CPT Obmeyer: Ch. 6
Imported from SF2 with no description.
HOW I WISH YOU WERE HERE (PT 1)
The door at the end of the hallway opens up to an ordinary looking conference room with a long wooden table by the windows.
The seats are high and big enough to support most anthros, and the walls are decorated with black and white photographs of the region's past.
Ranchers with animal-horses, an early railroad, and other things of that nature.
Towards the end of the sequence however, among the colored photos, it seems that several frames have had their contents replaced with scenes from Bismarck's own history.
There's a famous photograph of an anonymous Inspector-Captain leading a charge over the outer barricades during the Second Siege of Fargo.
In another, a huge mare in an old world uniform shakes hands with an army Colonel.
You recognize her as "The Queen of Cheyenne," who handed the region over to The State without a fight after being outmaneuvered during the First Wyoming Expedition.
The most notable to you is a faded propaganda poster, depicting the silhouette of a vaguely canine looking anthro in an Inspector's Uniform.
Her hands are planted confidently on her hips, and she stands in front of a red background with Dakota's Star hanging overhead.
'Who is the First Chairwoman? Maybe She's You!'
Well, clearly not you you. No one would ever dare depict the Chairwoman in Absentia collared and leashed.
Over in the corner, in front of a cardboard cutout of the very same poster, is Major Charles on a set of crutches chatting amiably with a group of fellow officers and senior enlisted.
Her smile wavers briefly when she spots you, but it widens again after a moment.
"Pavel, dear boy..." She says holding out her hand, "man of the hour. Congratulations! I can't think of someone more deserving."
"Thank you ma'am!" You say happily, and shake her hand.
Click
MC2 Farshaw has just taken your photo.
You must be smiling, because Major Charles laughs.
"Obmeyer, what's he doing with that ugly old thing on? I think it's safe to say he isn't feral at this point."
The maned wolf reaches out and ruffles your hair. "Let the cutie roam around a little!"
Lotte bows her head politely at Major Charles, but keeps her neutral frown.
"Perhaps. The leash, however, is protective as much as it is disciplinary. I would prefer to keep it on."
Farshaw steps up politely and hands the Major a cup of punch.
This place seems more like a laid back cocktail party than a formal ceremony. Not what you were expecting, honestly.
"True enough, but it would look unseemly in the photos. Aren't I right, MC2? The Inspectorate has been doing a big push in that direction lately: "humans as contributors and family members." The other day was proof enough of that, I'd say."
You glance at Lotte, and she glances back at you.
"If you insist, Major..."
Your wife takes her time slowly unlatching the leash, coiling it, and packing it into her front pocket.
It's odd not being bound in public for a change. A month ago you'd have killed to be off the thing, but now...
Strange as it sounds, you find yourself missing that constant connection to Lotte. It makes you feel...safe.
"See? Handsome and happy!"
"Oh, but he's always been cute Major.~" Says a crooning voice.
Lotte pushes you behind her instinctively, and her expression turns to thinly veined contempt.
Major Charles puts on a big, sarcastic smile that reminds you of having to say hello to the McCrays at the county fair.
"Doreeeeeeen!" Major Charles says through her teeth, "Oh my goodness how are yooooouuuu?~ I saw an unkicked puppy the other day, and I just couldn't get you out of my mind!~ Are you eating well? You look like you're eating well.~"
"Oh-ho-ho Anatolia Charles, you are as charming as ever. You do any jogging lately?~" Inspector Goll fires back sweetly, and flashes you a wink when you make the mistake of peeking around your wife.
Lotte clenches her fists.
"I have! To your brother's house, actually. He still fits like a glove and squeaks like an old mattress!~"
Inspector Goll recoils in disgust and sticks her tongue out. "Oh! EWW! Why would you want a piece of that thing? Suppose there's no accounting for taste. Like your daughter! Get that harelip fixed yet?~"
God damn, she's a piece of work.
"Oh, a month or so ago. Shame we can't fix you though, darling. The cheese plate is over there, by the way.~"
Doreen drops the faux-polite act completely, and folds her arms under her bust. "Well? Are you going to put this off further, or are we finally going to have "The Talk?""
Major Charles drops the act as well. "Doreen, be quiet. This is Pavel's moment, and his celebration. You have no right to spoil it. There's a time and a place for that."
Goll rolls her eyes, readjusts her handbag, and leaves for the food table with one last crude look. "Today, Anatolia."
"I find it inadvisable to antagonize her, Major," Lotte warns as Doreen b-lines for the food table, "we need to work with the Inspectorate."
The maned wolf sighs, and rubs her tired eyes. "I tried at first, goodness knows I tried. Then her little backlog finally stopped bouncing around and landed on my desk for a change. It took ages to untangle."
"No word on a replacement yet, then?"
Major Charles shakes her head.
"She's got 3 months left on her tour of duty. We'll get our replacement then, and she'll go back to being the Inspectorate's headache. Hopefully that'll be the end of her mess making, but I'm not completely convinced."
You glance back over to the food table, where Doreen seems to be stacking her plate with as many mini quiches as possible.
"It may be prudent to ensure she doesn't steal any furniture on her way out," your wife says sardonically.
You spend the next half hour or so meeting the assembled members of the officer corps.
Many compliment Lotte on how submissive and deferential you are.
Many more compliment you for being cute or handsome.
Even CPT Washington is here, and so far she's been impeccably professional.
"Actually, my mom's an Amur tiger," you say to a tall, well built wolf with an eye patch, "same with all my siblings. Not even Mama is sure where my dad came from though. He just kind of wandered into town from the dust. They weren't assigned either, but that's a different story."
LtCol Clark has a fawning smile on her face, and her tail thumps back and forth and happily.
Click
That cat and her camera...
"And you loved anthros so much you wanted to be a nurse! Sweetheart, the paper is going to love that. CPT Obmeyer, where on Earth did you find Pavel? He's adorable!"
You feel your cheeks pink up, and look away. That's not quite the reason, but it's close enough.
"Linton, ma'am. I find myself answering that question with unexpected frequency."
The LtCol reaches out to wipe a few crumbs off your shirt and coo adoringly.
"Well, I guess I'll have to visit some time! My Sammy, my eldest girl, is about to be assignment aged. Poor thing is beside herself with anxiety."
"If boys from Linton are anything like you though" she says, booping you on the nose, "we'll just have to hop on a bus and find one ourselves. If only I'd gotten to you before the Captain, huh? No offense! You two are perfect together."
First Beckett, now her. Do army people like touching noses or something?
Maybe it's a city people thing.
She wouldn't be the first anthro to try setting you up with her daughter, either.
'Why yes Aunt Aleksandra, I am happy to see you. Yes, that's very interesting Aunt Aleksandra, but could you please stop putting your hands on my shoulders? No, I'm not going to marry your daughter, Aunt Aleksandra, The Inspectorate would never approve, she's 5 years old, and my cousin.'
To your surprise, you feel Lotte's hand touch yours.
"He has met every expectation with minimal training... I am fortunate to have him."
You think this is the most public affection Lotte has ever shown you.
"May I hug him?"
"No."
"Of course, of course. I should have been an inspector, I swear," she giggles, and glances over your shoulder.
"I hate to cut out like this, but they're refilling the prosciutto, and I skipped lunch for this!~"
Possibly the friendliest senior officer alive scoots past you and your wife to assist in demolishing the meat plate.
The total price of meat, cheese, and fancy crackers on that table has probably exceeded the value of your family farm.
It's...well, it's frankly unsettling. You've had cured meat ONCE in your life, yet here are the senior officers gorging themselves on ham and beef while the enlisted survive on oatmeal and Badland liquor.
"Competent, that one..." Lotte murmurs. "She authorized my field promotion to lieutenant years ago, and presided when I refused promotion to major."
"Wait, you've refused promotion?"
Lotte gently pulls you away from the crowd, into a small office space on the side of the conference room.
Your wife's ears go up, and she pauses as if checking for eavesdroppers.
"I have turned down promotion twice to remain in the field..."
She presents a small, ornamental broach from her coat, and offers it to you.
"Attend me, Pavel."
The pin and silver color leave no doubt what it is.
Lotte's frown has disappeared, and been replaced with her subdued little smile.
Nervously, and with her guiding hands, you pin your wife's Silver Wreath of Merit to her uniform.
"Why turn it down...?" You murmur.
Soft rabbit arms wrap around your shoulders, and drooping ears seem to form a canopy around you. Lotte's face approaches your own, hot breath spilling across you, and your heart skips a beat.
"Until recently, I sought to receive Chairwoman's Star of Hope and Honor..."
You know of that one. It's the highest honor a soldier can receive, and only awarded for valor in combat...
You lick your lips, and try to speak through the dryness in your mouth.
Lotte runs a finger through your hair.
"W-what changed?" You stammer.
Her beautiful red eyes close.
"I received you."
There, hidden away in a back office at your own party, Lotte Obmeyer presses her lips against yours.
Your body screams at you to push back, to kiss her with your tongue and to touch her body, but you restrain yourself.
Your sisters always said you're supposed to let the girl lead...
Your wife's mouth pulls back briefly, ("just a taste" she breathes) before kissing you again.
She's got you hard as a hell.
Lotte lets go to fully embrace you.
Click
That better not have just happened.
"You love me..." She murmurs, and leads you back to the party.
Farshaw's camera flashes one last time as Lotte pins the Iron Wreath to your coat.
The whole room breaks out into dignified applause, and Colonel Honore begins a speech about humanity's role in its Anthrostate, and how "the love and support of our malefolk inspires us towards victory as surely as the rest of our support staff."
The kangaroo looks an awful lot like her daughter, save for graying fur around her face and a voice hardened by a life of chain smoking.
Someone quips "bullets don't fly without supply!", and everyone has a good chuckle about how touchy supply officers are.
There's going to be an expedition against some no-name in western Wyoming calling himself the "Göktürk." He was responsible for the bomb the other day.
His shtick is horses. His predecessors used them to build their domain, and his generation has done nothing with that.
These days they've got some decently equipped technicals and well equipped infantry, but he's got no chance against State regulars and Anthrostate industry.
It's not a question of if he loses, but when.
A few hours later everyone stuffs their pockets with as much cheese as they can carry, and the party finally ends sometime in the evening.
You're about to leave yourself when Major Charles approaches you with Inspector Goll.
"Now for the hard part..." She mutters, and orders you to sit down at the conference table while she gets something from her office.
Lotte sits with her hands folded formally across the table, while Doreen Goll does the same, in perhaps a much more malevolent manner.
Your wife's expression is intense and filled with loathing. Doreen's expression is smug and airy, complimented by lidded eyes and a re-unbuttoned shirt.
Major Charles sits down across from you, and puts a pair of reading glasses on.
"Pavel, son...were you told why there aren't any other husbands on base anymore?"
You don't think you're going to like where this is going.
"Something about the army being added to the assignment queue, I believe." You answer truthfully.
You hear the leash quietly clip to your collar. Lotte is holding it close to her chest.
Charles sighs. "Well, yes. I suppose that happened around the same time, but it's more about safety and politics. About 4 years ago, an unfortunate young man was shot through the throat on the Eastern Frontier. It was a terrible accident at the live fire range, and severe discipline was handed out to the trooper responsible."
"Things however had been simmering over with the Inspectorate for a while by that point. It was enough ammunition for them to convince the Council that our families needed to be kept safe in the interior. You have been the sole exception in all this time."
Lotte's mouth drops quietly, and her eyes dart around the table in a panic. She's picked up what's about to happen, and for the first time in her life has no idea what to do.
Goll drinks it up greedily.
"Following an "anonymous" letter to the Inspectorate Office in Cheyenne..." she begins, wiping something from her eye. "I have been ordered to place you into Inspector Goll's protective custody for the duration of the Second Wyoming Expedition. I am uncertain when it will end."
Lotte explodes out of her seat and slams her hands on the table.
"No, no I forbid this. He will not be staying with this monster. He will be staying with SSGT Beckett. I forbid this."
Major Charles draws a manila folder and presents it to the table.
"It's already been approved and authorized by the Deputy-Inspector for Former-Wyoming, Lotte. Besides that, Beckett will be coming with us. She's needed to push recruits while we besiege Wind River. We're going to be very strapped for manpower this time."
"No!" Your wife shouts with a sneer directed at Doreen. "No. He will stay on his own then. He is an adult and can take care of himself."
"Lottie-Dottie..." Inspector Goll chides with her usual faux-concern, "we're all friends here. There's no reason to be calling people names. We have these regulations for very good reasons. Don't be scared; Pavel will be in my caring, loving arms the entire time, from sunrise to bedtime."
"HE'LL GO TO HIS FAMILY!" Lotte shouts.
"I don't know why you'd think that's an option, Lotte-Dottie." Goll chides, and purses her lips like a lecturing school teacher. "His case only just reached the Inspector-Prosecutor's desk. They won't be available for quite some time."
"They're still in JAIL?!" you shout, and shoot Lotte a pleading look.
'Please, please God let this be a lie.'
"Pavel, control yourself." She warns, but doesn't deny it.
"NO!" You retort heedlessly, and point an angry finger at Doreen's ugly mug. "This mutant swine-fucking ANIMAL did this on purpose! How the hell could you have ever trusted her?!"
Inspector Goll frowns in false hurt, and puts a hand over her heart. "Slurs are ugly on everyone, Pavi. After that little outburst, it seems further discipline training is needed. I'll have to sign you up for classes when we get to The City."
"The City?!" You sputter, and pull back angrily from the table.
Doreen giggle-snorts. "You didn't think I planned on staying here with these bumblefuck hicks forever, did you?~ I'm a very important lady, dearest."
She croons these words with added, venomous emphasis on your wife's preferred pet-name.
Lotte looks ready to leap over the table and murder Goll. Her hand is gripping the left side of her coat again, as if prepared to produce her sidearm and blow Doreen's brains out then and there.
"I am his wife, and you have no right to make that decision. More than that, it'll be a cold day in Hell before I leave you alone in the same room as him, much less let you leave Ft. Douglas alive while he's your PRISONER."
"As a matter of fact, I have the right to do both of those things Lottie-Dottie. As his legal guardian."
"SHUT UP!" Major Charles shouts. "Everyone SHUT UP, and calm down! There's a solution to this that no one is considering!"
Major Charles flips the folder open.
A pen and some kind of contract waits for you inside.
"Pavel Obmeyer, your State calls you to service."
Lotte is speechless. Inspector Goll is watching curiously.
"You are called upon to act as an auxiliary medic for the duration of the impending Second Wyoming Expedition. Your contract will last for one year, or the duration of the campaign, depending on whichever comes first. You will have the option to renew, if you so desire, and be subject to all of the benefits and duties of said position."
You take the proffered pen from Charles's hand. Her eyes are melancholy, and her expression weighed down by the unfortunate fate she has just handed you.
"You will receive recruit's pay, and serve under the exclusive command of Major-Doctor Roe and her team at various casualty clearing stations. Upon completion of your tour of service, you will receive formal accreditation as a nurse, and again be presented with the option to re-enroll as a medic."
That...
That's the dream!
It's what you've always wanted. To matter in your own right!
You lean forward and study the contract carefully.
"Pavel, I forbid this." Your wife says coldly. "I forbid you to sign. We'll find another way."
Your wife's CO shakes her head. "This is the one thing on Earth he doesn't need your signature for, Lotte. I wouldn't have given him the option if we had found any other way."
"I-I forbid you too," Doreen parrots weakly. "I'm your guardian and I say no."
Your wife pounds her fist on the table. "I did not grant you permission to speak to him you putrescent, scum sucking wutzsau in a real woman's uniform!"
Major Charles's hand touches yours while the two competing mistresses argue.
"I haven't seen my husband in eight months, Pavel."
She looks profoundly heartbroken.
"I don't know what my daughter looks like anymore. I want him home so badly, it hurts. Maybe she'll be mad, but she'll thank you for it someday. Sign, Pavel."
You make the most important decision of your life.
The apartment door opens sluggishly and you go to pull your coat off.
To your immense anger and frustration, Lotte shuts the door behind you and yanks the leash hard before you can leave.
"Pavel Obmeyer," she scolds, fixing you in place with her intimidating gaze and impassive frown, "YOU have acted rebelliously."