SG: WCD #46: Meditations On A Void (Part Three of Three)

Frobozz frobozz at eyrie.org
Fri Feb 8 07:11:28 PST 2008


"Yo, TDSM, get your eyes on your cards..."

"Which eyessss...?"

"All of them, you bozo..."

"That's it, I fold."

"I'm in," Clark announced, as he tossed a chip into the kitty. "Speaking 
of being in... we should discuss insertion."

Clark reached up to wipe the combined spray of five sparfed drinks from 
his face.

"Maybe not your best segue ever, Clark," said Tonk with a smirk, as she 
sneaked an extra card from the deck while no one was watching. "Wanna take 
that one from the top?"

"Delighted. Just promise me you won't expectorate any more drinks in my 
general direction?"

"Can't make that a promise," replied Spectrum with a grin. "But we'll 
-try-, fair?"

"I guess I can live with that," groused Clark as he tossed a card down 
into the discards. One card, please."

"Sooooo..." Tonk suggested, trying to hide an imp's smile. "Insertion." 
She paused a beat. "Are you and Karen having trouble?"

"Must not hit a CO. Must not hit a CO. Must not hit a CO."

"Just wait for the all-service boxing match," Spectrum commented, throwing 
in two cards. "Then you can lay the smack down without worrying about 
rank. That's what I did back in my Navy days."

"There's something to that," replied Clark, considering his cards as TDSM 
stood on what he had. "But the insertion I was thinking of takes place 
above the waist. Who's up for a little strategy frothing?"

"I'm in," said Spectrum, who then paused and shook his head quickly and 
tossed down his cards. "No! I'm out! But I'm in for the discussion."

"Your losssss..." replied TDSM, throwing in his ante. "Call."

"Show 'em," said Clark. "So give us the update, cap'n."

"Well, we're close enough to get a few tickles on the sensors," Tonk 
began. "We're lucky though, we think we've found a ground-based 
space-dock. Six aces!"

"That... isss a lot of acessss. Sssso you want to attack the dock?"

"Uhm, hm. I really shouldn't cheat when I'm not drunk enough. Yup. If we 
go in fast and hard, we could hold a strategic target, get a ton of 
information and maybe figure out what our next move is."

"I'm not sure there," mused Spectrum. "I mean a spaceport is going to be 
heavily guarded, right?"

"No argument there," said Clark, laying down his cards. "But it also gives 
us a very real target where they're almost certain to have tactical Intel. 
We might be able to get a clue about why the Nintan are blowing 
them-selves up on Earth if we hit it. Three of a kind."

"I guess the important question is, are we talking about holding the 
target or are we raiding?" Spectrum asked, reaching for a handful of 
beer-nuts. "Because, if we're raiding, we need to go in, snatch and grab, 
and get back out as fast as possible. If we're trying to hold the target, 
then we need to establish our spearhead and then systematically knock down 
all resistance that could dislodge us. And honest to Elvis, I'm not sure 
we have the man, woman or toon-power to hold a target for any real length 
of time."

"That's a compelling argument for a raid. We need to lay out what our 
targets are then and stick to 'em hard. Hey TDSM, what'cha got?"

"Royal flussssh," replied the hideous creature with a ghastly smirk as he 
reached out his arms -- all his arms -- to rake in his winnings. "We 
ssstrike at computerssss for their intel, yesss?"

"Yes and no," Spectrum answered after a moment's thought. "They may be 
network-centric here... so if we grab a computer, we might wind up with 
nothing more than a really expensive conversation piece."

"Point," replied Clark, staring at the discarded hands. "Hey, are you 
-sure- those were the cards you were dealt?"

"Are you accusssssing me of cheating? Ssssomeone once did that... today, 
he sssstars in the Broadway versssssion of 'The Elephant Man'..."

"Y'know, I think I'm juuust going to leave that where it is," said Clark, 
turning his eyes away from the discards. "Anyway... if we capture a 
computer, we want to make sure it's useful. So maybe we need to change our 
choice of targets."

"Can we just hack into their computers from orbit?" Spectrum asked, 
picking up the cards to shuffle.

"Can't, sadly." said Tonk with a shrug. "We're not carrying any Powerbooks 
onboard."

"Bang goes that idea then. Okay, the game is two cards up, three cards 
down, twos are wild and one-eyed Jacks mean you have to do the chicken 
dance."

"Let me guess," said Tonk, rolling her eyes. "Foxy taught you that one."

"How'd you guess?"

"Just lucky! So if we can't be sure of grabbing hardware we can use, we 
need to go with the next best thing. Personnel who can get us the data we 
need. Plus if the troops see anything alcohol-like, they're under orders 
to grab it and bring it back..."

"Fooocus, cap'n. That's not a half-bad idea, though it has one problem 
that I see: getting our point across."

"Hmmm. The Nintan we encountered on Earth spoke English, so at least some 
of them know it," mused Spectrum as he began to deal. "And... come to 
think of it, this might be right up Foxy and my alley. We'll see if my 
suit can get anything from the computers, and meantime she can see if she 
can focus her mental powers enough to get the snakes to give us what we 
want."

"This is a lot to load up on an 'if'," said Clark, taking his three. "My 
suggestion is we send you both in, and you take one of our techs with you. 
Between the three you should be able to extract *something* we can use."

"I love it when a plan comes together," said Spectrum, grinning as he 
picked up his cards. "All right gentlemen--"

"Ahem."

"And gentle ladies--"

"Ahem."

"And gentle spiders... ante up!"

***

Foxy stretched languorously in the bunk, sighing contentedly.  She 
pondered her current situation and life with Spectrum.  Being a cartoon 
fox working on an eleven minute comedy schedule left little time for her 
to develop any depth, or deep feelings for someone.  The hyperspacial-edit 
accident that had transformed her had turned her into something that was 
so much more 3-dimensional in every sense of the word.  She smiled and 
toyed with the diamond ring on her hand, letting the light catch and 
create sparkles.

A sharp rap broke her revere and she pouted, realizing that the person 
behind the door was not her Spectrum.  He always did the classic 
shave-and-a-haircut knock. The hairs on the back of her neck instinctively 
rose as she heard the deadbolt unlock from the outside.  A tall, lithe 
woman in an impeccably tailored brown and white business suit walked 
purposely in, and locked the door behind her, before turning and regarding 
Foxy.

"Excuse me toots, the ladies room is down the hall."  Foxy sniffed 
irritably.

"Then we are at least in agreement on one point..."

"Pardon?"

"That there are no ladies in this room.  Freak."  She spat out the last 
word like a dagger.

"Get out!"

"No I don't think so, you see, we have some unpleasant business to 
straighten out, and we have not been properly introduced."

Foxy felt a chill running down her spine and she dove for her gun. 
"Spectrum!"

"What?"  Foxy half-heard his voice, whirled and sighted her gun by hand, 
finding only Spectrum at the doorway.  She sighed and dropped her pistol 
on the bed.

"Oh Sailor, I'm sorry! I just thought you were someone else..."   She 
paused, sniffing the air.  "Waitaminute."  She looked at the bed, and 
where the gun had been only a moment ago, a snake coiled, hissing 
menacingly.  "YEEAAAgh!"

"As I was saying before I was rudely interrupted..."  Spectrum faded away, 
and the woman stood in her place.  "My name is Victoria Queen, and I have 
been ordered to deal with your wild talent."

"You're a PSI?"

"A rather general term.     I have several telepathic abilities.  You have 
tele-empathic abilities, and so far at least you seem to be limited to 
projecting strong emotions, and you have not shown any real restraint or 
control of that ability.  You will find a way to control that power or 
else."

"Or else what?" Foxy did not like this woman, and it was obvious the 
feeling was mutual. In a tiny recess of her mind, she wondered if she was

"...projecting anger and dislike?"  Victoria interrupted?  "Yes, but let 
me reassure you. My dislike for you and your kind is real enough on its 
own without your help.  Your wild power is putting our ship, our lives, 
and the fate of earth in danger.  So, we can do this the hard way or the 
easy way.  Please pick hard."  Victoria smiled evilly.

"Bite me."

"Oh goody, you chose hard.  Thanks."  Suddenly Foxy found herself in a 
sunny field, in rolling English countryside.  Hoof beats were heard in the 
distance, along with an ominous rumble.  The sound of a huntsman's horn 
made her ears stand up, and she dropped to all fours, and began running 
for the wood.  White and brown fox hounds, riding white and brown horses, 
closed the distance, at double her speed. She screamed in terror, as a 
wave of hounds crashed out of the brush, snapping and snarling, and 
driving her away from the safety of the wood.  A hollow log offered itself 
as a potential hiding place and she ducked, panting, into the darkness. 
Around her she could hear the baying of the hounds.  Then silence. A 
monstrous nose nudged up to the hole, and Victoria's voice intermingled 
with the feral growl of the giant hound.  "I CAN SMELL YOUR FEAR!"  The 
nose departed. "MASTER YOUR POWER!  FOCUS! You are leaking worse than a 
flatulent plough horse!"  Enormous paws scratched at the log and it 
rocked.

Foxy panted, and then closed her eyes.  I've got to concentrate. I've got 
to find out how to turn it off.  Her gut clenched and she felt herself 
corking the emotions.  She whispered to herself, "Is it turned off now?"

Giant canines punctured the log, trapping her on both sides.

Foxy screamed in terror and the fear broke through again.  "Spectrum! Help 
Me!"

The log shook, shattered, and she tumbled to the ground, at the feet of 
the giant hound.

With baleful eyes it glared down at the whimpering, cowering anthromorph. 
The hound swung a giant paw, and slammed the fox repeatedly against a 
hillock.  "You. Stupid. Brainless. Abomination. Are you going to kill 
everyone!? I didn't want to have to deal with you. I loathe toons, and I 
loathe what was done to me to give me these powers!" Another paw swipe 
sent Foxy cartwheeling into some rocks.  "The only reason you are not dead 
right now is that I have orders to help you.  But nobody said I had to be 
gentle."

The giant paw ground her into the gravel. Sharp edges of the rocks bit 
into her fur, like hundreds of small teeth.  "Now fight me, you ink smudge 
with delusions of humanity! If you can't keep it turned off, at least 
learn how to aim!"

Foxy growled, and rolled, dodging another blow. She gathered her rage and 
willed it at the giant hound like a burning spear of hate.

The bolt struck true and the giant hound burst into flames. "What are you 
trying to do? Make me mad enough to kill you?  Oh no, that's too good, to 
simple for you.  What was that nightmare you had?  Oh, yes...."  The hound 
opened her mouth and a gout of fire engulfed Foxy.

Foxy screamed in terror and confusion as her hair burned.  She imagined 
she would be ill from the smell of it, but all she could smell was the 
same hint of perfume. Victoria's perfume.

"Blond but not brainless?" The hound morphed back to Victoria, her eyes 
fixed intently on Foxy's burning body.  "I'll give you a hint, just to be 
sporting.  It's all in your head.  The flames are your emotions projecting 
from you.  Put them out yourself or burn up, your choice."

"I can't turn it off!" Foxy pleaded. She contorted, in agony despite the 
realizations.

"You must!  Oh dear! Look at your skin, its starting to blister, and your 
fur is almost gone!  Turn it off!" She looked mockingly at Foxy, "I'd 
never muck around in someone's head like this, but you're not someone are 
you. What was destroying you in your dream? What are you afraid of?" 
Victoria ground her teeth, as a trickle of blood emerged from her nose, 
quickly sopped by a delicate handkerchief. "You ...certainly had... no 
problems ...turning other things ...off!?  What? Oh no. You didn't!" The 
illusions faded and she staggered back, "It's not possible!"

***

"Well, you look pretty chipper for a head case."  Parker Peterson quipped 
as he tapped Rebecca on the shoulder of her armor.

"Oh, Hey, you."  Rebecca smiled. "Doc Sloan patched me up and gave me a 
guarded release.  I'm going to be on 'injured reserve' with him watching 
my vitals.  I'll be staying on board the ship in case we get another 
boarding party scenario thrown at us.  I'll be near C & C to keep the 
regulars safe, so I might get to watch you  guys if there is video 
telemetry."  She powered up her comms systems and 
ran systems checks while some background chatter squawked.

The speaker buzzed, "Affirmative, we are back in real-space, and short 
range scanners are clear."

"So..." Parker looked at his feet.

"Yes?" Rebecca eyed him.

"I guess I'll be seeing you later?" He ventured.

The speaker buzzed again, "Okay, Sparks give me tactical long range 
scans."

She smiled, "If you manage to keep your head down, maybe.  And keep on eye 
on Thor for me, willya?  He's my friend."

"Friend friend, or FRIEND friend?" Parker grinned roguishly.

"Just a good friend."

"Oh."
"Like you."

"Oh.  ...Oh."

She reached over with a gauntleted hand and touched him on the shoulder 
gently.  "Come on, you know it would not work out.  We're from different 
parts of the planet, different orbits."

"It's a small world," Parker began.

"...after all, yeah I have been on the ride.  I still have the Mouse ears. 
But that's Fantasy Land, and this," She hefted her assault rifle, "is 
real.  You can always email me."

"Yeah, but..."

"And I'm a big enough girl not to get a complex if you don't.  So lets 
just leave things as they are. K?"  She leaned over and gave him a peck on 
the cheek.

"CONTACT" The speaker buzzed again.  "Extreme long range sensors are 
picking up ships. Currently orbiting away from us and the spaceport."

"Don't die.  That'll just piss me off." She gave him a cheerful wink.

Sparks voice buzzed again. "That's ... odd.  The ships look different. 
Kinda ovoid. With rings..."

A familiar voice sounded over the comms channels, its British accent 
coolly bringing the listener to attention, "All ground units and assault 
teams please report to the dropship."

Rounding a corner, Nikon Ninja nearly collided with Thor, now bristling 
with weapons.
Thor regarded him calmly, "Good luck today.  I promised Rebecca I would 
look out for you."

"Not that I need looking after, but thanks.  She said the same for me 
about you, too.  Guess we're both under orders to come back."

Thor popped his faceplate, showing a lipstick mark on his cheek, while 
smiling knowingly.  "Yah.  So try to keep up, okay bunny-man?"  Without 
waiting for a response he pivoted on his heel and strode for the dropship.


***

Trooper Daniels' hands tightened around his rifle as he, along with the 
rest of his troop, stared at the dull grey wall ahead of him. As soon as 
their solid, ugly dropship had finished plunging through the atmosphere, 
that wall would split open and release its contents onto a completely new 
world. Daniels would be amongst those contents, and it would be his job to 
keep himself and the rest of those contents alive, well and able to sip 
coffee back onboard the drop-ship afterwards.

...focus...clear the mind...empty yourself...

Daniels glanced to either side of himself, reminding himself for the 
umpteenth time that his squad mates were with him. He wasn't alone in 
doing this; when you could control nothing else, you could still control 
your immediate environment.

...don't throw up a wall... don't *resist*...


You could check your weapons and make sure they were loaded. You could 
double-check your suit's seals to ensure that it wouldn't get blown apart 
by just one lucky shot. You could run through your missile load-out, you 
could make sure that your friends were by your side and you could make 
sure that you were fit mind and body for the moment that they sounded the 
charge.

...let it flow through you...into and out of you...

And that's where the problem lay. Daniels was about to charge into battle 
with a completely unknown environment in front of him, and there was 
someone behind him who could turn his mind into an unknown battlefield 
too. Yeah, she was cute, yeah she was disarming, but innocence was 
absolutely no shield against the threat that she posed.
She could take the one thing Daniels could control -- himself -- and turn 
that against him. And that... well that scared the living crap out of him.

...focus...release...fighting gives it leverage...

Daniels had to hope that the lessons Clark had cadged from the ship's 
computer would be enough to keep them safe from being overwhelmed by 
emotion. A spike of fear in the wrong place, and he could accidentally 
fire at a friend's helmet. A surge of confidence and he might find himself 
overextending his charge. Anything less than a cool head could
-- and probably would -- kill him stone dead. And the only defense he 
had...

...but release... but emptiness...takes leverage away...

...were those lessons. They were all that Daniels had to control his own 
environment. He had two choices, he realized: he could attempt to control 
his mind using the only tools available, or he could fret and fuss and 
pray that nothing happened. Given those two options, Daniels knew which 
one he would pick, even if the uncertainty was almost
overwhelming.

...focus...clear the mind... empty yourse--...

The dropship touched land with an ungentle thud that Daniels could feel 
through his bones. His rifle snapped into position as he assumed a posture 
of readiness. He had his body controlled. He hoped he had his mind 
controlled. Everything outside of that was beyond his immediate influence.

The walls split open. Daniels and his squad mates acted on well-honed 
instinct, rushing towards the world without.

***




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