FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

After Mark finished lunch with his three new friends, Joel told him to stick around, until those other "lazy bags of fur" got out of bed, which was about ten minutes later. As those who weren't sticking around for the briefing left, Mark sat down on one of the sofas, and after a while, the those explorers who were still asleep stumbled out into the common area,

"Good afternoon, guys," Joel said. "I was hoping for you to get started this morning, but since everyone decided to sleep in, I guess I'll take what I can get." General grumbles arose from those just assembled, all done in fun. "Either way, today you've got a relatively simple mission. Planet X20MK, known to the locals as Taegi, is up for its checkup. Your mission is to transport down, and investigate the current status of the planet; living conditions, water supply, et cetera, and just make sure there's not a major civil war going on, or anything that's tearing the place apart, either literally, or figuratively. Orson is group leader. Be back as soon as possible. Oh, and Mark will be going with you. He's new, so treat him nice, and don't kill him when he screws up. That is all. Dismissed."

Mark stood, and walked over to the others he was going with. "Good morning, guys. So, what do we do now?" James facepawed, and said to the others, "great, we got someone who doesn't even know SOP."

"Yeah," Orson agreed, turning to leave. "Let's go, and hopefully we'll get this over with before dark. New guy, get up here. We have to get you some equipment." Mark moved to the front, with the brown furred dog, who motioned in the direction of the deployment area. When they turned the corner, into the hall which lead to the official teleport pads, Orson went through a door on the right, and Mark found himself in something of a locker room. The dogs went to their lockers, labelled with their names, in their native letterings, and Orson pointed to a locker which had no name on it.

"Mine?" Mark asked. Orson nodded, as he opened his, and pulled out his gear. Mark opened the door to his locker, and pulled out a utility belt, made of a material similar to nylon. On it hung a standard looking pistol, a six inch combat knife, and a pair of what seemed to be binoculars. These Mark slung around his waist, and fastened on the front. Also in the locker was a small device that Orson explained allowed him to breath the atmosphere until he had his operation. Mark was a little wary of the concept of having an operation done on him, but he picked up the breathing apparatus, and stuck it in his mouth.

It was surprisingly light equipment, weighing no more then seven pounds all together, though Mark did feel the belt was slightly cumbersome when it came to movement.

"Ready?" Orson asked. He was carrying slightly more gear, stuffed into a small brown satchel which he had slung over his right shoulder. He held the strap with his paw, so that it wouldn't fall off his back as they walked down the hall. In a few moments, they all stood on the number five transport pad, a white, circular piece of equipment about a foot off the ground, and Orson pushed a button on the wall.

Mark felt himself being lifted once more off the ground, except this time it was no longer in the middle of a flash of brilliant white light. He watched forward, and saw streaks of light move past him, indicating that he was traveling faster then the speed of light. He felt as though he were being squeezed through a half inch pipe, an intense pressure on his entire body. Just as soon as it had started, it stopped, and Mark felt the pressure lessen and then vanish, and he found himself standing in a field of a sort of blue grass. Not bluegrass, but an actual blue colored grass, which grew in multitudes.

The group waded their way through the grass, and soon found a dirt road which wound its way down into a small cluster of shacks. This they followed, until they encountered their first local, who promptly alarmed Mark to no end. They had been walking along the road, when a strange clicking noise came up from beside the road in the grass. Mark turned toward it, and saw the largest spider he had ever seen in his life.

It was about four feet high, with eight hairy legs, and a jet black body with red stripes. Mark shouted out in alarm when he saw it, and was very close to pulling out his gun when Orson laid a paw on Mark's, to stop him. "Hold up, now, new guy. It's a local. Don't shoot him." Orson turned to the spider, and Mark heard some more clicking noises, this time coming from the group leader, and a response from the spider.

"He says he'll escort us into town," Orson told Mark, who was the only one without an audio converter. Thereafter, the spider climbed up onto the road, and began walking down the road, towards the cluster of buildings, chatting with the other members of the group. Mark followed at the rear, wary for any new surprises that could come crawling out of the fields.

They arrived at the town, and the spider escorted the group to their leader's home, where they had to wait for ten minutes before meeting the ruler of the spider people. There, Orson spent thirty minutes conversing with the leader, and when it was no longer possible that the other three people with Orson were not bored, the leader must have informed one of his attendees to take them outside, because soon James touched Mark's arm, and motioned for him to stand up and follow.

Outside, the spider took them all on a tour of the humble village, and explained that there were many of these villages, and some larger cities, all across the planet, or so James explained to Mark, who didn't understand any of the things being said. James explained that the blue grass was a foodstuff, harvested by the spiders, was taken along the road to larger cities, and there sold. It was a major staple of the creatures' diet, and used in most of their food.

Finally, after the three hour tour, which left Mark with a lot of information that he really didn't need to know, the group returned to the elder's home, and found Orson finished in his conversation with the elder, and consuming a dish created with the blue grass. Needless to say, Orson was ready to leave, and after some couteous farewells, the group walked outside, and Orson pushed a button on a small device clipped to his belt, and Mark felt that same tug, as they teleported back to Outpost 32. When they arrived, they reported to the common area, which also functioned as the debriefing room.

Joel was located, and Orson explained the results of the mission. Joel received it stoically, and after Orson was finished with his report, and James explained that there was nothing further to report from their tour, Joel nodded. "Good work, gentlemen. You're dismissed. I'll call you the next time we need you; it should be some time in the next three days. Dismissed." Everyone stood up, and Joel picked up his clipboard, then turned to Mark. "Mark," he called, motioning with his paw for Mark to come over. "I'd like to talk to you. Don't go anywhere."