FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Eos #5

The Oasis

By Fist_of_Fenris

The Storm Gale shuddered violently at the impact of a shell from a plasma canon. Marthus, who had been in his seat just before the impact, now lay sprawled about the floor in a light form of shellshock. He pushed on the seat of his chair and rose back into, looking around to survey the damage as he did. Sehrab, who offered to help out on the bridge while Skyra was sick and Theron out cold, was also just picking himself up over by the systems console.

Jaavi was turned around from where he was strapped into the seat before the helm. He was yelling something at Marthus, who could only stare blankly as he waited for the ringing in his ears and dizziness to subside.

"We got lucky with that one captain," Marthus heard Jaavi say once he could hear again. "I recommend evasive maneuvers until we can pull back to a safe distance."

Marthus shook the dizziness from his head.

"Yes on the first," he said. "But no on the second."

"Captain?"

"Get us closer."

Sehrab turned around and gave the captain a hard look.

"Suicide is not the answer Marthus," he said.

Marthus ignored him and walked over to Jaavi. Placing a hand on his pilot's shoulder, he looked at the console at the helm. He pointed to a warp signature with an extraordinarily high energy reading.

"What is this?"

Jaavi glanced down for only a second. It was all he could spare between laser blasts.

"Gotta be a warp gate," he said. "They open up with high levels and spit you out anywhere your heart desires."

Marthus rubbed his chin. The ship shook with a much smaller impact, probably from a different gun. Marthus pointed directly to the warp gate.

"Get to the gate now," Marthus said.

"Sir?" Jaavi said with a little fear in his voice.

"What is it?"

"We aren't pressurized to go through a warp gate."

"What does that mean?"

"If we go through there, the ship might implode."

"That's a risk we're going to have to take."

A shell streaked by the window. Jaavi crossed his scaled fingers on one hand and with the other, directed the ship towards the gate. It appeared to be some sort of blue liquid. A raider ship not much bigger than the Storm Gale appeared to be preparing to go into it.

"That ship down there is about to make the jump through the gate," Sehrab said. "All four engines are charging."

"Now Jaavi!"

Jaavi pushed up on lever on the console and the warp engines whined to life. The Storm Gale started picking up speed from a crawl to a moderate pace to a streak, and finally hit warp, just as Marthus saw the other ship streak into the gate. The gate remained a few seconds after the raider ship disappeared, and then began to close. The Storm Gale streaked closer. Marthus held onto the back of Jaavi's chair with a nervous grip. He held his breath. Just as the gate got to a size where only a small ship could get through, the Storm Gale shot inside.

The crew on the bridge was immediately surrounded by a light show very much like the aurora borealis. Heavenly greens and reds and blues and yellows and all manner of impressive colors surrounded them. It was enough to draw the three on the bridge to stare out the window rather than at their console.

Marthus was eventually the first to regain his focus. Something about the ship felt wrong; it was as if the pressure had suddenly changed or the temperature had gone up.

Sehrab's console beeped. Sehrab swung around.

"We're loosing the sensors," he said.

"What's going on?" asked Marthus.

"Pressure from the outside is crushing down on the ship."

Marthus turned to Jaavi.

"How much longer?"

"I have no idea, captain," Jaavi said. "Maybe you should get outside and check."

Sehrab turned back to his console. Data was pouring in at a rapid pace, almost too fast for him to process. One bit managed to catch his eye and put his heart at a tempo it was never built for.

"Hull integrity is at twenty percent and falling," he said, almost choking.

Alarms went off all over the ship, each one adding a little more to the cacophony around the bridge. The noise was deafening

"We've got to get out of here!" Marthus said.

The metal on the Storm Gale began to creak and snap. The metal planks on the hull were collapsing.

"We're going as fast as we can!" Jaavi insisted. "Any faster and we'll risk blowing out an engine and being stuck here."

"I like those odds," Marthus said, scared out of his wits yet still managing some composure. "Forward all speed."

Jaavi looked back with a questioning look, and then did exactly what he was told. The ship picked up a little speed, but it didn't last long.

The metal on the bridge had weakened and was now crushing like an empty tin can on a hot stove. Jaavi screamed, Marthus hit the floor, and Sehrab sat at his post, hardly aware until the last second.

The bridge as well as the rest of the ship was consumed in a bright white light that blinded them. Marthus felt his consciousness began to give way. He looked over at Jaavi; the draco was already snoring like a baby. When he looked at Sehrab, his glance was returned. The werewolf was still awake, though he appeared ready to drop into a deep sleep at any minute.

Marthus's eyelids grew heavier and heavier until gravity took over and closed them for him.

***

"Captain Marthus Arnold Longshanks, you are hereby charged with actions which lead to the death of thirty-four brave sailors and a score of marines," the words were clear and concise, coming from the mouth of an admiral. "These charges do befit and require you be stripped of your rank and cast out of the Central Human Government's naval outfit. Do you wish to protest these charges?"

Marthus stood in the middle of a crowd of officers and sailors of many a rank. There was hardly a body there that wasn't in uniform and standing at attention. The faces of the crowd were sober and unchanging. He felt overwhelmed beneath so many sharp glares.

A rain poured down, soaking his jacket until he could barely stand up in it. He didn't mind it much, as he was numb to any distractions for the time being.

"Do you protest the charges or not Captain?" the admiral repeated impatiently.

Marthus sighed.

"I do not sir."

"Then you are to be stripped of your rank and discharged from your service in the Central Human Government."

The admiral saluted. Marthus returned the salute until the admiral said "at ease." Then he pinned his arms to his side and marched forward until he was right next to the admiral. A drum pounded out a simple beat. The admiral began stripping the uniform. He started with the rank patches and moved onto the awards Marthus had gotten in recognition of his service. One by one, every badge and patch and marker floated to the ground mixing with the rain and the remainder of Marthus's dignity. Finally, the admiral came to the last badge. On it was a blue planet with green and white landmasses meant to represent Earth; the symbol of the CHG. The admiral peeled it off slowly, and then he held it up to the crowd.

"You are here by discharged from the naval forces of the Central Human Government and sentenced to hang by the Naval Court Council."

Marthus's eyes went wide in shock.

"That was not part of the punishment read to me," he protested.

Two men stepped forward and grabbed his arm. The crowd cleared out to reveal a mechanized gallows.

"It does not matter whether it was told to you or not," the admiral said, dropping the formal tone in favor of an angrier one. "You're going to hang for what you did."

"You can't do this," Marthus said, struggling against the men holding him. "It isn't legal for god's sake!"

"I am the law in the Navy captain. What I say goes. You got a lot of good young sailors killed, and I want to see you hang for it. So you'll hang."

The men holding Marthus dragged him up to the gallows. Marthus became frightened, searching for any avenue of escape. They got him up to the noose and forced his head through. Just as it all seemed hopeless, a new voice rang out in the crowd.

"You will release that man right now," a female Azrulian said forcefully. She only now seemed to appear at Marthus's most desperate moment and appeared to him like a six-limbed angel of mercy. "That man is under the protection of the Azrulian government. Hanging him will be an act of war upon my people."

"Ambassador Ginasa," the admiral snarled. "What is the meaning of this?"

A few more Azrulians forced their way up through the crowd and approached the mechanized gallows. They took the place of the men set to hang Marthus and instead freed the disgraced captain. Marthus collapsed on the floor of the gallows, clutching his neck in mental anguish at the very thought of being hung.

"The situation has already been explained to your superiors in the war department," Ginasa said. "I don't have to tell you a damn thing."

"That's hardly fair," said the admiral, clearly pouting.

"No, I guess it isn't."

The admiral appeared infuriated, but he said nothing more and instead ordered his men to stand down. The Azrulians on the stage helped Marthus down the stairs to where Ginasa was waiting.

"I...uh," he stammered. "I guess I owe you one, don't I."

Ginasa smiled at him.

"Come with me," she said. "We will talk about all the ways you might repay me."

She put an arm around Marthus and helped him away from the gallows. He never looked back.

***

Marthus shot up. He glanced around to find he wasn't on the Storm Gale anymore. No where onboard the ship had he found so much room to put books.

Shelves lining walls and forming rows filled with every shape, color, and size of book imaginable. There were a few in human languages and millions in languages more complicated than Marthus could ever hope to understand.

He clambered to his feet and glanced around. Theron was fast asleep on the floor next to him. Marthus shook him.

"Are you ok?" Marthus said.

When Theron failed to answer, Marthus shook him again.

"Are you ok?"

Theron mumbled something into the carpet. Marthus leaned a little closer.

"What was that?" he asked.

"I'm pretending to be asleep," Theron said for the second time.

"Why?"

Theron lifted his head and gave Marthus a weird look.

"You don't see the giant wolf standing over there?"

Marthus looked back and then blinked. He retreated a step back in order to escape the awkwardness of the moment and prepared to bolt. Even as he started to walk away, he told Theron over his shoulder: "No, I can't say that I do."

He explored a few more rows until he found Sehrab reading something with a title Marthus couldn't hope to pronounce. He stared at Sehrab until the outlaw werewolf looked up. Sehrab could easily guess why Marthus was staring.

"What?" he said. "You think I'm incapable of higher thought because of my track record?"

Marthus blinked, shook his head, and moved on past Sehrab. He kept going, working the bookshelves like a maze until he came upon Ginasa, who was awkwardly shuffling through the rows.

She looked at him. They made eye-contact for a split second, and then she looked away. Marthus figured that she didn't want to be bothered and kept moving.

He eventually came to a wall and more specifically, a door. The door wasn't pressurized, nor was it sliding or automatic. It was a simple door made of oak and a brass handle. Marthus experimented with the handle and the door opened to a scene entirely different from the library.

There was mechanics, smoke, cursing, and, more importantly, the Storm Gale up on blocks being worked on. It was not futuristic in the least; in fact, it looked like something out of the nineties. Marthus looked confused. A mechanic approached him.

"Hey buddy," the mechanic said. "Hey buddy."

Marthus looked at him and the mechanic quickened his stride.

"Names Mac," he said to Marthus.

"Marthus."

Mac pointed at the Storm Gale.

"Is that class five, feather weight, Douglass model yours?"

"Yeah," Marthus said. "Could you do me a favor?"

"Sure thing buddy."

"Could you tell me what the hell is going on here?"

Mac began to laugh, though it wasn't a mechanic's sort of jolly laugh. Instead, a scholarly sort of restrained laughter began flowing out of Mac's mouth. Marthus found it slightly disturbing.

The figure of Mac began to fade and in its place stood a man dressed in a plain, black robe that made him look like a monk. He was skinny and extraordinarily pale, and a smile filled his face.

"It is exactly what you want," he said. "Marthus."

Marthus squinted curiously.

"Who are you?"

"My real name is lost to time, but I usually now go by Thomas."

"Ok, Thomas. What do you mean 'what I want?' And for that matter, how the hell do you know what I want?"

Thomas looked as though he were laughing internally at an inside joke. He bent closer to Marthus.

"This is the Oasis," Thomas began. "What you find here is whatever you want it to be."

He reached into his pocket.

"Speaking of which, I have something for you."

He handed Marthus a silver compass what had a single needle and no numbers nor dials. It was plain and unmarked. Marthus could see his reflection reaching out in the untainted, smooth metal as he took it.

"What is it?" he asked, staring at the compass.

"It is a compass."

Marthus gave Thomas an annoyed look.

"I can see that, but why are you giving it to me?"

"Because this is not just any mere compass, this is a special compass. You might have noticed it doesn't point north nor south nor east nor west nor up nor down nor left nor right. Yet still, even now, it fixates even now on a target destination..."

"If you start rhyming, I will have to kill you."

"...It points wherever you want to go. To the direction you desire most."

He began walking. Marthus saw him out of the corner of his eye and tried to keep up, still looking at the silver compass.

"But be warned, Marthus, this compass points towards what you want the most, not how to get there."

"What do you-...?" Marthus began to say before running headlong into the wall. He fell back on the floor, rubbing his head, only then realizing the answer to his question. "Oh."

"I must ask you to use this compass Marthus. Use it to find the one called Paero and ask him where you might find the map of all things."

"Wait," Marthus said. "Who is...?"

He looked around. Thomas had disappeared.

***

Koli ran along the top of the bookcase looking for something valuable to take. His search had gotten him nothing but lost until he came upon a stranger in a black felt robe like a monk's. The man in the robe was looking through a bookcase, unaware that he was being targeted.

Koli laughed inwardly at the ease in which he snuck up on his target. He reached the end of a bookcase and lunged. Before the man even knew that he was there, Koli had gone through his pockets and found something that felt just good enough to be gold.

He rounded the corner of the bookcases and examined the trinket he'd stolen. It was a black headband about the size he might need. It appeared to be of the same material the man had been wearing. In the middle was a golden square with an emblem that seemed to represent three gusts of wind.

Koli bumped into something that felt like a pair of legs. He fell back and looked up to find the legs belonged to the man he taken the trinket from. Koli smiled disarmingly and tried to back up but he ran into something else and spun to find it was the man again.

"Listen friend," he said. "I may look small, but I can mess you up."

"Relax, I do not wish to fight," the man began. "I am Thomas, and... you are Koli, yes?"

"What's it to you?"

"I know what you desire."

"Sorry, I don't do interspecies or homosexuality."

"You wish for power."

"Like I said..."

"Power you can wield. You envy those taller than you."

"No I don't."

"The band you hold has the power to turn them into nothing more than sails in the wind. This band gives the wearer the power to influence the moving air."

Koli stared at the band. He fitted to his head and snapped the back. A tingling went through his body.

"So how does it..."

The man had disappeared.

***

A mountain of books sat in front of Ginasa as she sat reading one. It was something of her own people she hadn't considered before. She read diligently, immersed in the work as though there was nothing more important to her.

Footsteps. The unwelcome distraction entered her mind and refused to leave until she finally looked to her right. There was nothing to be found but books and books endlessly stretching to beyond how far she cared to look.

"Ginasa, Daughter of Xenanthor and heiress of the wise King Desmond," a voice to her left said.

She looked up from her book to find that the voice belonged to a man in a felt monk's robe.

"Who are you?" she asked, trying not to sound rude.

"I am Thomas, the keeper of the Oasis. I have come to give you what it is you seek."

"Might I ask what that is?"

"You wish to help all those who find themselves afflicted. You have no lack of courage or common sense. All that you are missing is ability."

He presented a leather belt to her.

"I can offer you ability."

"What do you mean?"

"This belt belonged to the ancestor of King Desmond. It is an heirloom lost to space, now I return it to this generation's rightful owner."

"What does it do?"

"It grants one the power to take either the form of a lion on two legs or four and gives one strength unfailing."

Ginasa took the belt and slipped it around her waist. It fit perfectly with barely any extra belt left. She looked back towards Thomas only to find he had gone.

***

Skyra crept along a row of shelves, stalking a man in a black robe who had no knowledge of her existence. She drew close, keeping her breathing tight. She knew in her mind the time to strike was coming, and that hesitation would mean her prey's escape.

The man went to a bookcase and reviewed some of the titles, even bending down to look at the bottom row. He selected a book and studied it for a moment, then replaced it on the bookshelf.

Skyra waited patiently. The man stood and looked around anxiously. That was when she struck.

Leaping out of the darkness, she grabbed the robed man and forced him into her gaping mouth. She quickly moved past the man's head and on to his shoulders, feeling the bulge of his face against the inside of her neck. Skyra couldn't put her finger on it, but this man seemed to move faster than any she had eaten before. Before the thought even had time to leave her mind, the man was in her stomach and her belly was bloated full of him. She sat back and purred softly to herself until a hand disturbed her.

"I trust you found that to be enjoyable."

Skyra looked back, straight into the face of the man whom she'd just eaten. She jumped, an action made all the more easy by a flattened stomach. She stood and gaped for a moment.

"How?" she asked finally.

"Is it important?"

"I should think so."

"No, not to you it isn't. You'll do anything, I know it."

"What do you mean?"

"I know of your plight, how your people think of you. I know how your mother gave birth to a still born before you, and what that means towards your reputation amongst your people. And I know you'd do anything to get that back."

"I don't understand."

The man produced a bracelet the same color as Skyra's fur.

"And I know that above all else," he said. "You wish for acceptance."

He took a step forward with the bracelet raised in an outstretched hand. Skyra took it and worked it onto her wrist. It glowed and shrank slightly.

"This bracelet will allow you to become any sentient creature," he said. "All you have to do is touch a member of that species."

Skyra looked into his eyes.

"Why are you giving me this?"

"That is for you to answer."

Thomas then promptly spun and walked away leaving Skyra to inspect the bracelet.

***

Sehrab poured through a thick book, barely skimming and yet still absorbing amazing amounts of information. It was in his nature to learn quickly. He'd rarely gotten a second chance on the streets, so when he did, he had to be ready to take advantage of it.

He was very much involved in the reading, though not so much that he could miss the silent beating of feet. Almost immediately, just by the patter of the walking and the placement of the man's feet on the floor, he could tell the man creeping up on him was male, short, and no one he'd met before. He nervously reached for his revolver only to find it had been taken.

He glanced up. The man was indeed short, male, and no one he'd met before. But there was something else; he was holding a shiny, polished object in one hand. Sehrab's gun. Sehrab squinted, unable to comprehend how his precious firearm had been taken.

"Who the hell are you?" he said. "And what the hell do you want?"

"I am Thomas," the man said. "And I want what you want."

"And that is?"

"I don't know, you tell me."

"A shot of dark Bachlovian Spirit."

A glass appeared in front of Sehrab. He tasted it. It tasted like the best BS he'd ever drunk before. He threw it back and it didn't seem to hit his system quite as hard as he would have liked. That usually meant the person pouring was interested in dealing. You don't pour on your heaviest BS if you really mean to talk.

"Thomas," Sehrab played with the word. "What kind of weird-ass name is that?"

"Mine."

"Good for you. Look, nobody pays off a BS like that without meaning to talk. What exactly do you want?"

"I want what you want."

"Say that again and I will pop you."

"I have watched you and I know that above all else, you desire speed. You wish for sharpness of mind. You dream of quickness of hand."

"I like where this is going."

"I have something for you."

Thomas reached into a pocket on his robe and produced a black, leather glove with a d-shaped whole in the back and open fingers. He put it on the table in front of Sehrab.

"There you are," he said. "All the speed you could ever desire."

As with the others, he promptly turned about and left as Sehrab was studying his gift. When Sehrab looked up, he caught the tail of a robe vanishing behind a bookshelf.

***

Theron remained where Marthus had left him; facedown on the floor, pretending to be asleep. The wolf stared. It seemed to be annoyed in an almost human way.

"You're not fooling anyone you know," it said finally.

Theron looked at it, his face contorted in astonishment. He sat in silence, numb to a pain developing in his back as he continued to strain in order to stare at his four legged curse.

"Yeah, I talk," it said.

Theron nearly jumped as he felt a hand on his back. He spun around to find a man in a robe craning down to help him up.

"The floor's no place for a man like you," he said. "You're no child, not anymore at least. You needn't wallow in the dirt like this."

Theron got to his feet and faced the man. He wanted to thank him, but he found his voice to be too nervous and shaky.

"Thomas?" the wolf said, all but ignored. Theron turned to look back at it.

"Tyr," the man said. "It's been a long time my friend. I trust that if you're back, there is a good reason."

"He's found a way to escape."

Thomas turned to Theron, and glanced back at Tyr before finally focusing again on Theron exclusively. He saw the ring on Theron's finger.

"Theron, you must learn to live with this burden. I am sorry to see someone so young as you to need be entrusted with such a task. But, as you have always sought strength and fortitude, I think you will find that you have found it in this ring."

Theron nodded and looked like he knew what was going on. The wolf called Tyr cleared its throat.

"I trust the items have been given to the others?" Tyr asked.

"Your passage is safe," Thomas assured him.

"Then there is no time."

"You are right old friend."

Thomas turned and began to speak. And as he spoke, he spoke in a voice that all those wandering the library could hear.

"Take these, my offerings," he said. "And may you find what it is that you desire."

He clapped his hands and the crew of the Storm Gale was once again engulfed in a bright and blinding light. When it receded, they found themselves on the bridge of the Storm Gale.

Jaavi found himself at the helm with Sehrab monitoring a console just to his right and Marthus anxiously gripping his chair. He seemed surprised, but he quickly went about piloting the ship.

"What orders, captain?" he asked.

Marthus grabbed the compass in his pocket and glanced at it. Then he pointed a little to the right.

"Why don't you turn us thirty degrees to the left and hit maximum warp and we'll see where that gets us."

"Aye captain."

And with a simple adjustment of the warp acceleration lever, the Storm Gale hurtled off into unknown space and an uncertain future.