FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Author's notes:

I have always liked the furry fandom, however I can't help but feel that we have lost touch with our origins. What happened to our ties to sci-fi? What happened to our reverence to Albedo Anthropomorphics. But enough of that, I'm writing this as a sort of a love letter to proper sci-fi and the furry fandom. This will feature things and ideas taken from science fiction that I have read from well known authors (eg. Frank Herbert, Robert Heinlein and finally David Brin). I know a lot of people have come to create a proper name for furries in their universe and have come with mediocre to bat-shit horrible terms (no offence intended- eg. morphs, anthromorphs and mutanimals). But I for once would like to use the term used by a particular author, David Brin. The races featured in this story will deal with the legacy of humans after they seemingly went extinct. This will be the stories of Uplifts, genetically engineered animals gifted the sentience and form of their sponsors, the humans. This will be the story of the legacy we humans left behind after our disappearance and how our children-race - the Uplifts- will decide what to do with the legacy we left behind. Will they repeat our mistakes? Or will they transcend become more than we are?

Glossary provided at the end.

Prologue:

The two Rakshani stood in the vastness of the Tir-Sirith Academy entrance. The older Rakshani had an air of authority over her and carried herself like a noble of a house. She was dressed in finery: black silken robe and a jeweled headdress that matched her ranking. The younger one was dressed in nothing but a sleeveless collared shirt and dark blue fitting pants typical for new students who had been accepted to the academy. The young Rakshani had an athletic frame. One could see the sinews in her limbs when they moved, a result of her training way back. Yet despite her physique she looked unsure and nervous. The grandeur of the academy was too much for her to take in.

She had heard that great people had graduated from this academy. This was the academy of Tir-Sirith legends were born and made here. The academy's graduates were famous generals, shrewd businessmen and charismatic politicians: they were more than leaders. Among all the schools it was the Tir-Sirith that had boasted that two of every three graduate became legends in their own rights; a somewhat arrogant, yet true statement.

"My dearest daughter," the older Rakshani finally spoke in a low yet audible tone.

It was only when the young Rakshani responded by facing her, did the older Rakshani continue. To not establish eye contact with your elder was a sign of disrespect.

"Remember that your sister and father were graduates of this academy. After exceeding their instructors' expectations, they ascended to prestigious posts serving for the Rakshan Khanate and received invitations from far more prestigious institutions. I expect no less from you, being of the same blood as them. You must prove to them and me that that there is still some hope that our clan still has some greatness in them," the older Rakshani droned and drew her fan to the chin of her daughter, tipping it upwards. The matriarch's eyes stared in to the younger one's soul. "Do not fail me; do not fail us."

She answered as any good obedient child would: "Yes mother, you have my word. Failure is death."

_______________________________________________________________________________

"This is the orphan I spoke about. M'ssarey, come please introduce yourself to the High Chancellor of the academy," the Melarun advocate requested.

From the shade of the trees another Melarun presented herself with an adequate bow, that was neither showing pretentiousness nor spinelessness. She was of a rather short stature, which was usual to her race. Her fur was a dull brown and her hair was black. She was plain looking and could, with little effort blend well with the crowd. Her grace and manners told a different story than her torn clothes.

"Ahh...very well trained, much like the other Melarun students." Chancellor Rishun commented brining up his data slate. "Everything is in order; registration is almost complete, except for one thing. We have an issue with parentage." Rishun continued his tone changing completely. "You see, M'ssarey, you are an orphan. You have no familial ties that could benefit this institute. I know you are clearly aware that this academy relies much on political ties with the ruling class or companies with financial clout. You, however have nothing to bring to the table and yet have everything to prove. To circumvent this 'issue' I have used my connections and ties to have you sponsored."

The gravity of the situation was not lost on M'ssarey and she spoke out of turn and before her advocate could even speak. "You have deepest gratitude, High Chancellor. Your faith in me will not be misplaced."

"As she has exhibited, M'ssarey is wise beyond her years and has proven it continuously as indicated in her profile," Advocate Jassed stated. "Not being arrogant, but I think you will find her outclassing most of the students in the academy. "

The High Chancellor wryly smiled. Arrogance, coldness and pragmatism were the main traits of the Melarun, the race of amphibious mammalians who dwelled in the Arantir Solar System. "Well, M'ssarey you have big shoes to fill," Rishun said, finally confirming the Melarun candidate's application on his data slate.

________________________________________________________________________________

The Boyarson had hidden his excitement the moment his ship had made planet fall. The academy loomed in the distance like a shining beacon of glinting spires across the horizon. He was dazzled by the sheer amount of traffic leading to Tir-Sirith.

"Having difficulty taking it all in, Boyarson? Your father and I studied here a long time ago. We were reckless pups then. Oh, the trouble we brought upon those poor folk. Personally I blame all of it on your father. He had the itchiest tail for a Lunarin. You could not expect him to sit down in one place for even a few minutes," Boyar Sief said his eyes glazing.

The Lunarin Boyarson could see that his Uncle Sief was being sentimental and was feeling nostalgic. He had never heard his uncle speak of his father in this manner. It was revealing in a way, when anyone spoke of his father in his household or in the one of the nomad colonies it was always of reverence. The Boyarson found it hard to believe that his father used to be a pup like he was.

Uncle Sief exhaled and finally was brought back to the present when his data slate beeped. "You are cleared and now enrolled in to such a prestigious academy. I know, you are a good pup, Boyarson, find it hard to believe at times that you don't have all your father's tendencies when he was younger..." he sighed "...only time will tell. I know that you will not disappoint your parents. Bless them." Boyar Sief said to himself.

"Bless them," the Boyarson repeated. "Uncle Sief, I wanted to tell you something as your nephew not as the Boyarson you serve."

"Go ahead, Sorel. You do not need to ask my permission to speak to me; you outrank me. I am only acting in your father's stead until you come of age," Sief said and continued, "You are the rightful successor, not me."

"I just wanted you to know...that I wanted to..." Sorel had difficulty expressing the words. He had wondered if it was his pride that was getting to him.

His uncle paid close attention not reacting to his stammers.

Sorel gathered his resolve and composure and finally said half blurting out: "Thanks. I wanted to say thanks. You have not only been my advisor, mentor and steward. You have not been my uncle actually, but a father to me in my own father's absence. In your pursuit in to tempering me to one of the Boyars of the Lunarin, you have denied yourself of so many things." Sorel's voice was faltering. "What I'm saying is I will miss you, Sief."

"I will miss you to, Sorel. Rest Assured I will not dishonour your father's memory when I manage our colony's affairs. You have been a...difficult student at times, but I can see that you have progressed much and I will await the time where you will come back to us no more a pup but a leader, a rightful Boyar to us nomads. Do not feel bad for me I understood the consequences when I took you under my wing. Understand that I imposed these sacrifices on myself and you did not impose them on me," with those words Sorel Half stooped and brought the Boyarson into an embrace to which Sorel returned. Sief whispered to his ear "Ahk Ahsai Boyarson. Haw tunis."

_________________________________________________________________________________

Translation: "You honour your parents, Boyarson. Good Luck."

"To the glory of the Urus Magnocracy!" the soldiers bellowed in their thunderous charge. Their weapons hot blazing and spewing blast after blast in to the enemy formation.

To any Urus, dying on the battlefield was the greatest honour. To Naviniy Oleck the battlefield was his temple. He brought his damaskan warclaw down at a terrified enemy combatant severing his enemy's arm cleanly from his torso with another swipe slicing the enemy in twain. Such was a life of an Urus Shock Trooper. He fired two shots from his slugger which caused a satisfying thud as an enemy went down. No one could tell but Navinniy, known to everyone as Navin, was smiling beneath his visor. Nothing, short of killing and almost dying, could get his adrenaline pumping. He felt a high that could not be achieved by any stim or sensual pleasure. Only in skirmishes, bloody ones, did he feel oneness that he could not describe.

Enemy ammunition bounced of his armour as he engaged in the onslaught and though it did not penetrate; it did sting. He roared and turned his attention at the offender.

A rather sickly thin Kashen insurgent stood with her gun smoking. Her other hand held a rather small bulky object that caused his hear to skip a beat. It was already primed and he could hear the subtle ticking as the timer was reaching zero.

"Squad get down!" Navin screamed and rushed towards her.

The insurgent reacted squeezing the trigger and emptying her clip still holding on the bomb. She was dead set to die in a blaze of glory, if there was any to be had.

The bullets could not puncture his armour despite having a large calibre and Navin in great urgercy was able to knock the gun of her hand and rip the grenade off from the other. It was an anti-armour grenade, powerful enough to make a 3 feet hole in the side of a Kreslin Heavy Tank. He was sure that this was his last final moments. Surely he would die, but at least he would die knowing that he ensured the survival of his squad.

He smiled as the explosive erupted in a ball of angry red, spitting shrapnel everywhere, embedding themselves in his armour then his flesh. He blacked out.

He could not remember anything else when he woke up.

"My cub is awake," said a voice thick in the northern accent. "You must rest. You did the best you could. I have to say I am proud of what you did." General Goran's hand lightly bared down on Navin's chest preventing him from standing up.

The cub's face crumpled because of the pain radiating from his arm; the arm that held the grenade.

"Everyone, Navin, is up!" someone exclaimed it was a different voice, from one of his squad mates. An Urus called Mov. He sported an eye patch now.

Navin was dazed and confused and took several seconds to register that he was now in the medibay, lain in one of the stretchers. The cub could only hear cheering.

"We were able to win because of you, little bastar..." Sneckt caught himself, becoming aware that Navin's father was in the room.

"I will let that slide once, footie, say that again in my presence and I will be more than happy to demote you to dock worker," General Goran warned. "Like your father, Cpl. Sneckt."

"Err ees a jolly gud ferrow," his squad started to sing in their drunken state. Apparently the squad were in high spirits and had begun celebrating even before Navin became conscious.

Navin wondered how long they would weep if he had died and how soon the festivities would begin after they mourned for him. He thought about it and would do the same if he were in their places instead. He would have laughed at the grim thought if not for the pain in his completely souring his face.

Goran's form drew over to the side of the stretcher and sat down. "I said this a second ago, Navin, I will say it again: I am proud of you Navin. You put your life on the line for the greater glory of the Magnocracy." He then whispered "You worried me, deeply. I never thought you would survive the mission. Even if the success rate was somewhat high; so too were the fatalities. I was afraid that I would lose my only son," he patted his son on the head, the general resisted the urge to hug him because of his arm. Goran wondered if there was any need for cybernetics. He put the thought away for now. "My dear cub, I will leave shortly because of a debriefing. There is no need for you or your squad to attend...perhaps maybe only Sneckt." The general paused and grinned, he then rose and tapped the Urus squad leader on the shoulder and glared. It was the kind of glare that said 'come-with-me-or-else'.

"One last thing..." General Goran added before stepping out of medibay. "Due to your selfless decision of putting your life for your squadron the Prime has decided that you are the best candidate." Navin's father drew a letter from his vest and placed it on the table next to his injured son.

Navin looked puzzled. "Candidate for what?" However his father had long gone.

Navin was about to open the letter when Moz approached. "Your father wanted me to tell you that he left a surprise for you in your room, so get well soon. Was it surprise or surprises?" Moz was indecisive and forgetful at times much to Navin's ire. "Anyway get well soon."

"Could you... get me a mug?" begged Navin, face still cringing. He felt he needed to drink himself to oblivion to nullify the debilitating pain.

"Don't you dare, soldier." One of the nurses objected "The last thing you need is booze."

"It's ok," Navin added. "If I die because on this night, your family will be sent to the gulags. If you refuse the order of a high ranking officer, the least you get is execution. Make a choice nurse." The wounded Urus gave a lopsided smile.

The nurse just backed away irritation evident in her eyes. Navin could see her torn between her righteous anger and desire for his wellbeing.

Navin though about bedding her once he fully recovered and suddenly became mindful of the letter.

"Hey, you, can you give me the..." Navin could not finish as the Nurse had finally had enough and rushed towards celebrated Urus and picked the letter up and shoved it down Navin's mouth. She then stormed out of the medibay. Everyone was shocked by the sudden outburst, only to then turn to laughter as Navin spat out the letter.

"Well, Navinniy, I'd have to say you deserved that one." Moz said.

"Kof..kof fuck...off Moz." Navin said finally picking up the saliva stained letter finally reading the first few lines.

"Congratulations Navinniy! You have been chosen to represent the Urus Magnocracy in the Tir-Sirith Academy..."

The rest was history, after of course he had memorable night with the nurse.

Glossary:

Melarun - Otter Uplifts. Cold, calculating and somewhat arrogant, hailing from the polluted aqueous planet of Jonor - V. They are famed (and notorious) for their analytical minds and amorality when it comes to making decisions.

Lunarin - Wolf Uplifts. Nomads of the universe, in search of a home after being displaced by the joint efforts of the Urus and Rakshani.

Rakshani - Tiger Uplifts. Social Darwinist and elitist from the volcanic planet of Ashar. They are passionate perfectionists always driving themselves to outdo each other and all races and have an insatiable drive to be the best there is.

Urus - Bear Uplifts. If the Lunarin are the stoic defenders, the Urus are the crazed and loud berserkers. They are loud as they are strong. Their only means of diplomacy is through use of superior fire power. Respected, feared, and hated for their warrior culture and their tendency to look down on other races that do not share their sentiments.

Kashen - Rabbit Uplifts. One of the more recently made Uplifts made by their humans before their disappearance. They are not known for anything except their rather large litter size when giving birth, and have been taken advantage of because of this. They are usually used as slave labor and even canon fodder in wars. They are currently fighting for their independence against their Rakshani and Urus masters.

Author's notes again:

I need your feedback or praise. Stroke my ego a bit or tear it down. Open to criticism.