Spooker
patreon
Grass Eaters 3 | 10 | The Cave
🕑 Added 2024-11-15 16:47:01 +0000 UTCTRNS Nile, Grantor-3 (10 Ls)
POV: Guinspiu, Granti (Head Councilor)
“High Councilor, I need to prepare you for what we will see down there. We know from their own history and communication that there are five general phases of a Znosian xenocide project,” Kara said, glancing at the external cameras showing the shuttle ready for orbital entry. “Invasion—”
Guinspiu nodded reluctantly. “I’ve read the report, Kara. Your Director showed it to me a while back.”
“The report is slightly outdated. The Znosians have made some more progress since it was written.” Kara continued, “When you evacuated the planet as it fell, over six billion Granti were still alive and left behind. We are now at just around five, with a significant portion developing health problems due to malnutrition.”
“Why are you telling me this, Kara?” Guinspiu looked at her miserably. “This is my people…”
“I am preparing you for when we go down there,” she replied, staring straight into the High Councilor’s eyes. “You are not going home. This is not your home, not anymore. It’s a planet full of people who look like you, but they are not like you. Not even your mate, if he is still alive. They are survivors of an ongoing plan to kill them all. Some of them have survived by turning on each other. They have developed mechanisms to survive, to cope. New identities and routines. New vocabulary. Perhaps even a new language. They are not your people, and you are not their High Councilor. We need your help down there, and we need you to keep your head on. Do you understand what I’m saying?”
Guinspiu nodded wordlessly.
“Good. Now, go get suited up. We’re deorbiting once it’s daytime.”
“Daytime? Shouldn’t we go while it’s at night—”
“Around noon to hide our landing burn more in the warm starlight. Let us worry about the tactics. You just keep your head on right, Guinspiu. Okay?”
++++++++++++++++++++++++
Guinspiu sniffed suspiciously at the Grass Eater pet that the recon operators had insisted on taking down to the surface. “I still can’t believe you guys are bringing him along,” she grumbled. “You know he’s going to try to get away and alert his people the very first chance he gets, right?”
“Is that true? Are you going to betray us all, Six Whiskers Skhork?” Kara asked the Znosian captive huddling miserably in his oversized jump seat as the external camera showed the lander beginning its deorbiting burn.
“Yes. Once I get free down there, I’m going to report everything I’ve seen on your ship to my people, including the planetary characteristics of your star system I’ve memorized from your video games and movies so we can search the star charts and find you. Then, our Navy will send a fleet there to destroy it all,” Skhork replied casually without remorse or hesitation.
“See?” Guinspiu pointed. “See?!”
“Oh, that’s just a sarcastic joke. I’m sure he doesn’t mean that,” Kara dismissed cheerfully.
Guinspiu looked at her in alarm. “No, no, I’m pretty sure he meant every word of that!”
The Znosian backed her up. “I meant every word of it.”
Kara grinned at Skhork and patted him on the head, ruffling his ears roughly. “Aww… so cute. That our little Bun friend thinks he’s going home down there.”
Skhork glared angrily back at Kara. “What are you people doing here on our planet anyway?”
“Your planet?!” Guinspiu almost screeched, pointing at him with one of her sharp claws. “Your planet?”
“Whatever. On Grantor. You Terrans clearly aren’t sending a ship out here just for one Slow Predator, no matter how important he may be to her,” Skhork said, nodding his head at Guinspiu. “I’m no infiltrator specialist, but even I know that you don’t plan a multi-year mission this far behind enemy lines with that cargo loadout you are bringing down to the surface, all to rescue one Very Important Predator.”
Kara said nothing, looking away.
Guinspiu looked over at the Terran operators. “What is he talking about?” she asked, her face scrunched up in confusion. “I thought we were here to rescue my mate.”
“We are,” Kara replied, seemingly refusing to look at her. “We’ll get him first thing we can.”
“And the cargo…” Skhork reminded helpfully.
“What is the Grass Eater talking about?” Guinspiu insisted. “What about the cargo?”
“Yeah, Kara, what is the Grass Eater talking about?” Skhork mimicked her low voice mockingly. “Why is there an industrial fabricator in your cargo hold? And a whole crate of your radios?”
Guinspiu’s eyes widened. “What are you hiding from me, Kara?”
“Look, Guinspiu,” Kara said, more forcefully. “We are going to get your mate. That’s our top priority—”
“Another lie,” Skhork interrupted helpfully.
“It’s one of our top priorities,” Kara corrected without missing a beat.
“Top twenty, possibly,” Skhork added.
Guinspiu narrowed her eyes at the Terran. “And… just what else are you doing on my planet? If not just here for the rescue mission?”
“Oh. Just this and that. You know…”
“No, I don’t know,” Guinspiu persisted. “And how does the Grass Eater know more about this than I do?”
“He guessed, probably,” Kara said, shrugging. “It’s not exactly a big secret. We thought you wouldn’t need to know. In case you get captured or something. We didn’t bother to plant a self-destruct bomb in you, so the less you know about our side objectives in that worst case, the better.”
Guinspiu stared at Skhork, who looked to be — for some reason — in a better mood than at any point she’d seen him in over a month. “Grass Eater, you know something. What are they planning?”
Skhork shot Kara a smug glance and looked back at Guinspiu. “It’s obvious, isn’t it? I recognize the signs: it is no different from what we’d do. Inserting an infiltration team to begin preparatory work. They are here to lay the groundwork for the eventual invasion of your home planet.”
++++++++++++++++++++++++
POV: Skhork, Znosian Dominion Marines (Rank: Six Whiskers)
As the atmospheric lander separated from the derelict debris raining down on Grantor below, Mark cast a worrying glance at his tablet. Even in its devastation from the Znosian invasion, Grantor City was huge. The metropolitan city stretched over a hundred kilometers into the countryside and around the saltwater port it was originally built around.
The Znosian captive saw his look. “Worried about trying to hide your landing sequence?” he called out to Mark smugly. He’d picked up on a lot of body language in the month he’d been on the Nile.
“Nah, just thinking about how far we’d be landing from our target area. I knew it was going to be a long hike intellectually, but it only just hit me viscerally as I saw it from above.”
“But how will you hide the landing from prying eyes? Even if we don’t have a base near where you land, there are our collaborators all over and—”
“Ah, that’d be a trade secret.” Mark chuckled. “Still trying to fish for more information?”
“Yes,” Skhork replied. “One day I will get free and get the information to my people. Or you can kill me now.”
“You still don’t get it, do you, Skhork?” Mark grinned.
“Get it? Get what? What is there to get?”
“Remember when we asked you those questions in your cell?”
“Yes! And you read my mind!” Skhork replied angrily.
“And remember when you tried to break through your cell, and we made you freeze in your paws with a remote control?”
“You have a freezing device planted in my mind. So what? I’ll find a way around that too!”
Mark grabbed his handgun from the holster on his hip. With a flick on its side, he activated it and took it off safety. Without a second’s hesitation, he tossed it to a surprised Skhork. Next to him, John and Kara visibly tensed up but said nothing.
Guinspiu looked at him like he was crazy, her eyes round.
The Six Whiskers looked at it in his paw uncertainly. “What is this?”
“It’s a weapon.”
“I know it’s a weapon! But what is this about?” he asked suspiciously.
“Shoot me.”
“Is this some kind of trick?”
Mark grinned. “Of course it’s a trick. Everything I do is a trick. Now, shoot me.”
“It’s not loaded,” Skhork said confidently. “I have seen this in one of your movies. You pretend there is a real danger, but there is not. It is a test. But there is no need to test me; I have already told you the truth: I will shoot you if I am given the chance, so—”
“Give it a try. Don’t worry, I’m sure my unwavering trust of you can handle the treachery.”
The Znosian Marine had been given a few weeks of basic infantry weapons training before he was sent to a specialized school for operating vehicles. As a Longclaw Marine, he was taught that he needed to know how to fight on foot too so he could work adequately with infantry. He knew how a handgun worked. And even if he wasn’t familiar with the operation of the alien weapon in his paw, the hours he’d spent playing Titan Assault had given him a rough idea of what was supposed to go where.
Skhork wrapped his claws around the handgun grip, and with a shrug of his shoulders, he raised it to point its barrel at the Terran.
Well, he tried.
He really did. He found that he couldn’t. His arm stopped raising, leaving the weapon pointed at the shuttle floor. Skhork gave his arm a conscious command. But whenever he thought of raising it up further, his arm did nothing.
“Unnngh,” he grunted, struggling in his own mind.
“What’s the matter, Six Whiskers?”
“Unnnnnnnnngh!” he panted with mental exertion.
“You understand now, Skhork?” Mark asked.
Skhork didn’t give up. He kept at it for another few seconds, straining to get around the strange mental block in his head. He tried to move the weapon in another direction. Perhaps he could ricochet a shot, or maybe he could shoot out the shuttle machinery. Any sabotage would be better than—
Okay, maybe not, but let’s see that disgusting “smile” when I put a couple holes into your floor… unnnnnngh—
Mark continued, “It’s not about mental will or strength. Your brain, like ours, is ultimately just electric signals. That’s all you are — all that we are. Read and control the signals, and we’re all nothing more than puppets in our own bodies. And the intelligence chip monitoring your brain signals knows everything you know. Everything you are planning. Good luck fooling or hiding your evil thoughts from it.”
Skhork gritted his teeth. “I’ll… get… you… just give me one… more…”
“Now… Six Whiskers, safe the weapon. And give it back to me before you hurt yourself or go insane.”
Skhork found that he couldn’t disobey the direct order as he flicked the weapon safe with his paw before tossing it back at the Terran operative.
“That is— this thing— what you’ve done to me— it’s a fucking abomination,” Skhork said, breathing heavily and using the angry Terran word he’d learned from his month on the Nile.
“Yes, Six Whiskers. Yes, it is,” Mark sighed as he put the weapon away. “That’s why we’re using it on you and not our own people.”
Skhork tilted his head as he thought. After a few heartbeats, a slow grin crept up onto his face. “Actually, I have just changed my mind. It is a good thing you Terrans have invented this technology. It will make management of our Dominion so much easier when we take it from your people by force. After we kill you all.”
Mark did not seem fazed by the threat. He matched Skhork’s smirk slyly. “Or maybe that’s just what we want you to think. Have you considered that?”
Skhork’s smile faltered. “What do you mean?”
“Remember, we control your brain signals. We’ve just demonstrated that.”
“And?”
“You are just brain signals. Everything you see or perceive is just electric signals in your head. Which we control.”
He didn’t understand. “So what?”
“Maybe you’re still sitting in that Pupper cell back on Datsot after you got captured, and we’re just taking your thoughts for a joy ride in a virtual reality machine. Are the things you’re seeing now even real? Am I real?”
“Huh? Of course you’re real. I can see you with my eyes.”
“Can you? Or are these merely electric signals to your brain? Are you really here? Am I real? Is this real? Is anything real?”
Skhork’s glee quickly subsided as he looked down at his paws, contemplating the strange ideas while the Terran operators cackled in the background.
Am I real?
What is even real?
Comments
Valdis Trautmanis
Yes, I know about those and I think they did similar with rats also.
M
Existential crisis as a weapon, nice.
ColonelCodfish
IT WAS A SIMULATION, MORTY!
AnAbsoluteVillain
There was a research paper about remote controlling cockroaches give it a century and I don't doubt we could see some shit.
Valdis Trautmanis
Just.. wow! This technology is terrifying, no brainwashing even comes close to this. Reminds me of "ghost hacking" from GITS
Kevin Neely
Reality check. The bun fails.
AnAbsoluteVillain
Now little bun *gives gun* go do crime.
