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Grass Eaters 3 | 30 | High Value Individuals
🕑 Added 2025-01-01 16:47:01 +0000 UTCNaval Ground Supply Base 34 (Grantor City), Grantor-3
POV: Sprabr, Znosian Dominion Navy (Rank: Eleven Whiskers)
“Another meeting over there tomorrow?!” Sprabr exclaimed at his computer officer as he examined his schedule.
“Yes, Eleven Whiskers,” she replied. “It appears you are very popular with our State Security friends in the Grantor City office. They seem to be… not pleased with your attempts to put up technical and procedural obstacles to transferring Marines to their command.”
“Their plan is a Prophecy-forsaken waste!” he spat. “I bet they won’t even be allowed to evacuate when the Great Predators come for this system. Do you know how long it takes and how much it costs to train a proper Znosian Marine? Even just an infantry rifle unit? They’re meant to kill predators who can fight back, not be State Security goons for when they fail to do such a simple job as pacifying an occupied planet with no organized military.”
“They say the local predators on the ground are fighting back—”
“Ah yes, the Grantor Underground. Those pesky fighters. More evidence we should simply throw the planet into the system star and leave the rest of this barren system for the Great Predators. Instead, we’re throwing good troops after bad, pouring useful Marines down the gravity well when we should be preparing to pack up everything we can down here for the impending evacuation,” Sprabr ranted. “And when did they call anyway? I was in my office all day, and I didn’t hear them call.”
“They didn’t call to confirm,” his computer officer replied. “They can simply see you have an opening on your schedule and put a new meeting there in the system.”
“They can do that now?!”
“Yes, Eleven Whiskers. It is a new thing they can do.”
“Thank the Prophecy for the cutting edge of Dominion technology,” he replied sarcastically. “Or I would if I didn’t know where this particular stupid idea came from.”
“It is from… the Great Predators?”
“Who else?!” Sprabr almost shouted, venom in his voice. “Who else could come up with such abominations and—” After a few deep breaths, he calmed down and asked, “Is there any chance I can stop them from doing that in the future? If they want to summon me over there and make me endure a two-hour drive into the city just to scold me, I should at least get the opportunity to complain before I go. What if something comes up tomorrow?”
“I don’t think you have that option, Eleven Whiskers. They are State Security after all.”
++++++++++++++++++++++++
Sprabr held his armored helmet in his left paw as he approached the motor pool.
“Eleven Whiskers!” the attendant on duty shouted as she stood at attention.
Sprabr ignored her and pointed at one of the other Marines idling by one of the armored vehicles. He glanced at her insignia. Five Whiskers. “You. Five Whiskers. You are my new driver?”
His new driver snapped him a crisp salute. “Yes, Eleven Whiskers. I am Zdurbu, and I will be driving you from now on.”
“How long have you been driving, Five Whiskers Zdurbu?”
“Three years. And about four months of training before that.”
“Not bad. I see that you’re new to my escort unit, but the remainder of your records are somehow inaccessible to me. Where were you stationed before this?”
“Gruccud.”
“Gruccud?” Sprabr asked, startled. “On the front, near the Lesser Predators?”
“Yes, Eleven Whiskers. I was transferred out before it— before the predators invaded it.”
“Ok. What did you do at Gruccud?”
She seemed to hesitate even more before answering, “I drove and escorted high value individuals.”
“High value individuals? Escort? You weren’t a combat driver for Longclaws or Light Longclaws?” That was where most of his drivers came from.
“No, Eleven Whiskers.”
Her reticence to elaborate did not escape his notice. “Which unit were you in?”
More wavering. “I wasn’t in a Marine unit.”
“That wasn’t what I asked. If I wanted to know which unit you have not served in, I suspect we’d both be here for a while.”
“Yes, Eleven Whiskers… I was in Special Unit Zero.”
“State Security direct action unit,” he almost hissed.
“Yes, Eleven Whiskers.”
“And now, they’ve placed you in charge of spying on me.”
“I’m just here to protect you, Eleven Whiskers. Grantor City has become a dangerous place due to… recent unrest. The locals have been defying our rule, and they are not shy about blowing up our vehicles, especially if they suspect someone important like you may be inside—”
“Let’s see if we have a bit more clarity and a little less ambiguity. Do you make daily reports about my activities to Station Director Krelnos?”
She remained silent, avoiding his gaze.
Sprabr continued, “Remember, Five Whiskers Zdurbu, you are under my command as a Grand Fleet Marine. And if you insist on not answering, I can always get on a call with the office downtown. And even if they technically own you, you live here, and I can make your job an absolute—”
“Yes, Eleven Whiskers.”
“To clarify, you do make daily reports to Station Director Krelnos?”
“Yes, Eleven Whiskers. I do,” she answered through gritted teeth.
“And if I were to order you to stop or omit certain things on your reports?”
Zdurbu shook her head. “I’m afraid I can’t comply. My primary allegiance is to the security of the Dominion state, not the Marines or the Navy or you.”
Sprabr nodded. “That’s what I thought. Thank you for your Service, Five Whiskers. I think I’ll have someone else drive me around from now on.”
The driver shook her head again. “This arrangement is not optional, Eleven Whiskers. For your own security, you are not to use any driver other than me when you travel outside the base on Grantor.”
“Not optional? Am I being kept a prisoner on my own base by State Security now?” he asked, mirroring her gritted teeth.
“Not at all, Eleven Whiskers. But until I get orders otherwise, if you are driving out of the base, I am going to be at its controls. I have taken full responsibility for that already.”
“In that case, I won’t be going downtown by ground vehicle today.”
“Eleven Whiskers?”
He ignored her and activated the lapel radio on his armor. “Prepare the transport rotary wing. I’ll be taking off in twenty minutes.”
She gaped at him wordlessly for a few heartbeats but recovered her composure quickly. “You understand I’ll still have to accompany you, right?”
Sprabr looked back up at the spy with a sly smirk. “Sure. But you would not be in the pilot seat. Unless you have rotary pilot training?”
“Is there a purpose to this… deviation? Other than annoying my superiors?” Zdurbu said, sighing in resignation.
“I prefer to be driven around by my people, which you are not. And if they want to waste my time over at the station, the least I can do is be a little petty in response.”
++++++++++++++++++++++++
Grantor City Safehouse Golf, Grantor-3
POV: Torsad, Grantor Underground (Department Leader)
Torsad felt her concentration break with a tap on her shoulder. With a paw, she removed the headset device fitted over her vision.
“What?” she asked in irritation.
“You’ve got an urgent message,” Insunt said, gesturing to her beeping tablet.
She shot a nod to Insunt and handed her headset and control device to him. “Here, you take over the anti-armor drones. Let me know if you see his vehicle.”
Torsad picked up the connection.
“Are you in a quiet place to talk?” a garbled voice asked her.
“Yes,” she said, moving to a corner of her makeshift command center.
“Good,” the voice said with satisfaction. She couldn’t tell exactly which of the Terran operators it was from the voice, but from the satisfied way the “good” was said, she was almost certain it was Kara this time. There was just something in her brain that could tell. “You’ve got a small complication.”
“Complication?”
“Yes. Complication. The Eleven Whiskers is not traveling by armored carrier today.”
“What?!”
“With their new anti-drone defenses, we can’t get our eyes too close to them. But the scheduled time to leave has passed, and our guys on the ground haven’t seen anything leave their Navy base garage outside Grantor City. Instead, our long-range radars spotted a transport chopper taking off just now.”
“He’s flying into the city?!” she asked.
“Possibly.”
“How did they find out?! Did we spring a leak?” Torsad asked nervously. That inevitably happened from time to time, but usually the Terrans were good at catching it early.
“No clue. There was a short burst from the base to their State Security office downtown earlier. It’s gibberish. Our computers are trying to find out what it means, but they’ve gotten annoyingly good with their use of code words on their radios now that they know we’re listening.”
Torsad sighed. “Alright. In any case, our operation’s burnt. I’ll recall our attack assets and prepare to go to ground.”
“Wait, no, hold on. We might still be able to do some improvising.”
“Improvising?”
“The plan is similar. But you’re going to need new tools, and you need to call in a couple more cells.”
“Hold on. We can’t just call everyone in on such short notice! The target’s probably already over the city by now!”
“Oh yeah. You’re not going to be able to catch him going into the city—”
“But we might have a couple hours to catch him on the way back!” Torsad finished for her.
“Ah, looks like I’ve taught you well, my young apprentice.”
“Apprentice? Is it true your people actually have apprenticeships for this kind of—”
“Now, go gather up your cell leaders quietly. And you’ll find a package waiting for you in the safehouse on Fifth Street, next to the old fire station.”
“Will do. Anything else?”
“Nope. Happy hunting.”
++++++++++++++++++++++++
To Torsad’s surprise, the nondescript black hard-plastic case popped open by themselves as soon as she undid the spring-loaded latches. The smell of fresh plastic tinged with a spicier scent of sulfur wafted up into their noses. Neither of them had seen a device like this before, but they both immediately recognized the shape of the weapon and the function it easily implied.
Insunt looked at it in awe. “You ever used one of these before?”
Torsad stared into the case for a couple more seconds before she shook her head. “No. But that will just make our first time even sweeter.”
“How do you suppose they work?” Insunt asked. “I don’t know if anyone in our cell has— has used one of these before.”
She pointed at the small yellow text and pictures inscribed onto the dark green tube. “There are instructions. How hard can it be?”
Insunt peered at the Granti letters for a few seconds, reading and digesting them. He ruminated quietly for a moment and then said slowly, “This isn’t… Znosian Marine issue.”
Torsad nodded.
Insunt continued, “And it sure isn’t Granti or Federation.”
Torsad nodded again, more hesitantly this time.
“It’s the new aliens the Grass Eaters are so scared of, isn’t it?” Insunt asked in a small, excited voice.
“You know I can’t tell you about how we get our weapons.”
“In case I get captured, yeah,” he said, nodding in understanding. “Do you think they’ll work?”
“Do I think they’ll work?” she repeated incredulously. “You’ve put two and two together, but you can’t add it up? Surely you can’t be serious.”
“Well…”
Torsad closed the case with a snap, and gently picked it up with a single arm, weighing its balance. It was slightly heavier than it looked, but she was a strong specimen of a strong species. She pointed at the stack of identical cases stashed in the corner of the safehouse. “Enough gawking at the gear. Grab all the cases, and let’s go find ourselves a good place to set up.”
++++++++++++++++++++++++
When they arrived, Insunt immediately got to work on his headset, directing invisible drones overhead to scout in every direction around them.
Though the twenty-five-story apartment near the outskirts of Grantor City wasn’t the tallest building in the area, it stood at the edge of a high-rise cluster that opened onto a clear view out of the urban jungle. The top floor gave them a nice, unobstructed view to the horizon.
Torsad wasn’t sure where she acquired the instincts to pick such a building to set up her crow’s nest, but it had become close to second nature in the past few months. It sure wasn’t anything she knew before the war.
She tensed as a young male she didn’t know appeared in the doorway of the roof, carrying a tray of steaming cups.
“They let me up here,” he said, gesturing a paw towards the staircase. “Your friends. Here, have something to drink.”
Torsad nodded in appreciation as she picked up a warm cup from the tray. It was a warm herbal drink. Suddenly noticing how chilly the wind was this high up, she gulped it down.
“Good?” he asked shyly.
She grunted in affirmation as she looked the youngster up and down. “What’s your name, cub?”
“Ciurbib.”
“You know who we are, right, Ciurbib?”
He nodded brightly. “Sure. You’re the Underground. My sire says you’re one of the good guys. You’re fighting the Grass Eaters.”
“That sounds about right,” she smiled. “How old are you, Ciurbib?”
“Twelve years old,” he answered with cub-like pride.
She looked at him in surprise. He looked much older, like someone well into adulthood. Twenty, maybe even twenty-five. Perhaps it was the soot in his fur or the lines in his face from the chronic malnutrition. The war and occupation had taken its toll on everyone. “Twelve, huh? Do you remember the time before the war?”
“Bits of it, yeah. I remember my dame,” he said, a hint of sadness in his voice.
Torsad nodded in understanding. Everyone lost someone. Some more than others. She pointed a paw out over the edge, into the city. “You see that over there?”
He traced her gesture. “There? That blue building?”
“No. The rubble pile to its left,” Torsad said, hoping he’d spot it. There were quite a few rubble piles in that area of the city.
“Oh yeah, I see it,” Ciurbib replied, squinting.
“That used to be a school. A secondary school. I was a teacher there.”
“You were a teacher? I remember having a teacher! What did you teach?” he asked excitedly.
“Chemistry.”
“Oh, science… that’s fun. And what happened to your school?” he asked, looking down at the rubble pile.
“The Grass Eaters levelled it the day they invaded. All seven floors of it.”
“Oh… Why?” Ciurbib asked.
She shrugged. “Why do they ever do anything? One of the collaborators talked to their Marines later, to ask why they did it. One of them said the top floor of the school was blocking their line of sight into the rest of the city that our Army was still holding at the time, so… they got rid of it. Luckily most of us weren’t there when they did.”
Torsad thought that he was probably too young to understand some of the words she’d said, but one glance at his face and she knew he understood every word. Not all the damage of the occupation were physical; for Ciurbib, it was to his cubhood.
“Is that why you fight?” he asked quietly.
She gave him a short nod but didn’t trust herself to say anything.
Ciurbib turned back to her. “I heard my sire talking about a new species: the humans — the Grass Eaters called them the Great Predators. Are they coming here? To save us?”
Torsad hated herself that her immediate thought was suspicion. There were spies and collaborators everywhere, and the Grass Eaters were not above using cubs to gather information. She paused a moment, then asked him, “Do you remember the Uprising? About a year after the occupation began?”
He squinted, as if remembering something in his distant cubhood, then nodded. “Yes. I remember there was fighting, down near the movie theater.”
“The heroes of the Uprising chose defiance over extinction. They were wiped out to the last,” she said solemnly. “But… we have something they did not.”
Ciurbib leaned in closer and whispered, “What is it?”
Torsad pointed a claw into the sky. “Unlike them, we have access to information. We can look out into the stars, and we can see the dying embers of this wretched empire. Their grand fleets ruined, their ships and troops retreating like pests and bugs seeking high ground as a rainstorm approaches. We see the light at the end of this deep, dark tunnel, and it is the warm light of the Grantor star, rising over a free Granti people once again.”
A determined expression formed on his face, and for a second, Torsad saw on it the blurry faces of her past students. An eyeblink, and she also saw the fire and passion of a young fighter, the one she saw in the operators of her cells every day. “When I grow up, I’m going to join you. Fight the Grass Eaters. I’ll choose defiance over extinction, like you,” he insisted proudly. “I’ll make the right choice.”
“Oh, cub.” Torsad tried to ignore the moisture in her eyes as she stroked his shoulder. “When you grow up… you won’t have to. I promise.”
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EclipseDragon96
To fight for a better tomorrow.
