Snowlit Dawn - Book 2 Chapter 5
#5 of Snowlit Dawn, Book 2: Plasma Charged Revelations
Artwork is by Vindor.
Flashbacks from Marla, revealing how the war started in the first place.
Orbital Hab Ring 3, Habitat 0021421 Admin Cluster, Unity System, 300 years ago
Thin, powdery snow swirled and crunched beneath Major Marla Jorlen's boot covered paws as she strolled up to the building that had became personnel office of the Division 2. The orbital hab ring was, as always, doing an excellent job of replicating the conditions of what would be considered a particularly pleasant early spring day on much of Rageria. In truth, it was really just an almost impossibly massive elongated tube that filled what would normally be a planetary orbit of a carefully managed and artificially generated K class dwarf star, but one had to either know or look particularly closely to even notice they were not on a planetary surface. Of course, all Ragerians knew this basic fact - the Unity system was their capital after all, and their primary population center. Precious few truly wanted to live on a chaotic, natural ball of dirt when a comfortable and predictable habitat like Ring 3 existed; with more than enough space for tens of thousands of years of exponential population growth that treated its occupants to all of the benefits of planet-side life, but nearly none of the drawbacks and risks. How other species could stand living on dangerous planets and just as risky small orbitals was well beyond her-
"For void's sake, Marla!" Tallia exclaimed suddenly, interrupting Marla's description; apparently she had showed up in the mess for some coffee. "What are ya doing, spouting off Ragerian propaganda to Dorrin to get him to move there?"
"Dorrin asked me to tell him a story," she huffed defensively, turning her virtual nose up at the coyote, as her puffy, holographic, fox-like tail flicked behind her, "and Unity is like nothing that exists in this sector!"
"Clearly," Dorrin replied, rolling his eyes, "it does sound interesting, but you sorta are starting to lay the superiority angle on a bit thick there... I get it, your habitat rings are wonderful places for Ragerians to live, I want to know what happened back then and how it led to the war, not get a lecture on your incredible gizmos."
"Right, I'm sure you can ask your girlfriend all about Hab Ring 3, she is from there after all, may I continue now?" Marla barely waited for a nod before once again continuing.
In spite of it being such a pleasant day, Marla wore a somewhat frustrated frown as she stepped into the warmer and undecorated foyer of the building, and up to a reception desk. She knew her application had been selected for a leadership position within the new branch of the Ragerian Regulatory forces, but unlike Division 1, Division 2 had a mission much less palatable to Ragerians - instead of researching, managing and implementing tools and techniques for making sapient life more safe, comfortable, and fulfilling, it's purpose was to ensure Division 1 could continue to do that in what was an increasingly hostile remote sector of space. Apparently, some particularly moronic sapients either wanted to force Rageria to cancel their various aide projects in their local space, steal dangerous technology they didn't understand, or both. Division 1 wasn't about to give up on their mission objectives just because of some whiny idiots, especially since those bespoke whiny idiots often were the ones who had the most to gain from Ragerian aide.
"Ah, Major Jorlen," a Secretary behind the desk spoke up, a contagious smile on his silver furred maw, "the Chief of Staff is expecting you. Room 141, down the hall and 3rd right."
"Thank you." Marla replied as she nodded briskly, quickly following the directions she'd been provided. The door to the office was the standard synth-wood paneling, with a holographic plaque next to it reading "141 - Private Interview Room". Interesting that the Chief herself is conducting this interview... Marla thought, pausing for a few moment's before politely knocking on the closed door. Since when was a Major not even 150 years of age worthy of that consideration?
"Come in." A almost weary sounding female voice requested more than ordered as the door slid open, revealing two chairs and a coffee table, on which a pot filled with the appropriate hot beverage rested, along with 2 mugs, various natural sweeteners and creamers. In the far chair sat an thin, gray furred Ragerian. Marla has seen enough pictures to know that Chief Kaslas once had had a thick coat of shiny auburn fur, but 500 years of life still had a way of causing such changes, in spite of how good the AIS was at keeping people otherwise functional.
"Major Jorlen," Cheif Kaslas began, pouring a cup of coffee and handing it to Marla, "I must admit we were quite surprised that you would choose to apply for service in Division 2." Marla accepted the coffee from Kaslas, her own gloved smoothly taking it from her superior, who also kept her hands covered to avoid inadvertently sharing complete thoughts, as was customary. Still, Marla could sense Kaslas was... slightly confused, but hopeful about something, something that seemed to have been bothering the elder Ragerian for a while.
"Somebody has to take on key duties," replied Marla diplomatically as she sipped the coffee, and half smiling, "why do you find it surprising that I would step up to fill a void, like any good Ragerian?"
"A few reasons, Major, the first of which is your rank. Would you care to guess how many Captains volunteered for Division 2?" The chief's smile was pained, and Marla could already feel the knot in her own stomach tightening further.
"I'd imagine you probably have at least a few dozen..." Marla began, only to stop cold as Kaslas chuckled bitterly. Clearly the guess had been way off the mark.
"Before I tell you more... I am very good at reading young adults, Major, and I have your file. Your current posting is as a Research Aid for the Inter-Sector Wormhole Transport Authority, quite a level of responsibility for such a relatively young officer as yourself. Are you dissatisfied with your post?"
"Of course not," Marla replied honestly, as Ragerians tend to, "and I know I'm doing more than many my age. It's just... I want to do more. At some point I'd like to be a team lead, if not project lead, and I'd rather not wait until I'm nearly 400 years old. Getting the experience the Expert Council wants takes a lot of effort, and I'm barely scratching the surface where I'm at now. But... now I'm too curious, how many Captains applied anyway?"
"I'm afraid we had a grand total of 3 who volunteered, one of which was rejected due to known emotional instability. Which brings me to the problem we face right now, one that could prevent Division 2 from ever getting off the proverbial ground."
"Not enough volunteers?" Marla guessed, rather surprised, as even the least popular or appealing posts would usually attract candidates who could grow into the role. Ragerians would, when necessary, take on duties they didn't care for if they were shown it was necessary to do so.
"Oh no, we have plenty of volunteers... what we are lacking is sufficient leadership material."
The Major nearly choked on the coffee she was drinking, forcing herself to swallow awkward and cough. "Am... don't tell me I'm the highest ranking volunteer."
"I'm afraid you are, Major," sighed deeply, "and with the orientation deadline as it is, I am forced to make a difficult decision: do I tell Division 1 they must delay critical projects, many of which entire colonies depend upon whilst we reassign leadership, or..." she paused, looking straight into Marla's eyes, almost as though the next statement was a demand, "do I promote the most experienced candidates we have and hope they grow into their new roles?"
"I uh, Chief..." Marla began, shivering slightly as the implication of being the highest ranking candidate in this scenario fully dawned on her. By the Order, if this means what I think it does... she thought before finally finishing her statement. "I'm not ready for this, honestly I don't even want this, if you're meaning to do what I think you are."
"I suspect you are correct, and I have made my decision, General Marla Jorlen. You will receive your new clearances, orders, chain of command documents and other information we feel would be useful to you in a data packet shortly. Be prepared to deploy your new forces in a month."
"How ironic," remarked Ellia, who had joined Dorrin during the story, "that you complain so vehemently about my age when you were in a similar position yourself."
"You know just how well it went for me, Ambassador..." Marla sneered with a slight growl, "do we have any more comments from the peanut gallery?"
Tallia and Dorrin both shook their heads, as Ellia folded her arms and huffed. "Very well," Marla continued, "so I went straight home, to give my primary mate the news in person..."
Jorlen Residence, Hab Ring 3
Roland Jorlen almost dropped the large plate of salad he was carrying to the table as Marla stormed in through the front door, and his light brown fur to stand on end. "M-marla dear," he panted as he hurriedly sat down the salad, rushing over and holding her muzzle in his bare paws, {what's wrong?} He continued the conversation mentally, at that was quicker, and as mates they kept nothing from each other.
{Roland, I've been assigned to Division 2 as leadership.}
{But... isn't that what you wanted, dear? You don't feel happy?!}
{Oh, I'd have been happy if they had say, given me command of a patrol ship, but they made me the General in charge of the whole void damned division!}
"By the Order..." he sighed, his ears and tail drooping as her emotions and the rationale behind them flooded into him, and he stopped touching Marla's face. "Maybe... maybe this can be a good thing. I'm getting deployed to the same sector you're going to be operating in, do you have any say of where you're headquartered?"
"Rolland, I..." she stumbled over her words, shaking her head, "I don't know for sure, I have no idea what I can, will or should do!" She shuddered, her legs feeling weak as Rolland circled behind her, and wrapped his arms gently around her waist, steadying her and leading her to a large, fluffy sofa facing the window that faced out towards a nearby park. A pair of rainbow birds, small seed and insect eating avians native to the ancestral Ragerian homeworld, hopped about in the branches of a nearby dwarfwood tree, pleasantly singing to each other. Their black feathers shimmered in the afternoon sunlight, creating a prism-like rainbow effect when it hit with the correct angle.
"How long to do you have to prepare?" Reese asked, nuzzling Marla as the two started to relax from watching the nearby wildlife... if you could call carefully controlled and cultivated flora and fauna wild.
"A month," she groaned, burying her face in his thick chest fur for a moment, {the Chief sent me thousands of pages of documents, how in the void am I going to even get up to speed before we ship out?}
{I've seen you chew through more in a week, dear.} He chuckled, kissing her cheek softly. {And I still have over 3 weeks of leave left, we can sort this out together.}
"I knew there was a reason you were the one I wanted to have my pups with." Marla smiled gently, her tail wagging playfully. {But, on that note... given the new situation, I think it's best we hold off on pups until my new division has the stupid yokels under control.}
{I'll manage...} he grinned playfully, stroking her fur a bit more enticingly, {surely you can send me pictures of-}
"Gaah, nine hells, what did I walk into!" Gerard exclaimed, turning towards Marla as he glared at her. "I really don't think aaanyone here needs an education on... that subject."
"Oh fine, be a frostslide, will you?" Marpa grumbled, shaking her head at what was now the 3rd interruption to her story and one of the best parts, too.
"Marla, I asked about how the war started, not your romantic interests," Dorrin sighed, "can you please get to that important detail?"
"I distinctly remember you asking me to tell you 'everything'... but very well."
Division 2 Regional Command, 6 months later
The coffee in General Jorlen's mug had gotten cold hours ago, but that was the least of her problems as she scanned various projection displays. It was bad enough that some rebellious Otterians has boarded Division 1's Gravity Manipulation Station, claiming they had sovereign authority over everything in their home system; but they had also taken the orbital restoration team hostage, including Vincent Jorlen, her own father. What do those loony rudderbutts think they're doing? She snarled under her breath, watching the feed from her Recon ships. That does it, I was going to see if I could talk the Expert Council to allow one Otterian observer aboard - not happening now. Let's scruff these spoiled pups and get this over with!
"General, the Quantum Lens is in position," Lt Colonel Twilight addressed Jorlen, telling her what she already knew from the readouts, "shall I give the order?"
"Proceed Twilight," growled Marla, her tail flicking rapidly behind her seat, "I've had enough of these ignorant children trying to tell us how to do things they don't understand. Teach them a lesson."
"You heard the lady," he called over his headset, "Operation Warped Light is go, deploy the stun droids."
The Quantum Lens, a stealthed droid carrier, promptly latched onto the base, using Division 2 override codes to force the airlock to cycle. Moments later, riot control droids with non-lethal weapons stormed the station, quickly knocking out the Otterians and releasing the captured researchers. This was almost remarkably easy, especially since the terrorists were only armed with weapons that could stun people, not robots. It was only a few tense minutes before Twilight had an update. Still, that was almost unbearable for Marla, where's my father in this? Is he alright? and other similar thoughts cascaded through her mind until Twilight spoke again.
"General," he notified her with a tight smile, "we have retaken the base, the research team is completely unharmed, apart from being shocked by the kidnapping attempt."
"Excellent," Marla smiled, keeping her sigh of relief internal in spite of knowing that everyone in the room was privy to her true emotional state,displaying outward control is necessary in tense situations after all, we can commiserate about this later, "contact the Otterian government and let them know we've found their wayward pups."
Twilight nodded, speaking softly into his headset, then frowning with a puzzled look, which soon turned into a look of abject panic. "Uh, general... we may wish to evacuate the researchers to the Lens."
"Why would we- by the order!" Marla gasped as she watched every Otterian Homeguard ship in the system change course, hard burning towards the station. "Do as Twilight said, now!" She yelped, as alerts popped up on several more screens.
"General!" A comms operator yipped as they hurriedly scrolled through a flood of alerts, "Otterian forces are engaging our ships en masse, all ships in the engagement zones are requesting new orders... Ma'am?"
Marla's jaw hung open in shock, th __is i_ s ridiculous - what ha_ve we done to make the Otterians as a whole hostile? She shook her head, realizing something had to be done quickly. "Order all ships to withdraw, wormhole evac authorized, 1st priority to the Lens, standard ranked priority to all remaining vessels."
"Acknowledged... ma'am... permission to speak freely?"
"Granted Lieutenant."
"Is this... Does this mean what I think it does, ma'am?"
"War? I fear so, Lieutenant," Marla gasped, practically flopping back into her seat and lowering her ears, "I fear so."