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With darkness descending: The story of Triss Nighthunter. A furry fiction by Rocko Wallaby

DISCLAIMER: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

Chapter 2: Beginnings.

He wasn't always like that. Once, he had a family, and a life. Once he had a world.

It was a beautiful world, teeming with life and boundless possibility. Times were good, and life was good. He was happy then. But it was so hard to remember that now. Especially after They came, and took it all away.

By the time he made it back to the cache, he was all but unconscious. It was only sheer will that allowed him to drag himself to the medical bay. The caches were well hidden, designed to blend into the background architecture of whatever world on which they were located. Disguising such a complex was difficult, although not impossible. The cache were compact marvels of technology, incorporating living, medical and scientific research facilities into one small prefabricated building, that can be transported and installed in minimal time. More complex was masking of the various individuals of the force themselves, as in a world of naked pink skinned natives, heavy fur tended to be less than subtle. It had become mandatory on most pre-contact worlds for the land-based officers to use cloaking units to hide their appearance from the locals. When Triss' unit was damaged during the fight, he not only had to contend with his wounds, but also avoiding the curious stares of the people he encountered.

Most just shrugged off his "bizarre" appearance as yet another weird lifestyle choice one encountered in the city. Others showed more curiosity, and occasionally came uncomfortably near for a closer look. A growling scowl, and flash of sharp canines, generally dissuaded all but the most persistent. Those that didn't take the hint were shown more physical deterrents, although in his present state, it was more bark than bite. Thankfully, by keeping to the back alleys and darkened paths, he had managed to avoid any real incident.

With the last of his strength, he dragged himself onto the med units padded couch, which promptly began a full analysis of his injuries. Within moments, the unit inserted a long, thin needle into the vein in his inner right arm near his elbow, releasing a cocktail of painkillers and antibiotic, along with general anaesthetics. It didn't take lng for the drugs to commence their work. His vision clouded, and the dull aching across his body was numbed to a minor discomfort. However, with the relief from pain, his exhaustion overwhelmed him and he dropped swiftly into sleep, even before the medical unit dropped further instruments to tend his wounds.

It was the incessant chiming of the com system that finally woke him from his drug-induced sleep. Dragging himself from the sheets the med unit had cocooned him within, he fumbled for the speaker button, noting absently that the long wound in his arm had been sutured neatly, and had already began to heal. "Another scar to add to his collection", he thought groggily to himself, before finally finding the button he had been searching for.

"Triss!!!" barked the com unit, causing him to momentarily wince as the loud voice echoed through the med lab, before he thumbed the volume down to something more manageable. "What the fuck happened down there!!"

"Yes, I'm fine, thanks for asking!" he mumbled in irritation, before shaking himself further awake and sitting up on the edge of the bed, feet dangling to hang above the floor.

"You're not dead yet, so stop your bitching" came the reply, and he winced further, realising that his muffled comment had reached the other party.

"The bastards knew we were coming", Triss replied, once he had gathered his thoughts sufficiently. "While I managed to reach the target, the whole place went to hell and back once he was dead. It was only by a stroke of fortune I made it out of the complex in once piece!"

He gave his arm a cringing glance, noting the shaved fur crisscrossing still older scars. "Well, almost one piece"

The voice on the other end paused for a moment, before responding in a more conciliatory manner "Unfortunate, but not unexpected. There were concerns that the mission had been compromised before you were sent, Agent Triss. You knew the risks as well as we did. At least the target was neutralised, and the locals weren't involved. Having the pink skins swarming over the place would have been even more unfortunate. Take your time recovering, provided you're back on your feet within 48 hours. We'll be waiting with your next assignment then"

The unit disconnected, leaving Triss to slump on the edge of the bed, with his head in his hands.

"Fucking awesome", he muttered in irritation, before resting back and starting at the ceiling. He knew he had to file his full report before too long, but gave the com unit the finger, before shutting his eyes and returning to catch up on the sleep he so desperately needed.

His dreams were the same as they always were; of fire, death and destruction.

Waking up gasping, feeling little better than when he went to sleep, Triss pulled himself from the sweat soaked sheets, to stand leaning heavily against the wall as his thoughts began to assemble. Just once he wished for a restful night, unbroken by the screams. In the years since his planet died, the nightmares plagued him night after night, leaving him exhausted and shaking in the mornings. He'd tried drugs, hypno, and all forms of relaxants; liquid, legal and otherwise; to no avail. His nights were the enemy, and he had no way of facing them. They were simply to be endured.

He made his way to the kitchenette, and pressed for a coffee from the dispenser. Of all the beverages available from the machine, the local brew, heavy with stimulating caffeine, had become his preferred morning beverage. Taking the steaming cup into the control room, he slumped before the main console, momentarily resting the cup on the counter while typing out a query on the prior day's events.

The machine display flickered momentarily, before coming up with several windows showing various broadcasts of the local "news". Isolating one of the more likely prospects, he turned on the volume, and listened to the announcer coverage of the event.

"...the destruction of the facility was almost complete. While no casualties were reported, sources say the cost of repairs to the building may run into the millions. No witnesses were present for questioning. In other news...."

He muted the volume, before taking a sip from his coffee. No witnesses, huh? Seems the marauders were as efficient as usual, in both cleaning up their dead, and eliminating any "evidence", breathing or otherwise.

He leaned back, putting his feet on the console, and pondered the previous night's events. He'd taken out at least a few, before they had sliced him up. His target, a high level controller, had managed to grab a blade before he could be fully neutralised, and had nearly disembowelled him. It was only a stroke of fortune that the hooked knife had gotten stuck in the padding of the chair Triss had used as a shield, allowing him the opportunity to take out his target before being completely outclassed. Triss rubbed his arm absently, considering how close he'd come to being killed. Wouldn't be the first time, he thought to himself wryly, before returning to the display and beginning the long task of filing his report.

Several hours later, paperwork completed, saw him lounging in the small recreation area in the facility. It still amazed him how such a complex structure like the cache could be compressed into such a small area. A lot of practice doing it, he thought, finding momentary amusement at the prospect. Most target worlds had a facility like this, but the fit out often varied from the most basic, to fairly sophisticated. Luckily for him, his base for his current assignment fell into the second category.

He continued to mull over the previous day's action. Somehow, the marauders had known he was coming. His ambush was no coincidence. The fact he completed his assignment seemed, in hindsight, to be more luck than otherwise. Eventually, tired of his unproductive musings, he donned his clothes, triggered his chameleon unit, and left the cache for an evening outside the facilities, to escape both his thoughts and his environment.

A few hours later, strolling from the cinema's entrance, he chewed absently on the remainder of his popcorn, while ambling through the crowded streets. Surrounded by humans out for their evening on the town, he kept to himself as he wandered aimlessly towards the seedier districts of the town. The native's preoccupation with sex always amused Triss, who had grown up in a more civilised environment. With few exceptions, the blatant "in your face" attitude they had towards such matters had startled him when he had first been assigned here 2 years earlier. Now, he found himself acclimatised to the point of indifference. Sex was sex, whatever planet you happened to be on. Perhaps those on his home world might have been shocked at his blasé attitude. Then again, given they were all long dead and gone, their opinion mattered little.

The movie he'd seen; involving giant robots that turned into automobiles; had been entertaining, if unrealistic. While primitive compared to the holo films produced by the more sophisticated equipment he was used to, they had a certain charm, and no one could deny their animalistic appeal. Violence seemed the order in this world. An earlier incarnation of Triss might have been horrified at their attraction to such low end emotions, but the longer he lived here, the more they seemed to suit his mood. Perhaps they were rubbing off on him, he mused, while wandering down a darkened alleyway between buildings on his way back to the cache.

He'd nearly made it back to the security of the cache before noticing the faint sound of footsteps behind him. The previous night's rain had long cleared, but the streets were still saturated. While the individual stalking him tried to avoid the pools of water on the ground, their night vision was not nearly as good as Triss' own. A stumble, followed by a near silent curse, indicated that this was no casual passerby. At least, he thought with wry amusement, it wasn't a marauder. They wouldn't have been caught dead making such a raucous.

He stepped back into a darkened alcove sheltering a door, tensing as he heard further footsteps following the first. At least five of them, he thought, reaching into his pants leg for the blade kept there. While a pistol may have been more effective, standard procedure was to keep off-world technology out of the streets, unless you were on a mission. If such items were to find their way to the local criminal element or, more worryingly, to the planets military, there would be no telling where it could lead. Many in the Corp thought it risky enough needing to utilise the chameleon units to mask their identities, although they were essential. Without the disguise, operating on such planets would be impossible. So, instead, the powers that be insisted on keeping the sophistication of all weapons used to a "local" level wherever possible. That left bladed weapons, or bare handed combat, as his only choices.

When the last of the group had passed, Triss stepped quietly out of the doorway, following them further into the darkness. While his initial concern they had been trailing him had passed, he remained curious what could interest such a group so completely. He knew what such humans could be like; cold, hard and ruthless. Generally, he kept his distance from such as these, as any involvement in their activities might give away his presence on the planet. This group, however, seemed different. The few glimpses he had of them showed a level above the standard street trash dirtying up such places. Their suits and demeanour clashed with their current environment.

The group made their way deeper into the back lots of the building, before reaching an open area banked by a large warehouse. As Triss watched from the shadows, there was a loud grinding noise as the warehouse dock door was opened from within. A hushed exchange of conversation followed, and the group moved into the relative privacy of the warehouse. Unable to help himself, Triss was about to creep closer, in an attempt to make out what was being said, when he realised another individual was making its way through the alley behind him. Ducking behind a nearby dumpster, he observed a large male human, sporting a trench coat and semi automatic handgun, slip into the dock area.

The cloaked figure moved past Triss' hiding spot, to the space he had recently vacated, clearly trying to follow his lead in eavesdropping on the occupants inside. After spending several minutes observation, Triss concluded this newcomer shared no love for the group, as his lips had curled into a snarl of distaste over what he was hearing. From his own position, Triss had been unable to follow the bulk of the conversation, which had become somewhat heated as those inside began opening several wooden crates, removing the contents into the dim light for a more detailled inspection.

Guns, he thought to himself. Rifles, pistols, even a rocket launcher. Shit, who were they thinking of taking on? The army?

Apparently the watching human must have had similar thoughts, as he followed the group with cold eyes, before suddenly starting to his feet, and rushing the warehouse entrance, gun drawn and pointed at the group.

"This is the police!" he commanded, covering the gang with his weapon. "Put your weapons on the ground and step back from the crates."

The group, while initially startled into immovability, did as directed, while the newcomer proceeded forward to confront them?

Triss was impressed despite himself. Some balls he has, he mused, watching the action in fascination. While he'd tackled such odds himself on many prior occasions, it was never without careful preparation. Such a bold move, clearly not premeditated, was either the act of an experienced operator, or suicide for the novice.

The police officer reached into a pocket of his coat with his free hand, removing a mobile phone. Flipping it open, and without taking his eyes of the party he covered, he began making a call to his colleagues. Unfortunately, what he failed to notice was yet another figure creeping up behind him from outside the building.

Shit, Triss thought to himself, this is going to get ugly.

The stranger came up behind the officer and struck him across the back of the skull with a short metal pole. The officer dropped like a stone, striking his head further on the concrete and falling unconscious. The other members of the gang picked up their weapons, while laughing at his predicament. The group converged on the humans' body, with one giving him a swift kick in the ribs; a muffled groan being the only response.

"What do we do with him, Boss" one of the thugs asked another, who was staring at the unconscious man grimly.

"Kill him" he received in reply, as the leader returning to the open crates of weapons.

Triss pondered his dilemma quickly. While it was a cardinal rule to avoid local politics of any sort, legal or otherwise, to stand and watch another sentient being killed in cold blood was beyond him. With a silent curse, he threw one of his knives at the thug preparing to shoot the officer, while charging a second standing beyond him. The suddenness of his attack worked in his favour, with his blade striking the first in the chest, burying itself to the hilt before he dropped, groaning and clutching his chest weakly. A swift kick to the head dealt with the second, while he threw his second knife at a third. Dropping to the floor, he grabbed the discarded pistol of one of the gang, sending bullets tearing through the final two. The boss, seeing his men incapacitated so suddenly, had sheltered behind the crates as the action started, before bolting to the back of the warehouse, calling for assistance and firing his own weapon wildly in Triss' direction.

Knowing his time was limited, Triss quickly knelt over the unconscious officer, checking his vitals and assessing his injuries. Not good, he thought to himself, as a commotion began in the depths of the warehouse. If he was to leave the human here, he was as good as dead, either from his wounds, or from those returning with the "boss".

Cursing briefly, he grabbed the human by the arm, before slinging him roughly over a shoulder and staggering out the warehouse door. While heavy and unwieldy, the human's weight was still manageable, and Triss made haste through the darkened alley with his burden, ignoring the cries of alarm from behind him. Within moments, he'd disappeared into the night.

Resting briefly a short time later, Triss began to realise this human needed some seriously urgent medical attention. He grimaced, knowing the sort of unwanted notice this would cause, and the risk it posed to his cover. His choices were difficult; either allow the human to die here, untreated, or break every rule in the book, and take him to the cache for further attention.

Snarling to himself, he reshouldered his burden set off towards the cache in haste.

______________________________________________

After settling the human in the medical pod he had so earlier vacated, Triss retreated to the comm centre to ponder his dilemma. He was exhausted, both physically and mentally, and the stimulants he had taken upon his return had done little to resolve the aching in his body from the harsh treatment it had suffered the past few days. Even the coffee he'd grabbed from the kitchen area failed to settle him down.

His initial thought was to contact Ops and advise them of his human "problem", but the thought of the chewing out he'd receive was galling. What the hell should he have done? Left the human to die?

He grimaced, sipping his coffee thoughtfully, before settling more comfortably into the comm chair to formulate his report. They were going to fry his arse on this one. At least, he pondered with some amusement, they had a good excuse for a change. He sighed, resting his head back against the padded rest, and closing his eyes for a moment to consider his options....

It was the sound of the comm centre door opening that woke him up. Momentarily confused, he opened his eyes, staring into the blank screen before him, while trying to make sense of his surroundings.

Then a voice broke the silence.

"I suppose asking where I am might be a bit pointless?" it said, as Triss staggered to his feet, spinning around to stare at the now quite conscious human standing in the comm room door.

Oh fuck, he thought. This is NOT good!

The human began to examine Triss curiously, eyeing him from head to toe, while continuing to lean in the doorway. Triss realised with further alarm that his chameleon system was still switched off following his return.

"So, I suppose I have you to thank for the impromptu rescue?" he was asked, before the human moved slowly forward, continuing to stare at him intently. His back to the control panel, Triss considered his options, preparing to disable the human if necessary. Pausing within arm's length of the Krynn, it slowly extended a hand towards Triss, before gently running it across his shoulder curiously.

Looking down at the pink fingers caressing his fur, Triss shuddered inwardly, before the fingers withdrew and the human stepped back against the comm room wall. They eyed each other uncertainly, before the human spoke again.

"OK, you're obviously real, and I'm not just hallucinating. I have no idea what the hell you are, but...well...thanks for getting me out of there in one piece"

Triss looked at the tall human, and relaxed somewhat. Obviously it wasn't going to attack him, and at least it seemed friendly enough. He went to reply, when the human sniffed suddenly, moving forward to stare intently before pointing at the empty cup sitting on the counter near Triss' hand.

"Is that coffee?" it asked hopefully.

"Err, yes. It's coffee" Triss replied, looking down at the cup before again returning his gaze to the watching human.

The human smiled, lips parting in an infectious grin, before raising an eyebrow and saying "Well?"

Confused, Triss replied "Well what?"

Giving a short bark of laughter, the human said "Well, who do I have to kill to get a cup of bloody coffee?"

Letting out an answering grin, Triss pointed down the hallway, motioning for the lanky human to follow him to the kitchen...

Continued in Chapter 3: Introductions.