FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Base Omega, Northern Front Line: Conningstone County

How they did it, he didn't know.

Why they were doing it, he also didn't know.

What their ultimate goal was, he wasn't sure of either.

He was, however, sure that they were completely off their rockers and headed directly for the court marshal of the century, something, admittedly, he was very much looking forward to.

Carl Smith; Psychiatrist by trade, father of four, loving husband and bottled ship building hobbyist watched, slack jawed as the bright red fire engine rolled up beside the officer's quarters, emergency lights switched off, battenburg print reflecting brightly in the generator powered flood lights and it's powerful diesel engine grumbling softly to itself as it idled.

It was four in the morning and some genius had managed to bribe the local fire department to do them a 'favour' before they had to help evacuate the remaining citizens of Connigstone to the neighboring counties. The favour remained as yet undetermined and Carl had decided that the best way to preserve his own sanity was to stop trying to figure out what had happened to the sanity of the reptiles that formed 150th Battalion.

''Evenin','' One of the lizards greeted him as he dropped from the cab of the fire engine, giving the small brown lizard a friendly nod of the head as his fellow firefighters slipped quietly to the ground in his wake and started rolling up the shuttered flanks of the huge appliance as quietly as possible.

Two spools of fat canvas wrapped fire hose was unravelled and pulled free to their full lengths and dragged around the rear of the fire engine. Carl followed them out of curiosity, wondering where it was that the fire had popped up.

There was no fire of course. Just eight dishevelled Tankers, in full gear, greeting the fire fighters in hushed tones as windows were jimmied and pushed up, and the fire hoses were fed silently into the slumbering building. One of the Tankers clapped him on the back, a huge grin splitting his purple face. The smell of whisky flowed from the man and Carl immediately recognised him as Lucas Davenshire, commander of the tank Drunken Shenanigans. Marcus Devin, another member of Davenshire's motely crew ambled up to his other shoulder, also reeking of cheap whisky.

'' 'gis hand with these bottles, would ya?'' Marcus asked. Another blast of alcohol fumes and Carl wondered how much they'd had to drink between them.

''Whatever it is that you're doing, I want no part of it!'' He hissed, edging away from the scene.

''Nah, nah, nah, yer've sheen t'mush.... T'moosh.... Tooooo. Muuuuch-a! Yeah,too much. Yer've sheen t'much t'wiggle outta it now.'' Lucas slurred in his ear, a devious smile playing his lips as a finger jabbed Carl gently in the chest. He burped gently and swayed to where a cardboard box was sitting on the ground at the corner of the officer's quarters building. He jabbed a wavering finger at it.

''Too 'ammered to loosen 'em by muhself. You. Sober. Halp.'' The last word came out as a mighty burp and he immediately slapped his hands across his mouth.

''Right meow.'' Marcus giggled and started hiccupping.

''And if I refuse?'' Carl demanded, trying to keep his voice to an angry whisper.

The four firemen and eight Tankers stopped in what they were doing and looked at him. Lucas scratched his chin thoughtfully then shrugged.

''Nuffin'. Yer can toddle orf t'wherever yer come from. We won't do nuffink.'' He said amiably.

Carl looked at the assembled lizards, all in uniform, all prepared for mischief and quite prepared for the fallout afterwards. He thought about it. Curiosity won out; he wanted to know what they were up to this time. Hell, maybe whatever was in that cardboard box could provide a solid lead on their thought processes.

He opened the box.

Maybe that lead he was hoping for was elsewhere.

Either that, or they were all desperate for a bubble bath.

''Bubble bath?''

''Yup,'' Said an entirely sober Tanker, ''gonna pump it all in, cold water and all.'' Commander Briant grinned maliciously, picking up a large pink bottle of 'Suds of Fun' and turned it about in his hands, watching as the light from the floods glittered off the bottle's sparkling sheen. There was a total of forty bottles of the stuff in the box and Carl recoiled, horrified at the thought of what they were about to do to their commanding officers.

Then he felt the first tug of a smile at the corners of his lips. He fought the urge down, but he suddenly, very desperately wanted to laugh, thoroughly tickled by the fate that awaited the overstuffed officers who were currently snoring gently in their overstuffed beds.

A small, unprofessional giggle burst past his lips, to freedom. He had used Suds of Fun before. In fact, his youngest child always demanded it at bath time; even a cap full of the innocuous pink goo was enough to turn the average bath tub into a scene from a foam party accident. The Gods only knew what filling up the 1,000 gallon water tank of a fire engine would do. The whole base would reek like cheap perfume for weeks. Months even. And how the engine's pump would handle the substance was a complete unknown.

When questioned, Captain Michaels just shrugged, grinned and said ''We've fed the old girl worse.''

''Like what?'' Carl asked out of morbid curiosity.

''Like petrol.'' Captain Michaels smiled and ambled off, leaving Carl gobsmacked with a whole new view of the local firemen unfurling in his mind's eye.

''Gunna halp or whut?'' Lucas mumbled in some agitation, flailing his uncoordinated hands at the box, prompting Carl to stoop and start unscrewing lids.

''If this goes wrong, I'm dragging you all down with me.'' He said as hands started groping for opened bottles. He started passing them back, watching as the others formed a line, passing the bottles towards the fire engine where Captain Michaels was sitting atop it, studiously ignoring everyone else as he concentrated on pouring the pale pink bubble bath into the water tank.

In total, it took about twenty minutes to empty the cardboard box of any usable contents. The empty bottles inevitably made it back to him to be placed back in the cardboard box in preparation for the required neat disposal; according Sergeant Crae, gunner of Bone King, the box and its empty contents would end up in the dumpster behind the local corner shop, ten minutes up the road. The owner, a hardy old soul who was still refusing to evacuate, wouldn't care, even if Colonel Dawkins showed up blasting accusations at the man. Last time that had happened, the Colonel had ended up looking down the business end of a twelve bore shotgun and had suddenly decided that the argument really wasn't worth the price of a cheap bottle of scotch and had instead sent some MPs around to ''have words with him''.

Again, the shotgun had been introduced and the argument dropped.

Carl had met the tiny, shrivelled shop keeper and even though the man was a ninety-seven year old toothless bag of bones in a cable-knit cardigan and tartan slippers, he was terrifying. No wonder 150th liked him. The old man would easily put a raging Ferroni Shock Trooper in his place without breaking a sweat.

Rumour had it, that he'd done it before...

In the face of that rumour, a mob of angry, suds covered, soft and doughy military officers from up the road wasn't exactly going to faze him. Carl looked down at the bottles. There were no price tags, no labels saying what shop they had come from, same with the box. Chances were, that the box had fallen off the back of a lorry, like so many other things the Tankers had acquired.

He stood up, knees clicking painfully after having been crouched for so long and stood beside the swaying form of Lucas Davenshire as he stared glassily at the firemen. The hoses were in place, the bubble bath was in the water tank and the bulk of the Tankers were dispersing into the shadows to watch. There was a murmer of assent among the remaining Tankers and the gathered firemen, and the diesel engine started to grumble a little louder as the water pump was brought into action.

Lucas hobbled off into the waning night, leaving Carl to stare helpessly as the hoses suddenly fattened up and started spewing ice cold rose-smelling foam. He glanced at his watch and saw it was almost sunrise. Soon, the rest of Base Omega would be up and about, ready to prepare for the day's events.

It took a good five minutes for the swearing to start, another minute for the lights to come on and a further thirty seconds for the first officer to stagger out of the door in a burst of glittering bath foam, confusion and fury. Somewhere behind him, Carl heard the shutter of a camera clicking. He looked at the firemen and found that they'd taken up positions behind their vehicle, where, no doubt, they felt much safer. Carl edged away before the officer - he didn't recognise the man through all the suds and the soggy pyjamas - noticed him and decided he'd be a good target for some spleen venting.

By the time Carl had dodged around the fire engine and holed up in a utility shed across the road with Commander Davenshire and Marty, the suds were at the windows of the officer's quarters, seeping out of the cracks where the hoses had been fed inside. The breeze was plucking tufts of foam away from the building and the cursing officers as they staggered blindly into the open, whisking them cheerfully away down the road. The firemen were still cringing and giggling behind the fire engine, trying to pry the doors open on their side so they could climb into the cab unnoticed.

Sliding silently around the front of the vehicle, Captain Michaels shut off the valves and started quickly reeling the hose in, taking advantage of the officer's distress as they tried in vain to wipe the stinging soap out of their eyes. With practised efficiency, both fire hoses were shut down and wound in. A distraction from a laughing Tanker fleeing across the road bought them more time to silence the pump, roll down the shutters and get the hell off the base.

It had worked to a point.

Colonel Dawkins, ever on the look out for someone to shout at and to bully, spotted the fire engine as it's engine revved. He jabbed a finger at the back of the retreating vehicle, his other hand wiping a glob of foam from his head.

''SOMEBODY STOP THEM! I DON'T CARE WHO THEY ARE I WANT THEM ARRESTED!'' He screamed at no one in particular, and no one in particular responded, as the scene playing out before them was too much to ignore.

Soldiers, engineers, MPs, mechanics; they all came shuffling out into the chill early morning air to find out what was going on. Some of the more up-to-date lizards had their cameras on them. Phones were raised in the air, digicams flashed and video recorders took it all in for future reference.

Eventually, some MPs that valued their careers more than the others did, started after the retreating fire engine, hopping into an olive painted 4x4 that had seen better days. Carl didn't really expect them to be able to catch up. All Captain Michaels needed to do was to turn the sirens on and the moment other road users saw the dirty great fire engine bearing down on them, they'd shift in a hurry then pile back onto the road. It was like a river flowing around a stone, except the stone could very easily run you over and get away with it.

Being half empty and pulled along by an over powered engine, the firemen could easily outrun the military police in their little underpowered rotbox without breaking a sweat.

''Well, tha' were fun.'' Lucas hiccupped.

''Now what?'' Carl sighed, watching the foam float and flutter in the wake of the fire crew's retreat. Lucas patted him on the shoulder and brushed past him, joining the gathering crowd, acting as if he had nothing to do with it, Marty following him silently.

Carl watched the scene for a few more minutes. Ice cold suds, even colder lizards in soaking wet pyjamas and a gaggle of laughing onlookers flooded the street. When Colonel Dawkins looked directly at him, murder burned into his mottled grey and red face, Carl decided that trying to decipher 150th's mental processes and the driving forces behind them was just too much. The fat paycheck and the first class plane tickets out of the country just wasn't enough to make him want to hang around.

He didn't think his own mind could take it.