FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Chapter Four - Squirrels With Guns (rewritten)

(What the hell, it's time for our hero to kill something....kind of. He's got a dark side, and I need to develop it. Oh...and some yiff. Just to balance it out.)

'O-kay. Everyone ready? Combat-prepped and ready to kill?' There was a chorus of uncertain nods and assents, which echoed round the simulation room, and a nervous tail-twitch from one of the squirrels. There were seven of them stood in front of Lance, as well as a couple of other furs. It had turned out that Sterrin had told everyone in earshot that the suddenly-famous Field Diplomat Lance was giving free simulation lessons, and suddenly he had a class. The tail-twitcher in fact had just raised his paw, like a child attempting a difficult question.

'This IS only a sim, isn't it?' he said, tail now hanging low. 'I mean, the way you're saying it, it's like we're about to attack each other...'

Lance checked a sigh, and remembered that there really was a reason that most military furs were predators. Prey often didn't have the heart, the dispassionate way of killing another living thing. It always took a while for them to adjust, and some just didn't. The furs assembled before him had probably never seen action, instead being relegated to menial guard duties and comms-work.

'No. We're not...killing each other. Sterrin here-' the excited fur actually saluted, raising a smile from a few of his friends. '-will be using a faked headset-communicator, once we start, to call out orders from the bridge in a simulated program of this ship. The scenario is that it's taken heavy fire from a boarding craft of wasps, which has killed most of the security crew. Protocol is pretty clear - we have to secure our sector, unless given further orders. We're all on the same side.'

He paused for a moment, looking around at the other furs. 'Any questions? Good. Activate program number zero-seven-three.' He added, in a slightly louder voice. The room darkened as the program began to run itself, and a green mesh appeared over everything - including the furs. Then a perfect replica of B-deck, from the very ship they were flying on, snapped into reality. The walls were dull-grey yet vaguely welcoming, and would have been a very similar sight were it not for the blood-red flashing hazard lights, which had taken over the usual soft glow from the overhead light tubes. Simulated phase fire echoed down distant corridors, mixed with shouts and yells. A holographic version of a hare ran blindly from the nearest access-hatch and vanished round a corner, acting his programmed part.

They were all now wearing the gear supplied by the ship's armoury for just such an emergency, helpfully programmed on to them. Sterrin was the first to unfreeze from the sudden change in environment, and looked around cautiously. Although he didn't look too threatening in himself, any fur sporting a phase pistol and a bulletproof vest was worthy of respect. He raised the pistol defensively at the open double-door that was their exit to the starting room, glancing at the wolf. Lance had programmed in his usual matt-black apparel, complete with solid-ammunition stub rifle. The sleek, compact weapon had a stun-phaser attached to the barrel-underside, though he'd rarely used it.

Lance pulled back the bolt action and flicked off the safety with an easy, practiced hand. The simulated weapon worked just as well as the real thing...except it couldn't kill. Holo-weapons were designed to be impossible to kill with, unless your targets were also simulated.

'You've all run the training sims at least, I know that.' He said softly, his voice carrying over the chaos. 'So...what do you do now?'

They knew what to do, even if they did it a little clumsily. The nearest two walked swiftly to the door, and took up positions on either side of it. Pistols raised. The rest lined up on the wall next to them, the rabbit at the end of the line pointing his pistol back at the empty room. There was obviously no-one there, but...it was what you did. No surprises.

Then it was on them. A wasp, from nowhere...slashing, trying to pull its overlarge scatter-shot weapon round the doorway. It buzzed at was hit by phase shots, the shrill sound almost painful to a fur's ears. It fell back, injured, and raised the cumbersome weapon at the nearest squirrel...

Crack. Crack-crack-crack-crack. Holes appeared in the wasp's brittle skin, shards of abdomen flying though the air. It collapsed on itself, and spasmed once before lying still.

Simulated gunsmoke wavered in the air above the wolf's head, his eye still focused down the sights.

'Set your pistols to kill, when you're dealing with wasps. First thing I should've said...don't expect any mercy from them, either. They're resistant to low-pulse phase shots.' he said carefully, after he'd lowered his weapon. They were still staring at the wasp corpse, virtual though it might be.

'If we're done here, then...let's get moving.'

(14:37 - 16:14. One hour, thirty seven minutes later. According to the sim-room internal clock...)

A serious firefight had developed near the end of the simulation, and phase-shots sprayed across the dimly-lit corridor as they tried to eliminate the last of the virtual invaders. Now they all had the pistols set to a killing blast, the team had become much more effective - a flurry of well-placed shots would send a wasp crumpling to the floor, and they'd cleared several rooms this way. Sweating and serious, the prey species now looked as if they had something to prove...zero casualties so far, and only the hydroponics bay still hostile. Lance had received a message a few minutes ago from the computer, one that made him smile.

THIS IS CAIN. A NUMBER OF FURS HAVE VIDEO-LINKED THIS SIMULATION TO THE MESS HALL, REC. ROOMS AND SUCH. SMILE, YOU'RE ON TELEVISION. OH, AND DON'T LOSE.

The words floated in front of his left eye, following the movement of his head until they disappeared with a faint afterimage. He blinked a couple of times and focused once more on the action.

Sterrin was fighting like a hero-squirrel, and in fact had gotten ahead of the main group by sheer bravery. Now it looked as if he was regretting it - the last few wasps were concentrating their fire on him, forcing him into crouching huddle behind a large pot plant just inside the final room. He shuddered as cracked pieces started flying from it, crude ball-bearings being fired en masse by the wasp's signature weapons.

Lance made a running dive for the automated doorway, sliding across the smooth floor and rolling upright with his back pressed against the wall next to it. There was a rabbit on the other side - damn, what was his name again? - who nodded and snapped off a few shots through the door, encouraged by the sudden reinforcements.

'Think there's only three of them left, sir!' shouted the rabbit, panting enthusiastically. The wolf nodded back and slid his weapon round the doorway, negating the rabbit's estimate by one as he sighted and shot down a wasp that had flown onto the ceiling, partly masked by vines. It chattered and fell, bouncing off a display of vegetables and onto the floor.

Sterrin uncurled his body slightly, tail peeking out from his meagre cover. Now the fire on him had lessened, maybe he could make a shot. He pushed himself to his knees, leveled his pistol and-

Thump. A lucky scatter-shot caught him three times, spinning his light frame through the air with its force. He thudded against a metal tray and blacked out for a second, body reeling from an injury he couldn't feel....that wasn't real. He raised a paw weakly, blinking slowly at the blood on it. That's not right, he managed to think through the fog that was clouding his mind. This isn't real...this...isn't...

YOU ARE DEAD. PLEASE REMAIN IN YOUR CASUALTY POSITION FOR SENARIO REALISM.

YOU ARE DEAD. PLEASE REMAIN IN YOUR CASUALTY POSITION FOR SENARIO REALISM.

YOU ARE DEAD. PLEASE REMAIN IN YOUR CASUALTY POSITION FOR SENARIO REALISM.

The message blinked on and off, on and off. Sterrin couldn't see much else, except the terracotta colouring of the simulated plant-pot. Where he'd died. He decided to give in to pressure and slumped to the ground, watching the firefight bemusedly. The rich smell of plant sap filled the air where healthy growth had been shredded by gunfire, and nutrient-soil plastered itself across the floor. Somehow the little details became all the more important...

YOU ARE DEAD. PLEASE REMA-

The words died in front of his eyes, as did everything else. Into blackness. Then...

There was the soft sound of a birdcall, and the hard, nutrient-strewn floor was replaced with warm, enveloping grass. Sunlight dappled itself across his fur, broken into a jigsaw by tree leaves above him.

Was this still the hydroponics bay? No, he thought, as he pulled himself upright. The wasps they'd been fighting had vanished. Only the crew-furs were left, Lance helping another 'dead' squirrel to his feet and brushing dirt from his tail. They were in a beautiful glade, lit perfectly by a slowly setting sun. It was peaceful, relaxed.

A rabbit, staring around like him, noticed Sterrin and padded over the grass. Grinning. The emergency equipment had vanished from his body and hands.

'That was good, huh?' said the rabbit...Gutes, that was his name. Sterrin smiled faintly, still off-balance.

'You were great, I saw you take on that wasp when it charged at you from the access hatch. Right next to you, and...wham! You shot it point blank!' Gutes continued earnestly, still panting from the adrenaline fizzle.

'Yeah...yeah, um, thanks.' said Sterrin. He'd probably never forget that moment, if only in the occasional nightmare. 'Where are we?'

'Oh, Lance had it programmed in as well. Just to settle down after all that stuff. We won, by the way. He's...well, he's a little scary, to be honest. But I like him. We all do. Not many wolves would be so patient with us like that, I think.' The rabbit was gabbling in his haste to get the words out, eyes wide.

'So it's over?' he said hopefully. 'I mean, it was good, but...it took a lot out of me. All that tension...I just want to get back to Aitcha.' His mate would be waiting for him, having taken the day off too. For some...daily indulgences, just before he'd come here. And they did it every day, too. After all, they were only furs...

'Yup, it's over. You'd be getting a medal, if this was real. Oh, and if you hadn't died.' The rabbit smiled again, ears flopping. 'Anyway, see you around. I've got a shift on the incoming shuttle traffic comms to be at. Exit!' he shouted this last word, and a metallic door appeared as if by magic. Beyond lay a metal corridor, leading into the real world. Gutes hopped through it, and it closed silently - drawing the simulated environment with it. The illusion of serenity was complete once more.

Lance glanced around as Sterrin joined the group, and nodded at the smaller fur. He looked a little shell-shocked, thought the battle hardened wolf - even if he'd done well.

'Okay, everyone. Good job, or...something.' He waved a paw vaguely. 'Class dismissed.' He hadn't expected this many furs, but it had been strangely rewarding. Once they'd pulled together, it had been a remarkably smooth fireteam. Except maybe for the one he'd mentally dubbed 'tail-twitcher'. The squirrel had panicked, running into friendly fire in his desperation to get away. Two of his own team had gunned him down before they could stop themselves. It happened sometimes, even during the real thing - Lance had seen it more than once.

Chatting and giggling to each other, his 'class' began to leave, waving their thanks back at him. Sterrin was last to go, simply because he'd joined the back of the group.

'You did well, Sterrin.' Said the wolf, sitting down comfortably under a simulated tree. The squirrel nodded thankfully, despite his weariness. 'Maybe you should consider applying for the advanced combat aptitude tests. Give your superiors a reason to promote you.'

'I...I don't know. I've got a mate...you've met her. I wouldn't want to be posted away from Aitcha, even for a little while.'

'Try five years.' said Lance, under his breath. 'Okay, then. I might see you before I leave the ship, but if not...goodbye.'

'Oh.' The squirrel stopped, halfway through the simulation room door. 'Uh...goodbye.' he thought for a moment. 'You're different form other wolves, Lance. There's something in you...something warmer. Better, I think. It's been an experience just to meet you.'

Without waiting for a reply, maybe embarrassed that he'd said too much to the usually impassive wolf, Sterrin stepped out into the corridor and scampered off.

Lance sighed, leaning back against the tree.

(a quick scamper-run across the deck later...)

'Awww, my poor soldier-squirrel...' said Aitcha, giggling as she nuzzled against Sterrin's back. He was in the shower, cleaning the sweat and exertion from his body. Aitcha had gleefully offered to help, and he'd put up no resistance.

A paw rubbed soapy fur-shampoo across his belly fur, his own arms dangling limply at his sides.

'I love you, you know.' he said, practically murring in the sheer simple pleasure of it. He never stammered, never had to find the words when he was talking lovingly to his mate. As if she put the words there for him to speak, knowing they'd be perfect.

'And I love you. Especially when you're dripping wet.' She added, stepping round to face him in the spacious shower. 'Makes you look like a pine-cone when your fur gets ruffled up.' She giggled again, then was promptly silenced as he kissed her, drawing her in close. Something warm but hard pressed against her leg, and she breathed deeply through her nose.

'That's a pretty big pine-cone needle you've got there.' She said in mock-seriousness, when they parted again.

'Don't be silly.' He chided gently back at her, voice a little huskier than it usually would be. 'Needles grow on the tree, not on the cones...'

'Silly me. What are we going to do about it, then?' she said. Trickles of hot shower water parting in streams between her breasts, which rose and fell softly he she felt the heat stirring inside her. They'd yiffed earlier today, but any fur was easily capable of doing it at least twice a day. A mated fur was no exception.

'Hmm...yiff each other, maybe.' he said playfully. 'Like...this.' Her tail pressed against the shower-glass as he stepped forward, lovingly pushing up...up, into her. A gasp became a sigh as she put her arms round his neck, riding him. A slow, sensual slide back down, into each other. Her pussy a perfect vice for his shaft, her breasts a heaving, soft dream to him. Warm water still sprayed over them both, gliding down fur and over crevices.

'Oh...oh, ohhh.' She stuttered, nose twitching as beads of warm water gathered on her whiskers. A paw reached out to steady herself on the glass, leaving a smear in the steamy condensation. Her tail rubbed the glass clean again and again as the bucked against each other, each mate lost in the body of the other one.

'Ah....ah, ahhh.' He huffed, nicely in counterpoint to her sounds and squeaks. Well, they'd had the chance to rehearse this many, many times...

(back in the simulation room, totally unaware of the bliss taking part elsewhere...)

The simulation parted again, for the first time in fifteen minutes, to reveal the exit door. Lance glanced up sharply as a lion stepped in, dressed in the khaki-shaded uniform of the security crew. A lion wasn't unheard of, but rare. There wouldn't be more than two of them on the ship.

'The field diplomat?' said the lion, walking out into the faked sunshine. He glanced distastefully around, then focused on the wolf - still slumped against the wide base of a tree. He hadn't moved, almost drowsy in the programmed heat.

'Yes. That's me.' Said Lance, eyes narrowing. Maybe it was his recent operation against the lions, but there was something he didn't trust about this fur.

'Good. I have a message for you...Slater sends his regards.' Said the lion. With a snarl he whipped around his paw, drawing a solid-ammo pistol from the holster on his belt.

Crack.

Crack.