FSE

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“Station Three. Are you receiving?"

The communications equipment blinked and hummed. The guard leaned close to the console, his lips uttering standard protocols.

“...thank you Station Three." His hand moved the slider — one part of an expansive array of buttons and toggles — another inch. “Station Four...this is Security Station Seven..."

Security Station Seven. The recently-assembled operations centre for corporate expansion in Barson State, labouring under the code-name: 'Colony'; a project that required a great deal of protection.

“...Station Five..."

It was a prefabricated structure mounted on the back of a truck trailer, linked with several others into a large portable office space. Soon a more permanent station would be established. Until such a time it was all the security staff had to organise themselves. That, and a number of tiny guard posts for personnel on patrol, but they were barely on the level of a glorified outhouse.

“Beats being in the field." From behind him someone spoke.

“Sure does." Another voice...

They were mid-conversation. He ignored them. “Station Six..."

“Yo, Skippy—"

“I've told you before, use my real name," the second voice whined.

“Not in a million years! I've found a good nickname for you, and I'm gonna keep using it."

“Keep using it and who knows? Maybe I'll snap. Beat your ass."

“Hah!" the first voice guffawed, “like to see that."

An argument brewed. This began to irk him, interrupting his duties. His comrades were not burdened by their tasks, a luxury he was certain they weren't permitted.

“Yo Mac, you done?"

He grit his teeth and finished his work.

“All received. Thank you. Over." MacMullen hung up his headset and left his post. He returned to the table, across from 'Skippy' doing paperwork — the young man's attention split between forms and his company laptop. Ray, the third member of the group, busied himself with equipment checks at the end of the room. Nobody was under any illusion he was being thorough.

“Ray," MacMullen gestured at him, and his quarry, “you haven't been cleaning those. You've just been moving them around to hide the scuffed bits."

Ray raised his now-red hands. “Caught me."

“No skimping on duties," MacMullen reminded him. Glancing at 'Skippy' seated opposite him, he made another point: “and leave the new kid alone."

“Thanks," his young subordinate whispered.

“Why'd you pick that, of all names?"

A brief pensive look came over Ray. “Wha—? Skippy? Hmm, dunno." And just like that his moment of thoughtfulness was gone, returning to his cheeky self. MacMullen left him to his own devices. He'd get nothing further from the rascal.

“Wilson, right?"

“Huh?"

“Your real name."

“Oh. Yeah."

“Don't let Ray annoy you. He's like that..." MacMullen paused to double-check his appraisal of Ray's character, “...nearly all the time. You'll get used to it." Wilson/Skippy eased up. “Call me Mac by the way, it's shorter than MacMullen," he added.

“Okay Mac."

“How's working in the private sector so far?"

Wilson set his work aside to focus on their conversation. “S'good. Pay is good."

“Yeah well...outta plenty of outfits, Bovinex pays the best. Believe me, I've been in this industry fifteen years — from lowly night watchman to senior security officer for transnationals — and never had a better rate." That was undisputed fact. Pay needed to be high to keep you quiet. He left that part out, Wilson knew the score.

“Here," he said, tapping on the top of the guy's unfolded laptop screen, “take this down." He relayed his report for Wilson to transcribe. Patrol postings, alertness, and more was provided.

“Don't forget," Ray interjected, “Station Two had a breach. Two men. Early-middle-aged—"

“I didn't forget, that's for another section of the report," said MacMullen, “which you'd know if you stopped slacking off!"

Ray raised his hands. “Fine, I'll leave you two alone." He backed away, dwelling amongst the equipment he was supposed to clean and repair.

Wilson was curious. “So...what do we do when we do have a breach? I mean, I know the written procedure, but the real thing...?"

“It's pretty much as you'd expect. The only part that, well, isn't entirely pleasant is having to explain ourselves to the chief." At that statement Ray returned, making a ghostly 'ooooohh' noise as he approached. “Boss lady had to bring out her team in force," Ray spoke in a low tone.

MacMullen noticed his subordinate's confused expression. “Chief Kovax, my superior," he clarified. Wilson's boss' boss, to put it another way.

“Oh. I haven't met her in person yet."

Ray smirked. “You will soon. She's due 'round for a status check."

* * *

The crashing, heavy fall of hooves outside came through the walls, rattling the prefab's thin metal superstructure.

“Atten-shun! Superior on station." Ray stood bolt upright by the door, arms pressed flat to his sides in mimicry of military discipline. The others saw it as over-the-top. Nevertheless, everyone in the room readied themselves.

Boom. Clomp. Boom. Clomp.

Those sounds lingered behind the door, before the anticipated presence evolved past mere noise, adding to the senses with sight and the feel of the makeshift building rumbling with each step. The station door swung open, resulting in a large entryway, big enough to allow their commander in. All thirteen feet of her.

The light failed to penetrate the entrance, or pierce the veil of night. Instead a tall shadow approached them — gradually revealing herself 'neath the washed-out flicker of the halogen tubes affixed to the ceiling.

Diane Kovax, chief of security for Bovinex expansion, entered. Tall, imposing, and bearing the appearance of a bovine-human hybrid. She moved with confidence, and heavy hoof-steps. Ray shuffled back to give way to her, his arm fixed in rigid salute. MacMullen rose from his chair. Wilson remained seated, nervous.

Their boss wore a suit of kevlar and carbon fibre armour. Its padded limbs and torso, speckled with hard bulletproofing, wrapped tightly around the figure of the enormous cowgirl, shaped to her size and form. Her hooves, broad and solid, were left free, exposed to the elements with small tufts of fur covering her ankles. Her hands weren't gloved, also free and nimble — hard nails capped the tips of her fingers, but compared to a human she'd lost none of her dexterity. She held herself in a formal manner — back straight, arms on hips — projecting a terrifying and powerful image, but her body retained the soft curves and fattiness that blunted her fearsome facade with signs of exotic femininity.

Beneath the familiar pattern of black-and-white fur the bovine woman's eyes narrowed, looking at her human staff. Ray and MacMullen she knew well, having commanded them for years. The one at the back, the shy one, she did not know. His focus drifted from her face, to her hips, where (besides their wide and muscular construction) a large custom-built sidearm sat holstered to her right-hand side. Slugs fired from that gun could punch a hole through composite steel.

She cut an intimidating figure.

“What's up with him?" she asked, isolating Wilson. The young man looked like he'd seen a ghost, and it only got worse after realising the thing...the person in front of him could talk.

“New guy."

Diane crossed her arms. “And you didn't tell him..."

“Haha, yeah," Ray sheepishly answered.

“Always knew you loved being a prick," she growled.

MacMullen turned to his comrade and spoke in a hushed voice: “I left orientation to you," he sniped at Ray, “anything else you haven't done which can bite me in the ass later?"

“C'mon," Ray responded in the same quiet tone, “Skippy's frozen solid! Look at him. Funniest thing I've seen all day!"

“Oi!" Diane raised her voice, “shut your traps and let's get down to business." She stomped over to the pin-board hanging from the wall of the converted trailer, which held many notes and maps. She passed Wilson, who nudged his chair slowly away. Kid'll have to deal with it, she thought.

She glanced at him, giving him the side-eye. “Um, ma'am," he stammered.

'Ma'am'...good. At least the guys have taught him to respect his superiors. Even if I'm not what he was expecting! She smiled, a subtle upturn in the corner of her mouth.

“You can relax kid." Her voice dominated the space, loud and full-toned. “Most people take a while to get used to...this."

“Oh...okay." Wilson sounded blank. As if his mind needed more time to process what he saw. Diane was used to his treatment, it normally hit like a tonne of bricks shortly after first contact. The new guy can sort himself out when that happens. “Report," she barked, causing Ray to drop his faux-military stance and join herself and MacMullen at the board, his sense of mischief quashed by her commanding aura.

“Ma'am," he was quick to blurt out, “I take full responsibility for failing to educate our new recruit here in the truth about our command structure—"

“Zzzhpp," Diane held a finger to his mouth, pressing unceremoniously hard on his lower face, “not now. I'll deal with your shit later." She pulled away, leaving soreness in her wake. Ray knew better than to speak again.

MacMullen began his spiel: “nothing on the perimeter, ma'am, not since 23:00 hours."

“Hmm. How about our two nobodies from the breach? We able to call 'em somebodies yet?"

“The vagrants, I...uh," he wracked his brains to answer quickly, “suh—still in their cell."

“Oh? Very well." She was silent for a moment. “Mooh," she sighed, her bovine side coming through.

“We've only run basic questions, while they were being processed," MacMullen said, filling the silence in lieu of her orders. This wasn't good news, as she wanted more information than just names or whatever else they'd gone and gleaned from their captives. Should've interrogated them thoroughly hours ago.

“Got a reason for the slowness?"

“We, err, thought it best to wait for you," Ray said, “thought you'd have a better idea of how to deal with them."

“Fine. So what have you found?"

“Pair seem to be drifters. At least, we think that's the most likely explanation. No-one's stupid enough to go hiking in the middle of the night."

“Stupid is an endless well," Diane said, gracing them with a sliver of philosophy. “Don't discount anything yet. Could be a cover for industrial espionage."

“Ehm," Ray chuckled, “not with these bozos."

She shot him a look, still pissed at him. “Explain?"

“The trespassers, names are Trent and Mason...both say they're in a bind."

“How so?"

“Car trouble. One of them is between homes. Each needed to get across to Morling, and the only viable way after we shut down the roads was through these fields." MacMullen traced his finger across the pinned map of the area. From his explanation they seemed non-threatening. Seemed. “Like you said it could all be a cover for something."

The topic of what to do with them came up, and the conversation moved to address it. Some ideas were floated, but nothing significant. There were a few minutes of discussion between Diane, Ray, and MacMullen.

“Go to the police?" Wilson asked, anxiously throwing his gauntlet into the fray.

The others laughed. “Oh kid," Diane grinned, “we are the police here!"

“Right right...sorry."

“Don't apologise, you raise a good point. We need to escalate this, get the Colony administration involved."

“Wait, they've seen nothing of the settlements, only the boundary fencing—"

“But they've seen me. I had to bring my own squad to track 'em seeing as they gave our boys the slip." Diane rubbed her weary eyes. The night shift was taking its toll on everyone. It was either that or let them penetrate further, she thought. She could've let the regular patrols try and apprehend them, but since the last couple of days were spent in a flurry of activity seizing land and cordoning it off, she wasn't sure of success. Everyone's attention was being pulled in a dozen different directions. The guys should've handled this, Diane told herself repeatedly, doubting her actions. She wasn't one to let risks be taken under her watch without her involvement. However, she just introduced new problems. The anthropomorphic cow let her mind wander, constantly mulling over her decision...

Then again...we had to catch them before they saw more. Can't assume they weren't sent to spy. Mistralle Industries would kill for a working formula like ours. Or Kelling Corporation, or the Takashi Agricultural Concern in Nihonna, or...

Their list of competitors was long. Very long. Each one of them would do anything to get their hands on a version of the Grayson-Trimble Serum, the same concoction responsible for the existence of her kind. No, she had to protect the company's secrets, always.

“If it's any consolation chief," MacMullen said, “I think it was the right decision to go out there yourself. We are understaffed as it is."

“Mooohh...bustin' my ass to fix the mistakes of a bunch of rent-a-cops! I told operations every god-damned time we needed better people, and more of 'em," Diane grumbled, her voice resonating through the prefab. MacMullen leaned over to Wilson. “Present company excluded," he muttered to him.

“Sorry kid," Diane addressed him, still seated, “guess you don't need to hear us bitch about the job."

“No-nuh-no-no-no...it's good. I'm good."

“Alright, you have questions about me."

“I—"

“Ask 'em later. Got that? Take all those questions and put 'em to one side. Yes, I'm a cow-person. Big fuckin' whoop. I want your mind on the job. That's what we're paying you for."

“I...yes ma'am," Wilson obeyed.

“Those two," Ray said, “once we finish our investigation, I say they meet with an accident and...poof...disappear."

Diane stared at Ray, and snarled: “do you think we're going to risk even more on these guys? Keep your brilliant ideas to yourself Ray, the last thing we need are two missing persons triggering a police search. Another one."

She sighed. “This still goes back to our unpreparedness. Guards went out there with no firearms. What exactly could they do if they caught up to them? Shout angrily? Where in God's name is the armoury truck anyway!?"

“It had a breakdown getting here."

“You're kidding me!?" Diane's jaw dropped, hanging dumb from her muzzle.

“Hey, look on the bright side," Ray pointed out, his intention to joke around concealed by the straight manner in which he delivered his line, “we have something in common with our prisoners. Maybe we could compare insurance providers."

She ignored his remark. “Who was the smart-ass that gave our guys cattle prods?"

Ray's stony expression said it all. MacMullen leered at him behind Diane's back. Ray understood his 'what the fuck did you do this time?' look and avoided direct eye contact.

“Swear to God if I find out that was somebody's idea of a joke they'll need those things to keep me from smacking 'em toothless."

Sweet 'n' holy Jesus, it's too late to think properly, Diane cursed. This whole operation was a security nightmare. Bovinex was overextending themselves, taking an enormous bite out of the countryside. That wasn't going to stop them, no siree. She had as much riding on the completion of the Colony as the next employee, minimum. It was way more to her and her fellow hybrids.

“Chief..."

And that wasn't even the worst of it. Who was the board fooling when they decided to annex half the god-damned state? They're ambitious, I'll give 'em that.

“Chief!"

Diane snapped out of her pensive moment. “Yeah I'm here."

“What do you think?"

“Ahh...their alibi sounds fishy, but it's not complete bull. I can see people trying to find ways around our expansion. And from what you asked 'em looks like they're stuck in a rut."

“You believe that, ma'am?"

“No." A devilish smile crept its way across her muzzle. “But it's leverage."

She was a dagger hovering above their captives' heads, the potential for great harm should she come down harshly ringing in the forefront of her mind. Her decision shall dictate their fate. It was a little intoxicating, this power...this control...

“I may have a...workable solution."