FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

"#Rooster, Knock it off#"

"Ledger, knock it off," said Echo. He snapped his mask loose and wiped the sweat off his face. He could hear Drone panting in the back seat.

"Well that went as expected." Said Barf, who was formed up on his left. Cypher's tall frame could be see in the WSO's seat behind him.

"I don't know why Sparks thinks flying against Raptors is going to accomplish anything," said Cypher. "If Skinny aircraft are that maneuverable we'll need something better than a hornet to engage them."

"Maybe that's what those four birds we're getting from somewhere else are. I wouldn't turn Raptors down." Said Drone.

"Maybe, I'm thinking it's just more super hornets from depot or the like. But who knows." Said Echo.

"I bet Shepard knows," said Drone. "You should ask her Cypher, she seems to get along well with you."

"Ask her yourself. I'm not playing intel rat for you schmucks."

"I would, but she can be, I dunno."

"Cold?"

"Yeah."

"Yeah," agreed Echo, "I wish she was her old self."

"She wasn't always like that?" asked Barf.

"Nope." Said Echo, "Not before John died."

"What?!" Said Cypher, "Who was John?"

"Fuck! You don't know?"

"Nope."

"No."

"Uh-uh."

There were a few seconds of silence. Barf broke it.

"Well, Echo, don't leave us hanging! Who was John?"

Echo sighed. "Fine. But if any one of you fucks leak this I'll take you out in the desert, drive over your legs, and leave your ass out there. You looked this shit up on-line, got it?"

"Judy"

"Have it."

"Yes."

"Good." Echo ground his teeth. If Shepard ever found out about this his ass would be hamburger. Finally he bit the bullet.

"So I met her and Sparks in flight school at Lemoore. Her husband, John, was a chemical engineer and an all around great guy. If you could pick a friend, John would be one you wanted, and he and Shep were like two peas in a pod. Anyway, so Shep makes a mistake and ends up being restricted to flying around base -and the callsign Scout. Both of them rode motorcycles, so John takes her out one night to try and cheer her up. They're about half way up a mountain, and this drunk fucking hillbilly in a dump truck runs them off the road and the side of the mountain. Shep walked away with a lot of bruising, John on the other hand... They found her still giving CPR to his body. She used a tourniquet to stop the bleeding where his foot used to be, but he broke his neck. He was dead on impact."

"Holy shit." Said Cypher.

"Yeah. It ruined her," said Echo. "She hasn't been the same since then. After that she got really depressed and couldn't take care of her daughter."

"She has a kid?!"

"What the fuck?" said Drone. "And they made her our MO?"

"I told you, it fucked her up. She signed her daughter over to her aunt and uncle, and I'm glad, because she had one hell of a time recovering. She won't bring her kid up to anyone, and pretends like she isn't hers... I think she's holding out until she is ready to take custody again, but I know she calls the kid every now and then. Going through hard shit makes a good officer, but sometimes it doesn't come without scars. And yes Drone, they did. It hasn't detracted from her capabilities as an officer or a pilot. If they did, rest assured Sparks and I would be the first ones to raise hell: I've been under too many unfit officers while enlisted to let that poison my unit, friend or not. So if any of this gets out or if I ever hear of it being used against her I'll make sure every last one of you have your dirty laundry exposed as well. We all have our shit."

"I don't know what you're talking about Echo," Said Drone.

"I mean like how when you smashed into that predator drone you were listening to your music so loud with your headphones in your ears that you couldn't hear the warning tones. And how Barf was the one who performed that hit-and-run on that parked handicapped transport van last year."

"I did not!"

"You did too! I was parked in front of them! And Cypher, I know..."

He looked back as he spoke. Cypher had her visor up, and was giving him a pleading look.

"I know about your... friends."

There were a few seconds of silence, then Drone spoke up:

"What about you Echo? Now that you've dumped all of our skeletons are out, what about yours? Don't tell us you're innocent in all of this."

Echo ran his thumb of the button guard on the crest of the stick.

"I haven't put gas in or changed the oil on my truck since I bought it, and I don't know why."

"Nice try Echo. I bought a new car last week too." Said Barf.

"I didn't," said Echo. "It's a 1984 Ranger I bought three years ago from a weird guy in Washington state. He said he was only selling it because he really needed the cash. I've put thirty thousand miles on it since then: the oil still looks new, and I can't even get the gas cap open to put fuel in it. -Not that it needs it. The gauge sits firmly at three fourths of a tank and it drives like it."

"Oh boo-hoo," said Drone. "You got a freak super car. Wow, I hope that word doesn't get out-"

"IF that were all it wouldn't be bad. Not long after that I backed into a pole. Hard. It didn't even scratch the thing. So I tried to damage it. I drove it into a concrete barricade at about thirty. I was ready to got to the hospital, but it barely hurt and... there wasn't even a ding on the truck. I found out if you pull up on the stick before you start moving it'll shift at around 3,000 RMPs. That freaked me out."

"So? My car shifts at about four-"

"It's a MANUAL Barf!"

"Oh."

"If you eject a tape while the radio is tuned to 105.7 these weird voices come on. It's like they keep asking questions and waiting for an answer, but they go silent the moment I say anything. I've tried every translation software I know, and nothing will return anything."

"What the hell..." said Cypher.

"That's creepy," agreed Drone, "But I fail to see how this is dirty laundry."

"Don't you see? Every time I drive to work I park in OUR lot a car I'm pretty sure was build by Skinnies."

"Oh cut the shit-"

"Fine. Borrow a hammer from airframes. You put a ding in the hood and I buy everyone drinks tonight -as many as they want. Afterwards if you want to listen to the radio, we can listen to aliens ask questions."

"You're actually serious," said Barf.

"I am."

"Holy shit Echo, the command needs to know about this. This is really bad-"

"So it doing a hit-and-run on a van full of retarded kids, Barf! The point is that we all have dirty laundry, and if anything more pops up from that truck I'm not going to hesitate to let someone know, but until then nobody says shit on anybody else. Got it?"

"Definitely."

"Agreed."

"Yes."

There were a few moments of silence. It wasn't until the airbase was in sight that Drone's voice broke over the radio.

"Can I still hit your truck with a hammer?"

#

Rika stared at the display and cursed. The results of an integrated self test ("IST" as her fellow engineers called them) had come back degrade... again. She groaned to herself and pulled up the technical publication on her PDA to look up the failure codes.

Why was the HASS, or high acceleration survival system, so complicated? And why must it be so important? The system used a series of inertial dampeners in each seat to accelerate the mass of the occupant as a whole as the ship moved, instead of the seat simply pushing them. This allowed to vessel to maneuver quickly without turning the crew into a carbon based, high-iron goo. Forces many, many times that of normal Arlon or Earth gravity could be made to feel like only six times normal pull, enough for pilot feed-back but not enough to cause him to loose control or consciousness.

Another feature of the system was to provide artificial gravity in the cabin when in deep space or a free fall, such as orbit. She didn't mind working on that part of the system, as it never seemed to give her any trouble. The seat dampeners on the other hand, with their multiple redundancy and back-up power systems, seemed like a never ending nightmare. Over the past nine months she had chased one problem after another, running through work chapters, diagrams, and schematics on her PDA. She was starting to become very familiar with the system. More familiar than she cared to be.

Other engineers didn't share her problems. They said their HASS always worked fine, and problems were sporadic at most. She hoped the vessel was just going through a phase, and that the Farrom 8 didn't have a lemon system. She found the chapter she was looking for and browsed down to find out what the codes meant.

A knock on the cockpit door made her start, [Co- come in.]

The hatch opened, causing her to squint her eyes against the bright hanger bay light. The silhouette of a medium sized Rakkan moved into the doorway, blocking out some of the light and allowing her eyes to adjust. She could make out the dim fur pattern on the muzzle, neck, and hands of the person and she relaxed into her seat again.

[Hello Gamun.]

She could see his ears flick in a brief smile and heard the swish of the long furred Rakkan's tail.

[Hello! What are you doing, hiding in here? Afraid photons are going to ruin your RNA?]

Rika couldn't help but smile at her friend, [No, just the HASS giving me problems again.]

[Still? Wow, you seem to be having a lot of bad luck with that. What's wrong with it now?]

[I was just troubleshooting it. It started with a code 4387-216 during the last sortie. Seat three's dampener keeps testing no go, but as you know that could be a number of things.]

[Tried the computer?]

[Yeah, it checked good. Slosh let me swap with his to test it and the gripe stayed.]

[That sucks, what are you working on now?]

[I'v narrowed it down to either wires or the secondary dampener on seat three. The pub. had me test the number three floor gen. and the trans coil n' relay already. Both are good.]

[Want help with the wires?]

[Sure. If you get the adapter kit out of the belly bay I'll look up which ones we need to shoot out. You know where it is; the same place you keep yours.]

Gamun nodded and left the cockpit door. Rika scrolled over to where the chapter listed which wires and optic fibers needed to be tested, and pulled up a schematic. There were only a few wires and an optical cable that could cause the trouble. Rika relaxed a bit; hopefully this would be an easy repair.

Outside she could hear Gamun opening the hatch that led to the tool compartment in the hull. Rika was unplugging an optic bundle when she dumped the vibrant green box down on the floor. Rika caught the reddish blaze and a dim pair of eyes peering over her shoulder at the wire and optic connections in front of her that quickly vanished. She moved onto a wire bundle without looking back. There was the pop of the container latches behind her, and the clacking sound of the adapters being moved.

Rika went to look at the publication again to make sure she knew which other wire bundle to disconnect, but it was gone. Gamun was scrolling through the chapter and looking over the schematic.

[The ones you need are right here,] she said, motioning to where several adapters lay on the ground without looking up. Eventually she handed Rika her PDA back and picked out a few more adapters before pulling out her own PDA.

[I'll play receiver, so you don't have to use that horrible extension. Link me through the Maycom and we'll get this done fast,] she added, pulling off a wire bundle from the exposed computer in the back wall of the cabin, [Which one first?]

[Command computer, optic 5-B,] replied Rika, attaching the adapter to her end of the optical cable. She plugged the other end of the adapter into her PDA and pulled up the testing program and MACOMREK Net (MAintenance COMmunication and REcord Keeping network, or "Maycom"). She searched for Sergeant Yasoud's computer and requested a link.

[Ready when you are.]

Gamun nodded, struggling with the optical cable before getting it disconnected and attaching her adapter. Both hand held computers beeped as she accepted Rika's request.

[I'm ready,] she growled.

[Alright.] Rika initiated the test. [Go.]

They dropped their computers and began vigorously wiggling and twisting the ends of the cable. Seconds later the PDAs beeped again and they stopped, Rika picking hers up.

[Damn, it checked good.]

[On to the next one then. Which is it?]

They repeated the same procedure on the next two wire bundles with similar results. When the last bundle checked good, Rika threw down her PDA in disgust.

[Damn it, why can't it ever be something easy?]

Gamun grinned. [Because then officers would have our job. Let's start ripping the seat apart. As soon as we're done I'm dragging your ass off base, too. I found a new place to eat I think you'll like.]

Rika remembered going out to a small restaurant down the road from where she lived with her dad. What she would give for a slice of pizza or a greasy burger! Rakkan food was good, and very much so, but it just wasn't the same. Gamun, or "Mallet" as the unit had called her ever since the hammer incident, had picked up a Rika's homesickness and lately had been pushing Rika to try some of the stranger foods the rakkan culture had to offer.

[I don't know Gamun, you know I'm not too fond of some rakkan delicacies...]

[You'll like this place,] she winked: a human gesture Rika had taught her. [I'll put the kit away while you order the part, and we'll have this rotting fish changed out in an hour.]

[Fine,] said Rika, unplugging her PDA and pulling up the ordering information for the inertia dampener. [but no raw eggs, or live meeps.]

There was a bark of laughter as Gamun put the adapters back in the kit case, [but they tasted so good, even you'll admit that!]

[Taste, sure, it was great. Texture though-] Rika made a gagging noise that caused Gamun to laugh again.

Rika ordered the part through her PDA and they began pulling the seat apart. The dampener was buried in the bowels below the bottom of the seat, beneath a lot of other survival equipment. Rika had her hand wedged in a tight spot to undo the last bolt when a young rakkan pulled up in a cart.

[That was fast.] Said Gamun.

[No kidding. I'd be shocked if it took them another three hours. This is just mind blowing.]

There was a voice from outside:

[Farrom 8, order numb-]

[Oh for fuck's sake!] Cried out Rika, [I don't care about the order number, just read me the damn part number!]

The young rakkan peered into the dark cockpit, unable to see into the blackness. Gamun's giggle had followed Rika's outburst, unseen from the darkness and made the supply apprentice clearly uneasy. He read the part number off the document that accompanied the part, yelling it to the invisible people inside the cockpit.

Rika dropped the bolt she had just removed, hearing it tinking and tacking off various parts as it bounced it's way to the bottom of the hull. She whimpered and momentarily went limp against the open seat. That bolt was going to be a nightmare to find. Gamun let out a whimper of sympathy.

[Ooo, that blows. Tell you what- take a break and deal with this idiot and I'll try and fish it back without having to dismantle the entire GravROS.]

Rika looked up and yelled at the apprentice outside, [THAT'S NOT THE NUMBER ON THE TAG, IS IT?]

[Er, yes sir, it is.]

[God damnit,] she snarled, jumping over the pile of removed components and climbing out the cockpit door.

[Show me the part,] she barked. The supply apprentice flattened his ears back and visibly fought to keep his tail from between his legs as he opened the container on the back of his cart. Rika snatched the dampener out, roughly the size of her forearm, and cradled it, using her body to block the glare as she read the part number stamped in the side.

[And the card?]

He fished about in the container before producing a large paper card with more information on it. She set the dampener on the floor and grabbed her PDA from the cockpit, pulling up a list of part changes and checking them against the part and serial numbers of the "new" dampener. Satisfied she sent her electronic signature with her pad print against the screen and lifted the dampener back off the ground.

[Thanks,] she growled. The supply apprentice nodded as he scrambled back into his cart, eager to get away from the foul tempered engineer. Inside the cockpit there was a yelp of pain followed by cursing.

[You ok?] asked Rika as she set the part on one of the few remaining clear portions of cockpit floor. Gamun looked up, holding her paw under her armpit.

[I got bit by a lock cam.]

[Ouch, how bad?]

[It's decent -tore my claw about half way through. I'm going to go get it patched at the on site before I bleed all over your vessel. Oh, I got the bolt out though.]

Rika nodded, [Thanks. You're coming back?]

[Yeah,] replied Gamun as she stepped down from the cockpit, [they're pretty fast over there.]

Rika nodded, though she knew Gamun couldn't see it. She hoped that she never took her friend's unwavering loyalty for granted. Three years it had been since that awkward first day at bootcamp. Two of those in training, and one here in a her unit. Just recently both of them had earned their stand-by navigation qualification and had been promoted to sergeant, allowing the vessels, modex number 8 for the Yasois and number 10 for the Yasouds (both Farrom models), with a combat ready crew capable of extended range operations. The prestige of the interceptor craft was high and reminded her of the fighter jets from Earth, but as she found there was a very insipid side to them.

... like installing secondary dampeners, she mused. No one glorified the maintainer, who spent many hours upon hours slaving away to insure the vessel was ready and safe to maneuver through space's vacuums. The pilot and weapons officers people held in awe. Even the navigator had some recognition. Not the engineer though. In every crew photo hanging on the hall of her unit's command building they could be picked out with ease; just look for the tired, unsmiling individual that looked like they wanted to be anywhere but there.

She stuck her tongue out as she wrestled a pneumatic line into it's fitting, a human gesture she had absentmindedly carried over into her new form that gave her an absolutely ridiculous expression. The fitting snapped into place and she finger tightened it down when a set of claws grabbed her tongue, making her jump.

[Gotchya.]

The outline of Gamun's smiling ears silhouetted against the harsh light of the doorway met her eyes as she looked up.

[SHIT Mallet! You scared the piss out of me! My tail is so far between my legs I can almost taste it!]

The rakken giggled, wiping her hand off on her uniform, [You should pay more attention next time, I was standing here for almost a full minute. What do you have left?]

Rika shrugged, smoothing the fur on her tail out as she relaxed again, [Your just like a blister: you show up when the work's almost done. I have to tighten this line and drop the seat base back in and then install the pan. It shouldn't take long.]

Gamun nodded. [I'll help you wrap this up then. Hopefully it checks good and then we can go get something to eat,] she added, licking her chops.

[Yeah,] agreed Rika, [My stomach keeps snarling at me.]

[Mine was, but it's quiet now. I'm still hungry though.]

[Did you hit it with a hammer to shut it up?] Smirked Rika. Gamun stopped and looked up, feigning irritation.

[Nope. But I can make your face flat again, flat face.]

[I'll pass.] Grinned Rika. [I'm beginning to like this muzzle of mine. It's grown on me.]

Gamun groaned. [Really? We're getting punny now?]

[You're just jealous because I didn't do anything stupid to earn my callsign.]

[Just wait,] said Gamun with a smirk. [There seems to be a rash of stupidity in the unit lately.]

Rika chuckled. [Yeah, first you and that sledgehammer rage-repair, and then Slosh's commander strafed that colony - thank god he didn't actually hit anyone- Now Niedka gets his coordinates backwards and sends us half way to fucking Andromeda, and then takes three attempts before he finally get's us going home again! That was pretty bad. I hope he took my share of stupid too when he pulled that stunt. We damn near ran out of fuel.]

[I don't know...] said Gamun. [He seems to be pretty oblivious to things.]

[He is not!] Barked Rika.

[Oh? What about last heat cycle?]

Rika got quiet. [He had that nasty sinus infection. He couldn't smell. He couldn't help it, and I didn't know he couldn't smell.]

Gamun nodded, a dubious look on her face.

Rika smirked.

[Speaking of call signs. You know about Lost; how did Lube get his name?]

Mallet broke into a grin. [You know how when you overhaul the nose retraction gearbox you need to re-grease it?]

Rika nodded, sliding the seat back into its position. [Yeah. It's pretty standard: repack the bearings and then fill the teeth of the gears. Why?]

[For whatever reason when he was still an engineer he packed the whole box.]

Rika's eye went wide and a smile lit across her face. [Oh man...]

[Yeah.] Grinned Gamun. [Brakes said they took off, and as the gear went up you could hear the grease spraying and splattering all over the lower thrust bay.]

Rika started laughing. [Oh... Oh god...]

Gamun started laughing too. [Tack said he didn't get home until after midnight from cleaning all the grease out of everything. They had his callsign registered before he walked in the door!]

Rika wiped her hand off on her uniform before running it over the side of your head. She sighed. [If we ever go to Earth I know I'll be given a new one.]

[Oh? People know you for something, or because of too many flat-faces?]

Rika shook her head. [No. It's what I look like.]

Gamun cocked her head the side. [A rakkan? What do you look like?]

Rika gave her friend a cold expression. [If you ever tell anyone this I'll show Lube that poem you wrote about him.]

Gamun's face fell. Then she broke into a sly smile. [You know me too well. Done.]

[I look like a "dog."]

Mallet picked up her PDA as Rika connected wiring. [I downloaded your alphabet. I still want you to teach me english.]

[No.]

[Why not? C'mon, you won't even teach Lost.]

[Because I like having a way to express myself that feels like me. I'm worried if I teach it to people I won't feel that way anymore.]

[I think you need to teach us so we can embrace that part of you too, Rika. Your parent family knows it-]

[They're an Earth operations team!]

[So?! I'm your best fucking friend Rika. I'm that terrified creature that wanted to help the monster from Earth. Have I judged you yet? Have I ever done anything but treat you like a person? It's ok to remember where you came from, Rika, but this is your home, and we are your family, and you are you and always will be.]

Rika gave her friend a long look.

[You're right.] She sighed. [I'm sorry. I'll teach you. But only you! No teaching anyone else.]

[Not Lost?]

[I... I'm still thinking about Lost. Probably.]

Gamun smiled. [Thank you! Now, how do you spell "dog?"]

[It's spelled "M-A-L-L-E-T."]

[Are these the right letters?] She asked, showing Rika her PDA.

Rika nodded.

[That's a lot of letters for such a short word.]

Rika shrugged, [A lot of them are silent. English is weird like that.]

Gamun scrolled through images of hammers on her screen before giving Rika a dirty look. Rika erupted in laughter.

"D-O-G"

[Like this?]

[Yup.]

There were a few seconds of silence as Gamun scrolled.

[I guess I see a little resemblance. Are you referring to their subservient status? Or is it-]

"B-E-L-G-I-A-N [Space!] M-A-L-I-N-O-I-S!" Called Rika

[Hold on!] Said Gamun as she typed frantically. [Like this?]

Rika nodded and started putting tools away. Gamun was only quiet for couple of moments.

[Holy shit!]

[Mm?] Said Rika.

[It's like you on four legs!]

Rika nodded. [I told you. It would be collar and leash jokes for years after we left.]

Gamun frowned. [I don't think so.]

[No? If you think my crew is too kind then think again.]

Gamun shook her head and showed Rika the screen on her PDA. Displayed was a malinois, several feet off the ground, teeth barred, and mouth wide-open in snarl, as if the dog were attempting to bit the face off of someone at a dead sprint.

[You wouldn't be getting any collar and leash jokes- except maybe from Lost trying to be kinky. These dogs are bad-asses. Although,] she grinned, [There's too much similarity in personality for them to pass it up as a callsign.]

[I am not that bad.] Rika said, shaking her head as she counted her tools.

[You made Dip piss himself last week! Everyone in my crew makes me come talk with you whenever they need something. They're all afraid of you!]

Rika looked shocked. [Why?! They all outrank me!]

[Remember when the whole pad went out and celebrated Shave being appointed executive officer?]

[Most of it. I remember us all getting pretty smashed.]

[Do you remember me falling asleep, and some sleaze-bag trying to get friendly with body while I walked the dream land?]

[No- ...Yes. I told him go away and to leave you alone.]

[I was told you cleared three tables, landed over me, and made some godforsaken noise while trying to bite his face off, only scarier. Tack says they had to steam clean the carpet where he was standing because of that incident. Nobody will give me any more description than that, but apparently the guy sprinted out of there with shit in his shorts and your saliva sprayed all over his face.]

[Huh. I just remember telling him to leave.]

['Just told him to leave,'] mused Gamun. [And that is exactly why they are afraid of you.]

[They shouldn't be. I wouldn't hurt anyone in our squadron, especially someone off our pad. If they want to have a healthy respect I won't turn it down, but they shouldn't be afraid of me.]

Gamun smiled. [I'll let them know, but I don't know if it'll change anything.]

She verified Rika's tool count and cleared the area around the vessel while Rika powered the engines up to run a full check on the new part and re-installed seat. Everything completed it's IST "Go", so she shut the reactor down and Rika closed the Farrom 8 up while Gamun signed the work order off using her PDA. By the time they were finished they were the last people left on the pad surface, the other two farrom crews having left hours ago with the officer's of Rika's vessel.

Each pad around the aeronautical port held four farroms, their sleek, dark grey forms could be seen filling the parking pads. Rika often thought about how similar the Farrom interceptors were to the SR-71. In reality they had a loosely similar general shape (sans wings and bulky engines) and that was it, with the Farrom standing three times the fuselage width and one and a half times the length. Designed to intercept message transmissions, small groups of enemy craft, and maintain air superiority in the atmospheres of planets; the vessels were extremely quick, highly agile, and very lightly armed. Rika found the similarities between them and Earth fighter aircraft not because of their similarities with the human aircraft, but because of their contrast to rakkan fighters: an armament relative that was roundish and blocky, and while extremely capable was limited strictly to combat in space. The fighter squadron was parked across the runway/Trisona dry-dock from her squadron; the fighters parked on their pads looked like an organized collection of marbles. Or bowling balls.

Rika and Gamun were stationed on the last pad from the hanger. It was a three mile walk down the runway/Trisona dry dock(three and a half if your drove, five if you took the crew shuttle) and so had only three farroms due to the odd number of craft in the unit. Each pad had a small building (slanged the "fishing tin" because when everyone was there it felt the size of an ice fishing shanty) that housed two bunkbeds, each with a mattress large enough to sleep a whole crew; a closet where environmental suits, standard suits and other flight equipment were kept; a space for low-cost, often needed parts were stored (and some that weren't so low cost but equally needed, but those were conveniently hidden when inspections came through- thank you, Rika), a hardline computer terminal, a printer, two toilets, and a large, worn, filthy sink.

[So,] began Rika, washing the dirt and grease out of the fur on her hands, [what is this place you found?]

Gamun looked up from where she was pulling up her cargo shorts. [Wha-Oh! Remember that strip they were putting in on the surface, -where they took out that convenience store that went belly up?]

Rika giggled, looking around for something to wipe her wet hands on. [The one where the owner would shave his front and sunbath on the roof, claiming it gave him energy of the youth?]

Gamun laughed, [More like radiation sickness. Yeah, that's the one. They built a strip with a few small shops there. One of them is a place that specializes in off planet cuisine. They have stuff from Bunkow-la, Delta 6, Earth, and Ompo.]

Rika settled sacrificing her civilian shirt. She would just stick to the rakkan favorite today: shorts and shorts only. She loved a species that only saw gender differences when one was pregnant.

[Two Rakkan colonies, a walker colony, and home. That should be interesting.]

[I'v heard the stuff from Delta 6 makes you sick unless you're a walker translate, and the stuff from our colonies is similar to what we have here, just with different ingredients. I'm interested in what you think of the Earth food. If it's good I'd like to have some to see what it's like. Neither of us are exactly Rakken in origin either, so I might see if they have anything from my folk's home. Mom's cooking never made me sick. Well, that often anyway.]

Rika's eye's glazed over, [I wonder if they have steak...]

*****

They did. Along with a host of other dishes from around the globe, from sushi to spaghetti to stir-fri to curry to shish-ka-bob. Rika and Gamun sat across from each other in a booth next to the window in the small establishment. Gamun waited to see what Rika's cheeseburger was all about before she picked something from the menu.

When it came, Rika smelt it before she saw it. It's sent was just like that she had remembered, but in so much detail. The wheat of the bun, the hot meat and cheese, along with tomato and lettuce and the vinegar of the mustard and ketchup all displayed vividly along the inside of her long nose. It was as if her nose only got a blurry painting as a human, while now she was getting a photograph. A large photograph. With a very expensive camera.

As she took her first bite she found herself enjoying a small bliss. She didn't know if it was real beef she was eating or not, but it smelt and tasted close enough so she didn't care. The burger was huge by Earth standards, though the menu indicated it was meant for a family. It had made her chuckle. The oddest things are lost in translation.

She sank her teeth into the bun again, closing her eyes as the ketchup, mustard, cheese, and beef juice flowed over her tongue. Images of relaxed afternoons with friends, stopping at the local burger joint for a bite to eat before heading home, hitting up a drive through on a car trip and grilling in the back on a summer day bubbled up in her mind as she chewed a mouthful. She could see her dad handing her one off the grill, warning her it was hot: "Rika "

[Rika,] repeated Gamun, [are you ok? Your eyes are leaking.]

[Yeah,] she said, swallowing her mouthful of food. [Just remembering the last time I had one of these, that's all.]

Her friend nodded. [It must be rough, being gone this long. I bet you miss it.]

She smiled, wiping her eyes on a napkin. [I do. But I don't regret leaving it behind. Want to try some?]

[Sure!] said Gamun, almost snatching the sandwich out of her hands. [I haven't been able to get it's wonderful scent out of my nose since he brought it out.]

She took a bite next to Rika's and munched on it a bit, sampling the different parts of it. She looked focused and intensely in thought, like someone judging a work of art.

[Very simple,] she began, setting the burger back down, [yet that plays into the scent and taste quite nicely. The bun, vegetables and cheese combine form a nice partner to the sauces and meat. I like how the melody of the flavor is played by the sauces on the meat, too. It's hard to catch that in the scent. If we're ever on Earth you'll have to show me how to make it.]

Rika snorted, [Sure, I'll whip one up right after they're done hunting us down with dogs and swat teams. What are you now, a food connoisseur?]

[Eh, we have ways of hiding,] she winked. [Just look at yourself compared to when we first met. And I'm just taking serious interest in your native chow, that's all.]

Rika glanced down at the fluffy, tawny-colored fur on her chest. She rolled her eyes in mock boredom. [Oh, that. Pfft. So you made me grow a little extra hair, big whoop. Our men have longer beards.]

Gamun chuckled, then held up a menu, showing Rika the selection of Earth-side dishes. [So, what should I get?]

[Hmmmm. I suppose that would depend on what type of food you are interested in. Some of these were good before I was translated, like Chili, but are very strong and might be too much for a sensitive nose and tongue. And all the food really varies depending on where you are on the planet.]

[I want something you used to eat. Something that was local to where you lived.]

Rika's eyes skimmed down the menu, pausing under a picture of a flecked, yellow wheel rimmed in brown. [I wonder if their pizza is any good.]

[What's pizza?] Inquired Garum, rolling the strange word out of her mouth.

[It's a flat, thin bread with an unsweet fruit sauce on it covered sometimes by different meats and vegetables and a layer of melted cheese. Good ones are fantastic, probably better with a proper snorter, but bad ones will leave you unimpressed to say the least, and all of them are terrible for your health.]

[Hmmm,] she muttered, flipping the menu around to read it herself. [So many options for them.]

Rika munched on her burger and watched a rodent-like creature scurry across the thoroughfare out the window while her rakkan partner pondered the menu. It was a few minutes before Gamun looked up.

[I don't know what any of this stuff is. How about you order it, and I split it if you give me the last of that gigantic burger,] She decided, passing the menu back across the table. Rika scooted the burger back, picked up the menu, scanned down the list, and turned to the ordering console on the table.

[I'll getting us a large, thin crust sausage and cheese. I'm still hungry and I'm going to mooch off of you.]

Gamun stared at her with a lost look, [Sure thing. You know what you're doing. How big is a large?]

[Who knows,] shrugged Rika, [but if there is a lot extra we can just take it with and eat it later.]

Gamun nodded, [It's one of those dishes where the flavor stays with time then?]

[Stays, hah! I remember pulling it out of refrigeration the next morning for breakfast. Some humans argue it's better that way.]

[Humans have weak taste buds,] Gamun jested, [but we shall see if they are right.]

[Oh feces!] Cried Rika, plastering herself against the padded bench, slouching as low as she could.

[What?] asked Gamun, looking nervously around as two figures passed by the window.

[My pilot and second seat are walking in.]

[Great,] growled Gamun, [just great. Work is one thing, and home is given, but dealing with pilots off duty and out? Oh fucking wonderful. Here's Lost, too.]

"Shit." Rika spat the word in english, [if they see me they'll want to sit with us. I hate officers. It's like they think we're fucking family or something.]

Rika head the door open and the sound of uniform boots walking up to the counter. Soon there was the all too familiar noise of her pilot's voice.

[Oh no, we're just getting something to go. We have to be back soon. Thanks. No, not yet, just give me a minute to decide.]

Rika tried to squash herself lower into the seat, closing her eyes praying they wouldn't see her and would just go away. All the while she tried hard to listen, to hear if they noticed her.

[Rika,] whispered Gamun, [your ears...]

Rika quickly flattened them to her skull and whimpered softy.

[I hate this body,] she whispered, [if it's not my tail it's my ears giving me away.]

Her movement wasn't fast enough though, because Lieutenant Commander Bagom's booming voice suddenly flooded the small shop.

[Sergeant Yasoi!] he bellowed, [Just the person we were looking for!]

She opened her eyes and looked up with a blank expression. He was standing at the end of the booth, next to Commander Ungow, both in uniform.

[How's that HASS code coming? Did you get it fixed?] Asked the Commander. His cheerful mood was almost scalding to her.

[It's done sir,] she replied. [I had to replace the secondary dampener under third seat. It checked good and the work order is sitting in your approval.]

[Already? You had an inspector?]

[Sergeant Yasoud was there, sir. He checked my work.]

[Great! Perfect! I landed us a cool assignment in a few months, I think you'll really like it, but I can't talk here. Our sister squadron was going to fill it, but all of their vessels just went down for a technical directive that just came out. They'll be missing most of the training, so I volunteered us to take their place!]

Rika eyed her pilot with suspicion, [Are you sure that T.D. doesn't effect the Farrom 8? Our pad has an older lot number than the rest of the squadron.]

[Positive,] cheered Ungow, [I just talked with quality control to make sure. The Lightening have a much older lot than anything we have.]

A waiter appeared from behind the officers, carrying a large tray with a pizza on it.

[That's good sir,] said Rika, [I'll be interested in hearing more about the mission when I see you after I get home, or at the latest the start of next week.]

[That's just it,] replied the pilot. Rika felt a chill run down her back and into her tail at the words.

[The training starts tonight,] he continued, [so I'll see you in the ready room in four hours. Oh, thank-you.] He accepted a large sack from the waiter who had re-appeared.

[See you then!] he waved as they walked out the door and into the setting Arlon sun. Rika sat up and promptly planted her forehead into the table. Gamun chuckled.

[That's rough, always on the long weekend, too.]

[There's never a fucking break,] muttered Rika, causing Gamun to laugh with the strange sympathy maintainers shared. She was about to say something in reply, but an eery sound erupted from under the table, causing her to sit up abruptly and pull out her PDA.

[Ooh, fuuuuck,] she moaned, her expression dipping to that of Rika's as she glanced at the screen. [The Farrom 10 is going too.]

Rika giggled without lifting her head.

[Welcome to the circus. He probably signed the whole damn squadron up.]

[You know,] said Gamun as she looked at her PDA again, [if it's 'training' that means they want to fly. And that means we have to be there to set the vessels up an hour before. That's not counting the brief they'll make us sit through even though nothing will apply to us, so considering we need to change back into uniform and our flight gear we actually need to be there in about half an hour.]

[I'll tell them where they can put their flight schedule,] muttered Rika, lifting a slice of pizza off the tray. [I'm eating some of my damn pizza.]

A white hand and forearm snaked across the table and snagged a slice.

[It smells great! What is it?] Said Niedka, sliding into the booth next to Rika. Like the engineers he was wearing a civilian pair of shorts.

[Pizza.] Replied Gamun. [What brings you here, Lost?]

[Rika and I need to talk.] He muttered through a mouth full of food.

[Oh boy Rika, you must have really gone it now.] Gamun winked.

[You're included,] Said Niedka. [Grum is on his way.]

[What? Why?!]

There was the sound of the door opening and closing. A few seconds later Grum was sliding in next to Gamun.

[So this is where you two try to loose us.]

[Guess again, Lube.] Said Rika. [This is our first time here. You just got lucky.]

Lost held up his PDA. [No luck involved.]

[I'm going to start leaving that thing on board,] said Rika. [You people have no sense of privacy.]

[Nope.] Said Grum. [At least it's only your husband that has that privilege and not your whole family.]

[They'd be disappointed even if they did,] said Gamun. [All they would see is us at work.]

[Which brings us to why we need to talk,] said Lost. [We have barely seen a whisker or tail hair off of either of you outside of work for the past year. Coming home late a few nights a week is normal for engineers, but you two make it the daily norm.]

[It takes a lot of work to keep these things up,] said Rika. [What am I supposed to do, leave it broken?]

[Not at all,] Grum said. [But when you are waiting for parts we would love to see your faces. Why do you stay? Why are you avoiding us?]

[It's our opportunity to work all the up gripes, Lube. You and Lost should know that. We are not avoid people.]

[You sleep at work some nights!] Argued Lost. [You never come home, either of you!]

[Well, yeah. We work late and have morning flights, it makes no sense for us to go home and then come back. It's an hour we need to sleep to meet crew rest regulations.]

Grum tugged at his ears in frustration. [I know you don't mind sleeping alone, Rika, but what's your excuse Gamun? I know you can't enjoy being alone.]

[Oh. Rika usually stays with me if I go late. We help each other out, and it cuts back on how late we need to work.]

Lost tapped his pizza crust on the table and sighed. [Rika, it never took Grum or me this much work to keep those star darts up. So what's the deal?]

The engineers looked at each other for a moment. It was Gamun that answered.

[Our first day at work here Rika and I were going over the craft. They were ok -about standard for the fleet craft I saw come through the schoolhouse- and I was thinking about how nice it was going to be not struggling to keep some piece of shit up anymore. I see Rika standing back from the Farrom 8 with his hands on his hips, just staring. So I walk up and ask him what's on his his mind, and Rika says {That is my Farrom. It's a representation to the world of my unit, my family, and myself as an engineer. It's in pretty good shape, but I do not want to be 'pretty good'. I am great, and I'll drag that vessel into being great too; kicking and screaming if I have too.} When he put it like that, well, I wasn't about to let us look 'pretty good' either.]

Lost and Lube stared at each other for a moment.

[Oh,] said Lost quietly. [Well, if you put it like that I guess if I stayed and helped I would get to see more of you then.]

[I miss being with you too, and it would be nice to have an extra set of hands.] Said Rika. [Even if all you did was inspect, I would love your company.]

Grum leaned back in the bench. [I'll stay too. Durks and Kancho will complain, but at least I'll see more than a few hours of Mallet a week.]

Rika laughed. [I could always send a hammer home with you.]

Lube winked at her. [Nah, I have a favorite.]

They sat in silence for a few minutes, devouring Mallet's pizza. Lost sighed.

[Do you two know about tonights ops?]

[Yes.] Said Rika, [Shave was in here and told us himself. Any idea what it is?]

Grum and Lost both shook their heads. [Not a clue.]

[Any idea how many pads are involved?] Asked Gamun.

[I told you,] said Rika, [He probably signed up the whole damn squadron.]

[I doubt that,] said Grum. [I would guess just our pad. It's too last minute for anything large.]

[Well,] Lost said, standing, [we need to change and probably pick up charting from the vault before the brief. I'll see you there.]

Rika and Gamun both nodded.

[See you.]

[Smell ya there.]

#

As it turned out, Commander Ungow had volunteered the whole damn squadron. Many of the members, officer and enlisted alike, looked more than a little irritated. Sergeant Macksan, the engineer on the Farrom 9, appeared half awake and possibly drunk. His pilot, RIO, and navigator had no such sublty. They were all very cheerful, noisily talking while slapping each other on the back and staggering slightly as they walked into the briefing room.

Macksan blinked a few times as he scanned the room bleary-eyed before he noticed Gamun and Rika sitting in the back row. He swaggered up to them, grinning.

[We're all trashed,] he muttered with a grin. [Lieutenant Commander Boen is now a commander, just today. We were celeb'atin'.]

Gamun looked up at him with a smirk, [You know we're all flying tonight, right?]

[Hah! That's their problem. I'll just launch 'em out and finish my bottle of cratza in the fishing tin.]

[They want engineers on these sorties,] said Gamun.

The words looked like they had bounced a tree limb off his head.

[What.] He stared with a stunned look, his mouth hanging open.

[Engineers are flying,] she repeated.

[They said it was local!] he cried. [Nothing about cross-system or inter-planet!]

[It is,] Rika replied calmly. [We're taking the Lightning's deployment. Work-ups start tonight.]

Platoon Sergeant Macksan sank into a chair in front of them.

[Shit on a stick. Why can't we be like a normal unit?]

[I think we are a normal unit,] said Rika. [I was talking to my dad, he says all of his units were like this. They even had an acronym for it- bohica. Something about 'Bend Over, Here It Comes Again,' or something like that.]

[Everyone to the front, fill it in.]

The unit's Sergeant's Commander was standing in the doorway to the briefing room. The commanding officer had already taken his seat in the front. Though the Sergeant's Commander spoke generally, he was looking to the three enlisted sitting in the back. The silently obeyed, taking new seats in position behind their respective crews. When they had finished moving he poked his head out the door before coming back in.

[Stand by.]

Rika felt her ears perk and hackles raise at the command. The commanding officer was already here, and had been since they had shown up, which meant someone very high ranking was about to walk in the room. She had no idea who that could-

[Attention on deck!]

The room rose. Rika heard light footsteps walk through the door and a brief glimpse of a figure as she stared straight ahead.

[At ease. Thank you. Take your seats.]

The voice was deep, even for a rakkan. The rumble had strength, and gave her an honest impression. As her squadron seated its self she could see her speaker.

He was very short. Had she still been in her furless, flat-nosed form he still would have been shorter than her. Jet black fur did nothing to hide his thin, wiry frame. There were copious amounts of greying fur around his muzzle, but he held himself proudly, as if he knew nothing of his age nor stature. In his hand was a plain, thin, brown folder. On his shoulders were the rank of Fleet General.

[Close the door.]

The Sergeant's Commander, who was still standing next to the doorway, slid the door closed and locked it. The general turned to the unit, crossed his arms and visually counted and recounted the people in the room.

Satisfied he uncrossed his arms and opened the folder, setting it on a low table in the front corner of the room before taking a sheet of paper out of it and turning back to the unit.

[If you don't know me, and you had better, I'm Wing General Orund, Seventh wing commander. This room is a classified area, and you all know what that means. I'll cut to the point here since I hate briefs as much as you do.

[You are all tasked with filling in for your sister squadron on a mission to Earth. Recently the locals have reported sighting of strange craft remarkably similar to Koaku probes and inquiry vessels. Several people have reported being taken aboard against their will, but do not remember much. Despite the hostile actions from the Koaku a year ago the native people initially expected it to be our doing, but after a lot of hot breath and yammering we've convinced them otherwise.

[Now, as anyone who's been paying attention to anything since that damn book came out knows, we've been working on a genetic conversion project for the human species. For all intents and purposes it's completed and ready, so our lovely politicians, never to let a good tragedy go to waste, are only too eager to use the recent Koaku crisis up there to implement it.]

He grinned, and then continued. [Those poor fellows leading on that soggy rock have a problem with dumb determination, and the human race as a whole has no shortage of it. Even after the thrashing they received last year the governments are reluctant to accept our presence in the system, let alone ready to even hear a conversion proposal. I like fire. They know they'd be stomped by the Koaku again and they don't care. These assholes will be good additions if we get them to translate.]

Rika could help but smile. She was proud to belong to race with a reputation close to, as Heinlein put it, "the toughest, meanest, deadliest, most unrelenting-and ablest-form of life in this section of space,"

The general continued, snapping her back to reality. [That is where your squadron comes in. Several Earth-side governments have agreed to host us for a six earth month exercise where we are supposed to assist them in developing tactics, detection techniques, and weapons selection in countering the Koaku.]

Several people looked at each other. Rika knew why: it was like teaching a lone wounded deer how to fight a pack of wolves.

[Now, before you start laughing,] he continued, smiling, [that is not what we will be doing. Since that goal is hopeless, our job will be to help them see that. In other words, for the first three months you will do nothing but clobber the snot out of them in air to air. Be merciless, be creative, be cruel. Come up with ideas using their strengths to try and make it as much of a challenge as you can. It will be painful. It will be boring. The whole purpose of this mission (for us at least) is to force them to understand just how futile it is to even think about facing the Koaku alone.

[Now, we've spent the past three years overhauling and heavily modifying a handful of their crude air-breathers with basic gravitation thrust and maneuvering, a very simplified version of our targeting and threat detection, and crude stealth technologies. We *hope* to have these craft ready for delivery after about the third month. Your respective host units will receive three to four craft each, and the original plan was to also supply about the same number of instructors to teach their pilots about the new technologies. Since that's been shit-canned, however, you will be tasked in teaching the humans how to use these new technologies.

[Engineers will NOT, however, be tasked with maintenance of these additional craft, so vessel commanders need not worry about a drop in craft readiness. The maintenance team will be augmented with your squadron, however, since it is in our best interest to not let this technology fall into the wrong hands.

[The goal is let them see what we have to offer them on the side of defense, while making them realize that even with these significant improvements they have only been raised from a snowball's chance in a kiln to a snowball's chance in an oven. It will also be giving them the basic training needed to fly a Farrom, since if we succeed and they agree to be translated I plan on skimming the best off the top and using them add a few more craft to our squadrons without the huge time investment it takes to train a crew. Once again you will be playing red air, and you will continue pound the piss out of them, this time with slightly more of a challenge, if you could call it that.

[Now, your total deployment will consist of a full Earth year. After the exercise you will return to the Trisona where you will receive field provisions and heat-dump positions to facilitate returning to Earth under cloaking. You will be given preselected hiding locations, and the Wavelength1 and Wavelength2 will be hiding in high-orbit providing communications during the interim. Like the DET before the last invasion, you will be providing initial teeth against any attack, as well as relaying any evidence you find of Koaku presence. I don't doubt that they'll all fade into the woodwork the moment the Trisona shows up in system, and will pop back out when she leaves.

[I shouldn't need to remind you that while you are there you are all ambassadors of the rakkan species. You will treat every person you meet with fairness and kindness, regardless of how they treat you. If you do something in self defense, it had damn well better be in self defense, or I will have your tail run through your backside, out your nose and hang you in front of my headquarters building by it.

[These people are uneasy about off planet life, and recent event haven't help that. Due to this leeriness you will all be undergoing an appearance translation treatment to appear human at the end of your pre-deployment training, and you will be issued a second set of flight equipment for your new form. You will be familiarized with human vehicles, machinery, customs, law, and, heh, culture. Good luck with the last one. After the initial six months you will be restored to your normal shape for the remainder of the deployment.

[As part of the training you will all learn english fluently. You will take this seriously as all atmospheric traffic planet wide is communicated in that language. Those of you in the United States, Great Briton, and Australia, well, you're lucky, since that's the local growl. The rest of you will also need to learn the language for that nation, and we have teams coming in to conduct that training as well.

[While on planet you WILL NOT make any mention of the intent to convert the human species, the CFS Trisona, CFS Wavelength One and Two, and of course the number of Farrom's on Earth, Rakkan forces in the system, so on and so forth. I cannot stress enough the importance of how sensitive the topic of conversion is up there. I would rather you give back seat rides in your vessel than disclose that information, and we all know how classified that is.] He gave a stern look around the room, making eye contact with everyone. [Are there any questions?]

Rika was dumbstruck. She was headed home, and as a human. It was something she had only dreamed of on occasion, and never thought possible. She wondered briefly if she would be able to see some of her old friends. But how would she explain her absence, or the bizarre and interesting experience she had? They would think she was high.

Or would they? The way the general talked it sounded like earth knew of their presence. Well, the government knew. That didn't say much for the people. There were several officers asking stupid questions like restrictions on things they could bring and what they would be training against, so, despite all her training against it, she put her hand in the air.

[Yes, you.]

Rika stood at attention, [Sergeant Yasoi, Farrom Eight sir. Are the people of Earth aware of our presence, or just their governments?]

The general stared at her for a few seconds, open mouthed, before closing it and staring at her.

[Sergeant Yasoi... Sergeant Rika Bendrin Yasoi?]

[Yes Sir.]

He sighed. [I knew there was a reason I avoided this unit for the deployment.] A frown came over his face, briefly, before crystalizing in a blank expression. [It's too late now though.]

The Sergeant's Commander had stood to discipline Rika, but the General waved him off.

[No, no. She has a good reason to ask. In answer to your question, Sergeant, no, they do not. The governments of Earth are afraid that publicly acknowledging us would cause panic among the people. We are not to broadcast that we are not from Earth aside from the aeronautical clobbering, but we have no intent on hiding our presence or who we are, either. Do you understand Sergeant?]

[Yes sir. Thank-you sir,] she replied, taking her seat as the general looked for another hand.

[Oh,] he began again, turning back to her. Was that pity that flashed in an eye? No. It was just her. [You will not be returning to your former form on this trip. The rakkan genetic manipulation project has had a lot more development than the human side, and manipulating yours again after the extent you've already gone through is far too risky on your life. I hope you didn't get your hopes up. Your Commanding Officer will brief you further.]

Rika fought to keep from slumping in her seat, crushed. As she stood at attention while the general walked out tremors ripple down her legs which grew into quivering, and then shaking as she sat down again. No one bothered her. Even the Sergeant's Commander, who looked for reasons to scream and yell and chew someone's tail, said nothing. Instead he watched her with disbelief before following the Commanding Officer's beckoning out of the room.

There was an arm around her shoulder. She looked to her left and found herself looking into the pair of dark blue eyes that belonged to her friend.

[Are you ok?] She asked.

[I will be,] replied Rika. [It was one hell of a rollercoaster, that's all. I was stupid for believing it.]

[I can't believe you're really human.]

The voice came from her right, along with the putrid smell of booze that washed over her. Slosh was living up to his callsign.

[Trust me, she is.] Said Gamun, [I saw her right off the ship from Earth. Come-on Rika,] urged Gamun, [you're not stupid for getting your hopes up. Maybe someday they'll develop the human project better and you can get yourself changed back for a visit.]

[Eh,] she shrugged, [it's ok. I wasn't planning on ever getting to see them ever again when I left. At least I'll be able to mail them a letter while I'm there, or call them or email or something.]

[Yeah, and maybe they have another way for you to visit people. Maybe special provisions could be made,] said Macksan.

Gamun snorted, [Yeah, provisions like 'Sergeant Yasoi is permanent ship-watch'.]

[Nah, I bet they have something, even if they just bend to rules so you can go see a few people.]

The wave of booze smashed over her again, making her cough as she sat up.

[Thank-you Macksan, but it's not like I can wear a mask. How much did you drink? You could light your breath on fire.]

He grinned, [Lots!]

[Well try not to breath on anyone, I think our break is almost over and tonight's operations brief is about to start.]

He sat back in his seat, still looking at her. He shook his head once, saying [That is so cool,] before getting lost in thought as people began coming back in the room.

[You know,] said Gamun, [We're all going to be looking to you for advice. I'm going to be asking you how to dress and what to do and how to talk and everything... If you want me to do anything for you, you know, like go out and get you something just let me know.]

Rika smiled, [Thank-you, it's still months away though. A lot can change.]

People finished filing into the room. The Commanding Officer had performed his usual magic trick: showing up in a room without the person watching the door noticing.

[Our area of operations,] Flick began, [is actually about five hours behind us. We will be familiarizing ourselves with some of the human air craft we will be flying with, as well as observing their flight characteristics. Despite missing a lot of things we deem essential, like multi-spectrum radar and HASS, you will be surprised at what they can accomplish. To put this in perspective we will be under similar constraints tonight. Engineers, you will be setting the ships G-limiter to thirteen. Individual HASS feedback settings are to be set to one-to-one, with an emergency lock-out limit of ten. That's for ALL seats, including your own. No exceptions.]

Captain Bagom whimpered. Rika grinned, feeling sadistic. She had gotten to fly with an aerobatic pilot once, and knew somewhat of what forced could be expected when maneuvering at high speed. Farrom crews relied heavily on the HASS. Sure, they retained enough sensation for feedback, but never anything substantial. She had once turned up the ratio on the WSO's seat enough that he felt the crushing force of eight times normal gravity to prove a point, but the rest of the crew never experienced anything over four, six at most if she was doing her job.

[Also,] continued the commander, [while Earth side you will not fly above six times the speed of sound. Adjustments will be made to that number as the exercise there continues along with the HASS system and G-limiter, and you will be informed then to adjust the limitations on your craft when that time comes. Also, because of the Koaku presence and the deep system patrols you will be wearing your Enviro flight suits for all of these missions, which means you will be exclusively using those suits for all of our work-ups from now on.]

The room silently groaned. Enviro suits stripped the wearer of any dignity what-so-ever. Composed of suit, boots, gloves, life support backpack, and a helmet with face shield, the suit was designed to interface with the ship, provide life support in the event of of a loss of cabin pressure (there is no airlock on a Farrom) and monitor vitals. Due to cramped conditions aboard the vessels, the suits were designed to be self-sufficient if need be could be lived in short to medium term. Despite them being comfortable once accustom to them, this meant that there was an intense period of violation and discomfort as the suit positioned certain components of itself into the wearer upon activation.

Engineer's suits also had the added bulk of armor, redundant life support, and tool pouches and holsters to allow them to make emergency repairs on the outside of the ship in a vacuum. While the life support backpacks were considered tiny compared the bulky things used by astronauts in the late twentieth century -only about the size of a very large chemistry or physics textbook- that didn't make them light weight or allow the wearer more than minimal twisting of their torso. The suit also had a nasty safety feature: It would lock the moment the vessel left the ground. It was designed to prevent the suit from being unsealed on accident or in a panic while in a vacuum, and manual locking would cause it to seal to skin where anything was missing: boots, gloves, or if only the helmet was on: neck. This wasn't damaging, but it was painful.

This also meant that if one was swapping crew between flights, or if the crew of three vessels were synchronized (as in all using a closed network between them), if a vessel departed again the other engineers had better hope they were out of network or undressed or they would have to wait until the vessel returned. Rika only had to wear her suit to bed once to learn to be vigilant about removing herself from the network after securing the vessel.

Rika sighed. At least she would be going back to Earth. She could send a few emails, maybe write a few letters (Since she imagined her all of her email addresses would probably be flagged as spam by now. Was she a missing person on Earth? Not like it mattered now...), and if she could remember phone numbers maybe borrow a phone and make a call or three. If she didn't scare Christine away right off the bat, and managed to convince her she was really Rika, maybe her friend would give her the MP3 player Rika loaned her back. If she even still had it. She should probably apologize for acting like a... well, a loser.

After the briefing Shave, Smoky and Lost ducked out so fast one would think they were evading something. Since her command had left, Rika approached the commanding officer herself.

[Sir, I have a question about the deployment.]

He gave her a wry smile. [I bet you do! What is it?]

[Will I be allowed to leave base while we are there?]

He regarded her a moment. His features softened, and then:

[We are not to hide ourselves if approached. I fail to see how you conducting your business off base is parading around our presence any more or less than the horrible faux pas, terrible accent, and lack of understanding the nuances of culture that I'm sure we will display. Aside from your looks, you'll blend in better than we will. You might even use mythology on your side.]

[Thank you sir.]

[You are welcome, but I do expect the crew of the Farrom 8 to be a cut above the rest of us on what I have just mentioned.]

[Yes sir. I'll make sure it happens.]

[Good.] He turned and walked away. Rika went to the door and followed Mallet and Slosh out of the door.

[Hey Flat-Face!] Whispered Slosh.

[What.] She whispered back coldly.

[I just figured out your callsign!]

Rika sighed. This might be a long deployment.

---

Sparks drummed his fingers on his desk, staring at the scattering of papers, tactics manuals, and the scant intelligence on Skinny craft. How the hell was someone supposed to develop tactics against something nobody knew the flight characteristics of, other than A) it was fast as hell and B) it knocked the communications and power out of anything and everything. He had to admit: according to intel they had their priorities straight. What an aging Super Hornet could do to counter them, well, that was another matter. There was a knock.

"Yes?"

Lt. Schmeck opened the door, handing Sparks a thick folder.

"Skipper wanted me to give this to you."

"Thanks Barf, what is it?" he said, opening the folder.

"Something about hosting a school I think. I didn't look at it. Woody mentioned getting some folks in who knew what they were doing."

"Oh?"

Barf shrugged.

Sparks looked down the unit at the top caught his eye.

"Who the hell is FLI-682?"

"Foreign?"

"Obviously, but from where?"

He stared at the paper for a few seconds.

"Maybe the Navy made it up." Said Schmeck. "It could be VFA-204. You know how they like to go overboard on 'Immersive Training' BS."

"Maybe." Said Sparks. "Thank you for bringing it in."

"No problem." Said Barf, closing the door behind him as he walked out. Ira looked at the top paper again.

---

Department of the Navy

FLI-682

CFS Trisona

3517

FV24/C0051

23 TOD 7831

From: Commanding Officer, FLI-682

To: Operations Officer, VFAS-212

Via: Commanding Officer, VFAS-212

Subj: COUNTER EXTRATERRESTRIAL INVATION TACTICS SCHOOL (CEITS)

Ref:

Encl: (1) Frequency Charts used by AAF Spectrum class craft

(2) Koaku craft identification chart B35-9.2

(3) AAF craft identification chart B35-25.6

(4) Requested facilities, AOR requirements, and clearances

We are looking forward to this opportunity to working with you on the development of counter invasion tactics from off-planet locations. It is our hope that by sharing our knowledge and experience with you we might come up with tactics that best fit the capabilities and strengths of your aircraft. Despite this school still being six(6) months away, we decided in share some resources and suggestions for your unit to become familiar with in order to get the most from CEITS training.

Combating advanced spacecraft in atmosphere is extremely challenging and highly demanding. We have found that permanent teams are most affective in these combat roles, due to the ability to accurately predict how team members will act and anticipate their needs when there is little to no time to communicate. This is something we suggest you begin implementing immediately, in order than you might pair your aircrew in the most effective teams as possible. We realize that this is at a great sacrifice to flexibility, but unfortunately we have found no work arounds for this. We are more than willing to consider any alternatives or solutions you might have.

Please familiarize your unit with Koaku and AAF craft in order to aid in vigilance and in discerning threats from friendly craft. We do not want to be mistaken for enemy forces upon our arrival. Communications details will be given and confirmed before our arrival.

Four(4) of our Farrom craft and sixteen personal will be augmenting your unit for the school. Requested support is detailed in enclosed FV24/C0051-4, but in summary: We will need four quarters for officers, access to a maintenance facility that includes a hanger, and an area to place a container for storing tools. We will NOT require any maintenance support from your personnel or supply. Please ref. enclosed for contact information for our logistics personnel.

UNGOW YASOI

By Direction

---

He thumbed through the attached papers shaking his head. It was all nonsense. Sometimes he wondered if the navy didn't recruit these people from Sci-Fi conventions. None of the shown craft could even think about becoming airborne -hell, one even looked like nothing more than lumpy bowling ball. Koaku? Is that what they were supposed to call Skinnies now?

The thing that really irked him was the logistics. Four aircraft, yet only sixteen personnel that were going to manage, train, supply AND maintain their aircraft without any help. He knew from experience that maintenance alone required at least twice that many personel, further evidence of a half-baked training idea thought up by some big wig and not reviewed by anyone who had any idea on reality.

Also, sixteen personnel, but only four quarters, and all for officers? What were their enlisted going to do, sleep under a wing?

He sighed, putting the papers back in the folder. He should show this to Shepard. She would get a kick out it. She was waist deep in trying to resurrect the last two aircraft, which were stubbornly resisting, and attempting to fly the minimalist flight schedule he gave as the maintenance department found and worked out all the kinks from the old jets. No. She didn't have the time to appreciate it and wouldn't for the foreseeable future.

He set the folder on growing pile of papers on his desk. Maybe in a few months he could show her. In the meantime S4 was going to have a fun time trying to figure out logistics for these clowns.

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