FSE

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...IS THE ANTHRO WAY

You find Beckett standing outside the field hospital staring at the night sky.

There's a full moon out this evening, unobstructed by clouds, and a brilliant sky full of stars swirls over your head.

There aren't many advantages to living this far away from civilization, but this is one of them.

The sky is so much more full of color out here.

"Is it true you couldn't see the stars Before?" Beckett asks, looking almost bewildered. "I never got to see them like this back in The City. Too much light."

You sit down next to your friend on the old runway and take a moment to enjoy the evening's serenity.

Something important you're both avoiding however leaves the air tense.

Beckett's hand touches yours.

"Lotte's back." She says. "Dog Company rotated off the line earlier today..."

You squeeze her hand back. "Why didn't anyone tell me...?" You ask.

If neither she nor Lotte came to you immediately then something is seriously wrong.

Soft hands touch your head, and you're pulled down against the bunny's shoulder.

You're sure the gesture is supposed to be comforting, but with your height difference the position is uncomfortable for your neck.

"Because she doesn't want to see you, Pavi." Beckett whispers back.

A tightness emerges in your heart.

"What happened five days ago, Beckett?" You ask seriously. "Please, I need to know what I'm getting into."

There's a long pause as your friend tries to find the right words.

She bites her lip and looks down at the ground.

"Bad things happened, Pavi," she croaks sadly. "They always do in war. Inspector Goll...she..."

Beckett trails off, her eyes fixed on some impossible place in her mind's eye.

Your grip on her tightens.

"We had to sign forms, Pavel. There were ears everywhere, and we had no idea. We thought they couldn't reach us out here, but they can and they did. If I'm really your best friend, you'll promise not to ask me again."

"I promise, BB."

Beckett kisses your forehead and lets go of you.

"I'm sorry I can't tell you what to do anymore, little brother. I'm as lost as you now."

She stands up, takes a deep breath, and points to the abandoned traffic control tower on the other side of the runway.

A solitary, dim orange light burns in one of the windows.

"She needs you. I tried my best, but she wouldn't talk to me. Lotte needs her husband now. Just...one more thing."

Beckett starts digging around in her heavy coat.

You see the bandages wrapped up and down her right arm, and clench your fist.

Who hurt your sister?

The little bunny produces a bar of homemade granola wrapped in plastic and her personal canteen.

"I don't think she's eaten since I last saw her...good luck, Pavi."

---

Flurries fall and the sun rises on the 9th day of the Siege of Wind River.

You are Lotte Obmeyer, and it has been 4 days since you last saw your husband.

A heavy, military issue spade strikes the earth and hauls another mound full of dirt out of your foxhole.

A lioness and a 30-something badger in a machine gun nest talk animatedly about the latter's time serving in Minnesota.

"Why do you call it that?" Asks SO1 Tonya Faust as she adjusts the sights on their heavy weapon. "No one else who was there calls it Thousand Lakes."

SGT Bishop takes a swig of water from her canteen. "New State designation. Council made it the official name some time ago, and the Inspectorate hates Before things. Those old names are dead for a reason, kid. Always best not to poke that bear."

Elsewhere a cadet with pale fur, an easy smile, and the cocksure invincibility of youth prepares fresh Molotov cocktails from a shipment of fuel, wine bottles, and horrific neckties.

She's humming one of the patriotic anthems they teach at Sioux Falls Military Academy.

Then there's you, the commander of Dog Company.

You've ordered your unit to establish a forward position in a thicket of aspen trees to the north east of Mt. Ashina.

Though out of range of mortar strikes from behind the wall and away from the main gate, the risk of attack is still real.

Preparation is always key, especially in circumstances like these, so you dig.

Your shovel hefts another clump of frozen dirt out of the ground. You have been digging for the better part of the morning.

You pause to collect your canteen and produce a single, round blue pill from your pocket.

It's a duty you're coming to dread, but a duty it is none the less.

You swallow the innocuous looking medicine and chase it with a stream of ice water.

A now-familiar sensation spreads out from your stomach to the rest of your body, and you shudder subtly.

Dozens of thoughts spill unwarranted from the filing cabinet of your mind, and you growl.

You take up your spade again and start digging. Distraction has proven an effective tool at keeping him where he belongs.

Duty handled. Take folder "progeny" and stow in cabinet called "home life."

Take snapshot of husband and file it away under "Dearest." Again.

Label the warm glow in your nethers as "irrelevant," and stow away in far end of mind.

Harrgott in Himmelreich, no training could have prepared you for this.

You jolt indecorously when a small brown bunny in an oversized helmet appears over the rim of your trench.

"Good morning CPT!" She chirps happily, bearing a genuine smile and a metal tray in her hands. "Didn't see you at the chow tent earlier, so I took the liberty of bringing breakfast."

You deliberately ignore your subordinate's gaze, and turn back to striking the earth with your spade.

"I'm fine, SSGT." You say.

"Oh?" She questions, her ears flopping to one side as she tilts her head. "Not even a little bit hungry? Didn't see you last night either. Makes a softie like me worry you're not eating properly, Cap."

"I'm not hungry." You lie.

Beckett reads through you, as she always does, but doesn't push the matter.

"If you say so, ma'am." She says, and sits down on the rim of your fox hole. "Would it be okay though if I sat here and ate, Lotte? I brought enough for two."

Another mound of dirt flies out of your one-woman trench.

"Address me by rank, SSGT."

Beckett bows her head and stands up hastily. "Of course, Captain. Apologies for the familiar tone."

She goes to pick up her tray and leave, but a different image flashes before your eyes, unbidden. An unfair attack of guilt strikes your heart.

"I didn't say leave."

The words spill out of you before you can talk yourself down.

Beckett has a glimmer of fondness and pride in her eyes.

You sigh, and resign yourself to your only friend's company.

Betrayed again by your own mind. Just another part of yourself you've lost control of.

SSGT Beckett picks up a bowl of front-line gruel and starts to eat.

"Got some stuff on my mind. Hope it's okay if I think out loud."

You shrug with disinterest.

Gunfire within fortress walls last night. Coup attempt? No. Small scale mutiny more likely.

Reminder: read latest intelligence dossier. Assets within Mt. Ashina still in play.

Beckett takes your silence as permission to proceed.

"Coleen's doing well. Recruit Honore, I mean." She corrects herself.

"The way Major Charles talked about her you'd think she was gonna be a problem child," Beckett says, "but I'm not sure that's really the case. She's not particularly book smart, but I think she has the COL's charisma and she knows the basics already. No point waiting on her cohort to graduate to make her a PVT, I think. Gonna let Major Charles know that next time I see her."

You hit a particularly stubborn stone, and get on your knees to dislodge it by hand.

"What else is there?" Beckett asks while kicking her legs playfully. "Got a letter from home yesterday! Mom's fine, dad's fine, Hannah finally broke down and forced her husband to go to obedience classes. Can't say I blame her, but I think she should have tried a leash first."

His snapshot appears. You pause to stow it away again.

"Not one for the official handbook usually, but I think it's onto something with the whole 'subconscious reinforcement' thing. Some guys get really attached to their leashes after a while."

You hurl the stone out of the trench, and your eyes meet Beckett's sharply. Instead of recoiling as you'd hoped, she giggles.

"I remember my own harness and leash. Dad did it to me 'cause there were so many of us to keep track of, and I was always wandering off as a tyke. I resented it at the time, but then one day I was too big for the harness and he just looked so heartbroken. We both missed the connection, but by that point he knew he could trust me."

You know exactly what Beckett is trying to do, and you won't indulge her.

Red eyes to the soil, you take up your spade again.

Extend the trench three more meters to the left, parallel to the fortress walls, then hug the tree line with a perpendicular trench along the most obvious route of flight.

If anything motorized tries to break through the encirclement you can force them into a ditch.

Sound tactics. Will require diligent hands to assist.

"Diligent like Pavel..." You murmur.

The fur on the back of your neck stands on end.

You've done it again.

SSGT Beckett sets aside her breakfast tray and addresses you with wilting ears and melancholy eyes.

"It's okay to miss him, Lotte. It's healthy to feel this way."

Your spade is thrown to the earth, and you round on the insolent little sergeant.

"Gospodi pomiluj," you recite phonetically, "you've no right to bring up my personal affairs in the field, SSGT, and I've no patience to tolerate any unfounded accusations against my self control."

Beckett curls her legs up against her chest, and continues looking at you without the slightest ounce of fear.

'She never said a thing about your self control...' you think.

"My duties require excellence in everything, as do my ambitions, and that means segregation of work and home life. My feelings don't matter." You say.

Unshed tears well in Beckett's eyes. Gott, she looks so much like her.

"I miss him too, Lotte. I can't imagine what it must be like when you're married to him. I'm really worried about you."

Mentally you stumble, but your sense of indignation and professional dignity urge you to squash this favoritism.

A moment elapses as you readjust your great coat and straighten your cap.

"Report to LT Chloros. You're digging latrines until further notice."

SSGT Beckett stands up, clicks her boots together, and salutes attentively. "Understood, ma'am."

You turn your back on her before those eyes can tug at your soul like they always do.

"It's just... what about your duty to him, Lotte?" Beckett asks plainly_. "He misses you too."_

That--

She...

...

You put your face in your hands and fight the urge to scream.

How does this runt always know just what to say?

Beckett turns dutifully towards the command tent, but you wave her off.

"Stop, please. Just..." You sigh. "Belay that last order."

"Standing by, CPT."

Why do you love them so much?

This sentimentality is going to get you killed someday.

"I know you have paper, SSGT." You say, wiping your face. "I need your assistance dictating a letter... to Corpsman Obmeyer."

What a sorry state you're in, and all over a boy...

"I think that's an excellent idea, ma'am. It'll be good for morale."

Beckett climbs down into the trench next to you, and opens her kit bag.

"It's Corpsman Koslov, though." She corrects you gently.

Of course... His bachelor name.

That was the CO's idea.

Signing off on his presence near the front, stripping him of your name's protection, how dare you, Brienne Honore?

You clear your throat, stand at your full height, and reach out of your fox hole silently to grab a bowl of gruel.

"Start with assurances of good health, safety...and let him know how I miss his cooking."

Ears suddenly twitching all throughout Dog Company's position, mostly canine at first.

A half second later you hear it too.

"Stay low." You order, crouching down. "They're turning on their technicals."

One, two...a dozen or more vehicles, give or take.

Exact number uncertain. Walls distort accurate estimation.

Binoculars are in your hands before you can even ask Beckett for them.

Dense tree coverage makes for difficult viewing, but you can vaguely make out the concrete gray walls of the fortress.

You grab the analog radio under your heavy coat, flick through the frequencies, and click the thing to life.

"Dog 6, again this is Dog 6. Passphrase "O-Von." Get me Major Charles ASAP. Over."

"Roger that, Dog 6. Standby."

You reach into your front pocket and fish your personal lighter out from an open box of cigarettes tucked against your aching chest.

"Take." You order. "Give it to Cadet Nielsen. Start handing out Molotovs."

Beckett takes the lighter from you and rushes to adjust her helmet.

"On it, ma'am!" She declares valiantly, and leaps out of your trench.

No shortage of élan vital from that one. She'd fix bayonettes and charge if you gave the order.

A new voice springs to life from your radio a moment later.

"Dog 6, this is Anatolia. Report, over."

You scan the horizon with your binoculars, and raise your ears for further noise.

"Enemy on the move, Major. Engines. Breakout attempt imminent, direction unknown, over."

"Fuck..." Your superior swears, and you grit your teeth.

A leader's confidence should be ironclad to inspire their subordinates.

Anatolia Charles is too much like you. She doesn't care to be where she can't see what's happening.

"Wolf 4 and Cat 7 have been alerted. Hang tight, have MC2 keep us posted. Out."

You click frequencies and raise your binoculars again.

No movement yet.

No change in noise direction or intensity.

Bluff? Diversion?

Unknown.

Forward observation required.

You file everything away and open the binder labeled "Combat."

Movement on the horizon through the thickets.

Warriors preparing for battle, clad in the khan's best.

Old world kevlar, helmets, flak jackets, automatic rifles, out of season camouflage.

No heavy machine guns. Handful of mortars. Not grenades, even.

Elite policing force. The khan's personal guard. More intimidating than dangerous.

Tattoos, self inflicted scars, flags, animal skins draped like cloaks across their bodies. Punisher-skulls. Peacocking.

Feral fucking animals, all of them.

"Eyes downrange!" You shout, and collect your boomstick.

12 gauge, 7 shells, pump action, fully loaded, buckshot.

You grin.

Groovy.

For now you observe, and what you notice is confusing.

You sling your shotgun over your shoulder, and leap out of your trench to get a better look.

Enemy infantry is keeping a low profile. No firing in the air, no war chants, shamans gathered around some tribal fetish under a quilt.

No vehicles either. No charismatic leadership, no Göktürk, unless...

You close your eyes and raise your ears.

Engines have settled to the south west. This is a diversion from the real breakout attempt.

Something big comes into view of your binoculars, largely obscured by the foliage.

An idol made of steel. Some tribal fetish to be worshipped by the intoxicated tribesmen, being carried on a litter by a team of emaciated slaves.

One at the front stumbles, and the idol goes tumbling to the ground.

Then it stands up.

An anthro?

Not unheard of on the frontier.

This one though, whoever she is, is gigantic.

10 feet tall, easily, and crowned by nature with a set of antlers reaching 2 additional feet in the air.

Female reindeer keep their antlers in the winter. Coloration however suggests whitetail.

No...that can't be right.

The thing clad in steel plates approaches the offending slave, who falls on his knees in suppliance.

Your hands tremble.

The monster takes the human by the throat, hefts him into the air, and with one massive bite rips the slave's head clean off.

Blood gushes like a fountain from the poor man's headless stump, and the beast spits the crushed skull of it's victim out like so much discarded chewing tobacco.

It reaches beneath the shamans' quilt to take up a massive sword made from the blade of a Before-World helicopter.

He turns his head and looks right at you.

"Meat." It mouths, and charges.

You storm back across your position and climb back into your trench with fear of Gott in your heart.

"Incoming!" You shout right as the first mortars begin hitting your position.

The explosive thump of mortars striking the earth doesn't last long, as it's followed up by the wild screams of several hundred warriors charging through the woods.

They're going to try and overcome your resistance with sheer weight, and using that thing as a wrecking ball.

"Mommy's home motherfuckers!" Bishop shouts, and the heavy machine gun bursts to life as soon as you clear her field of fire.

Automatic and semiautomatic fire meet each other in the sacred woods outside Mt. Ashina.

Cadet Nielsen ducks between the trenches handing out incendiaries to everyone in range.

Faust spots for Bishop on the heavy machine gun, pausing only to draw her sidearm and blast whatever unlucky fool gets caught out in the open.

The beast reappears when it picks up a straggler towards the rear to hurl them out of cover into the line of fire.

"FORWARD!" It commands over the crack of small arms fire, with an immediate and powerful effect as those around it surge forward.

"What the fuck is that thing?!" Someone shrieks, an ewe new to the company with skin-tight shearing.

"Kill it and find out, soldier!" Shouts Beckett.

The beast paces towards the back, kicking anyone who looks too afraid to advance and occasionally knocking down entire trees to create cover.

"DIE TO THEM OR DIE TO ME, COWARDS!" It roars in an unmistakably masculine voice. "I DON'T CARE WHICH!"

Superior State discipline keeps the line together, but enemy superiority in firepower starts taking its toll.

Faust, the lioness, falls backwards into her trench, clutching the stump where two of her fingers used to be.

Farshaw cowers in her own foxhole, trapped by a hail of bullets coming from your left flank as she frantically tries to reload her jammed rifle.

'Loss of communications specialist unacceptable' you think, and rally out of cover to meet the flanking force head on.

Diving into Beckett's trench, you put a hand on the SSGT's shoulder.

"You and yours with me!" You shout over the madness. "Enemy fire team on our left!"

Roused to fury and as fearless as the State's best, Beckett rallies her platoon and follows you down the line of fortifications to your threatened flank.

A mortar goes off above, just to your left, a feeling of invincibility mixes with adrenaline to put a new, wider smile on your face.

Rounding a corner, you see two of the khan's warriors coming your way down the trench, and dispatch both with your shotgun in quick succession.

The first has his face pulverized into an unrecognizable paste by the blast, while the second is knocked on his ass and survives only by his kevlar vest.

A pointblank lungful of buckshot neutralizes that threat a moment later.

The eviscerated young man lies like an angel in that pool of his own blood.

You pant heavily, then start to laugh as the warmth in your nethers erupts into an inferno.

He looks so handsome in death. Handsome like dearest.

Elsewhere a Molotov hurled by Nielsen crashes into a cluster of the khan's warriors, setting several ablaze and driving the rest within sight of SGT Bishop's heavy machine gun.

Beckett's squad takes up position and sets about relieving what's left of Farshaw's old team.

More gore, more blood, closer than ever with double the adrenaline.

Another blast from your shotgun sends a geyser of gore into the air from the leg of some unfortunate flee in the other direction.

You squirm inside, and imagine carving up Pavel the same beautiful way.

The temptation to masturbate is squashed when a bullet passes mere inches past your exposed ear.

You consciously lower them both down your neck, and quietly swear to yourself.

Crouching against the trench wall, you slap yourself twice across the face.

Stay in control, CPT Obmeyer.

Had you been struck, that bullet would have taken your ear off and you'd have left Pavel a widower at Doreen's mercy.

Your cap, your symbol of office, comes off, and you replace it with a helmet taken from one of Farshaw's fallen squad mates.

3 shells left.

"Captain!" Beckett shouts, shaking your shoulder. "Captain it's moving!"

Der harschbock takes the field.

Nothing that big should move that fast, or that gracefully.

Darting and weaving between the trees like some kind of feral polecat, the monster is difficult to keep track of.

Everything about it should be impossible, from its physics defying height to the way it shrugs off every shot tanked by its heavy armor.

Only now do you see how truly massive the stag is.

"God help us!" Shrieks one of your own, just moments before being bowled over and impaled by his massive sword.

"WHY WOULD I?!" The stag roars.

You prepare to sprint down the trench back towards the center, but you're gripped with an unfamiliar hesitation.

"He's not supposed to be home today..." Madder's voice whispers.

You stumble back fearfully against the trench wall.

"What are your orders, CPT?!" Someone asks.

Bullets from the heavy machine gun bounce off his layers of heavy steel plate.

A moment later trooper Faust is bisected above the waist with a single, smooth sweep of his blade.

SGT Bishop is crushed underhoof by the stag without a second thought.

"Fire!" You shout. "KILL IT WITH FIRE!"

Beckett lights hers and hurls it expertly, but it lands wide and the beast storms through the flames like so much inconvenient dirt.

Cadet Nielsen bravely lights one herself, mere feet from the monster, but a bullet strikes her helmet and she drops the bottle of accelerant.

Penelope Nielsen's uniform burns.

Then it turns in your direction again, charging down the trench and impaling two on its antlers in a display of power no woman alive could hope to match.

It demolishes your squad with the ease of a gardener, plucking the flower of State youth decades before its time.

The stag looms over you like an evil god, and suddenly you're a small child again. It saunters towards you confidently, gripping its belt as it snorts.

"You'll do."

The world goes quiet.

The light fades across this Earth, and all that's left is you and the man who beat your mother into a miscarriage.

He makes you hold still as he slashes your face with the kitchen knife.

You fall to your knees and tearfully recite The Lord's Prayer, while begging forgiveness for your sinful nature and hoping against hope he doesn't notice your sister hidden in the pantry.

His breath reeks of more sin than any you'll ever commit.

Madder's frail body, still recovering from that day, enters the room brandishing an axe.

"WHAT KIND OF MAN THREATENS HIS OWN CHILDREN?!" She screams, and takes a swing at him.

Vadder avoids the blow, but is wounded in the side by his own knife.

"RUN LOTTE, RUN!" Madder, Beckett, pleads at the top of her lungs.

There's no escape for you this time though.

No caravan of heathens to lead you to safe haven.

There is only this beast, crowned by nature and a God called Jealous to dominate those who'd dominate the wastes of a world man destroyed.

A small brown bunny crouches next to you and levels her rifle.

"God...please..." She prays.

BANG!

The stag's left eye is blown out the back of his skull, and he falls to the ground dead.

The whole battlefield goes silent.

The enemy breaks into a disorganized route back towards the fortress.

Some give chase.

A few more rally to rescue their wounded comrades.

Most just look on in awe.

"Lotte?" A voice calls through the darkness. "LOTTE!"

Reality hits.

You're at Mt. Ashina.

Vadder and Madder are gone forever.

"F-fuck!" Beckett stammers, and clutches her right arm.

Your sister needs you.

There's shrapnel embedded in her forearm, near her wrist, and blood coming from her wounds.

How long was that there?

She pants anxiously and plucks a piece of metal from her body.

The bleeding increases.

"Beckett, stop," you order, "You'll cause further bleeding."

"It hurts, fuck it hurts...!" She cries through grit teeth, and pulls another chunk out.

You grab her by her hands.

"JUST DO WHAT I SAY, ABAGAIL!"

Beckett recoils. "Abagail...?"

You climb out of the trench.

"MEDIC!"

Close binder "Combat."

Open folder "Emergency Management."

---

Everything happens in a flash after that. Too much to do...too many to save from death's door.

Beckett is deposited at an aid station, and you set about recovering the dead.

SGT Bishop survived unscathed, but was crushed beneath the torso of her fallen friend.

You find her staring into the void and clutching Faust's head to her chest.

"They're real..." She says, rocking back and forth. "They're all real. It's all real. They've been lying to us since the beginning."

She screams at you when you try to get her moving, and so you leave to assist others.

MC2 Farshaw suffered a severe concussion, and had to be carried off the field by you and another unfortunate survivor.

Dog Company suffered 50% casualties in the 10 minutes of fighting the stag took a personal part in.

Cadet Nielsen has been badly burned, and may not survive.

No one can accuse the girl of cowardice.

You will remember this.

You load what's left of a bright eyed recruit into the back of a different truck and turn to leave for a meeting with Major Charles when you hear his voice on the wind.

On the opposite side of the aid station, loading Nielsen onto a waiting ambulance, you spot him.

Pavel...

You break into a sprint.

His hand reaches out the back of the ambulance to pull Beckett in by her good arm.

The door shuts and he's gone before you're even half way there.