move. The next, some computer control released every strap holding him. He had just enough sense to snatch the flash drive and slip it into one of the many pockets before the otter turned to him.
"Our skin tails from R and D have come up with a solution for our travel arrangements. That's why the delay on liftoff. Bad news is that it cost us our medium lasers though now we have one large laser. If we run into that Hydra, ol' Jake here had better be hitting the center ring every time."
As far as Major Riven was concerned, insulting the rats who devised this plan wasn't a smart thing to do. Karma had a way of nipping at your heels at the worst of times. Better to credit the rats in research with ingenuity as anything else turned their mission into a suicidal one.
#42
Fan Art & Fiction / Re: Sapient Plague ( No Commen...
Last post by cairn destop - Oct 12, 2018, 05:52 AMAlarms blared through the night. Every ferret sleeping in the barracks became alert as they responded. The soldiers grabbed knives, swords, spears, and quivers full of arrows as they rushed outside. Once clear of the building, they made for the nearby trenches.
If the attack came from an aerial threat, such as a missile or bomb, the trenches should protect them from all but a direct hit or nuclear blast. If it came from some ground force, the trenches offered a secured defensive point and offered them offensive options.
Major Riven dove into his assigned trench. A few seconds later, he raised his head and surveyed the area. Somewhere within the high security facility, searchlights crisscrossed the night landscape. Flares arced high into the night sky, blossomed like a flower, and died, leaving darkness. Instead of the usual nocturnal sounds, he heard sirens, explosions, and gunfire.
"Great time to be without a few monkey shredders," one soldier whined.
"I'll give you my spear for a scatter gun," another called out.
"No deal. Let me get my paws on a tickle belly and you'll have a skin tent," a third voice yelled.
"Pipe down," Major Riven shouted. "That gunfire is drawing closer."
Blessed silence from within the trench. Major Riven agreed with those soldiers. They had no modern weapons, just paw held weapons similar to those used in Feudal times. If these invaders found them, they didn't stand a chance. He regretted his insistence that nobody carry anything resembling a firearm.
A peek over the trench's lip showed shadowy figures moving in their direction. Six of the intruders formed a circle, their weapons pointed outward. One intruder placed a cylinder on the ground and connected it to a box. He heard a high-pitched whistle and saw a white flash. When his eyes cleared, nothing remained but the smell of burning flesh, human flesh.
Three jeeps came to a stop and disgorged their passengers. Flashlights came on as these new arrivals searched the area. Two beams played along the lip of their trench and Major Riven slid to the bottom. It didn't help. Half a dozen flashlights played over those cowering in the trench.
"Unit three five to command. . .. Trench six alpha is occupied. . .. Will do."
The security detail ordered them to leave without their weapons. Then each occupant was patted down and a portable retina scanner used. Each time the device showed a green light, that soldier was allowed to retrieve his weapon. At last they cleared everyone, thanked them for their cooperation, and moved off into the darkness.
"Excitement's over; back to the barracks. We have a lot of work to do tomorrow."
Major Riven felt just as tired, scared, and relieved as the others. He never thought he would fall asleep but so much time on the front conditioned him to grab whatever rest was offered. When they entered the base's mess hall the next morning, stories about the human attack dominated the chat. Some made outrageous claims of their exploits while others bemoaned their bad luck being far from the action. The one consistent fact was the presence of humans.
Training continued with the paw held weapons but now he included pistols and grenades. Some of the officers asked for more advanced weapons without success. Major Riven insisted on proficiency on the close quarter combat weapons. He kept stressing the need for stealth and how firearms would attract more enemy forces to their location.
A security officer approached. It seemed the base commander wanted him at his office. When he arrived, the building stood empty. The one working apparatus being a wall sized television screen. Major Riven saluted the screen and the Prime Minister told him he could sit. Based on the sour expression on the rat's face, Major Riven figured there must be some bad news.
"Last night's attack was to determine if we had a working wormhole generator. They saw both the engine and the Mamba under construction. It must have scared whichever human is running this mission. They launched from Yang an hour ago for the apex point. You launch in two days from our secondary site. Inform your officers off base as this location is no longer considered secure."
He never got a chance to acknowledge the new orders. The screen blanked and filled with static. Major Riven sat there for a moment in case the signal interruption wasn't deliberate. Satisfied that the connection was cut from the transmission side, he left the base commander's office. He ignored the crowd gathered outside and the security car returned him to the training area.
His officers trotted over to him upon his arrival. They wondered why the enlisted personnel were sent on a long hike without them but with other drill instructors. Major Riven knew why but could not tell them. Instead, he gave them orders that confounded them. Even receiving a pass into the nearby city was greeted by confusion rather than celebration.
Night time in the city on a very dark street. Major Riven wore a civilian outfit that had seen better days as he walked towards his destination. None of the ferrets passing him took any notice. Like him, most wore old winter jackets. Anyone on the streets at this time were either going to the local factories or heading to their favorite tavern and none took notice of a single stranger.
The corner tavern was nothing more than a nondescript building. Riven opened the door and pushed his way through the blackout curtains. He stood atop a wooden landing with stairs running below ground level. On one side, a long bar occupied by two ferrets. In the middle of the room, three pool tables held the attention of a dozen patrons. The opposite side had a number of occupied dining booths.
Luck seemed to be sitting on his shoulder. There was an oversized and unoccupied booth by the back wall, far from the other tables. He no sooner sat than a female otter sauntered over to him. He mentioned having a large number of friends coming here, hinting it was a bachelor's party. She nodded her understanding, took a few coins, and returned with six glasses and a pitcher of beer.
Riven considered himself fortunate in snagging such a large booth and one far from inquisitive ears. Than he learned why the regular patrons avoided his location. Each time a waitress entered or exited the kitchen, they used a pair of doors next to him and the escaping heat would roll over him like the surf at a beach. Anytime an enthusiastic waitress exited the kitchen too fast, the door banged against the backrest.
The outside door opened and five ferrets entered the establishment. Every patron gave them a quick glance and returned to whatever they were doing before their arrival. All moved as one and made for his booth. None ever looked around as they slid across the bench at his table. One ferret snatched the pitcher and poured a full mug for all. He then held up a ten-tick note and ordered another pitcher.
"I swear you guys are idiots. Come alone I said. Don't attract attention I said. Act casual I said. And you do the exact opposite. If I didn't need you so bad, I'd shoot you and everyone in here if I thought it would help," an exasperated Riven growled under his breath.
"These guys are drinking themselves into oblivion. Nobody will remember us come tomorrow."
"All of you traveled together?" Major Riven groaned when they nodded. "Damn. You probably led any human agent right to this place."
"You're either drunk or paranoid," said lieutenant Lewark. "Humans in a morph region? Not possible."
Maybe he shouldn't have recommended the former private for such a rapid promotion. Still, the ferret proved himself an excellent warrior during their seven-day standoff with the humans. His actions resulted in the recapture of two rings when the humans first assaulted their position. His leadership allowed for an organized retreat instead of a rout two days later. When Major Riven learned he survived the battle, he recommended the ferret for promotion and assigned him to his command. Too bad he hadn't learned a little tact.
"How many remember that shepherd at the front gate? The one missing a leg who made funnel cakes? He wasn't a dog. He was human."
At least that got their attention. Major Riven than revealed the secret about humans having portable holographic projectors. That was the reason behind the human attack two weeks ago. It was also the reason behind command's decision to send the enlisted to another camp without telling any of the officers. Tomorrow, the officers would join them for the final week of training at an undisclosed location.
Major Riven's security comm chirped. "Confirm voiceprint . . .. We're on private, speaker off . . .. When . . .. My officers are with me now . . .. Understood."
He looked at the five lieutenants and verified that nobody else was paying them any attention.
"It seems we were most fortunate when we came here tonight. The humans launched a tactical nuke attack on our base fifteen minutes ago. The place is nothing more than a radioactive hole. I'm sending each of you a text message for you alone. The mission timetable has been moved up once more."
If the attack came from an aerial threat, such as a missile or bomb, the trenches should protect them from all but a direct hit or nuclear blast. If it came from some ground force, the trenches offered a secured defensive point and offered them offensive options.
Major Riven dove into his assigned trench. A few seconds later, he raised his head and surveyed the area. Somewhere within the high security facility, searchlights crisscrossed the night landscape. Flares arced high into the night sky, blossomed like a flower, and died, leaving darkness. Instead of the usual nocturnal sounds, he heard sirens, explosions, and gunfire.
"Great time to be without a few monkey shredders," one soldier whined.
"I'll give you my spear for a scatter gun," another called out.
"No deal. Let me get my paws on a tickle belly and you'll have a skin tent," a third voice yelled.
"Pipe down," Major Riven shouted. "That gunfire is drawing closer."
Blessed silence from within the trench. Major Riven agreed with those soldiers. They had no modern weapons, just paw held weapons similar to those used in Feudal times. If these invaders found them, they didn't stand a chance. He regretted his insistence that nobody carry anything resembling a firearm.
A peek over the trench's lip showed shadowy figures moving in their direction. Six of the intruders formed a circle, their weapons pointed outward. One intruder placed a cylinder on the ground and connected it to a box. He heard a high-pitched whistle and saw a white flash. When his eyes cleared, nothing remained but the smell of burning flesh, human flesh.
Three jeeps came to a stop and disgorged their passengers. Flashlights came on as these new arrivals searched the area. Two beams played along the lip of their trench and Major Riven slid to the bottom. It didn't help. Half a dozen flashlights played over those cowering in the trench.
"Unit three five to command. . .. Trench six alpha is occupied. . .. Will do."
The security detail ordered them to leave without their weapons. Then each occupant was patted down and a portable retina scanner used. Each time the device showed a green light, that soldier was allowed to retrieve his weapon. At last they cleared everyone, thanked them for their cooperation, and moved off into the darkness.
"Excitement's over; back to the barracks. We have a lot of work to do tomorrow."
Major Riven felt just as tired, scared, and relieved as the others. He never thought he would fall asleep but so much time on the front conditioned him to grab whatever rest was offered. When they entered the base's mess hall the next morning, stories about the human attack dominated the chat. Some made outrageous claims of their exploits while others bemoaned their bad luck being far from the action. The one consistent fact was the presence of humans.
Training continued with the paw held weapons but now he included pistols and grenades. Some of the officers asked for more advanced weapons without success. Major Riven insisted on proficiency on the close quarter combat weapons. He kept stressing the need for stealth and how firearms would attract more enemy forces to their location.
A security officer approached. It seemed the base commander wanted him at his office. When he arrived, the building stood empty. The one working apparatus being a wall sized television screen. Major Riven saluted the screen and the Prime Minister told him he could sit. Based on the sour expression on the rat's face, Major Riven figured there must be some bad news.
"Last night's attack was to determine if we had a working wormhole generator. They saw both the engine and the Mamba under construction. It must have scared whichever human is running this mission. They launched from Yang an hour ago for the apex point. You launch in two days from our secondary site. Inform your officers off base as this location is no longer considered secure."
He never got a chance to acknowledge the new orders. The screen blanked and filled with static. Major Riven sat there for a moment in case the signal interruption wasn't deliberate. Satisfied that the connection was cut from the transmission side, he left the base commander's office. He ignored the crowd gathered outside and the security car returned him to the training area.
His officers trotted over to him upon his arrival. They wondered why the enlisted personnel were sent on a long hike without them but with other drill instructors. Major Riven knew why but could not tell them. Instead, he gave them orders that confounded them. Even receiving a pass into the nearby city was greeted by confusion rather than celebration.
Night time in the city on a very dark street. Major Riven wore a civilian outfit that had seen better days as he walked towards his destination. None of the ferrets passing him took any notice. Like him, most wore old winter jackets. Anyone on the streets at this time were either going to the local factories or heading to their favorite tavern and none took notice of a single stranger.
The corner tavern was nothing more than a nondescript building. Riven opened the door and pushed his way through the blackout curtains. He stood atop a wooden landing with stairs running below ground level. On one side, a long bar occupied by two ferrets. In the middle of the room, three pool tables held the attention of a dozen patrons. The opposite side had a number of occupied dining booths.
Luck seemed to be sitting on his shoulder. There was an oversized and unoccupied booth by the back wall, far from the other tables. He no sooner sat than a female otter sauntered over to him. He mentioned having a large number of friends coming here, hinting it was a bachelor's party. She nodded her understanding, took a few coins, and returned with six glasses and a pitcher of beer.
Riven considered himself fortunate in snagging such a large booth and one far from inquisitive ears. Than he learned why the regular patrons avoided his location. Each time a waitress entered or exited the kitchen, they used a pair of doors next to him and the escaping heat would roll over him like the surf at a beach. Anytime an enthusiastic waitress exited the kitchen too fast, the door banged against the backrest.
The outside door opened and five ferrets entered the establishment. Every patron gave them a quick glance and returned to whatever they were doing before their arrival. All moved as one and made for his booth. None ever looked around as they slid across the bench at his table. One ferret snatched the pitcher and poured a full mug for all. He then held up a ten-tick note and ordered another pitcher.
"I swear you guys are idiots. Come alone I said. Don't attract attention I said. Act casual I said. And you do the exact opposite. If I didn't need you so bad, I'd shoot you and everyone in here if I thought it would help," an exasperated Riven growled under his breath.
"These guys are drinking themselves into oblivion. Nobody will remember us come tomorrow."
"All of you traveled together?" Major Riven groaned when they nodded. "Damn. You probably led any human agent right to this place."
"You're either drunk or paranoid," said lieutenant Lewark. "Humans in a morph region? Not possible."
Maybe he shouldn't have recommended the former private for such a rapid promotion. Still, the ferret proved himself an excellent warrior during their seven-day standoff with the humans. His actions resulted in the recapture of two rings when the humans first assaulted their position. His leadership allowed for an organized retreat instead of a rout two days later. When Major Riven learned he survived the battle, he recommended the ferret for promotion and assigned him to his command. Too bad he hadn't learned a little tact.
"How many remember that shepherd at the front gate? The one missing a leg who made funnel cakes? He wasn't a dog. He was human."
At least that got their attention. Major Riven than revealed the secret about humans having portable holographic projectors. That was the reason behind the human attack two weeks ago. It was also the reason behind command's decision to send the enlisted to another camp without telling any of the officers. Tomorrow, the officers would join them for the final week of training at an undisclosed location.
Major Riven's security comm chirped. "Confirm voiceprint . . .. We're on private, speaker off . . .. When . . .. My officers are with me now . . .. Understood."
He looked at the five lieutenants and verified that nobody else was paying them any attention.
"It seems we were most fortunate when we came here tonight. The humans launched a tactical nuke attack on our base fifteen minutes ago. The place is nothing more than a radioactive hole. I'm sending each of you a text message for you alone. The mission timetable has been moved up once more."
#43
Fan Art & Fiction / Re: Sapient Plague ( No Commen...
Last post by cairn destop - Oct 10, 2018, 05:47 AM"It seems my studies regarding human culture are suddenly important. So why me? There must be others who did the same thing during their student deferments."
"None have been found though we are continuing our search, Major Riven. The Puritan purge five years ago resulted in the destruction of anything connected to human research. Reconstructing records takes time; time we don't have. We needed somebody with knowledge of the Feudal Era. You're the first morph we found still living who has what we need."
"It's a race, General. I have an idea where the ORB would be kept. Problem is, everyone will be going to the same place since its location is so obvious. The real question is how desperate are the humans?"
The Prime Minister stood. "Humans will go for the bioweapon while working on their relocation plan. If they succeed on Earth, they have options. Otherwise, if the humans find another habitable world, they will launch their generation ships, abandoning this world."
Their spy said it would take them ninety days assembling a team and preparing a ship. The biggest hurdle was the wormhole engine. Their spaceship has to be big enough to carry the engine, transport a crew, and solar powered. If it used any type of fuel, the space needed to carry enough for a return voyage would limit the crew size.
The humans learned the power necessary for generating a wormhole grew geometrically with the mass of the ship and the distance covered. With the unmanned probes, other ships generated the power for the initial wormhole. Storing power for the return trip limited how much the probes could do once they reached their destination. This limited probes to an effective distance between eighty and one hundred light years.
General Prawner studied human spacecraft, looking for the most likely designs. Three ships stood out as viable possibilities. The Hermes could hold the equipment, but the crew would be limited to three or four. Not enough to protect the ship and hunt down the ORB. A Hunter had the space but its mass limited the vessel to a forty-one light year jump. No margin for error either way, which made it too risky a choice.
One ship offered them an ideal choice, the Hydra. It had the size for carrying the engine and a range of fifty light years. Best of all, it carried sufficient armament to defend itself. It had the additional advantage of aerodynamics. It could land close to their target, shift to a safer location, and retrieve their soldiers when they completed their mission. It gave the humans their best option.
That led to the obvious question. What did they have? In a way, the destruction of the deep space morph force when they captured the orbital station became a benefit. They didn't need to modify an existing craft, they could build one to fit their specifications. Still, they had to use a standard design if they intended launching before the humans.
The Mamba design offered them the best option. They could leave off much of the armor, which would give them greater speed once they reached Earth. The reduced mass allowed them a quicker recharge time, a distinct advantage when returning. Its size and aerodynamics matched the Hydra if they met in combat and the ship carried sufficient offensive power to counter the Hydra.
General Prawner switched to the topic of logistics. They needed the ship ready for launch in one hundred days. It would mean playing catch-up with the humans but he saw no alternative. If he asked contractors to rush delivery, he risked fatal errors. Worse yet, the humans might learn of their plan.
Regardless of the propaganda, no antimissile system intercepted every incoming missile. Something always got through. They might risk the humans hitting one of their space construction sites since several factories produced the Mamba parts. However, they had to be sure the wormhole machine evaded detection. A spacecraft didn't help without a working wormhole generator.
One contractor would assemble the Mamba at a high security site. General Prawner intended to have all engine components built at various facilities and shipped to the assembly area. This allowed them to meet the construction deadline. The parts would come from so many different plants that nobody would know they built a wormhole generator.
The humans knew the morphs intended rebuilding their space force after the loss of material taking the orbital space station. By now that battle and its consequences should be old news. When the morphs diverted parts to an undisclosed location, humans would think it nothing more than standard security as they constructed a new deep space fleet.
Just one more thing remained, the personnel for the mission. Major Riven wanted a small party. Too many morphs attracted unwanted attention and they needed speed. The downside was a small party could be countered. He proposed a force of three squads of ten soldiers. By inserting each squad in a different location, it increased the odds that one would succeed and gave him an offensive option if he discovered where the humans hid.
Major Riven insisted that the entire ground force be composed of ferrets. The Prime Minister acted like somebody punched him in his stomach. General Prawner's eyes just doubled in size when he mentioned the composition of the ground units. Even the intelligence officer sided with the others who demanded an expeditionary force comprised of all morphs. Riven refused to concede.
"Examine those orbital photos. Each one shows one morph race in each picture. Unlike us, the morphs of Earth appear to be xenophobic. If we try moving through the area as a multiracial group, we will attract the wrong kind of attention. We may even have to fight these morphs. A single race will attract less attention."
"Than have each squad consist of a different morph race," said the Prime Minister. "As you said, a small number of morphs moving through an area will go unnoticed if it's one race."
"Eventually we must come together. If anyone saw a dog and otter speaking, they would suspect both races. Our advantage is stealth, blending in with those around us. Once we reach our destination, I'm hoping we will have a sufficient numerical superiority to overcome any opposition."
"So, you believe the ORB is with the ferrets?" General Prawner didn't sound convinced.
"No, the ORB is with the dogs. A castle is a strongpoint and the base for a ruler. Such a powerful devise would make the lowest pup a king. The ORB is there, somewhere. Its exact location will be dependent on what benefits the dogs gain from possessing it. I'm betting every morph race is beholden to those dogs, which might work to our advantage if we announce ourselves as supplicants."
Both the Prime Minister and General Prawner conferred. Sometimes their words became heated but they conducted themselves in a civil manner. Though the room seemed spacious for the four of them, Major Riven couldn't hear their whispered conversations. It didn't take them long.
The Prime Minister pressed a hidden button at his end of the table. Electricity crackled and the room filled with the smell of ozone. Power outlets and ventilation openings appeared first. Than came the outline of a door and its doorknob. Somebody opened the door from the outside and fresh air rushed into the room.
Without a backward glance, the Prime Minister exited the room. His security detail surrounded him as they hustled for the nearest exit.
"Do as you see fit, Major Riven. You have the full support of the National Herd."
"None have been found though we are continuing our search, Major Riven. The Puritan purge five years ago resulted in the destruction of anything connected to human research. Reconstructing records takes time; time we don't have. We needed somebody with knowledge of the Feudal Era. You're the first morph we found still living who has what we need."
"It's a race, General. I have an idea where the ORB would be kept. Problem is, everyone will be going to the same place since its location is so obvious. The real question is how desperate are the humans?"
The Prime Minister stood. "Humans will go for the bioweapon while working on their relocation plan. If they succeed on Earth, they have options. Otherwise, if the humans find another habitable world, they will launch their generation ships, abandoning this world."
Their spy said it would take them ninety days assembling a team and preparing a ship. The biggest hurdle was the wormhole engine. Their spaceship has to be big enough to carry the engine, transport a crew, and solar powered. If it used any type of fuel, the space needed to carry enough for a return voyage would limit the crew size.
The humans learned the power necessary for generating a wormhole grew geometrically with the mass of the ship and the distance covered. With the unmanned probes, other ships generated the power for the initial wormhole. Storing power for the return trip limited how much the probes could do once they reached their destination. This limited probes to an effective distance between eighty and one hundred light years.
General Prawner studied human spacecraft, looking for the most likely designs. Three ships stood out as viable possibilities. The Hermes could hold the equipment, but the crew would be limited to three or four. Not enough to protect the ship and hunt down the ORB. A Hunter had the space but its mass limited the vessel to a forty-one light year jump. No margin for error either way, which made it too risky a choice.
One ship offered them an ideal choice, the Hydra. It had the size for carrying the engine and a range of fifty light years. Best of all, it carried sufficient armament to defend itself. It had the additional advantage of aerodynamics. It could land close to their target, shift to a safer location, and retrieve their soldiers when they completed their mission. It gave the humans their best option.
That led to the obvious question. What did they have? In a way, the destruction of the deep space morph force when they captured the orbital station became a benefit. They didn't need to modify an existing craft, they could build one to fit their specifications. Still, they had to use a standard design if they intended launching before the humans.
The Mamba design offered them the best option. They could leave off much of the armor, which would give them greater speed once they reached Earth. The reduced mass allowed them a quicker recharge time, a distinct advantage when returning. Its size and aerodynamics matched the Hydra if they met in combat and the ship carried sufficient offensive power to counter the Hydra.
General Prawner switched to the topic of logistics. They needed the ship ready for launch in one hundred days. It would mean playing catch-up with the humans but he saw no alternative. If he asked contractors to rush delivery, he risked fatal errors. Worse yet, the humans might learn of their plan.
Regardless of the propaganda, no antimissile system intercepted every incoming missile. Something always got through. They might risk the humans hitting one of their space construction sites since several factories produced the Mamba parts. However, they had to be sure the wormhole machine evaded detection. A spacecraft didn't help without a working wormhole generator.
One contractor would assemble the Mamba at a high security site. General Prawner intended to have all engine components built at various facilities and shipped to the assembly area. This allowed them to meet the construction deadline. The parts would come from so many different plants that nobody would know they built a wormhole generator.
The humans knew the morphs intended rebuilding their space force after the loss of material taking the orbital space station. By now that battle and its consequences should be old news. When the morphs diverted parts to an undisclosed location, humans would think it nothing more than standard security as they constructed a new deep space fleet.
Just one more thing remained, the personnel for the mission. Major Riven wanted a small party. Too many morphs attracted unwanted attention and they needed speed. The downside was a small party could be countered. He proposed a force of three squads of ten soldiers. By inserting each squad in a different location, it increased the odds that one would succeed and gave him an offensive option if he discovered where the humans hid.
Major Riven insisted that the entire ground force be composed of ferrets. The Prime Minister acted like somebody punched him in his stomach. General Prawner's eyes just doubled in size when he mentioned the composition of the ground units. Even the intelligence officer sided with the others who demanded an expeditionary force comprised of all morphs. Riven refused to concede.
"Examine those orbital photos. Each one shows one morph race in each picture. Unlike us, the morphs of Earth appear to be xenophobic. If we try moving through the area as a multiracial group, we will attract the wrong kind of attention. We may even have to fight these morphs. A single race will attract less attention."
"Than have each squad consist of a different morph race," said the Prime Minister. "As you said, a small number of morphs moving through an area will go unnoticed if it's one race."
"Eventually we must come together. If anyone saw a dog and otter speaking, they would suspect both races. Our advantage is stealth, blending in with those around us. Once we reach our destination, I'm hoping we will have a sufficient numerical superiority to overcome any opposition."
"So, you believe the ORB is with the ferrets?" General Prawner didn't sound convinced.
"No, the ORB is with the dogs. A castle is a strongpoint and the base for a ruler. Such a powerful devise would make the lowest pup a king. The ORB is there, somewhere. Its exact location will be dependent on what benefits the dogs gain from possessing it. I'm betting every morph race is beholden to those dogs, which might work to our advantage if we announce ourselves as supplicants."
Both the Prime Minister and General Prawner conferred. Sometimes their words became heated but they conducted themselves in a civil manner. Though the room seemed spacious for the four of them, Major Riven couldn't hear their whispered conversations. It didn't take them long.
The Prime Minister pressed a hidden button at his end of the table. Electricity crackled and the room filled with the smell of ozone. Power outlets and ventilation openings appeared first. Than came the outline of a door and its doorknob. Somebody opened the door from the outside and fresh air rushed into the room.
Without a backward glance, the Prime Minister exited the room. His security detail surrounded him as they hustled for the nearest exit.
"Do as you see fit, Major Riven. You have the full support of the National Herd."
#44
Fan Art & Fiction / Re: Sapient Plague ( All Comme...
Last post by cairn destop - Oct 08, 2018, 07:55 AMSometimes it's a good thing to check your profile. I had an e-mail address that went to a defunct site. So embarrassed. That's been fixed. If you used that old link, suggest you retry using the Gmail link.
#45
Fan Art & Fiction / Re: Sapient Plague ( No Commen...
Last post by cairn destop - Oct 08, 2018, 07:53 AMMajor Riven hoped the Prime Minister would restrain his political side. He found it difficult enough keeping awake during staff meeting when nothing affected him or the superior he served. Throw in a politician who enjoys the sound of his voice would make it an ordeal. He had to believe this conference important if the Prime Minister specifically requested his presence.
"We have an agent in the human's High Command. Nobody with any command power but one who has access to information, which has proven most valuable."
"Hard to accept," said General Prawner. "We are in a mutual war of extermination and a human is willing to betray his kind? You're being played as a fool. He's giving you good data now to prove his value but eventually we will lose far more than we gained."
"An inward spy," said Major Riven, "has the greatest value but also the highest cost. What do we offer him greater than his life?"
"Another insight from the teachings of Sun Tzu?" The Prime Minister chuckled. "Yes, I've suspected there might be some truth regarding your rumored 'acquisition' on the battlefield. Your political views made you a liability to those in power and they assigned you to high risk sites as a way of purging the military of such ideologies. You've managed to irk every Puritan in the National Herd by surviving against impossible odds. As a recognized hero, you're almost untouchable. Almost."
So, the Prime Minister either knew or suspected the book's existence. Did he learn of it from General Prawner or from another source? Either way, the Prime Minister just gained leverage on him. In today's world, even the hint of human contact killed. Major Riven understood how fast scandal changed heroes into traitors.
"Our spy's best item offered to date were the IFF codes to the space station. That base controlled the orbital bombs and the humans anticipated expanding its use to nuclear. We couldn't allow that to happen and his intelligence helped us capture that outpost eighteen months ago." The Prime Minister couldn't contain his glee.
General Prawner didn't act happy. "With all due respect, we won that battle but lost almost seventy percent of our orbital reaction force. The humans just shifted their space operations to Ying and Yang. Those moon bases represent as much a danger as the orbital base, possibly more since they have mining facilities."
"Did you wonder about the extra precautions at today's meeting?" The Prime Minister spoke so casually it had Major Riven wonder about the sudden change in topics. "The humans designed portable holographic units. They can now infiltrate our forces, appear as any morph, and change their appearance when necessary. We are just learning how to counter such tactics but it's a slow process. Nobody ever considered security access as you cannot make a human look like a morph."
"Begging the General's pardon and not wanting to waste your time, Prime Minister, but where does a lowly line officer like me come to be involved with such High Command decisions?"
"A good question Major Riven and one deserving an answer." The Prime Minister sure knew how to build suspense. "Tell me the tale of the five."
He wanted a story parents told children? Fine, Major Riven relayed the basic facts about how humanity left Earth and used morphs as the crew. The morph races selected were rats, otters, ferrets, dogs, and wildcats since each race had a special talent valuable for an extended space voyage. Nobody acknowledged the morphs as sapient at the time of the launch from Earth and never considered them a risk to the hibernating humans.
Turns out the humans made a mistake. Morphs were already self-aware. When the colony ship reached TerraTwo, most morphs left the humans on the ship and settled on six of the planet's eight continents. Those morphs who stayed in orbit delayed awakening the humans from their cryogenic sleep. Humanity repaid their loyalty by exterminating all shipboard morphs before they disembarked. Mankind settled on the other two continents based on the shipboard computer's evaluation, not knowing morphs inhabited the other continents. A century later, morph and human met and the war of extermination started.
"Does our Prime Minister want some milk and cookies before I tuck him in for a good night's sleep?"
Major Riven couldn't contain his anger. He was a combat officer fighting a relentless enemy and this is why they yanked him off the front? No wonder morphs were so hard pressed. Their leaders acted like babes instead of strategist.
"Curb yourself Major. We have a legitimate reason for including you. Let me turn this meeting over to General Prawner."
"Both sides have an impressive biological and nuclear capacity, Major. Ever wonder why none use them?" General Prawner reminded him of an examiner asking what appeared to be a simple question.
"Mutual destruction," said Major Riven. "Regardless of the outcome, both sides lose."
"That's the dribble we feed the public," said General Prawner. "It is true we are evenly matched on nuclear weapons and nobody wants a radioactive world. Same for the biological agents. Everything the humans have we can counter and whatever bugs we have the humans can stop. Neither side gains by using such biological weapons."
"Another stalemate?"
"Something changed, Major. We learned humans are as tired of this war as we are. They plan on withdrawing from this world when they find another viable planet. That is the real purpose of their moon bases. In anticipation of finding such a world, humans dismantled their nuclear arsenal as the fissionable material is essential for their generation ships. We scale down our nukes hoping it speeds their departure."
Major Riven wanted to ask why the morphs didn't offer a ceasefire. As fast as he thought of it, he dismissed the notion. After so many years in a genocidal war, neither side wanted to appear weak by proposing any secession of hostilities. Better an endless stalemate than having your people think you have capitulated. Politics, it kept the blood flowing.
"Sixteen months ago, humans discovered wormhole technology. A light year can be crossed in a single day but the hole measured two meters in diameter. Not viable for a vessel the size of a generation ship but big enough for an automated probe. Last month, they discovered a way to send larger ships."
"That's when the troubles began," said the Prime Minister. "Our spy said the humans are returning to Earth based on the evidence a probe discovered. He managed to transmit a copy of the probe's information along with the wormhole technology. That's where you come in, Major."
The Prime Minister handed over a thick folder. It contained the information retrieved from the probe and it stunned him. Earth was now a morph world, devoid of any living human population. Pictures showed a castle occupied by dogs and villages occupied by sheep, ferrets, wildcats, and a host of other morph species concentrated along an area around the ancient city of Vancouver. Based on these photos, the morph's society mimicked the Feudal Era.
Major Riven lifted a packet marked ultra-secret. The Prime Minister gave his permission and Riven opened the heavy envelope. A routine inspection of some computer subsystem revealed a message intercepted just before one of the colony ships engaged the near light engines. That report indicated the means of eradicating morphs by targeting their sapience. At least that was the inference from the file.
However, he saw no reason for concern. The original colony ships took almost five centuries traveling the forty light years to Terratwo. Due to the dilation of time by traveling near the speed of light, a thousand years passed on Earth. If this bioweapon existed it would be inert, the lab long gone due to the elements. He considered his two superiors paranoid if they saw something dangerous.
General Prawner pointed to the next file. Fifty years before the human exodus, they invented ORMITS, the orbital research multilingual interchange system. At the time humans departed Earth, the computer network remained a military one that denied morph access. The orbital network should contain any military research done up to the collapse of humans on Earth.
One problem, bypassing the system's security protocols. You needed a special access portal known as an ORB, orbital research bridge. Humanity didn't need an ORB when they left Earth since they intended to eradicate the morphs upon arrival. They never envisioned a reason to return since a round trip would take another thousand years each way. It made anything ORMITS might contain inaccessible due to that travel time.
Wormhole technology changed that. A round trip to Earth would take just eighty days. When humans learned a working ORB existed, it offered them another choice. The bioweapon described in the message became a viable option. It dawned on Major Riven what such a discovery implied. With this information, either humans reconstructed the weapon or acquired the research needed to perfect it. The morphs had no counter or antidote to this thing.
Humans knew the transmission sent to the departing generation ships originated from an ORMITS node. If the node still existed, or one of its redundant backup nodes, humans could access information regarding this biological weapon. However, due to the age and possible corruption of ORMITS, the only safe way to access the information would be through a working interface, and that was somewhere on Earth's surface.
"In simple terms, can you find that ORB and destroy it before the humans can get to it?" The Prime Minister awaited his answer.
"We have an agent in the human's High Command. Nobody with any command power but one who has access to information, which has proven most valuable."
"Hard to accept," said General Prawner. "We are in a mutual war of extermination and a human is willing to betray his kind? You're being played as a fool. He's giving you good data now to prove his value but eventually we will lose far more than we gained."
"An inward spy," said Major Riven, "has the greatest value but also the highest cost. What do we offer him greater than his life?"
"Another insight from the teachings of Sun Tzu?" The Prime Minister chuckled. "Yes, I've suspected there might be some truth regarding your rumored 'acquisition' on the battlefield. Your political views made you a liability to those in power and they assigned you to high risk sites as a way of purging the military of such ideologies. You've managed to irk every Puritan in the National Herd by surviving against impossible odds. As a recognized hero, you're almost untouchable. Almost."
So, the Prime Minister either knew or suspected the book's existence. Did he learn of it from General Prawner or from another source? Either way, the Prime Minister just gained leverage on him. In today's world, even the hint of human contact killed. Major Riven understood how fast scandal changed heroes into traitors.
"Our spy's best item offered to date were the IFF codes to the space station. That base controlled the orbital bombs and the humans anticipated expanding its use to nuclear. We couldn't allow that to happen and his intelligence helped us capture that outpost eighteen months ago." The Prime Minister couldn't contain his glee.
General Prawner didn't act happy. "With all due respect, we won that battle but lost almost seventy percent of our orbital reaction force. The humans just shifted their space operations to Ying and Yang. Those moon bases represent as much a danger as the orbital base, possibly more since they have mining facilities."
"Did you wonder about the extra precautions at today's meeting?" The Prime Minister spoke so casually it had Major Riven wonder about the sudden change in topics. "The humans designed portable holographic units. They can now infiltrate our forces, appear as any morph, and change their appearance when necessary. We are just learning how to counter such tactics but it's a slow process. Nobody ever considered security access as you cannot make a human look like a morph."
"Begging the General's pardon and not wanting to waste your time, Prime Minister, but where does a lowly line officer like me come to be involved with such High Command decisions?"
"A good question Major Riven and one deserving an answer." The Prime Minister sure knew how to build suspense. "Tell me the tale of the five."
He wanted a story parents told children? Fine, Major Riven relayed the basic facts about how humanity left Earth and used morphs as the crew. The morph races selected were rats, otters, ferrets, dogs, and wildcats since each race had a special talent valuable for an extended space voyage. Nobody acknowledged the morphs as sapient at the time of the launch from Earth and never considered them a risk to the hibernating humans.
Turns out the humans made a mistake. Morphs were already self-aware. When the colony ship reached TerraTwo, most morphs left the humans on the ship and settled on six of the planet's eight continents. Those morphs who stayed in orbit delayed awakening the humans from their cryogenic sleep. Humanity repaid their loyalty by exterminating all shipboard morphs before they disembarked. Mankind settled on the other two continents based on the shipboard computer's evaluation, not knowing morphs inhabited the other continents. A century later, morph and human met and the war of extermination started.
"Does our Prime Minister want some milk and cookies before I tuck him in for a good night's sleep?"
Major Riven couldn't contain his anger. He was a combat officer fighting a relentless enemy and this is why they yanked him off the front? No wonder morphs were so hard pressed. Their leaders acted like babes instead of strategist.
"Curb yourself Major. We have a legitimate reason for including you. Let me turn this meeting over to General Prawner."
"Both sides have an impressive biological and nuclear capacity, Major. Ever wonder why none use them?" General Prawner reminded him of an examiner asking what appeared to be a simple question.
"Mutual destruction," said Major Riven. "Regardless of the outcome, both sides lose."
"That's the dribble we feed the public," said General Prawner. "It is true we are evenly matched on nuclear weapons and nobody wants a radioactive world. Same for the biological agents. Everything the humans have we can counter and whatever bugs we have the humans can stop. Neither side gains by using such biological weapons."
"Another stalemate?"
"Something changed, Major. We learned humans are as tired of this war as we are. They plan on withdrawing from this world when they find another viable planet. That is the real purpose of their moon bases. In anticipation of finding such a world, humans dismantled their nuclear arsenal as the fissionable material is essential for their generation ships. We scale down our nukes hoping it speeds their departure."
Major Riven wanted to ask why the morphs didn't offer a ceasefire. As fast as he thought of it, he dismissed the notion. After so many years in a genocidal war, neither side wanted to appear weak by proposing any secession of hostilities. Better an endless stalemate than having your people think you have capitulated. Politics, it kept the blood flowing.
"Sixteen months ago, humans discovered wormhole technology. A light year can be crossed in a single day but the hole measured two meters in diameter. Not viable for a vessel the size of a generation ship but big enough for an automated probe. Last month, they discovered a way to send larger ships."
"That's when the troubles began," said the Prime Minister. "Our spy said the humans are returning to Earth based on the evidence a probe discovered. He managed to transmit a copy of the probe's information along with the wormhole technology. That's where you come in, Major."
The Prime Minister handed over a thick folder. It contained the information retrieved from the probe and it stunned him. Earth was now a morph world, devoid of any living human population. Pictures showed a castle occupied by dogs and villages occupied by sheep, ferrets, wildcats, and a host of other morph species concentrated along an area around the ancient city of Vancouver. Based on these photos, the morph's society mimicked the Feudal Era.
Major Riven lifted a packet marked ultra-secret. The Prime Minister gave his permission and Riven opened the heavy envelope. A routine inspection of some computer subsystem revealed a message intercepted just before one of the colony ships engaged the near light engines. That report indicated the means of eradicating morphs by targeting their sapience. At least that was the inference from the file.
However, he saw no reason for concern. The original colony ships took almost five centuries traveling the forty light years to Terratwo. Due to the dilation of time by traveling near the speed of light, a thousand years passed on Earth. If this bioweapon existed it would be inert, the lab long gone due to the elements. He considered his two superiors paranoid if they saw something dangerous.
General Prawner pointed to the next file. Fifty years before the human exodus, they invented ORMITS, the orbital research multilingual interchange system. At the time humans departed Earth, the computer network remained a military one that denied morph access. The orbital network should contain any military research done up to the collapse of humans on Earth.
One problem, bypassing the system's security protocols. You needed a special access portal known as an ORB, orbital research bridge. Humanity didn't need an ORB when they left Earth since they intended to eradicate the morphs upon arrival. They never envisioned a reason to return since a round trip would take another thousand years each way. It made anything ORMITS might contain inaccessible due to that travel time.
Wormhole technology changed that. A round trip to Earth would take just eighty days. When humans learned a working ORB existed, it offered them another choice. The bioweapon described in the message became a viable option. It dawned on Major Riven what such a discovery implied. With this information, either humans reconstructed the weapon or acquired the research needed to perfect it. The morphs had no counter or antidote to this thing.
Humans knew the transmission sent to the departing generation ships originated from an ORMITS node. If the node still existed, or one of its redundant backup nodes, humans could access information regarding this biological weapon. However, due to the age and possible corruption of ORMITS, the only safe way to access the information would be through a working interface, and that was somewhere on Earth's surface.
"In simple terms, can you find that ORB and destroy it before the humans can get to it?" The Prime Minister awaited his answer.
#46
Fan Art & Fiction / Re: Sapient Plague ( No Commen...
Last post by cairn destop - Oct 05, 2018, 05:55 AMPhysical therapy or personalized torture, two terms for the same thing. A team of vets attacked his arm while ignoring him. They disassembled the splint, poked and prodded his arm, did things he couldn't guess at, and after another hour, had his arm in a cast. While they worked on his arm, vets gave him a thick rubber stick to bite. He bit so deep into it that it took one vet almost five minutes removing the thing.
If he thought that the end of his torture session, he was mistaken. The Chief Veterinary Officer ordered him to report to another room when he left. There, metal probes slid under his cast while the second medical team made sure of their exact placement. Satisfied, they connected the probes to an electrical board and strapped him into a wooded chair "for his own protection." When they switched on the machine, he experienced a whole new level of pain. The ordeal eventually ended and he thought he could escape their care. He did, but just for four hours. He had to return for another session of what these doctors called electro-stimulation. Major Riven also had a term for this medical procedure but refrained from using it.
Five days later, they removed the cast. A furless arm is not a pretty sight. The vets again poked and prodded his arm. They x-rayed it and every vet stared at the image with the same intensity he gave Antebellum Green. Major Riven thought a happy vet signaled the end of his ordeal. No such luck. Time to engage in rehabbing his arm.
The therapist hooked his wrist to a wire that stretched his arm high over his head while he laid on a wooden platform. He had the choice of enduring the excruciating pain for two hours or he could end the session by lowering his arm to his side a specific number of times. Those first few sessions, he endured the pain, too weak to fight the weights. After seven days, he still found the sessions painful but they seldom lasted over an hour.
The male rat would attach the wrist band and adjust the knobs on the resistance machine before he returned to his novel. Major Riven tried talking to the technician when the pain became bearable but the rat remained unresponsive. His latest attempt at lowering his arm took him longer than the prior one and that had Major Riven give a loud growl.
"We having a bit of trouble finishing this latest set of exercises," asked the rat technician.
"There's no . . . no 'we' on this table you bucktoothed sadist."
"My word, major. If you have the energy to curse me out, what say we increase the weight by half, double the remaining reps, and add another hour to your time."
The technician punched a few buttons on his side of the panel and Major Riven's arm went to full upright. No use arguing with the rat, he had the controls. Major Riven concentrated on doing the exercise and managed to end his rehabilitation session half an hour early. Not good but better than waiting out the timer.
As Major Riven made for the exit, the machine's readout caught his attention. In the earlier sessions, the machine turned off when he finished, its screen blank. This time he could read the settings. The weight level read double what the technician said he set it at for this session. All he could do is point to the machine, too exhausted to speak. Without even looking up from his novel, the rat laughed.
"Yeah, I lied. Your bone mass has passed 98%, so it's as strong as it was before your injury. Maybe stronger. Be glad you're here, Major. Soldiers qualify as fit for duty at 75%. Though I've enjoyed our sessions and I've learned a few new curses, our time together is over. I'll inform command you have finished rehab."
Perhaps it was for the best the general confiscated his sword. Still, knowing he need not return to the medical wing made this last session forgettable. The rat technician could either finish his novel in peace or he could torture some other unfortunate morph. He didn't care. Freedom from the medical wing never felt so good.
"Glad to see you out early, Major. General Prawner has requested your presence at today's High Command briefing."
"We wouldn't need one every day if our armchair commanders actually did something at one of these meetings. Oh well, no use complaining. How much time do I have?"
"Three hours, sir. You'll have time to freshen up and change."
Major Riven nodded and the wildcat lieutenant took his accustomed place behind the wheel. The wildcat drove him wherever he needed to go, found a nearby parking slot, and waited until he finished. Neither one spoke beyond that required by duty. At least the fellow no longer drove like a speedster nor did he continue to be a hazard to anyone walking. The driver's efficiency meant he didn't have to learn the complicated code for determining where he was or wanted to go.
It felt good having private quarters. The presence of a full shower, along with all the amenities, spoiled him. Somebody even provided a mini refrigerator and personal stove. Cold drinks and hot food whenever he desired it made this place a great duty station. As he fastened his last button, he wondered how much this would cost him.
"We'll be there in fifteen minutes, sir."
"Lieutenant, you've served me well since my arrival. Our initial meeting . . . proved difficult. If you ever feel the need for a combat station, contact me first. You're an efficient officer, one I'd be proud to have on my staff."
The wildcat remained quiet for their trip. As he pulled into the corridor where the meeting would be held, he parked on the side. Something ate at him and his face displayed the full gambit of emotions as he sat there.
"You know who my sire is? He's determined to keep me from combat, said our family has lost enough blood to the war. I would have been honored serving you at your last post, even knowing what was about to happen. I'm no coward, sir. I'll perform my duties to the best of my ability and hope it makes a difference."
Major Riven entered the conference room. Like all the prior meetings he attended, the central table had name tags for each member of the High Command scheduled to attend. Ten feet back, the room contained two rows of nondescript chairs lining three sides of the room. None of these chairs contained name tags for the attending staff members.
This led to a bloodless battle of supremacy prior to the start of every meeting. Riven referred to it as the ballet of chairs. Each staff officer tried to secure a seat in the front row and in a spot that would give them a chance to display their importance. Some did this by commandeering a chair nearest the officer they served. Others wanted one that required them to walk a short distance so everyone would see him.
Early arrivals tried the "first there, it's theirs" ploy. Others tried usurping them with rank, either theirs or the superior they served. The late arrivals pulled the VIP ploy, trying to claim a choice spot based on the agenda, inferring their boss carried more importance in this specific meeting. None willingly took a seat in the second row as that might infer they didn't have any real clout. With a limited number of front row seats many had no choice but to take a back row, though not without trying everything they could to improve their status.
Major Riven didn't care. He preferred the second row where he could let his head rest against the wall. He found General Prawner's name tag at the main table and took the nearest seat meeting his criteria. When a conference had a high number of staff members, he stared down any daring to dislodge him. Those below his rank never succeeded. Anyone higher he would point to the seat at the main table and shrug his shoulders. It worked as no underling wanted to involve their superior in this power game.
Every officer serving as an aide had minimum combat time. Somehow, they either bypassed compulsory combat duty or their assignments kept them too far from any of the more intensive fighting. Major Riven soon learned having combat ribbons, some from the bloodiest campaigns, trumped anyone not serving an officer who held a higher rank than General Prawner. If anything, those seats nearest him became the most coveted seats. Each staff officer wanted to hear the personal exploits of a combat officer.
At last the High Command officers entered the room. They didn't even dignify the presence of their staff until they took their chair at the main conference table. That was when the ballet of chairs entered its most frenzied stage. Nobody wanted it to look like they shifted place, but every staff member noted who chose well and who got upstaged. The cruelest cut for a member of staff was having one of the main table players shift their location.
Like him, General Prawner didn't play such games. If he had to move, he did so without complaint. He knew he belonged at the main table. It didn't matter where he sat. When he spoke, his contemporaries listened. He considered giving way for another member a way of garnering favors. A valuable currency in the military.
Most meetings had the High Command occupying all four sides of the main table. Today, nobody sat at the head and none tried claiming those seats. Another oddity, somebody wheeled in a portable air recirculator. Riven knew the room sometimes got warm when a large number attended but today's meeting had fewer members than what he experienced in prior conferences. The High Command sat at the table, each officer engaging in idle chatter. None seemed interested in tending to business.
Ordinary changed to oddity. Six armed dogs entered the room and verified everyone's ID. Pockets were patted down and anything brought into the room received a meticulous search. Even those sitting at the main table were subjected to the same inspection. Bad enough Riven had to go through these procedures once. This crew of retrievers did every attendee twice.
The reason why strolled into the room and every morph came to rigid attention. Unlike everyone else, the rat wore no uniform but a well-tailored suit of exceptional quality. Every soldier maintained their stance even after the rat took his place at the head of the table. Once he was comfortable, the Prime Minister signaled the start of their meeting.
All sat while the Prime Minister's bodyguards patrolled the room with weapons drawn. Major Riven found the armed dogs a bit of a distraction. Anytime a staff member moved, the dogs trained their weapons on that morph until he returned to his seat. It kept everyone from shifting or making unnecessary moves.
As for those at the main table, they ignored the armed dogs, though none was foolish enough to place their paws below the table. They stuck to the published agenda, a plethora of inane material. Nothing these generals mentioned came close to necessitating the presence of the National Herd leader. Even the heated discussion about accelerated pilot training didn't cause any reaction from their guest. After discussing a new warship's positive and negative points, the Prime Minister passed out a piece of paper.
The three-star general who oversaw today's meeting, glanced at the paper and read two names. Major Riven almost fainted when the officer mentioned him. The guards escorted everyone else out of the room. Five of the guards departed while the remaining guard approached a comm panel.
The dog pressed a few buttons and engaged the ultra-security system. Major Riven heard of it but never saw it deployed. Upon activation, every opening in the conference room disappeared. They sat in a sealed room. Nothing could enter or leave, which explained the need for an independent air recirculation machine. Without it they would eventually suffocate.
Satisfied, the dog reached into a hidden compartment and pulled out a briefcase. The fellow moved to the opposite side of the table and sat facing General Prawner. The fellow opened a vest pocket and extracted a pair of eyeglasses, thick eyeglasses.
"Gentlemen, excuse the melodramatic," said the Prime Minister. "The dog sitting across from you is my most trusted intelligence analyst. His identity is so secret even my security detail knows nothing about him. His role on my security detail a ruse for any enemy agent." He chuckled. "My objection to his performance will have him rotated to another security detail just to maintain his cover. So, let's get down to the important stuff."
If he thought that the end of his torture session, he was mistaken. The Chief Veterinary Officer ordered him to report to another room when he left. There, metal probes slid under his cast while the second medical team made sure of their exact placement. Satisfied, they connected the probes to an electrical board and strapped him into a wooded chair "for his own protection." When they switched on the machine, he experienced a whole new level of pain. The ordeal eventually ended and he thought he could escape their care. He did, but just for four hours. He had to return for another session of what these doctors called electro-stimulation. Major Riven also had a term for this medical procedure but refrained from using it.
Five days later, they removed the cast. A furless arm is not a pretty sight. The vets again poked and prodded his arm. They x-rayed it and every vet stared at the image with the same intensity he gave Antebellum Green. Major Riven thought a happy vet signaled the end of his ordeal. No such luck. Time to engage in rehabbing his arm.
The therapist hooked his wrist to a wire that stretched his arm high over his head while he laid on a wooden platform. He had the choice of enduring the excruciating pain for two hours or he could end the session by lowering his arm to his side a specific number of times. Those first few sessions, he endured the pain, too weak to fight the weights. After seven days, he still found the sessions painful but they seldom lasted over an hour.
The male rat would attach the wrist band and adjust the knobs on the resistance machine before he returned to his novel. Major Riven tried talking to the technician when the pain became bearable but the rat remained unresponsive. His latest attempt at lowering his arm took him longer than the prior one and that had Major Riven give a loud growl.
"We having a bit of trouble finishing this latest set of exercises," asked the rat technician.
"There's no . . . no 'we' on this table you bucktoothed sadist."
"My word, major. If you have the energy to curse me out, what say we increase the weight by half, double the remaining reps, and add another hour to your time."
The technician punched a few buttons on his side of the panel and Major Riven's arm went to full upright. No use arguing with the rat, he had the controls. Major Riven concentrated on doing the exercise and managed to end his rehabilitation session half an hour early. Not good but better than waiting out the timer.
As Major Riven made for the exit, the machine's readout caught his attention. In the earlier sessions, the machine turned off when he finished, its screen blank. This time he could read the settings. The weight level read double what the technician said he set it at for this session. All he could do is point to the machine, too exhausted to speak. Without even looking up from his novel, the rat laughed.
"Yeah, I lied. Your bone mass has passed 98%, so it's as strong as it was before your injury. Maybe stronger. Be glad you're here, Major. Soldiers qualify as fit for duty at 75%. Though I've enjoyed our sessions and I've learned a few new curses, our time together is over. I'll inform command you have finished rehab."
Perhaps it was for the best the general confiscated his sword. Still, knowing he need not return to the medical wing made this last session forgettable. The rat technician could either finish his novel in peace or he could torture some other unfortunate morph. He didn't care. Freedom from the medical wing never felt so good.
"Glad to see you out early, Major. General Prawner has requested your presence at today's High Command briefing."
"We wouldn't need one every day if our armchair commanders actually did something at one of these meetings. Oh well, no use complaining. How much time do I have?"
"Three hours, sir. You'll have time to freshen up and change."
Major Riven nodded and the wildcat lieutenant took his accustomed place behind the wheel. The wildcat drove him wherever he needed to go, found a nearby parking slot, and waited until he finished. Neither one spoke beyond that required by duty. At least the fellow no longer drove like a speedster nor did he continue to be a hazard to anyone walking. The driver's efficiency meant he didn't have to learn the complicated code for determining where he was or wanted to go.
It felt good having private quarters. The presence of a full shower, along with all the amenities, spoiled him. Somebody even provided a mini refrigerator and personal stove. Cold drinks and hot food whenever he desired it made this place a great duty station. As he fastened his last button, he wondered how much this would cost him.
"We'll be there in fifteen minutes, sir."
"Lieutenant, you've served me well since my arrival. Our initial meeting . . . proved difficult. If you ever feel the need for a combat station, contact me first. You're an efficient officer, one I'd be proud to have on my staff."
The wildcat remained quiet for their trip. As he pulled into the corridor where the meeting would be held, he parked on the side. Something ate at him and his face displayed the full gambit of emotions as he sat there.
"You know who my sire is? He's determined to keep me from combat, said our family has lost enough blood to the war. I would have been honored serving you at your last post, even knowing what was about to happen. I'm no coward, sir. I'll perform my duties to the best of my ability and hope it makes a difference."
Major Riven entered the conference room. Like all the prior meetings he attended, the central table had name tags for each member of the High Command scheduled to attend. Ten feet back, the room contained two rows of nondescript chairs lining three sides of the room. None of these chairs contained name tags for the attending staff members.
This led to a bloodless battle of supremacy prior to the start of every meeting. Riven referred to it as the ballet of chairs. Each staff officer tried to secure a seat in the front row and in a spot that would give them a chance to display their importance. Some did this by commandeering a chair nearest the officer they served. Others wanted one that required them to walk a short distance so everyone would see him.
Early arrivals tried the "first there, it's theirs" ploy. Others tried usurping them with rank, either theirs or the superior they served. The late arrivals pulled the VIP ploy, trying to claim a choice spot based on the agenda, inferring their boss carried more importance in this specific meeting. None willingly took a seat in the second row as that might infer they didn't have any real clout. With a limited number of front row seats many had no choice but to take a back row, though not without trying everything they could to improve their status.
Major Riven didn't care. He preferred the second row where he could let his head rest against the wall. He found General Prawner's name tag at the main table and took the nearest seat meeting his criteria. When a conference had a high number of staff members, he stared down any daring to dislodge him. Those below his rank never succeeded. Anyone higher he would point to the seat at the main table and shrug his shoulders. It worked as no underling wanted to involve their superior in this power game.
Every officer serving as an aide had minimum combat time. Somehow, they either bypassed compulsory combat duty or their assignments kept them too far from any of the more intensive fighting. Major Riven soon learned having combat ribbons, some from the bloodiest campaigns, trumped anyone not serving an officer who held a higher rank than General Prawner. If anything, those seats nearest him became the most coveted seats. Each staff officer wanted to hear the personal exploits of a combat officer.
At last the High Command officers entered the room. They didn't even dignify the presence of their staff until they took their chair at the main conference table. That was when the ballet of chairs entered its most frenzied stage. Nobody wanted it to look like they shifted place, but every staff member noted who chose well and who got upstaged. The cruelest cut for a member of staff was having one of the main table players shift their location.
Like him, General Prawner didn't play such games. If he had to move, he did so without complaint. He knew he belonged at the main table. It didn't matter where he sat. When he spoke, his contemporaries listened. He considered giving way for another member a way of garnering favors. A valuable currency in the military.
Most meetings had the High Command occupying all four sides of the main table. Today, nobody sat at the head and none tried claiming those seats. Another oddity, somebody wheeled in a portable air recirculator. Riven knew the room sometimes got warm when a large number attended but today's meeting had fewer members than what he experienced in prior conferences. The High Command sat at the table, each officer engaging in idle chatter. None seemed interested in tending to business.
Ordinary changed to oddity. Six armed dogs entered the room and verified everyone's ID. Pockets were patted down and anything brought into the room received a meticulous search. Even those sitting at the main table were subjected to the same inspection. Bad enough Riven had to go through these procedures once. This crew of retrievers did every attendee twice.
The reason why strolled into the room and every morph came to rigid attention. Unlike everyone else, the rat wore no uniform but a well-tailored suit of exceptional quality. Every soldier maintained their stance even after the rat took his place at the head of the table. Once he was comfortable, the Prime Minister signaled the start of their meeting.
All sat while the Prime Minister's bodyguards patrolled the room with weapons drawn. Major Riven found the armed dogs a bit of a distraction. Anytime a staff member moved, the dogs trained their weapons on that morph until he returned to his seat. It kept everyone from shifting or making unnecessary moves.
As for those at the main table, they ignored the armed dogs, though none was foolish enough to place their paws below the table. They stuck to the published agenda, a plethora of inane material. Nothing these generals mentioned came close to necessitating the presence of the National Herd leader. Even the heated discussion about accelerated pilot training didn't cause any reaction from their guest. After discussing a new warship's positive and negative points, the Prime Minister passed out a piece of paper.
The three-star general who oversaw today's meeting, glanced at the paper and read two names. Major Riven almost fainted when the officer mentioned him. The guards escorted everyone else out of the room. Five of the guards departed while the remaining guard approached a comm panel.
The dog pressed a few buttons and engaged the ultra-security system. Major Riven heard of it but never saw it deployed. Upon activation, every opening in the conference room disappeared. They sat in a sealed room. Nothing could enter or leave, which explained the need for an independent air recirculation machine. Without it they would eventually suffocate.
Satisfied, the dog reached into a hidden compartment and pulled out a briefcase. The fellow moved to the opposite side of the table and sat facing General Prawner. The fellow opened a vest pocket and extracted a pair of eyeglasses, thick eyeglasses.
"Gentlemen, excuse the melodramatic," said the Prime Minister. "The dog sitting across from you is my most trusted intelligence analyst. His identity is so secret even my security detail knows nothing about him. His role on my security detail a ruse for any enemy agent." He chuckled. "My objection to his performance will have him rotated to another security detail just to maintain his cover. So, let's get down to the important stuff."
#47
Fan Art & Fiction / Re: Sapient Plague ( No Commen...
Last post by cairn destop - Oct 03, 2018, 06:00 AMCaptain Riven pondered a riddle as he stood outside the door. It required an immediate answer. Did he just enter the room and disturb whichever officer demanded his presence or did he knock and look the fool waiting for an invitation? His mind must be exhausted if such a simple question defeated his powers of deduction.
Another officer entered the same corridor. Without hesitation, the soldier opened a door and stepped inside. Captain Riven waited and watched the door he used. Nothing happened. Either the room belonged to that officer or the occupant wanted him. He stood there counting to a hundred, watching the door. It never opened.
He took a deep breath and grabbed the handle. The door opened on silent hinges and he marched inside and came to attention. Nothing dire happened. No shouts, no screams, no recriminations, and no demands. The sound of the latch catching as the door closed broke the evil spell his tired mind conjured.
The room appeared quite small for a commanding officer. At least it did until he saw the lone occupant. The lady rat had to be old enough to be his grandmother's mother. Her pelt had that looseness and lack of color, plus the wire rimmed glasses sitting at the tip of her muzzle did nothing to dispel her ancient appearance. The lady's fingers darted across a keyboard of their own volition while her eyes focused on the monitor in front of her. She couldn't be the officer as she wore civilian clothing.
After seeing nothing but military personnel within this complex, a civilian startled him. It also had the effect of having him relax his military bearing. He checked his surroundings. The plaster walls all had a light bluish tint. Even the floor's tile had a blue color, though much deeper. If not for the light brown desk, sofa, and area rug, the sole color scheme created a claustrophobic effect within his befuddled mind.
He approached the lady.
"Captain Riven reporting as ordered."
Her eyes remained on her screen. "General Prawner is at another meeting. I'll advise him of your arrival but there's no telling how long he'll be. He did tell me to let you wait in his outer office. Help yourself to the coffee. It's the real thing, Captain."
The rat's paw left the keyboard and pressed an unseen buzzer. A section of the wall slid aside, revealing another room. At least he didn't have to ponder his options. The lady said he had been invited inside and that the next room wasn't his office. If the room contained a sofa like the one outside, this general might have quite a task waking him.
At least this place had a more earthen tone color scheme. Considering what hung on the walls, it made sense. A dozen paintings hung on either side of the hallway, all of them classic masterpieces dating back to the prewar era. He stood before a painting he admired when he was on leave three years back, Antebellum Green. The all white female poodle laid stretched out on a sofa in a provocative come-hither pose, the background displayed long green drapes, and four pups sat on the floor in the foreground on green pillows.
A voice intruded. "I must admit, it's one of my favorites."
Captain Riven came to attention when he saw the otter general. "It's an excellent reproduction, sir. Too bad the original was destroyed when the Pavlogen Heritage Art Museum was bombed from orbit a year ago."
"No reproduction, it's the original. Our military intelligence broke their code and alerted us to their intentions. During a surveillance blind spot, we removed most of the major works. Pity we couldn't save it all. I kept this one for myself."
"But the reports said everything was destroyed."
"A military necessity to cover our breaking their code. Pity they changed it three months later; no doubt standard human security procedure. Anyway, I didn't call you here to see my office collection; something far more important requires your presence, Major. Yes, you've been promoted, effective once you arrived here."
The otter pointed to a doorway at the far end of the gallery. If Antebellum Green was the real masterpiece, it dawned on him that the other works were also the authentic originals. Made him wonder what other artifacts these officers possessed.
"It appears my staff took the word 'immediately' a bit too literally. A blood-stained uniform missing its right sleeve, minimum veterinary care, and no time for food or rest? Not a good combination for intellectual conversation. I have a private washroom and can have a clean uniform delivered. Let's meet in the morning after you have a good meal and a long rest."
Sweeter words he couldn't imagine. Major Riven didn't know which sensation ranked first. When he dropped his bloody uniform, he felt halfway clean. An invigorating shower with soap and hot water rejuvenated him. He wolfed down more food than he ever ate while in combat and passed out on the general's large sofa dressed in nothing but a damp towel.
A slamming door had him scrambling for his sword. His terror faded when he remembered where he slept. The otter general pointed to the chair and Major Riven dressed. Everything brand new and it fit like the proverbial glove. Without his right paw, dressing proved difficult. He also missed his sword, which the general confiscated. After several attempts with his left paw, he surrendered all attempts at tying his boots.
The general opened a large folder and read its contents while he dressed. When Major Riven ceased trying to do his shoes one-pawed, the general leaned back in his chair. For some reason, he pictured himself as an insect under the otter's magnifying glass. He wasn't sure if the officer intended examining his specimen or burning it.
"You win a one in ten thousand teaching exemption from military service and loose it to politics. What were you thinking when you sided with the Hoarders?"
"That file is wrong, sir. I joined the Sifters, a minor faction within the Hoarders. We believe some items from the humans beneficial and worth saving while the Hoarders want to keep everything. I still believe the Puritans wrong for purging everything human but they gained power and I found myself in the military."
"Human items like Dante's Divine Comedy and Sun Tzu's Art of War? Be glad I intervened after we relieved your outpost. The Puritans had an agent in your command who discovered your unauthorized material. I managed to intercept his last communication so none are the wiser. Their agent died in the battle, otherwise the Puritans would have you executed as a human sympathizer."
If the general knew of his transgression and intended keeping it secret, he must want something big in return. An officer on the front learns very fast the art of favors and trade. Two camps, each holding something the other wants? You fashion a trade equitable to both sides. When somebody does a favor for you, expect reciprocation. The bigger the favor, the greater the payback.
"Until your arm heals, Major, you'll be in the medical wing for some much-needed rehab work. I've assigned you a driver who will also act as your temporary aide. I'm sure you remember him and I know he remembers you. Just do me the favor of not killing him; his father is a very influential member of the National Herd. Rumor has it he came within a dozen votes of becoming our Prime Minister."
Another officer entered the same corridor. Without hesitation, the soldier opened a door and stepped inside. Captain Riven waited and watched the door he used. Nothing happened. Either the room belonged to that officer or the occupant wanted him. He stood there counting to a hundred, watching the door. It never opened.
He took a deep breath and grabbed the handle. The door opened on silent hinges and he marched inside and came to attention. Nothing dire happened. No shouts, no screams, no recriminations, and no demands. The sound of the latch catching as the door closed broke the evil spell his tired mind conjured.
The room appeared quite small for a commanding officer. At least it did until he saw the lone occupant. The lady rat had to be old enough to be his grandmother's mother. Her pelt had that looseness and lack of color, plus the wire rimmed glasses sitting at the tip of her muzzle did nothing to dispel her ancient appearance. The lady's fingers darted across a keyboard of their own volition while her eyes focused on the monitor in front of her. She couldn't be the officer as she wore civilian clothing.
After seeing nothing but military personnel within this complex, a civilian startled him. It also had the effect of having him relax his military bearing. He checked his surroundings. The plaster walls all had a light bluish tint. Even the floor's tile had a blue color, though much deeper. If not for the light brown desk, sofa, and area rug, the sole color scheme created a claustrophobic effect within his befuddled mind.
He approached the lady.
"Captain Riven reporting as ordered."
Her eyes remained on her screen. "General Prawner is at another meeting. I'll advise him of your arrival but there's no telling how long he'll be. He did tell me to let you wait in his outer office. Help yourself to the coffee. It's the real thing, Captain."
The rat's paw left the keyboard and pressed an unseen buzzer. A section of the wall slid aside, revealing another room. At least he didn't have to ponder his options. The lady said he had been invited inside and that the next room wasn't his office. If the room contained a sofa like the one outside, this general might have quite a task waking him.
At least this place had a more earthen tone color scheme. Considering what hung on the walls, it made sense. A dozen paintings hung on either side of the hallway, all of them classic masterpieces dating back to the prewar era. He stood before a painting he admired when he was on leave three years back, Antebellum Green. The all white female poodle laid stretched out on a sofa in a provocative come-hither pose, the background displayed long green drapes, and four pups sat on the floor in the foreground on green pillows.
A voice intruded. "I must admit, it's one of my favorites."
Captain Riven came to attention when he saw the otter general. "It's an excellent reproduction, sir. Too bad the original was destroyed when the Pavlogen Heritage Art Museum was bombed from orbit a year ago."
"No reproduction, it's the original. Our military intelligence broke their code and alerted us to their intentions. During a surveillance blind spot, we removed most of the major works. Pity we couldn't save it all. I kept this one for myself."
"But the reports said everything was destroyed."
"A military necessity to cover our breaking their code. Pity they changed it three months later; no doubt standard human security procedure. Anyway, I didn't call you here to see my office collection; something far more important requires your presence, Major. Yes, you've been promoted, effective once you arrived here."
The otter pointed to a doorway at the far end of the gallery. If Antebellum Green was the real masterpiece, it dawned on him that the other works were also the authentic originals. Made him wonder what other artifacts these officers possessed.
"It appears my staff took the word 'immediately' a bit too literally. A blood-stained uniform missing its right sleeve, minimum veterinary care, and no time for food or rest? Not a good combination for intellectual conversation. I have a private washroom and can have a clean uniform delivered. Let's meet in the morning after you have a good meal and a long rest."
Sweeter words he couldn't imagine. Major Riven didn't know which sensation ranked first. When he dropped his bloody uniform, he felt halfway clean. An invigorating shower with soap and hot water rejuvenated him. He wolfed down more food than he ever ate while in combat and passed out on the general's large sofa dressed in nothing but a damp towel.
A slamming door had him scrambling for his sword. His terror faded when he remembered where he slept. The otter general pointed to the chair and Major Riven dressed. Everything brand new and it fit like the proverbial glove. Without his right paw, dressing proved difficult. He also missed his sword, which the general confiscated. After several attempts with his left paw, he surrendered all attempts at tying his boots.
The general opened a large folder and read its contents while he dressed. When Major Riven ceased trying to do his shoes one-pawed, the general leaned back in his chair. For some reason, he pictured himself as an insect under the otter's magnifying glass. He wasn't sure if the officer intended examining his specimen or burning it.
"You win a one in ten thousand teaching exemption from military service and loose it to politics. What were you thinking when you sided with the Hoarders?"
"That file is wrong, sir. I joined the Sifters, a minor faction within the Hoarders. We believe some items from the humans beneficial and worth saving while the Hoarders want to keep everything. I still believe the Puritans wrong for purging everything human but they gained power and I found myself in the military."
"Human items like Dante's Divine Comedy and Sun Tzu's Art of War? Be glad I intervened after we relieved your outpost. The Puritans had an agent in your command who discovered your unauthorized material. I managed to intercept his last communication so none are the wiser. Their agent died in the battle, otherwise the Puritans would have you executed as a human sympathizer."
If the general knew of his transgression and intended keeping it secret, he must want something big in return. An officer on the front learns very fast the art of favors and trade. Two camps, each holding something the other wants? You fashion a trade equitable to both sides. When somebody does a favor for you, expect reciprocation. The bigger the favor, the greater the payback.
"Until your arm heals, Major, you'll be in the medical wing for some much-needed rehab work. I've assigned you a driver who will also act as your temporary aide. I'm sure you remember him and I know he remembers you. Just do me the favor of not killing him; his father is a very influential member of the National Herd. Rumor has it he came within a dozen votes of becoming our Prime Minister."
#48
Fan Art & Fiction / Re: Sapient Plague ( No Commen...
Last post by cairn destop - Oct 01, 2018, 07:42 AMNo sense asking for directions from the guards. They would ignore him until relieved, just like everyone he passed. Captain Riven made his way down the single corridor. On either side of him were rows of office doors, each with a series of letters and number. He didn't doubt those assigned here understood whatever code identified his location. To him it was nothing but gibberish. Up ahead he found what he needed, an information directory at a point where several corridors met.
An insistent horn blared in the distance. The whine of an electric engine on overdrive competed with a blaring horn. Within the confines of the underground facility, he had no way of determining where the noise originated. Seeing a line of morphs jumping towards the wall confirmed the location of an approaching vehicle. The shriek of brakes announced the driver had reached his destination.
"Captain Riven? Captain Riven? Has anyone seen . . . oh good, you're already here. Unless there's another ferret officer wandering these halls, I'm guessing you're Captain Riven."
The wildcat wore the insignia of a lieutenant and his uniform was inspection ready. Such a pristine uniform and every bit of fur trimmed to match the current military dress code. All he had to do was smile and everyone would mistaken him for some recruitment poster. He even came to rigid attention, executed a perfect salute, and slid into the at-ease position three paces in front of him. Everything by the book with the exception of his twitching nose.
"With all due respect, you're not really going to see the general smelling like that. Completely unprofessional, sir. Why didn't you consider a hot shower and a change of uniform before coming here?"
Enough was enough for Captain Riven. By his reckoning, before the relief column whisked him to the veterinary hospital, he hadn't slept for two days. He didn't consider the time the medical staff operated as restful and all this travel didn't improve his temperament. Listening to this meowing kitten's insults grated on his last nerve.
Captain Riven lowered his shoulder and charged the wildcat, sending him rolling down the hall. Riven's booted foot slammed down on the lieutenant's chest, pinning him to the floor. Riven drew his sword with his left paw and slashed down at his larger adversary. The blade sliced through the muzzle whiskers and came to rest against the wildcat's throat. Every morph in the vicinity froze as they watched the unfolding drama. His voice remained icy as he stood over the lieutenant.
"I have been fighting those hairless monkeys for seven days nonstop. During that time, I've been shot, stabbed, and bludgeoned. I used a kitchen knife to dig out bullets and a sewing kit to mend myself and those who served with me. My sword has killed more than a dozen humans in individual combat in just the last three days. I've faced twice as many more before that and survived. I have held comrades in my paws as they died because of my orders. I haven't slept much or eaten enough and I sure haven't had time to bathe in at least seven days. Now, unless you can claim to have done as much, I'd choose my next words with great care or you might not get a chance to do better."
The lieutenant licked his lips, his voice betraying his fear. "General Prawner's orders were to 'get you to him yesterday,' that's why we need to hurry, sir."
Captain Riven removed his foot from the wildcat's chest. Instead of a pristine uniform, the lieutenant's blouse had a very muddy impression of his combat boot. As for his trousers, they were no longer dry nor were they as fresh smelling. The wildcat's eyes remained fixated on the sword that sat on his muzzle.
"I don't give a scat about your orders, lieutenant. If anyone has to dodge out of the way or you hit that damn horn just once, I'll throw you out of this thing and run you down with it. Do I make myself understood?"
"Yes sir. Absolutely clear sir. May we depart sir?"
He took the passenger seat and watched the wildcat try to reclaim his dignity. The yellow puddle and the dirt piles on the pristine floor did not help. As he engaged the engine, every morph took a step back but kept their eyes on the cart as it accelerated. Captain Riven sheathed his blade, his eyes fixed on the lieutenant's face.
Good thing the driver knew where to go, he got disoriented at the first turn. At one point the foot traffic became heavy and the driver lifted his paw off the wheel. Captain Riven cleared his throat and the driver's paw returned to the steering wheel. They stopped in a corridor like every corridor they passed in front of a door without a nametag, just a series of letters and numbers.
As he exited the cart, the driver departed. At least the driver maintained a sane speed until he reached the end of the passageway. One turn and the sound of an engine accelerating could be heard. A horn vigorously applied drifted back to him as the lieutenant made his escape. That earned a good laugh, the first since the humans attacked. It felt wonderful.
An insistent horn blared in the distance. The whine of an electric engine on overdrive competed with a blaring horn. Within the confines of the underground facility, he had no way of determining where the noise originated. Seeing a line of morphs jumping towards the wall confirmed the location of an approaching vehicle. The shriek of brakes announced the driver had reached his destination.
"Captain Riven? Captain Riven? Has anyone seen . . . oh good, you're already here. Unless there's another ferret officer wandering these halls, I'm guessing you're Captain Riven."
The wildcat wore the insignia of a lieutenant and his uniform was inspection ready. Such a pristine uniform and every bit of fur trimmed to match the current military dress code. All he had to do was smile and everyone would mistaken him for some recruitment poster. He even came to rigid attention, executed a perfect salute, and slid into the at-ease position three paces in front of him. Everything by the book with the exception of his twitching nose.
"With all due respect, you're not really going to see the general smelling like that. Completely unprofessional, sir. Why didn't you consider a hot shower and a change of uniform before coming here?"
Enough was enough for Captain Riven. By his reckoning, before the relief column whisked him to the veterinary hospital, he hadn't slept for two days. He didn't consider the time the medical staff operated as restful and all this travel didn't improve his temperament. Listening to this meowing kitten's insults grated on his last nerve.
Captain Riven lowered his shoulder and charged the wildcat, sending him rolling down the hall. Riven's booted foot slammed down on the lieutenant's chest, pinning him to the floor. Riven drew his sword with his left paw and slashed down at his larger adversary. The blade sliced through the muzzle whiskers and came to rest against the wildcat's throat. Every morph in the vicinity froze as they watched the unfolding drama. His voice remained icy as he stood over the lieutenant.
"I have been fighting those hairless monkeys for seven days nonstop. During that time, I've been shot, stabbed, and bludgeoned. I used a kitchen knife to dig out bullets and a sewing kit to mend myself and those who served with me. My sword has killed more than a dozen humans in individual combat in just the last three days. I've faced twice as many more before that and survived. I have held comrades in my paws as they died because of my orders. I haven't slept much or eaten enough and I sure haven't had time to bathe in at least seven days. Now, unless you can claim to have done as much, I'd choose my next words with great care or you might not get a chance to do better."
The lieutenant licked his lips, his voice betraying his fear. "General Prawner's orders were to 'get you to him yesterday,' that's why we need to hurry, sir."
Captain Riven removed his foot from the wildcat's chest. Instead of a pristine uniform, the lieutenant's blouse had a very muddy impression of his combat boot. As for his trousers, they were no longer dry nor were they as fresh smelling. The wildcat's eyes remained fixated on the sword that sat on his muzzle.
"I don't give a scat about your orders, lieutenant. If anyone has to dodge out of the way or you hit that damn horn just once, I'll throw you out of this thing and run you down with it. Do I make myself understood?"
"Yes sir. Absolutely clear sir. May we depart sir?"
He took the passenger seat and watched the wildcat try to reclaim his dignity. The yellow puddle and the dirt piles on the pristine floor did not help. As he engaged the engine, every morph took a step back but kept their eyes on the cart as it accelerated. Captain Riven sheathed his blade, his eyes fixed on the lieutenant's face.
Good thing the driver knew where to go, he got disoriented at the first turn. At one point the foot traffic became heavy and the driver lifted his paw off the wheel. Captain Riven cleared his throat and the driver's paw returned to the steering wheel. They stopped in a corridor like every corridor they passed in front of a door without a nametag, just a series of letters and numbers.
As he exited the cart, the driver departed. At least the driver maintained a sane speed until he reached the end of the passageway. One turn and the sound of an engine accelerating could be heard. A horn vigorously applied drifted back to him as the lieutenant made his escape. That earned a good laugh, the first since the humans attacked. It felt wonderful.
#49
Fan Art & Fiction / Re: Sapient Plague ( No Commen...
Last post by cairn destop - Sep 28, 2018, 05:44 AMCaptain Riven entered the business foyer and gazed around. If not for the war, you would think this just another civilian business operation. To his right, a hallway led to a bank of elevators. Morphs of every species entered and exited the place dressed in tailored suits. Some of these morphs stopped at the receptionist desk for directions.
A door to his left drew him closer. Several morphs passed him as they too entered the building via the door marked employees only. Those passing too close wiggled their muzzle whiskers or gave a snort when they caught his scent. By the time they located the rancid odor, Captain Riven had passed through the doorway.
He clipped the badge his driver gave him to his torn uniform and walked at a casual pace through the room. The heavy smell of ink and paper overwhelmed him while the printing presses dominated all sounds. Some of the presses printed civilian items such as advertising circulars. Many contained patriotic material encouraging older civilians to conserve while others appealed to the youth's sense of duty. Interesting but not why he came here.
Captain Riven passed through another set of doors into a duplicate foyer. This time he turned towards the bank of elevators. A female rat at the security desk got out of her chair and took no more than one step in his direction before he gave her what he knew was his best "go ahead and try me" stare. It worked. She returned to her station. He kept glaring at her, daring her to try pushing the alarm button. She dropped her eyes, acting as if her manicured fingernails needed buffing.
He opened the maintenance room door and relayed the material to Elevator Six. It took time as he had but one paw and his other arm remained immobilized within its sling. When the designated elevator reached ground level, he pushed inside. A one quarter twist of his key turned the elevator off and those inside the elevator car filed out, not even giving him a glance. He set up the barrier and the universal "closed so we can serve you better" sign in the hallway.
A second twist of the key closed the doors and put the car in maintenance mode. It shouldn't work but his key turned another quarter turn. He quickly pressed the buttons in the sequence he learned while riding here. As he pressed the final button, the elevator lights came on and the car did the impossible. It went below ground level.
The elevator doors opened on an unknown level deep underground and he retrieved the key. He didn't know what he anticipated when he stepped out but an empty room was the very last thing he expected. The room measured six paces square and the walls reminded him of the dental office he visited while on his last leave. Even the floor had that sterile off-white color medical clinics favored. The one thing missing, a door.
As soon as the elevator doors closed, the surrounding walls sank into the floor. Not much of an improvement. Captain Riven stood within a plexiglass cell and armed guards manned automated weapon pods mounted into recesses in the floor and ceiling. At least this room had a door, though he guessed the security monitor activated the locking system.
He approached the monitor and stood on the indicated red X. The screen lit and he read the instructions for passing this checkpoint. Paw prints proved difficult with one immobilize arm. A few seconds passed before a green light appeared and the next identification protocol appeared. The machine took a retina scan and a nose print without more than a momentary delay. So far, three of four ID markers passed. The last one appeared.
"You have got to be joking."
The machine wanted him to sing the theme song of Avenger Puppy, a show about a puppy fighting humans with his morph squad of youngsters. With no other option, he sang the opening lines of the popular cartoon.
The security door slid open and he stepped into the one morph chamber. All the weapon blisters receded and the walls rose from the floor. He had a feeling not too many of those assigned to this base ever went topside. Bad enough the bio-scans but having him sing to confirm a voiceprint he didn't even remember making was overkill. Once the scanner determined he carried no biological or explosive components, the last door slid aside. He just entered the most secured morph military facility outside those reserved for the Prime Minister or the Chancellor.
A door to his left drew him closer. Several morphs passed him as they too entered the building via the door marked employees only. Those passing too close wiggled their muzzle whiskers or gave a snort when they caught his scent. By the time they located the rancid odor, Captain Riven had passed through the doorway.
He clipped the badge his driver gave him to his torn uniform and walked at a casual pace through the room. The heavy smell of ink and paper overwhelmed him while the printing presses dominated all sounds. Some of the presses printed civilian items such as advertising circulars. Many contained patriotic material encouraging older civilians to conserve while others appealed to the youth's sense of duty. Interesting but not why he came here.
Captain Riven passed through another set of doors into a duplicate foyer. This time he turned towards the bank of elevators. A female rat at the security desk got out of her chair and took no more than one step in his direction before he gave her what he knew was his best "go ahead and try me" stare. It worked. She returned to her station. He kept glaring at her, daring her to try pushing the alarm button. She dropped her eyes, acting as if her manicured fingernails needed buffing.
He opened the maintenance room door and relayed the material to Elevator Six. It took time as he had but one paw and his other arm remained immobilized within its sling. When the designated elevator reached ground level, he pushed inside. A one quarter twist of his key turned the elevator off and those inside the elevator car filed out, not even giving him a glance. He set up the barrier and the universal "closed so we can serve you better" sign in the hallway.
A second twist of the key closed the doors and put the car in maintenance mode. It shouldn't work but his key turned another quarter turn. He quickly pressed the buttons in the sequence he learned while riding here. As he pressed the final button, the elevator lights came on and the car did the impossible. It went below ground level.
The elevator doors opened on an unknown level deep underground and he retrieved the key. He didn't know what he anticipated when he stepped out but an empty room was the very last thing he expected. The room measured six paces square and the walls reminded him of the dental office he visited while on his last leave. Even the floor had that sterile off-white color medical clinics favored. The one thing missing, a door.
As soon as the elevator doors closed, the surrounding walls sank into the floor. Not much of an improvement. Captain Riven stood within a plexiglass cell and armed guards manned automated weapon pods mounted into recesses in the floor and ceiling. At least this room had a door, though he guessed the security monitor activated the locking system.
He approached the monitor and stood on the indicated red X. The screen lit and he read the instructions for passing this checkpoint. Paw prints proved difficult with one immobilize arm. A few seconds passed before a green light appeared and the next identification protocol appeared. The machine took a retina scan and a nose print without more than a momentary delay. So far, three of four ID markers passed. The last one appeared.
"You have got to be joking."
The machine wanted him to sing the theme song of Avenger Puppy, a show about a puppy fighting humans with his morph squad of youngsters. With no other option, he sang the opening lines of the popular cartoon.
The security door slid open and he stepped into the one morph chamber. All the weapon blisters receded and the walls rose from the floor. He had a feeling not too many of those assigned to this base ever went topside. Bad enough the bio-scans but having him sing to confirm a voiceprint he didn't even remember making was overkill. Once the scanner determined he carried no biological or explosive components, the last door slid aside. He just entered the most secured morph military facility outside those reserved for the Prime Minister or the Chancellor.
#50
Fan Art & Fiction / Re: Sapient Plague ( No Commen...
Last post by cairn destop - Sep 26, 2018, 05:44 AMTalk about insanity. Captain Riven couldn't think of any other term to describe the last twenty-six hours. In that one day's time, an armored column managed to punch through the pass and relieve his command. Those injured were evacuated to a veterinary hospital. He hadn't recovered from his operation when four armed and armored soldiers whisked his furry butt out of the hospital.
They hustled him onto a command hovercraft and broke every speed record getting to the nearest strategic air station. Still strapped to his stretcher, they loaded him into a supersonic fighter and flew him to the continent of Capricorn. He thought the base hospital his final stop when they released him from his stretcher. Such hopes proved premature.
His guards took him down to a high-speed subway and whisked him to an unknown destination. That's when the lunacy of the military bureaucracy reared its ugly head. The four guards who hadn't left his side pointed to the stairwell and returned to the underground tram, leaving him alone. Captain Riven had no other option than to use the stairs.
Hard enough opening doors with his left paw, but every step up bounced his right arm. Whatever painkillers the vets gave him were wearing off and the discomfort grew. At least the exit was nothing more than a simple push bar. He exited the stairwell in an underground garage. As to the stairwell, a sign had been stenciled on the door reading maintenance room. His groggy mind couldn't grasp any reason for such games.
A voice pierced his tired and muddled mine. "Captain Riven? I'm your driver, please get in as we don't have much time."
The hydrogen powered vehicle accelerated as it rolled through the city at a casual pace. While he leaned back in the padded seat, his eyes scanned the streets they passed. He watched the many pups and kittens romping around in the park. He spotted adults doing the many necessary duties that kept a city functioning. It felt good seeing so many citizens not in a uniform. Such a relaxing and idealistic view.
The illusion shattered when he crossed over a pontoon bridge sitting next to a stone one destroyed in an earlier attack. Capricorn was supposed to be a morph secured continent. Hell, their government operated from the largest morph city, Nestling. Yet here, wherever here was, Captain Riven observed the obvious signs of a city at war.
Radar installations and antiaircraft gun emplacements appeared on the roofs of some of the taller buildings. One of the newest high-altitude missile systems had confiscated half the land earmarked for some park. Military police roamed the streets along with their civilian counterparts. Every billboard his car passed contained some inspirational message about the war. His car hit a particularly large pothole and the jarring motion had him curse.
"Sorry about that, sir. All hovercrafts are considered combat priority so we have to travel by wheeled transport and no tram passes our destination."
"Don't mind me. My painkillers have worn off and this arm is killing me. The vets removed every bone in my lower arm and packed it with regenerative gel. Somebody was in such a hurry to get me off the front that they didn't even use a cast. Just this temporary splint."
"You'll have to excuse the scenic route, Captain. I'm taking you to one of our most secure facilities and such security extremes are necessary to avoid human detection. Please review the entry procedures as time will be short."
The driver handed him a folder than focused his attention on the road. He continued his meanderings through the city while he read the papers regarding security. Captain Riven would have to surrender his firearms, assuming he still had them, but could keep the short sword he wore. After so much time at the front, keeping any form of weaponry eased his mind.
The radio's soft music stopped when another signal overrode the civilian band. For the next twenty-five minutes the city would be in a satellite dead zone. The driver hit a button that activated a military style siren. He jerked the wheel over hard and the vehicle accelerated down a priority use lane. Whatever clearance his driver had, every military vehicle encountered gave way.
Another sharp turn and the car entered a civilian business park. Captain Riven couldn't find anything distinctive about the brick buildings. None of them had military personnel or markings. The only thing differentiating one structure from another being the large numbers facing the street.
Tires squealed as the car came to a sudden stop. Pain which had been just below tolerable shot up to agonizing. Captain Riven fumbled with the door handle and climbed out of the backseat. He didn't even get to close the door. The driver's acceleration slammed it shut as he roared out of the parking lot. A glance at his timer showed he had under three minutes to get inside the building before the humans regained satellite coverage of the city. Plenty of time to read the business logo.
"Creative Artistry Print Company, Adding clarity to the muddled mind."
They hustled him onto a command hovercraft and broke every speed record getting to the nearest strategic air station. Still strapped to his stretcher, they loaded him into a supersonic fighter and flew him to the continent of Capricorn. He thought the base hospital his final stop when they released him from his stretcher. Such hopes proved premature.
His guards took him down to a high-speed subway and whisked him to an unknown destination. That's when the lunacy of the military bureaucracy reared its ugly head. The four guards who hadn't left his side pointed to the stairwell and returned to the underground tram, leaving him alone. Captain Riven had no other option than to use the stairs.
Hard enough opening doors with his left paw, but every step up bounced his right arm. Whatever painkillers the vets gave him were wearing off and the discomfort grew. At least the exit was nothing more than a simple push bar. He exited the stairwell in an underground garage. As to the stairwell, a sign had been stenciled on the door reading maintenance room. His groggy mind couldn't grasp any reason for such games.
A voice pierced his tired and muddled mine. "Captain Riven? I'm your driver, please get in as we don't have much time."
The hydrogen powered vehicle accelerated as it rolled through the city at a casual pace. While he leaned back in the padded seat, his eyes scanned the streets they passed. He watched the many pups and kittens romping around in the park. He spotted adults doing the many necessary duties that kept a city functioning. It felt good seeing so many citizens not in a uniform. Such a relaxing and idealistic view.
The illusion shattered when he crossed over a pontoon bridge sitting next to a stone one destroyed in an earlier attack. Capricorn was supposed to be a morph secured continent. Hell, their government operated from the largest morph city, Nestling. Yet here, wherever here was, Captain Riven observed the obvious signs of a city at war.
Radar installations and antiaircraft gun emplacements appeared on the roofs of some of the taller buildings. One of the newest high-altitude missile systems had confiscated half the land earmarked for some park. Military police roamed the streets along with their civilian counterparts. Every billboard his car passed contained some inspirational message about the war. His car hit a particularly large pothole and the jarring motion had him curse.
"Sorry about that, sir. All hovercrafts are considered combat priority so we have to travel by wheeled transport and no tram passes our destination."
"Don't mind me. My painkillers have worn off and this arm is killing me. The vets removed every bone in my lower arm and packed it with regenerative gel. Somebody was in such a hurry to get me off the front that they didn't even use a cast. Just this temporary splint."
"You'll have to excuse the scenic route, Captain. I'm taking you to one of our most secure facilities and such security extremes are necessary to avoid human detection. Please review the entry procedures as time will be short."
The driver handed him a folder than focused his attention on the road. He continued his meanderings through the city while he read the papers regarding security. Captain Riven would have to surrender his firearms, assuming he still had them, but could keep the short sword he wore. After so much time at the front, keeping any form of weaponry eased his mind.
The radio's soft music stopped when another signal overrode the civilian band. For the next twenty-five minutes the city would be in a satellite dead zone. The driver hit a button that activated a military style siren. He jerked the wheel over hard and the vehicle accelerated down a priority use lane. Whatever clearance his driver had, every military vehicle encountered gave way.
Another sharp turn and the car entered a civilian business park. Captain Riven couldn't find anything distinctive about the brick buildings. None of them had military personnel or markings. The only thing differentiating one structure from another being the large numbers facing the street.
Tires squealed as the car came to a sudden stop. Pain which had been just below tolerable shot up to agonizing. Captain Riven fumbled with the door handle and climbed out of the backseat. He didn't even get to close the door. The driver's acceleration slammed it shut as he roared out of the parking lot. A glance at his timer showed he had under three minutes to get inside the building before the humans regained satellite coverage of the city. Plenty of time to read the business logo.
"Creative Artistry Print Company, Adding clarity to the muddled mind."