FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

AGENT

=============================================================

A boy uninterestedly flips through channels rapidly, seeking something exciting, something violent- he hears a mention of the war and flips back a few stations. RCB News - most news companies run a significant portion of their material on the war. What else was there to talk about, after all?

"Embedded correspondent James DeMoisen has been shadowing the 223rd Support Squadron, an element of the Eight Airmobile Mechanized Division, as the occupation of Ssenka unfolds. Last week the program was interrupted for the safety of both James and the troops he accompanies. Today James reports from the battlefield, but due to continued safety concerns today's program is prerecorded- James?" The RCB News program reels black, except for the bright futuristic scrolling banner at the bottom of the screen. Eventually a grainy satellite-relay video fills in; poor-quality video cuts of distant gunfire and military vehicles pouring through the streets of a devastated city.

"Ssenka city, heart of the war, trembles with the sounds of battle. Last week, the longstanding stalemate shattered. Elements of the 8th Airmobile Division supported by space-based bombardment shattered the resistance of the deeply entrenched defenders." The voice of a tired, articulate man. The video shifts to a scene of blocky armored vehicles and busy soldiery -the boy doesn't think they are tanks, but is not sure.

"These Republic troopers are members of the 223rd Support Squadron, an outfit of the 8th Division. They've let us capture their struggle on camera - knowing full-well that..." the man adopted a graver tone; "...my presence could make them a priority target."

"My crew and I accompany the 223rd, the 'Bleeding Horse' Squadron, as they take part in the clampdown on the Ibbar Industrial Zone west of the city." A panorama of dusky, skeletal industrial ruins replaces the armored vehicles and their crews. "Pacification of the area has proven particularly difficult - calling for the use of dangerous tactics in these dense urban environments." The video once again shifts; this time to a very shaky perspective. A large, blocky grey armored vehicle grinds forward with a deafening whirring of a massive engine - the camera bobs slightly revealing the lip of a cement wall the cameraman must be using for cover. The sounds of distant gunfire and the roar of the engine are interrupted by the sharp retorts of large caliber weapons nearby and the camera bobs lower again.

The gunfire intensifies as the vehicle, with a gruesome looking ridged plow now visible on its front as it passes, begins to gain speed. The camera pans to follow the vehicle, sparks from rounds ricocheting decorate its armored exterior, and it becomes clear that the vehicle is going to plow straight into the face of a multi-story manufactory already pocked with bullet holes. The boy leans in closer, wide eyed, as the vehicle accelerates fearlessly towards the building. Seconds before collision the camera is jostled as dozens of men, apparently also taking cover behind the wall, pull themselves over the barrier and begin running down the street towards the building and the vehicle.

An oddly muffled crash shakes the camera as the vehicle collides with the building, followed by an explosion of cement dust, and continues through the wall barely impeded. The boy consciously closes his gaping mouth. The gunfire intensifies further as the running human troops add their own volleys. Here and there individuals fall, some falling suddenly - limp and lifeless. Others stop and prone consciously, shouting and frantically clutching at injuries.

"Scenes like this one are common on the front. The men of the 223rd have learned, even with the routing of the city's defenders, that to let-up on the offensive means death. Hesitation to take a life means death. Sometimes, even for the best, even when everything goes according to plan, death finds its way into the ranks." Another cut of body bags being loaded into a similar armored vehicle. The boy can see that it is some sort of APC now, it interior designed to hold several soldiers. "The Imperial defenders and our troops alike have learned the cruel lessons of war; only the strong, the resilient, will survive." The video cuts to the profile of a scruffy man in dun-colored civilian attire. The man speaks, the voice of the narrator; "James DeMoisen, RCB News, Ssenka."

Having sated his thirst for war and violence and excitement the boy leans back, lightheaded, and begins to boyishly fantasize about being a brave soldier fighting the furry menace. Unnoticed the screen shifts back to the clean, modern desk of the network's anchor man.

"James DeMoisen, ladies and gentlemen - best of luck out there. You can follow James' coverage of the war every Wednesday at 1800 ERT, and online by visiting James' correspondent profile for live text updates daily. Now for the news-"

=============================================================

"Why the bloody-fucking-hell would we need to do this! I've got em by the throat - give me a year and I'll have Affen, another and the senators can hold session in an Imperial Palace of their choosing! Why the need for this... this foul... this DISGUSTING, low, malicious stooping! We've practically won anyway!" Hellock thundered - quieting himself quickly, knowing the breach in conduct would not serve him when dealing with men like this one.

"Sometimes, it doesn't matter if you're going to win anyway..." Hellock could fell the tautness of his own expression- a deep furrowing of the brow and clamping of the jaw. "... Sometimes it's about sending a message." Hellock clenched his fists painfully tight. They were taking away his victory. They were mutilating his triumph. They were turning him from a hero into a victim of history.

They cannot!

"I will not assent to this! It's immoral! Corrupt, wicked, depraved... unethical damnit! We're supposed to be better than them! This is something they would-" The man made a sharp gesture, hand at his side, motioning for silence. Hellock had his full general's stars now; but he knew better than to provoke the man. His brief fury forgotten, Hellock watched the dusk-skinned man continued his pacing.

"... I understand your reservations, general- but that is a prime reason in and of itself. They would do it. This is their world, as much as we'd like to ignore that troublesome reality. Globally we are a only a tiny, and not well-liked minority." Hellock leaned forward to speak again, but the man cut him off again. "Yes. We could win. You could be riding your divisions down their throats by this time next year. Ssenka was the linchpin of the defense. I've read the cables. An open front is their downfall. Now that we are out of Ssenka we have exactly that. It's glorious. It's what you have been fighting for. But it is no longer necessary, or our best option."

"You'll make a waste of it all; years of struggle. You are your suits would throw that away because some asshat in a lab coat said they'd made a new toy!? Let us push- it's not safe, but it's a sure bet. What can send a message like tanks rolling down mainstreet?" Hellock pleaded.

"Not much general, it's a striking image. But conventional war is a thing of the past. It has been for more than a year- it's just now catching up to us is all. We can't afford to fight off countries who can afford to drown us in their own blood. We do this- we send this message- that we can strike them down before they even stand up... and we can avoid the doom of repeating history. We can avoid these chronic wars general. I know it's your career I am talking about here... but you must admit war is a less than optimal condition."

"So we trade bloodshed on the battlefield for... for what? Killing things that aren't even alive yet? I am not a superstitious man but this is delving into the realm of the demonic! You say it'll send a message? It will, alright- When the world sees humanity only for its wickedness!"

"You are right to ignore superstition, general. It is not befitting of a man of your stature. I am sorry for the... distress you find in this. We are not exactly overjoyed, either. This is not up for debate. I would rather you agree with your government's decisions, but I know you will deliver regardless." The man stopped, and turned to face the general, hands clasped before him as if he were praying. "You are an unswerving, unfailing man after all. You've proven as much. Will you continue to do so?" Hellock kneaded the taut cloth of his peaked cap, eyes downcast. The suited man waited patiently, expression indecipherable.

"I will... though I've a feeling we're all going to regret this."

---

Alyn did what mice did best - though she, and every other self-respecting member of the Mus family, would never admit as such - and silently scurried away. Hellock had ended his end of the conversation, she knew from experience, and the man would eventually realize this and likely make to leave. By the door was no place for a mouse, with oh-so-large and sensitive ears, to be when the menacing, dark suit man made his exit.

But what she had heard... Hellock was a bloody-minded, harsh sort of man but he wasn't cruel. He had his own particular unhinged, razor's edge sense of morality. Quite the agreeable fellow once you got to know him. But he had just agreed to something very, very sinister. Alyn stole down the brightly lit linoleum corridors of the command module, deserted except for the occasional guard whom Alyn would rush past with a nervous smile and a flash of ID. Not sure what to think, she made her way back to her quarters.

Upon arrival she slumped, in full uniform, onto her bed discarding her papers and satchel onto the floor. A small, dim room - thinking about the overheard conversation seemed almost worse here.

The man - dark skinned, tall, stern-faced, hard eyes, boxy suit of a sufficiently dull yet not-quite-clichéd black fabric complete with ugly but 'individual' tie - was the very definition of a spook. Spooks like him carried bad things wherever they went. Spooks like him didn't come to save the day, police did, soldiers did, even politicians did but not spooks like him. Spooks like that man didn't carry guns; they didn't kill people or torture them. Spooks like him carried menacingly thick manila folders and asked inconvenient questions. All the other stuff happened later. They were like ravens - bad omens, but innocuous themselves.

She hadn't heard it all, but she'd stumbled upon something and she couldn't help but eavesdrop. The man wanted Hellock to entrench the entirety of the 6th army and cancel the season's offensives. Long-laid plans discarded at the tip of a hat. Naturally Hellock was pissed- he'd finally taken Ssenka, been given the reigns of an army, and had the open fast-paced warfare of the offense before him. That was bad enough. That meant she'd be dealing with a very angry Hellock for a long time.

Then he mentioned a weapon. They wanted to end the war not with a triumphant bang, but with the mewling of an enemy laid low. They wanted to use a biological weapon- of non-lethal horror in a test-tube variety.

His description: "Spreads like wildfire, but faster. Hits like a truck, but doesn't kill. Gets everyone, but discriminates. Cripples, but doesn't maim. It's fear in microscopic form. Several stages, each guaranteed, on their own, to completely demoralize. Can you guess what it does, if it doesn't kill, general?" Alyn had shaken her head, almost instinctively knowing Hellock would be doing the same beyond the door. "It's almost lewd. Horrible thing, really, but I cannot bring myself doubt it. It's too good, too bad, to not work." Alyn began to hate the man, then; he was obviously having fun with this.

He had continued; "It hits where it hurts the most!" Alyn figured he had made some sort of vulgar gesture, Hellock had harrumphed his derision. "Makes them bleed - out of season, and not just a leak but practically a torrent, I have been told! Disgusting, no? Even I must admit, the mere thought is disturbing. Doesn't kill, but that's only the first stage. Imagine the upset that'll cause when millions of them start panicking over the blood?" It sounded like something out of some horrid scriptural fairytale. "And then later, much later, when it wears off they might begin to realize... They might begin to realize what we see as the primary strategic value of unleashing this weapon." Alyn knew, despite Hellock's silence, that he'd be holding a distorting grimace. Hellock didn't like bio-weapons.

"They might realize that something is wrong when the little fluff-balls start running out; when there aren't too many pregnancies anymore. Hellock- their society is as much female dominated as ours is apparently male dominated. Their 'dominant' sexuality is female, even more stagnant in that regard than ours. It'd be like castrating two-thirds of the male population. The other half of the anthro's society essentially untouched - just the matriarchal reproductive bonds. Can you see where this concept leads, general?" Alyn did, she was sure Hellock did. Hellock had growled his understanding. Alyn had felt the tension building from the other side of the door. "In less than thirty years the full effect will be apparent. By then, of course, the war will be over. It will be over before the first, more obvious stage of the weapon, is finished. You just need to wait for that general, just wait and then we'll let you loose on them. The disruption of it will make the offensive... less costly."

The man had left that last remark as a barb, and Hellock took the bait; "Why the bloody-fucking-hell would we need to do this! I've got em by the throat - give me a year and I'll have Affen, another and the senators can hold session in an Imperial Palace of their choosing! Why the need for this... this foul... this DISGUSTING, low, malicious stooping! We've practically won anyway!" Alyn had been shocked - Hellock shouted at everyone around him. He shouted at his equals, he shouted at those below him, he shouted at civilians but the man had never so much as raised his voice at a superior.

So the government was going to use some nightmarish biological weapon on the Empire - definitely something meant not to discriminate between civilians and soldiers, but between male and female. It sounded like they designed it to be grotesque - almost childishly gory. She supposed that a custom-made super-virus that made you gush torrents of blood from your nether regions, for most probably out of season even for menstruation, would satisfactorily demoralize the Empire. Shivering, Alyn resolved to confront Hellock whenever the suit was gone. She knew Hellock would at least hear her out, though he had no obligation to, she was a mere corporal after all. But the man always spoke the Alyn about things that went way over her head.

Flipping the lights off Alyn settled back in her bed, still fully clothed, knowing she wouldn't be able to sleep unassisted. She reached, blindly in the darkness, under her bed and scrounged aimlessly until she found what she had been looking for. Popping the plastic nub off the injector she pressed the tranquilizer to her belly and fired - the air-injector delivered its cargo and Alyn fell into blissfully dreamless unconsciousness.

Might have gone into too much detail, maybe better served by alluding to stuff more... but hey, whats the fun in that. This will be likely the direction of the story. Patrick and Sable are still the main characters, but Alyn and General Hellock will have their role as well. The format of this story is questionable, but experimentation is never a completely bad thing. I may need to edit this later...