Terrorism by Dekhyr (baruch@nynexst.com for the time being) Feb 13, 1994 (C) 1994 R. Baruch. This is a work of fiction, blah blah is intended. Readers are free to take the characters and use them. Electronic and paper copies may be made of this work, so long as the author's name and copyright notice are included. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------- This is the first work of non-erotic furfiction I have written. I've done hard-core erotic furfiction before, but I figure I'll try a new style. I consider myself an amateur writer. But hey, when you've got the creative urge, you go for it. I guess you can subtitle this, "The Adventures of Athanar Varis, #1"... ----------------------------------------------------------------------------- The piercing sound of the door chime woke me from a dream which had just been about to get to the juicy bit. "Oh, for the love of... What is it at *this* time? Lights!" I blinked in the sudden brightness as I rolled off the bed and stomped over to the door of my cabin, yanking it open. "What." The wolf ensign at the door straighted up for his captain. "Sir, we have found Tastari's ship. She is hiding in the asteroid belt. You said you wanted to be notified as soon as we located her." "Right, I'll be right there." I shut the door and began to pull on my uniform. I thought, I really must get this damn uniform tailored properly -- my wings are still getting cramped and my tail is still chafing. Wrestled on the ceremonial sword. Stumbled over to the sink, drank some water. Looked at my reflection above the sink. Backed up to get a full-length view. Turned sideways. Handsome dragon, I thought, maybe now you'll put an end to this bloody terrorism. --- "Cap'n on the bridge," someone said as I entered said bridge. I whirled around to find out who said that. I had already told them that I didn't want all this formality around during war alert conditions, but old habits die hard. I took my place in the central chair, the largest and, I might add, the most anatomically-draconic-friendly chair I could buy. "Open a comm channel to Tastari." Lt. Safern, the female lynx communications officer, glided her fingers across her console, then held up one hand to the traditional ear-mounted doohickey which for some reason all communications officers since the dawn of the Space Age use. "Channel opened." "Tastari of the renegade ship Raski, this is Captain Varis of the E.S. Von Braun. Surrender. Power down your engines and prepare to be boarded or you will be fired upon. You have thirty seconds to respond." Let that murderous turncoat bitch think that one over. The viewscreen lit up with an interior view of the Raski's bridge, Tastari centered. Tastari was a female bat, and it showed. She smiled, needle fangs glittering. "Well, if it isn't my good friend Athanar Varis." She craned her neck to get a better view of my ill-fitted uniform. "Wings still cramped?" Hissing rarely gets into my speech, but this was a pretty exceptional condition. I jabbed a claw at her image. "You've destroyed three industrial worlds, killing billions of people, destabilizing the economies of two civilizations, and you ask me if I'm uncomfortable? Yes I'm uncomfortable. You goddamn hellspawn, if your heart weren't at absolute zero you'd be uncomfortable, too! Power down *now* or you're *dead*!" Tastari held up one claw. "All right, keep your ridges down. Powering down now. Airlocks open." I checked with the weapons officer; the Raski was indeed dead in the water. I flicked open an intercom channel. "Boarding crew, commence operation." I turned my attention back to the viewscreen. "The next time I see you you will be in chains. Varis out." --- I headed towards the brig, anger seething just below the surface. Now maybe I can get some answers. The guards outside the brig acknowledged my presence, all except for the guard facing the prisoner. Not even a captain's presence takes precedence over the cell guard's duty. Tastari was lying on the retractable bed in the cell. She got up as she saw me, the cell guard tracking her with his weapon. "Athanar! What a pleasant surprise! I am honored by your visit!" She sketched a bow, straightened up and looked coyly at me. "Although I must admit my wardrobe is more suited towards ... things other than being a prisoner." She smiled, turned to the side, bent at the knees slightly, leaned forward, and gently caressed her posterior. The guards had removed most of her clothing -- no telling what she might be hiding. I pulled my sword out slightly and grated, "Give me one reason why I shouldn't personally rid the universe of you right now." "I was framed." I laughed. "Is that the best you can do? Do you honestly expect me to believe that patent lie?" "I have proof. On my ship. I can show it to you." "I'm sure. Doctored tapes, forced confessions, no doubt? We have recordings of *you* making statements just before you incinerated those worlds with planted atomics. Are you saying that wasn't you?" "I am. Your real quarry captured me, used a double to perpetrate those crimes, then let me go to be captured by you. They will do this over and over so that their core group remains uncompromised." "OK, so where is this core group?" "I don't know." I swished my tail in annoyance. "Then where is your proof?" Tastari smiled and pointed to her head. "My captors didn't know much about chiropteran neurophysiology. Their so-called broad-species techniques didn't work on me." She sobered. "Some of the other poor bastards didn't make it. They snapped. Their minds weren't altered, they were erased beyond any use." She sat down tiredly. "They almost had me. I was lucky enough to get away with a splitting headache, but my mind was intact. I played along with them. I found out that I was supposed to be released after a double, one of the core members, had done his job. Then I was to be found, admitting to the deeds along with delivering a political message. Killing myself if captured, not surrendering until destroyed." I was silent, thinking this over. It definitely fit the small-scale terrorism that was going on. Bombings at space-ports, government buildings, city streets. All with someone being witnessed in the act, all with the perpetrator suiciding after some silly message. "What was the message you were supposed to give before killing youself?" "That the Regime for Control is determined to bring down the bloody and brutal capitalistic civilizations. That's all." "How absurd. It's just as silly as those other ones -- the Army of God, the Forces of Light, we even had a Judean People's Liberation Front." "People's Liberated Front of Judea. I was there when they did that one." "You could still be lying. Making this all up." "Damn it, Athanar, you've known me for years. I'm a trader -- I live off capitalism. Why the galaxy would I destroy three perfectly good trade opportunities?" It was true -- I *had* known her for years. She was a hard trader, but you always ended up with a good deal in the end. I myself have procured many items from her, satisfied with every item. It went beyond that, though. We had spent enough shore-time together to grow fond of each other. Nothing major. And than *this* happens. "Athanar, listen to me. Use the mind probe on me." I gasped. The mind probe was used only after irrefutable proof of guilt was obtained. Or consent. The mind probe tended to destroy the mind it operated on, even as it drew out the sensory records of those minds. It used to be that a probe could only get at what a person believed to be true. Now we have access to perception memory. "Tastari...I..." What could I do? If she was guilty, the mind probe would show it and to hell with her death. But if she was truly innocent, the mind probe would show that, too. And at that cost... My wings flexed in agitation. "Do it, Athanar. Chiropteran minds are hard to break. It's the only way I can establish the truth of what I say." If it were all true, and if Tastari's mind were destroyed... I doubted that I could live with that knowledge. I flipped open a pocket communicator and took a deep breath. "Medical. Ready a mind probe." Hard decisions are a captain's lot. Sometimes I wish I could just shove it. --- The equipment set up in Medical was powered up and ready. Tastari lay strapped to a pallet, electrodes attached to her to monitor life functions. The actual probe hung from the ceiling, glittering coils faintly humming. When in operation, that probe would scan the subject's neuronal pathways. The raw information would be collected and sorted by the attached analysis computer, and a probe technician would scan through the result to find what we were looking for. I looked at Tastari. She didn't seem so confident anymore. For all I knew, this would be the last time she would be conscious. She smiled uncertainly at me as a tear rolled down her cheek. She said softly, "Athanar. This has to be done. Even if I don't live, it will give you enough information to nail those bastards." I whispered, "I know." Louder, to the technician, "Begin the probe." Then I turned around. I did not want anyone to see the tear which began to well from my eye. The computers began their deadly work. --- Four tiring hours later, the technician signalled to me that the job was done. The probe was turned off. Tastari's sensory memories did indeed show that she was telling the truth. I even matched some landmarks on the planet she was held on to planetological surveys. I said to the technician, "Does she live? Is her mind gone?" "Sir, we won't know for a while. Even if her mind is still there, it may be in a kind of power conservation mode. The equipment here will monitor her brain waves until something can be confirmed." The technician unstrapped Tastari's arms and legs, packed his things and left. I grabbed a stool and sat down next to Tastari's pallet. I took her hand in mine, held it to my face. I breathed, "Tastari, don't let go. Don't let it end like this." The tears fell unnoticed from my face. You never really notice that you need something until it's gone. --- I must have sat there for several hours. The technician came in. He said softly, "Sir, she's gone. The mind would have come back by now." He gently disengaged my hand from hers and led me slowly away. "Athanar." A faint whisper came from behind me. I pushed the tech away and shakily rushed to Tastari's side. "Tastari!" Eyes flickered, opened. Weakly, "I told you we had tough minds." I cradled her head in my hands. The tech discreetly left. "Tastari, I thought I had lost you." Her hand went to the back of my head and pushed my mouth against hers. The strangest situations do this sort of thing... --- Well, we did eventually track down the core of terrorists and executed every single one of them after using the mind probe. Tastari and I took an extended shore-leave together doing all sorts of things best left unsaid. She got me a perfectly-fitting uniform, and even lightened up on the bargaining for it. Eventually we went our separate ways. I had my job, she had her business to run. I knew our paths would cross again; somehow she had always managed to work it out that way. --------------------------------------------------------------------------- Afterword: Too much the space opera? OK, you might think it was all some sappy romantic prose. Or I'm some kind of sappy romantic. So what. It's furry. And it has a dracoform as a main character. That, and a little plot, is all I need... ---------------------------------------------------------------------------