Starfall: Chapter 6: He Came From Outer Space!
Nearly twenty-four hours earlier, aboard the resource ship The Vector, owned jointly by a Private firm and the U.S. Department of extra-solar affairs.
A solid and loud clunk reverberates through the sparse utilitarian stainless steel corridor wide enough only to allow two people to walk. Or hop side by side, considering the crew section of the ship has not activated its gravity rotation yet.
So the ship’s still on the launch station’s sixty percent earth gravity.
‘One cache down for this bulkhead, another to go.’ Mark hops a mere six feet down and grabs a nondescript handle. Well honed and trained muscles easily pulls open a hidden compartment that even under this lower gravity is a difficult task to move.
Flush paneling slides out revealing racks of equipment. Armored suits and Plasma shockers. ‘Lets see here…’ Pulling out what looks like a pen with a rectangular box attached to it, Mark flicks his wrist and outcomes the previously rolled up touch screen from the pen looking part of the device.
‘Three class A civilian combat suits. Just like I suggested to the captain. Nine Plasma Shockers, only three unmodified. Along with twenty spare charge packs. Three grappling hooks for zero g maneuvering. Gas masks and filters. Combat knives.’ Mark makes sure those three unmodified plasma shockers are up on the front row, hiding the modified ones from a casual inspection.
Mark picks up each Plasma Shocker, records its catalyst’s condition and charge level on the now rigid tablet screen in his other hand. Then does the same with the combat suits, picking them up and checking their inbuilt charges. Followed by the charge packs next. ‘Good, everything looks great, and now with kinetic shield emitters on the suits. We’ll have a tactical advantage against any pirates since they just came on the market.’
“Oh come on! We’re not even undocked from the station yet, and you’re doing a gear check. The captain ‘just’ did that two hours ago Mark.” Putting the third combat suit back on the rack, Mark turns, and faces the crewmate hopping over to him.
Mark sighs. “Just doing a double check, always good to have a second set of eyes look over something Jason.”
Jason scoffs, then leans against the frame of the pullout compartment. “You could leave that till after we get underway. Spend the time relaxing or having the traditional send-off meal like most of the crew. We are the closest thing to family you have considering your situation in that regard.”
“Said situation I’ll be correcting after my forth and final run, which is this one Jason. I have no intention of dying to pirates or the greedy captain of another resource runner who’s coming home a little ‘light’.” Mark points to Jason using his tablet with one hand while removing Jason’s arm from the frame with his other.
“You’re one to talk, this is your second run. You came on last run to get money to pay for your wife and son’s medical bills. Now I hear you signed back on so neither you nor your wife have to work again.”
Jason lets Mark move his arm, but takes the cross necklace out from under his shirt. “The good lord will make sure I’m fine. Even then, live or die my family will be taken care of. I’ve seen you at the Sunday masses, how do you reconcile your faith with what you plan on doing? With the what, sixty million you’ll be paid out at the end of this run?” Mark flicks the wrist and hand holding the tablet, the screen becoming pliable again, rolling back into the pen shaped part before he pockets it.
Looking Jason in the eyes, he lets none of the annoyance of yet another repeat of the same conversation show. “Yes I know, a house divided cannot stand and thus one should not turn against one’s own family. Yet they also say the lord only helps those who help themselves. Also, it’s sixty-five million because I opted out from command. No matter how much the captain would’ve liked me as bridge crew this run.”
Jason whistles. “And you need ‘all’ of that to do your little plan? You know your brother and sister will hate you for the rest of their lives no mater how nicely you do this, right? With that money I say suck it up, buy a nice plot of land elsewhere, and TRY to patch things up. I also heard you ditched your parent’s funeral, that’s cold even though they did disown you and throw you out at Sixteen.”
Sticking his hands into his pockets to not draw them into fists over this sensitive topic. “Wouldn't have had time. If I did I would be still rushing to get here rather than have all my gear stored and ready. Besides my parents made it clear they wanted nothing to do with me anymore. So it’s not my fault I view Bio-Morphs as sentient beings and that’s the reason they disowned me. Though I admit it was stupid of the sixteen-year old me to try, and remove that one girl’s collar.”
Mentally sighing, ‘I wonder how she’s doing? Would she even remember me?’
Mark takes a breath to calm down. “I need at least an equal amount to value of the land and the family business, plus any outstanding debt leaned against it. So according to the broker I talked to during our month downtime, that amounts to Fifty million. Forty-Eight for the value of the land, and Two million for the outstanding debt on my parent’s ‘bio-morph’ loan. The ten on top of that is to retire on, for me AND them as a peace offering.”
Jason shakes his head. “Think about it. You’d be better off just keeping that amount rather than doing a hostile buyout of your family’s business, but, hey that’s just me.” He pauses. “And common sense.” Jason mutters before looking down the corridor, then back to Mark. “Look, I’m going to go enjoy the party before we buckle down to the drills and routines, okay?”
“Yea, don’t let me stop you then. Go have fun. I’ll just grab the leftovers.” Mark gestures down corridor.
Jason takes a few hops down the corridor. “I’ll save a seat just in case you change your mind, okay?” Turning and heading down the corridor before taking the left junction, Jason doesn’t even look back to see Mark Shrugging.
‘I’m still surprised he made it past the first run. Though when it comes down to it, he does take things seriously when needed.’ Turning his attention back to the stealth weapons compartment. Now with the official check over, he does the unofficial check of the ‘modified’ Plasma Shockers.
Picking one up he ejects the cylinder. ‘Still surprised that such an obvious flaw got through testing when these were developed. The mechanism for rotating a spent capacitor for a fresh one becomes fragile from the heat given off by said capacitors, breaking and jamming the weapon. It’s been removed from this one and the other six modified ones, sure it means a slower rate of fire. It won’t jam when you need it the most though. I’ll take that over the possibility of getting a few more shots off.’
Inserting the cylinder back into the weapon, he’s about to put it back and check the next one.
The dull thud of the ship undocking from the station draws Mark’s attention to the nearby transparent aluminum window.
Walking up to it, Mark leans against the bulkhead and stares out into space and the sight of the station, along with Earth shrinking away. ‘Next time I see this, I’ll be ready to take back my inheritance. Yea I know Steven will be angry, he’ll get over it. Angela will too, but eventually she’ll come around as well. The hard part will be convincing them Bio-Morphs are intelligent. Can’t free them, but I can let them be free on the property.’ Watching till the station is little more than a small dot, Mark walks back over to the open weapons cache to continue his work.
Midway through checking the third Plasma shocker, the hallway fills with a bright flash. Then the psychedelic swirl of glowing colors fill his area of the corridor. ‘Seems we just went to FTL space.’
[Attention crew. Welcome to ‘The Vector’ and her twelfth run to the Alpha Centauri system. I hope everyone’s getting their partying urges out of their system, anti-boarding drills will be held at sixteen hundred SHARP, this will be the only anti boarding drill you’ll have advanced notice of. Anyone late will be declared dead for the exercise. Hand-to-Hand drills and training will be at zero eight hundred tomorrow morning and every morning on this run, attendance is mandatory of course.] Mark chuckled as he heard the shuffling of paper.
‘Him and his reliance on paper, still he’s the captain, and is allowed some eccentricities on how he runs things.’
[Okay with the official stuff out of the way. I would like to give a warm welcome to all our first year crew. Here’s to hoping you’re able to come back for more and I don’t have to deliver any more body bags back home. Also give a warm welcome to our senior most crew member, besides me and the bridge crew that is. Mark Mercer! Everyone can take after his example, you might just have a better chance at living when we run into pirates or what not. With that, I’ll leave you, my crew, to your departure party.]
Shaking his head lightly, mark gets back to checking the modified Plasma shockers.
Just as he places the last modified firearm back into it’s storage slot, a mild reverberating shudder passes through the ship, causing Mark to pause. Followed by the lights going out.
‘Sigh, an ambush right out of port. Then again we ARE carrying highly specialized mining equipment on our way to Alpha Centauri. A pirate can set up their own mining op with it.’ As the emergency lights bathe the corridor in a harsh red, other than the glow from the windows, Mark’s training kicks in as the ‘not a drill’ alarms blare.
Removing his tablet, followed by his street clothes. In about Thirty seconds, Mark has a combat suit on.
Ten seconds later, he has his tablet slotted in for the suit’s computer, the helmet on and booting while he attaches as many spare charge packs as the suit can hold to himself. ‘Rule one, the more charge packs the better. You never want to be in a firefight and run out.’
Five seconds after that he has two modified Plasma casters strapped to himself and a combat knife. ‘Rule two, always carry a spare.’ By the fifty-second mark he has the gas-mask attached to his face, making the suit air tight, just not officially vacuum rated. ‘Rule three, always expect chemical or gas. It’s a quick and cheap way to dispose of any opposition.’
Mark smiles to himself. ‘Perfect, these things work well.’ The hud, radio and other information blinks into existence just as they hit the one-minute mark. Just as he’s trained to do in such a situation.
“Mark to the bridge, Ready.” Keying the comm’s mark waits. ‘With any luck they breached the forward most cargo hold. I’d be able to get the drop on them then as the rest of the crew scrambles out of the party they can come and flank them.’
Then seconds pass, and he looks back and forth down the corridor, just seeing another crewman heading his way for the weapons cache. ‘What’s going on, the captia…’
[This is an automated message, The bridge is either missing or disabled. The ftl engine is idling, All hands, abandon ship.] It then repeats.
Mark and the other crewman look at each other… Without a word they both rush for the nearest escape pods set in the outside wall. ‘Crap! Gotta get out of the ship, don’t want to be in it when it drops into real-space.’
Hitting the control panel near the window activates the nearby escape pod, once the door opens jumps in, straps himself in, Mark smashes the launch button.
‘SHIT. I wonder how much this is going to set me back…’ The hatch for the escape pod slams shut followed by mark straining against the restraints as it ejects.
He tightens them, so he’s pushed into the cushioning. ‘Not looking forward to the aches and headache from the uncontrolled drop into Real-Space, better than dying as the ship’s torn to pieces though.’
Mark looks out the tiny transparent aluminum window on the pod. Only to grunt as he strains against the tighter restraints. ‘Must’ve hit something… ugh, why do I feel nauseous? I couldn’t have hit my head with the helmet on.’
A second after that, the escape pod’s maneuvering thrusters fire, sending him away from the object and back towards The Vector. ‘Should be dropping back into real space any mome….’ With a bright flash, the escape pods, The Vector, and what he just ran into drop back into real-space.
Once in real-space, the unconscious Mark, along with chunks of The Vector, and a single XSC-113 tail-fin’s catapulted by the momentum of reentry towards the direction of ‘Earth’.
Just as a small rabbit floating just in front of the window on the I.S.S. gawks at the sight of the debris. Pushing himself ‘up’ according to his current orientation, he grabs the nearby communication's headset, putting it on over his long ears. “International Space Station to Mission Control, come in over.”
Joseph sighs, lifting his head from his desk in mission control upon hearing the call. Snorting angrily at the situation, having spent the last several hours doting I’s and crossing T’s for the official investigation, he’s thoroughly mentally spent.
Still, he picks up his headset, places a cup to one of his ears and mike in front of his muzzle. “Mission Control here, I.S.S. you better have a good reason to contact us during lock down, over.”
He snorts again, louder this time. ‘Heh, if this is some trivial thing, I may not be the only one with their tail in a sling.’
More I.S.S. crew crowd this observation port around the original rabbit. “I um… Just thought you would like to know, we’ve spotted some debris. Except it all seems to be some kind of brownish metal, looking nothing like the XSC-113.” The rabbit’s ear’s go flat back when a crewmate taps his shoulder, annoyed at the interruption.
Looking to see why they wanted his attention, the other rabbit only points to the edge of the window from his angle.
Floating down a bit he lets out a gasp. “Correction, Mission Control, we’ve spotted a tail-fin of the XSC-113. It looks like it was violently torn off the main body due to the jagged edges.”
The entire station is quiet as the tail-fin floats by silently on a course for Earth reentry. It and another piece of debris hides Mark’s escape pod from their view.
“This is Mission Control, Thank you I.S.S. Please monitor the trajectory of the debris, over and out.” The moment he stops transmitting, Joseph violently yanks the headset from the console, ripping the cord from the machine, then smashs it against the wall before using both his arms and hoof-hands to sweep everything off his desk to the floor in a single motion.
‘With that, my career dies with Usako Chasofito…’ Thunking his head onto the now empty desk, Joseph no longer cares about his antlers gouging the particle board. It soon won’t be his desk after all.
Thrusters burst to life on the escape pod, orientating it so the rear takes the brunt of re-entry. The noise of them firing wakes Mark up.
‘Ugh, and there’s the headache… how long was I out?’ Glancing at the clock on the HUD, he takes a deep breath, then another. It seems to help with the headache. ‘Okay, that’s good, only about fifteen minutes. Means I must’ve got off lightly.’
Laying his head back he looks out of the small window on the pod at the utter blackness with a few star’s visible due to the light reflected between the sun and moon. ‘Guess, the only thing to do is lay back at wait, not like this thing has controls.’ Some more thrusters fire.
‘At least I won’t have long to wait. Seems the pod is in its automatic re-entry phase.’ Tapping his fingers against the cushioning mainly to just do something to keep his now awake mind occupied.
‘Hmm, I could drop by and visit Steven and Angela. I’ll have nothing better to do as the NTSB takes however long they want to do for the investigation. Maybe I can negotiate something more friendly with them to get my inheritance back? Worth a shot, otherwise I can always sign onto another ship once they’re done with their investigation, then go through with it when I return from that trip.’ Slowly, the stars fade, and the inky blackness of space changes into a deep grayish black of a cloudless night sky.
The pod shakes as small explosive bolts remove paneling on the top and bottom of the escape pod, the reverberations travel through Mark’s head and feet respectively. ‘And there are the parachutes deploying. Looks like I’m on the night side of earth too, oh well.’
Preparing for the rough landing, Mark checks the straps followed by digging his hands into the cushioning to brace himself.
‘I don’t know what’s worse, waiting for it to happen, or being able to see the ground rush up to me. I guess this may be bet…’ Mark’s roughly slammed into the padding as the escape pod makes a rough and sudden stop, while he continues going for a split second.
Groaning “Nope, it’s worse.” Quickly Undoing the straps and harness, Mark grabs the handles on either side of the front of the window. Yanking them back blows all the bolts to the door, allowing him to lift it up, Then slide it to the side.
A splash of water enters the interior compartment after he lets go.
Shooting up straight, Mark looks around in a panic. ‘Great I landed in the ocean…’ Pausing and straining his eyes in one direction he lets out a sigh of relief. ‘Oh thank god, I can see the shore line over there. Still, these things aren’t made to float!’ Working quickly, he opens a side panel and pulls out a rolled up raft, pulling the cord as he hefts it up and over the side.
The compressed canister inside quickly fills the flotation device. With it afloat on the water next to the escape pod Mark crawls over onto it.
‘Come on move faster dammit!’ Noticing the water is lapping at the lip of the now open escape pod. He yanks open interior panels, pulling out everything inside he could possibly need.
‘Generic survival kit, First aid kit, some extra charge packs, a solar charger for them, a map and compass, an empty backpack, rations for about a month, water straw and two-two liter containers. Rescue flares…’ Only for the water to rush into the pod, instantly sinking it, hand just in front of the panel with the tent and mylar blankets inside.
Sighing, Mark takes the collapsible paddle stored on the floor of the raft and starts paddling his way to shore. ‘Of course, everything but the shelter. Sigh, at least it isn’t freezing out. Where’s the other paddle? There’s supposed to be two…’ Grumbling now, Mark alternates the side of the raft he’s using every other stroke.
‘Okay well it’s not an ocean, with my eyes adjusted to the dark, I can kinda see the outline of a shore. So a lake? No wait, it’s an irrigation lake, that shore is too straight to have formed naturally.’ The artificial shore fully comes into view as he gets closer.
Moments later the raft bottoms out against rough gravel. Getting up, Mark steps into the ankle deep water. ‘Well, at least I wasn’t stuck swimming, the water’s cold.’
‘Well don’t need to wear this now.’ Reaching up, Mark removes his gas-mask before dragging the raft just out of the water.
‘Oh that’s good, nice fresh summer country air. Guess this isn’t all bad, I’ve missed this being in a city or on a station.’ Looking up and down the shoreline.
‘Well it isn’t a small lake, but it isn’t a giant one either. Still, big enough to have small windblown waves though. Meaning this must be a large farm, most likely one of those corporate conglomerate ones. Meaning I have a long walk ahead of me if I want to find anyone. First though…’ Grabbing the edge of the raft, Mark pulls it further up the earthen embankment that’s the shore till it’s completely out of the water.
Setting it down, he finds the air valve and flips it open, deflating the raft into a flat bit of vinyl.
Opening the backpack, Mark packs it within an inch of its life. ‘Hmm what’s this?’ attached to the side of the survival kit is a flashlight, looking it over his finger rests on the switch, before shaking his head and storing it in a side pocket of the backpack.
‘There’s a full moon out, bright enough I can see by. It would be a pain to turn it on, literally as my eyes have already adjusted.’
With everything else packed away, and the gas-mask tied to one of the upper straps, Mark rolls up the raft. Then ties it to the bottom of the backpack like one does a sleeping roll. ‘In a pinch I can use it as shelter since the tent is at the bottom of that lake.’
Hefting the nearly forty-pound backpack up onto his back, he looks down the back side of the embankment, seeing a small picket fence glowing ghostly white in the moonlight.
‘A family farm, huh. No corporate one would use such a fence though.’ Turning around he traverses down the slop on hands and feet, careful of his new center of gravity.
Coming to a stop, he stands there dumbfounded. ‘That can’t be right… the fence is only two feet tall, maybe two and a half if I’m generous. This would hardly keep anyone out let alone any kind of pest going after their crops.’ Grabbing a hold of a couple fence posts, Mark hops over it and onto a dirt furrow framed by long rows of bushes.
‘Barely enough space for me to walk here, and the Plasma shockers are getting caught in the bushes.’ Pulling them he holds them above the bushes, so he can walk down the furrow to the other side of the field.
Taking it slow as to not damage the crops he takes in the scenery. ‘Small fence, and a small field, I can already see another fence not to far away. What kind of farm is this?’ Reaching the fence, he holsters his weapons and hops this fence too.
The fact that his boots hit pavement rather than dirt makes him smile. Only for it to falter a bit. ‘Okay now, which way do I go? Fifty-Fifty chance here of a long or short walk to find someone and a ride back home.’
“eni meni miny mo… That way.” Choosing a direction, Mark starts heading down his randomly chosen direction.
‘So, the size wasn’t a one off? Why is each fence I pass shorter than three feet? It’s like everything’s sized for a toddler? Wait, what’s that?’ Coming to a stop, Mark pulls out his flashlight. Shielding his eyes he flicks it on and shines it at a figure in the field on his right.
Removing his hand, his jaw drops a bit. ‘That settles it, I crash-landed in a farm run by midget children. No one else would even think of putting up those old scare-crow things let alone shape it like a rabbit and dress it in overalls and plaid like in a parody of a farmer.’
Sighing, he uses the flashlight to illuminate the road ahead of him. The five thousand lumins it puts out pierce the darkness with ease. There’s a wide curve to the left in the road ahead of him and hilly terrain beyond that. What catches Mark’s eyes though is that something’s reflecting the light on the closest hill.
Lowering the flashlight, Mark walks on at a faster pace. ‘Well, hopefully it’s some kind of structure. Not just some metal sign or trash.’ Keeping the light pointed on the road ahead of him to illuminate any obstacles, he comes to a stop as he approaches the first hill.
Instead of a structure on the hill, the hill is steep and has a structure built into it. ‘How odd, I know it’s a thing in New-Zealand and some parts of England, but who paints the sills in pastel colors too?’
Walking up to a window that comes up to his waist, mark kneels to peer inside using a flashlight. ‘Of a farm equipment storage shed?’ The light illuminating a tractor. ‘Even the farm equipment’s scaled to the same size as the fences. Not to mention it’s painted baby blue. It should be yellow or orange for safety.’
Standing back up and looking further down the road, the light catches a road sign.
[Family and Visitor parking] An arrow points a bit further down the road, to what appears to be a melding of another hill and a typical parking garage.
[Tractor Shed 1] That arrow points in the direction of the hill just behind him.
[Warren rooms, litters J through P] This arrow has a sharp curve to the right, telling drivers to take the small side road just past the sign.
‘Okay, what the hell? I’m getting Gulliver’s Travels vibes here.’ Walking up the sign, the top of it coming up to his head, Mark looks it over.
‘Excessive for some kind of prank or theme park, aluminum like normal road signs. Bolted to steel pillars and set into the ground via concrete.’
Looking back the way he came, then letting out a sigh. ‘Well lets see if anyone’s home, they’re sure to have a guard or something. Considering I’m a visitor, I guess I’ll go that way.’ Casually walking in the direction of the parking structure.
Coming to a stop in front of it, he flicks off the flashlight as he spots the soft yellow glow of incandescent light bulbs inside. ‘At least this part’s sized for adults, probably where they drop off their kids.’ Shaking his head as he steps into what would be a typical parking garage, with a small booth set between the entrance and exit lanes. Both sides have their gates baring entry with a sign saying ‘closed for the night’ in the booth.
Ignoring the fact that the booths windows are way too small for adults and there’s a comically large stool inside it, Mark hops the gate and heads into the garage.
Following the signs, Mark heads for the visitor parking area, but comes to a stop at the fork in the road between it and ‘family’ parking according to the sign.
‘Weirder and weirder…’ While the ceiling heading to a large square, and empty sans a box truck is the normal height for any normal parking garage, the path labeled ‘family parking’ has the ceiling suddenly dropping to four feet high.
Peppered all over the steeply angled concrete ceiling are, hazard stripes and disclaimers that the ‘Hopps family farm’ is not responsible for damages caused by motorists not heeding properly posted signage.
‘Why does the name Hopps sound familiar?’ Shaking his head, Mark walks further into the visitor’s area, in an alcove against the wall, near the truck is a shuttered glass window.
[All visitors must check in] is plastered on the glass, just above a minuscule cutaway on the bottom of the window against the counter. ‘Why is everything scaled to child size or smaller?’
Above it hangs a sign saying the visitor’s booth’s closed and family can drop their keys in the drop box. Looking over to the side of the window, he sees a small drop box against the wall. Tapping the box results in metallic jingling.
Reaching up, Mark scratches the side of his cheek. ‘This is all a bit excessive for a family farm. It’s almost like an office campus or university setup…’ Looking around, he finds the only door ‘locked’ that’s after staring at it for a good minute out of confusion.
‘Who builds a door, within a door, within a door?’ The full size of the door is human sized, with the handle where it normally is. Inside ‘that door’ and part of it where it would normally be blank, is another door frame. Same proportions as the larger door, only scaled down to four feet tall. Even with a similarly proportioned handle.
Then inside ‘that’ door, is one scaled to be less than a foot tall with its own minuscule handle. Out of curiosity, Mark checks the other two door handles. Both are locked, though he was careful with the smallest one. Even using his finger to gently test it made him feel like he was going to break it off with ease.
Walking around to the front of the box truck while shutting off his flashlight, he gently sits down on the bumper causing the shocks to squeak loudly.
‘Okay, so lets review. I’ve landed in a highly organized farm appearing more like a campus. It’s all sized for people no taller than four feet if that! Litters, and the name… Hopps….’ Shooting straight up to his feet, Mark dashes to the fork in the road, stooping down to enter the ‘family’ parking area. ‘Please let me be wrong…’
Occasionally his backpack scrapes against the ceiling, or he has to take a roundabout path to avoid snagging it on a light fixture.
Following a small area painted on the concrete to indicate not to park here. He sees row upon row of cars, trucks, suv’s and motorbikes.
Each one scaled to allow a rider who’s three feet in height or less to operate. Quickly he checks each vehicle to see if there’s one unlocked.
‘Finally…’ Opening the drivers side door, Mark starts looking through cuby holes and compartments, finding a map, but what catches his eye is a laminated card that falls from the sunshade when his shoulder hits it.
The sight of it sends him collapsing rear first onto the concrete floor in shock.
[Janet Hopps, Age 29, Sex female, Species Lepus Sylvaticus. Bunny-burrow general nurse. ID MUST be on mammal to enter.] Next to it a photo of a white and black splotched rabbit, smiling nervously for the camera with human like green eyes.
With a shaking hand it places it on the drivers seat and closes the door.
‘This can’t be possible?’ Keeping the map in his hand, Mark searches and finds another unlocked vehicle. Another map like the one in his hands, and this time a student I.D. of another Lepus Sylvaticus.
After putting that back in the vehicle, physically and mentally numb, he turns around and makes his way back to the box truck. Moving to sit on the pavement against one of the front wheel’s, unintentionally putting the bulk of the vehicle between him and the door.
Putting the map in front of him, Mark sighs. ‘Two possibilities, either this is some elaborate theme park based off the movie I loved as a child. Or I actually ended up somewhere where it’s actually real. I mean ftl space from what I understand is ‘outside’ our normal dimensional space. No one though has discovered any other ‘dimensions’ we could enter as far as I know.’ Out of curiosity, he opens the map and lays it on the concrete in front of him.
The sheer detail in it for the satellite city of Bunny-Burrow stuns him. ‘This isn’t a theme park, is it? Hundreds of roads, thousands of buildings. Also, Deerbroke? Foxburg? Those small towns weren’t in the movie.’ Turning over the map shows the ‘state’ view. ‘Camalfornia? Does it mean California? Oh great, the animal puns in the movie are real serious names here…’ His eyes drift to the northern part of the state.
‘Guess that means the city the movie’s named after is real. Zootopia. Hmm. According to the scale on this map, it’s roughly about two hundred miles a bit north but mostly west from here.’ laying his head against the vehicle, a sigh of frustration escapes Mark’s lips as dread replaces the numbness before he pushes both feelings aside.
Staying like this for several seconds he eventually looks back down and folds the map back up. ‘If I was a child, I would’ve loved this. I mean the whole ‘furry’ thing became kinda mainstream when my dad was a kid and Bio-morphs first came out. Now, the last thing I want to do is run into anyone here, least I get dragged off and vivisected like the alien.’ Sticking the map into a utility pocket, his other hand’s reaching up to hood of the vehicle to help himself up.
Only to freeze instantly upon hearing the nearby door opening, then closing. Then a click of a flashlight followed by the footfalls of someone, small.
‘Shit!’ pulling his hand back down he tries to keep his frame hidden by the wheel and the bulk of the front of the box truck.
“Whomever ya are, If you think you can keep yourself silent from a rabbit’s ears ya are dumber than I thought for a mammal to break into the largest farm of the tri-burrow’s. Now come out, take it slow, and we may not need to get tha sheriff involved let alone the bbpd.” Mark quietly gulps.
‘If it was any other situation the high-pitched voice would be comical, he, or she can’t find me or I’m sunk.’ Not moving, Mark listens as the rabbit walks past the truck and heads for the ‘family’ parking section.
Only a small part of him smirks that he apparently just did keep himself silent from a rabbit’s hearing.
The light of the rabbit’s flashlight illuminates more of the area than Mark thought possible. ‘Wait… this might just work.’
Slowly, Mark reaches behind himself pulling the gas-mask off the backpack. ‘It’s going to make an audible click when I attach it, so…’ With his other hand, he pulls out a Plasma Shocker. Thumbing the device slowly to the lowest setting while making sure a charged capacitor from the rotating cylinder’s in place.
The bunny stops at the first car Mark found unlocked, sniffs the air a bit then peers inside through the rear windshield. One hand, or paw or whatever it is on the flashlight, and the other on some object on their belt.
‘Well, I hope this won’t kill them…’ Slotting the gas-mask into place, and thus hiding his face, emits a click loud enough the rabbit can hear him.
Their ear turns to focus on him. Followed an instant later by their body. Facing the rabbit, he looks ‘male’ to Mark. Yet the slight tint of the mask and the low light may be playing tricks on him.
Said rabbit only has the chance to open his mouth before Mark raises the Plasma Shocker and fires. The garage’s lit up as a reddish purple beam of cold plasma, near instantly creating a circuit between the weapon and the rabbit’s chest through its clothes.
Across it, the lowest amount of a stunning voltage flows and into them before the beam dissipates leaving the smell of ozone in the air.
Losing all voluntary muscle control the rabbit falls to the ground in a spasming heap, the Flashlight rolling a bit under the car he was next to and a can of ‘fox-away’ spray dropping from his other hand.
Manually rotating the cylinder so the spent capacitor can charge, Mark holsters the weapon. Followed by crouching down to rush over to the rabbit, only relaxing when he sees their panicked eyes and rapid breathing indicating their still alive.
Opening the driver’s side passenger door, Mark picks up and places the supposedly male rabbit on the seat, buckling them in. ‘There, that should keep it upright, so it doesn’t swallow its own tongue.’
Out of curiosity, and much to the annoyance of the Rabbit, Mark pats it down, finds their wallet, taking it out, Mark opens it.
[Stan Hopps, Sex Male, Camalfornia Driver’s License]
Closing it, Mark stuffs it back into ‘Stan’s’ pocket. Looking up their eyes meet, he sees eyes filled with terror. ‘ Not surprising, but maybe I can use that fear, last thing I need is to be found by their federal authorities after all.’
“Word of advice Stan. Unless you want your farm crawling with federal agents, don’t tell them you were zapped by an alien’s ray gun.” Patting him on the head, Mark closes the car door. ‘Well, fuck that sounded dirtier out loud than in my head.’
Looking down, he spots both item’s Stan dropped. Shrugging he picks up the flashlight, pockets it, then does the same for the fox-away spray, ‘Most likely just pepper spray labeled to feed fears. After all foxes and rabbits don’t get along right? Well other than those two…’ Taking one last look at Stan, just to make sure he’ll recover, Mark makes his way out of the Hopps family parking area, past the visitor’s lot, and then out of the garage.
Once outside, he removes the gas-mask and attaches it back to the backpack.
‘Staying anywhere near here is out of the question. Those ears of theirs will make it hard for me to hide. Deer have good hearing and smell, and if the name of that town is any indication, it will be the same. Just like the other nearby city of Foxberg.’ leaving his flashlight off, Mark heads back the way he came on the road.
‘First thing’s first, lets get well out of sight of the buildings here, I doubt any of them will be outside and about at night, but I don’t want to take that chance.’ Picking up his pace, the familiar fence he hopped over, comes into view.
Passing by it, he lets out a sigh. ‘I could go East, if this is their version of California, get close to the Sierra Nevada mountains. The only problem is all my survival training’s geared towards catching animals that are actual sentient beings here. I’d have no clue on what I could eat for protein to keep myself healthy…’
Stopping for a moment to look back, Mark nods and then continues down the road at a more leisurely pace. ‘I guess that leaves only one option, make my way to Zootopia. If it’s anything like the mega cities back home, Then I’ll be able to hide in abandoned structures. The city’s noise and population should be able to make it hard for anyone to find me. The only problem is food, though that’s a problem no matter where I go.’ Turning a bit, he heads off the road, over the fence again, and behind a bush growing a berry he can’t make out in the moonlight.
Pulling out the map and closing his eyes, he turns on the flashlight he got off of Stan since it’s not as bright as his survival one. When fee feels that his sight has adjusted to the light, he opens them. ‘Let’s see here… Walking is of course out of the question. I’d have to pull nearly a double marathon a day to make it there before my rations run out. Hmm, though this looks promising.’
Backtracking the rail lines noted on the map from Zootopia outwards shows there’s a passenger and a freight line going through Bunny-Burrow.
‘Well the passenger train is out, even if I hadn’t left my card in my quarters, I doubt they would even be able to read it let alone accept it. Not to mention the whole ‘hi, I’m an alien and I would like to buy a ticket!’ thing. That leaves just hopping onto a freight train while not being spotted. So how do I get to this train-yard the freight line goes to from here?’ Tracing a finger over the streets and roads he sighs.
Holding the map in one hand while standing up, Mark takes a quick look around. ‘Where am I on their property though? This thing lacks any of the private roadway’s on the property, only the connecting roads and the longer I’m on their property, the better chance I’ll get found again.’ Looking at the map and memorizing the street names at each exit, he folds it up and puts it away.
Hopping back over the fence he continues down the road.
What seems like minutes later, he dives for the ditch and shuts off the flashlight, hearing the sound of an old internal combustion engine well before he sees it. Peeking up out of the litter, he has to blink when he sees a relic. A Nineteen-Fifties style light blue pickup truck, sized for these rabbits of course, casually drives by.
Three beings seem to be sitting in the cab, all rabbits from the look of it, and, a Red Fox is sitting in the truck bed, his arm reaching in through the open rear window. The fox seems to be casually looking about at the scenery as the truck passes by but doesn’t seem to see him.
Letting out a breath he didn’t know he was holding, Mark waits till the truck’s well past him before getting up. ‘That was close, foxes have good smell and decent night-vision, if he’d spotted me that would’ve been it.’ Dusting off grass and leaves from his combat suit, he sighs. ‘I HAVE to follow the road to get there, yet I risk anyone driving down it seeing me…’
Climbing back out of the ditch, he follows the road to where it ends.
A large wooden gate spanning the entire road with large stylized ears on the top of it. Walking up to it, Mark looks back and forth. ‘Yea just my luck. While all the other fences here are small, this one is taller than I am.’ Down each direction from the wooden gate is a wrought iron fence, each post is less than a hand’s width distance from the next, and the only crossbars are at the top or at ground level.
Not to mention the points on the top of each post.
‘Yea I’m not going to be able to climb that or go through it… Wait a minute, what do I see here?’ Walking up to the left side of the gate is a touch-less card reader and number pad. ‘Thank you electronic warfare kit.’ Smiling widely and taking his backpack off, Mark reaches to the small of his back, and pulls out his roll-up tablet.
The heads-up-display on the helmet vanishes the second he does so. Then with a flick of his wrist the tablet opens again.
‘Lets see, ah there it is. Knew this program would come in handy, just not in this way.’ Loading up the suite of programs, he brings up the access lock cracker. Placing the tablet right next to the wireless reader Mark waits.
He quirks an eyebrow when the tablet indicates the system is a base eight, rather than ten. Because of that, and unknowingly to him, how much more advanced his tablet is, it beeps a split second later.
Displaying, Four, One. Six, Eight as the code. Closing the program, Mark rolls his tablet back up and hooks it back into the suit. The H.U.D. returns as he picks the backpack back up.
Entering the code results in a soft squeal as the gate over the road moves out of the way. When it’s fully open, Mark walks through the gate and looks up.
[Hopp’s Family Farm. Birthplace of Judith Laverne Hopps. Est, 3472-APT] Then in a newer sign attached to it. [1850-ACE]
Doing some quick math in his head, Mark realizes the first is base eight while the second is base ten. ‘Well that kinda makes sense… Stan had four fingers on each hand, so that means eight. Why the base ten then?’
Ignoring the gate closing behind him, he looks at the street sign. ‘Carrot ave. hmm.’
Pulling out the map and using the flashlight he finds it, and groans. ‘Oh goodie, I’m at the SOUTH entrance of the Hopp’s farm. Meaning I need to go all the way around their giant ass farm to get to the rail yard NORTH of the farm.’ Mark traces a path on the map. ‘Okay, west on Carrot ave, then North on turnip drive. Then another west on Fairground drive and the rail yard will be on the north side according to the map.’
Letting out an audible sigh, then looking up at the moon, no longer trusting the clock on the HUD. ‘Well, night-time’s a burning. Just gotta think of this like my normal training runs… In full gear.’ putting the map and flashlight away, he pulls out his compass, thankfully day-glow. Tightens his backpack, then sets off at a jog, going west on Carrot ave.
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