Work The Problem Ch. 07

She straightened back up and smiled evilly. "Nice kick, asshole. I almost felt that."

He gave a panicked yelp and turned to run, only for her to leap onto his back and drive him into the ground. The tackle was followed with a few swift punches.

Marlene stood and surveyed the prone bodies around her. A few were groaning, but most were simply out cold. Less than ten seconds had passed since her initial shout.

Conrad blinked as Marlene's worried face appeared above him. "Honey? Are you okay?" She gently lifted his head and peered closely at his eyes.

"I tink I hurd my node," he said faintly.

"Just don't move, okay? I'll get somebody." She stood and looked around in a panic before starting to yell. "HEY! ANYBODY! I NEED SOME HELP HERE!"

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The town hall of Sullivan City was again filled with shouting. This time the ruckus had a definite stressful edge to it. There was a lot of raised hands and pointing fingers. Mayor Lightfoot waved his hands and tried to bring some order to the chaos. He glanced behind him at Ned and Sergeant Cal Forrester, who stood glumly on the stage. The sergeant finally shrugged and stepped forward. Before, he'd had to shout to get their attention. Today his mere movement was enough to cause a wave of quiet to spread out over the assembled politicians.

"Please," Cal said quietly. "Let's be calm about this, okay?"

Mayor Bunce levered himself upright with his cane. "Easy for you to say!" he spat. "I have eight of my highly-trained militia in the hospital. Eight! And they were put there by only one of your kind, one of your smallest I might add, using only her bare hands." Bunce shook his head. "Truly terrifying."

Cal's face was impassive. "And you've got her sitting in a cell. I could get insistent about letting her go, but right now I wanna figure this whole mess out. She claims your boys were right in the middle of kicking the hell out of her beau. And he's one of you guys, I might add. So don't get any ideas about claiming prejudice on her part."

"She overreacted!" yelled the gaunt mayor. "There may have been some heated words exchanged, but nothing that warranted such behavior."

Ned stepped forward. "Conrad's in the hospital with a severe concussion. That sure as hell doesn't sound like heated words."

"He was accidentally injured by her during her violent attack," said Bunce. He glared at the two humans as if daring them to call him a liar.

Ned took that challenge. "Bullshit."

The mayor got a supremely offended look on his face and waved his hand dismissively at Ned. "It's clear you will protect your own. This debate is pointless." Bunce turned to address the others. "It's as I warned you. These strangers are violent in a way we are not accustomed to. We need to keep them isolated, for everyone's safety. Including theirs."

"And how do you propose to do that, exactly?" asked Ned. He folded his thick arms and tried very hard not to visualize throttling the little bastard.

Bunce grasped his lapels. "We can set up temporary housing at Hadley's Farm, tents or the like. Those will have to do until we can construct more permanent housing."

Cal's impassive face split into a grimace. But his tone was silky. "Permanent, eh? Like a fenced-in camp, maybe?"

The gaunt mayor shrugged. "Er, yes, something like that."

"No way," replied the sergeant. "We have a little bit of what ya might call a 'history' with people getting shoved into such camps." He stepped forward with clenched fists. "So if you wanna put us in one yer gonna have a fight on yer hands. Now when am I gettin' my soldier back?"

Mayor Lightfoot looked more than a little panicked now. He held up a placating hand to the huge man. "We still need to have a formal inquiry as to what happened. It will be fast, don't worry."

Bunce snorted. "What happened is clear to anyone. It's all because of these monsters with their innate thirst for death-"

He was interrupted by a familiar female voice from the back of the hall.

"No, no, no. It's not their innate thirst for death, it's your innate thirst for death."

The assembled mayors turned in surprise. Ned looked up and saw Holly standing in the large double-doors at the entrance. She was flanked by two of the Rangers, Morillo and Rockatansky. Rockatansky had a carbine and was pointing it at the ground for now, while Morillo casually held a lagomporph by the throat with one hand. The unfortunate rabbit-person was clad in the blue and black of the Ecklam militia, and he feebly clawed at the hand that was kinda-sorta strangling him.

The doors had been guarded by militia from the various cities, and those guards now stood in a circle facing the intruders. Holly looked pissed enough to chew nails as she looked through them and met Ned's worried gaze. Her furious expression relaxed, and she gave him a wink.

"Pronoun trouble," she added.

Bunce got so red in the face that Ned could see it through his fur. "What are you doing with my man! Let him go at once!"

Holly ignored him and shifted her gaze to Mayor Lightfoot. "Mayor, we have some information that must be told to everyone here. May we enter?"

While Bunce spluttered in rage, Lightfoot wearily nodded. The militia parted to let the new group enter.

"Conrad regained consciousness an hour ago," said Holly as they walked forward. "I talked with him, and he told me a couple of interesting things. First, he was injured by his attackers while trying to run away. Marlene was coming to his defense."

"Of course he would say that-" began Bunce.

"Shut the fuck up," said Holly in an eerily even tone, then turned back to address Lightfoot. "Second, he just so happened to mention where he and Marlene were going while in earshot of a certain Theobald Townsend."

She pointed a furry thumb over her shoulder at the gurgling lagomorph held in Morillo's mitt. "That's Mr. Townsend. After talking with Conrad I smelled a big fat rat, as the monkey-boys like to say. So I collected Rockatansky and Morillo and we paid Mr. Townsend a little visit, and then we had ourselves a little chat."

Holly crossed her arms. "Bottom line, it was a setup. Townsend talked to Bunce, who sent a bunch of his guys sent out to accost Conrad and get Marlene to react. Then Mayor Bunce could use that reaction to claim that the monkey-boys are all dangerous." She gave a little grin. "It seems the Ecklam goons figured they could handle Marlene since she was smaller. Guess they didn't figure on winding up in the hospital."

Before Bunce could respond, another of the mayors rose. Tavia Hedgehopper glared at the old rabbit. "You bastard!" she shouted.

Bunce's indignant look fell away to one of total shock.

She turned to the other mayors. "Bunce tried to get me to agree to attack the newcomers by surprise and kill them."

Both Ned and Cal gave indignant shouts at the same time.

"I refused," continued Tavia, "And so he suggested we get some of our militia here 'just in case'."

She turned back to Bunce and looked at him like something she'd found on the bottom of her shoe. "You just couldn't wait and see, could you? You were so sure that they were dangerous that you had to try and invent some controversy."

Mayor Lightfoot jumped off of the stage. His usually cheerful face was somber. "Mayor Bunce started to hint at something similar a few weeks ago, and I told him to stop being paranoid before he could really say anything conclusive. I never dreamed..."

The other mayors parted to let Lightfoot through as he stalked towards Bunce. He wasn't quite as tall as the Ecklam mayor, but somehow still gave the impression of looming over the gaunt lagomorph.

"Mayor Bunce," he said quietly. "You are no longer welcome in my city. Take your people and leave."

Bunce finally found his voice. "This is madness!" He pointed a shaking paw at the humans up on the stage. "You would trust them?"

Lightfoot's tone was still quiet. "I hope you are playing to the crowd to set yourself up as a leader in...whatever unified 'thing' comes out of this whole mess. Because the alternative is that you really are paranoid and stupid." He sighed. "It makes no difference. You will leave, or I will have you thrown out."

"I will not be denied my say!" yelled Bunce. "I have every right to be here! You fools are getting ready to barter our world away to these dangerous predators..."

His rant was cut off by an hideous, ululating wail that made Ned's blood run cold. It was a sound from his childhood, when there had been the chance of his world ending in a nuclear fireball. "Portal siren," he said aloud.

Sergeant Forrester jumped off of the stage and ran towards Morillo. The corporal dropped the unfortunate Townsend at the start of that unearthly racket and was now standing with a finger to his earpiece.

"Is it ours or theirs?" said Cal. He had to shout to be heard over the siren's wail. The mayors were utterly silent and staring around with big, fearful eyes. Ned felt a warm furry pressure against his side and looked down to see Holly hugging him hard and pressing her face into him as if she was trying to climb inside of his body. He stroked her back.

"Don't worry, babe," he murmured.

Morillo shook his head. "Nothing's going on at Hadley's. No portal at all."

Lightfoot now looked pissed. "If somebody set off the damn alarm by accident, I swear I'll string 'em up by their ears!"

Rockatansky pressed a finger to his own ear and blanched. "Sarge! Nowak's reporting in! The portal's forming right in the center of town! It's right in the goddamn amphitheater!"

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It just figured, thought Leslie. After 'The Marlene Incident' they'd been confined to quarters while the whole mess got sorted out. She'd been going a little stir-crazy anyway, and this new imposition didn't help. After a bit of self-justification, the corporal figured she was about the least dangerous-looking of them all, what with the crutch-and-half-leg situation. It would be fine to take a quick stroll to get some fresh air and stretch her good leg. But she wasn't completely stupid; she'd grabbed a radio 'just in case' and was now very glad of that.

Leslie propped herself on her crutch as she peered up and over the low wall surrounding the amphitheater. The swirling hole in its center had stabilized into the now-familiar form of a dimensional portal. A few of the rabbit-dudes had been strolling through the grassy center, but they were long gone. One of them must have set off the siren. Her angle was bad, and she couldn't quite see into the portal to tell whose it was. The corporal tried to tell herself it was a fifty-fifty chance that this was a portal back home. Maybe the eggheads had gotten their targeting a little wonky?

Any rising hope was crushed when she saw a familiar spindle-like shape begin to emerge slowly and carefully from the portal. She ducked back down and clicked on her radio.

"Nowak here. It's the bad guys. They're not fuckin' around with infantry this time, they're bringing out one of those floaty-tank things right away."

"Get your ass back here, Corporal," said Forrester's voice. "That way I can properly chew it off."

"Don't have to tell me twice, Sarge," she replied. Leslie then set a world land-speed record for a one-footed woman with a crutch.

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Marigold and Cal bent over a map that was spread out on the grass. Next to them, Leslie sat with a remote control panel on her thighs. Both of the leaders kept checking the screen while corporal flew one of their few remaining drones in a complicated pattern over the amphitheater. She was trying to avoid getting into line-of-sight of one of the terror-bird's beam weapons. The sergeant looked up at the distant wall of the amphitheater. It was a little too close for comfort, but he wanted to see the ground with his own eyes.

He looked up at the buildings surrounding the park. There were a few taller ones, not quite skyscraper-sized but definitely tall enough to get a vantage point on the enemy portal.

"Okay, Nowak," said Cal finally. "Get that thing out of there." He looked down at his marked-up map. The enemy's overall strategy appeared to be the same; establishing a 'beachhead' with supplies on this side of the portal in preparation for an advance. But now the terror-birds were ringed with the long and floating vehicles that they'd taken to calling 'spindle-tanks' for want of a better word. A few very foolhardy militia members had tried to get close and let loose with one of the prototype fifty-cal weapons. The spindle-tanks had armor good enough to shrug the rounds off, plus they also sported larger beam weapons that had nearly cut the militia members in two.

Marigold pointed at the map, indicating a few street intersections surrounding the town center. "We're getting the new fify-cal weapons set up here, here, and here. That should slow them down when they do make their push."

The sergeant growled. "I really, really wish we had some missiles left. Even a coupla damn RPGs."

"We do have some throwin' grenades, Sarge," said Leslie. "Maybe we can set up some booby-traps?"

Cal shook his head. "Probably wouldn't do much against their armored vehicles. But we do have that ANFO that Ned's been making." He looked over at Marigold. "Of course, that would really start wrecking stuff around here."

"Don't care," replied Marigold. "The Mayor told me to get them out of this world, and that's what we're going to do."

Cal sighed. "Right. I'm going to detail my people to yours, one of us for each group of yours. They'll show you how to set up the explosives."

His radio crackled. "In position, sarge," said Rockatansky's voice.

_____________________________

After being gifted his new pride and joy, Rockatansky had taken the optics from his carbine and after a bit of fiddling by Gunthar they'd managed to mount the scope to the rifle. That fiddling now paid off as he lay flat on the roof of the tallest building around and peered through the scope at the distant moving feathered forms as they moved back and forth in front of the portal.

"Not a lot of 'em out yet," he radioed. "They're ringed in by those spinde-tanks, and it looks like they're building something."

"Can you tell what it is?" asked the sarge's voice.

He scanned carefully over the scene. "It looks like some sort of chassis, kinda shaped like a four-leaf clover. Maybe it's a different kind of tank?" Then he felt a chill in his gut as a more familiar shape rolled its way out of the portal. "Shit."

"Dammit, son, talk to me!"

"Sorry, sarge. They just brought a propeller-type doohickey out off the portal. I think they're building an aircraft."

"Aw, fuck," said Cal's voice.

Rockatansky took a bead on one of the birds working on the craft. "Got a good sight on 'em, sarge. I just can keep an eye on 'em or whack a coupla of 'em. Which do you want?"

There was a long pause while the sergeant deliberated. "We need to make 'em keep their heads down. Take the shot and get out of there. No more than one shot, got it?"

"Got it," replied the private, then he took a deep breath. He was about to paint a very big target on his back, and the beams from those spindle-tanks could probably cut this building in half. But he'd been practicing with his new rifle, and he was sure that he could get in at least a couple of shots before they could react. In the scope he sighted in turn each of the birds working on the aircraft while he tried to figure out which one would be the best.

"Eeeny...meeny...miney...yeah, you."

Another deep breath, then an exhale. Then the squeeze and the feel of a glass rod snapping.

The helmeted head of his chosen target sprayed a gout of blood over one of his compatriots, then its body fell unceremoniously to the ground.

The private had several rounds laid beside him, and in one smooth motion he ejected his old round and put in another. But as he did so he could see through the scope several beaked heads snap around in his direction.

He fired again, feeling a little rushed, and made what he would have called a terrible shot. Instead of hitting dead center, the round ricocheted off of the side of his target's helmet. The terror-birds dove for cover as Rockatansky decided it was time to run like hell.

Rockatansky wriggled back from the edge, then stood up into a crouch and scuttled for the stairs that led down from the roof. Behind him, a ravening red beam sliced into the ledge he'd just been occupying. The beam rapidly cut its way towards the fleeing Ranger.

_____________________________

Cal watched with a churning in his gut as a red beam stabbed out from the amphitheater and sliced into the edge of the building. The beam moved in and around, carving a neat slice out of the building. The sliced portion tumbled into the street below with a distant thump and a geyser of dust.

"Rockatansky! Report!"

"Kinda busy, sarge," came the gasping reply.

Cal sagged in relief. "You get to another vantage point and just observe, got it? If you die I'm following you into hell and kicking your ass myself."

"Roger," said Rockatansky.

Marigold turned her worried gaze up to Cal. "The terror-bird's aircraft will certainly have weapons. We can't hold against that."

"Not unless we can cobble together a missile," said the sergeant. "Do you have any armed aircraft?"

The militia leader shook her head. "Nothing right now. In some past fights we've made jury-rigged fighter aircraft, but that would take too much time."

Cal rubbed his jaw. "Maybe we could do a repeat of what we did the last time, but using an aircraft."

"Fill it with explosives and dive-bomb 'em?" asked Leslie. "It would take a while to set up a remote control. Unless we can get a volunteer to fly it."

Cal shook his head. That was not a path he wanted to go down...not yet. "Let's fall back," he said aloud. "We're a little too close for comfort here."

Their retreat from the park went a little more slowly than Cal would have liked due to Nowak's limited speed. But they got into one of the side streets all right, passing a hastily-erected barricade as they did so. The snout of a couple of the larger new guns poked out from the piled-up sandbags, and Cal saw determined furry faces behind those guns as he passed.

Determination was all well and good, but right now he would have given everything he had for some decent long-range weaponry. The platoon's mortars had maybe five rounds left...not enough for any sort of effective bombardment. This was going to be a nasty, street-by-street fight once the enemy made their move.

Assuming, of course, that the birds didn't use their bullshit rayguns to just level the town as they advanced.

He and Marigold set up a little 'command center' just past that barricade and began to coordinate the laying of some truly nasty 'booby traps' utilizing Ned's explosives.

Their planning was interrupted by Rockatansky's voice.

"Got me a new position, sarge. They're putting some kinda armor plating on the thing, and what looks like a coupla them rayguns in front. Lemme know if you want me to do any mischief."

"No way," said Cal. "You just keep an eye on 'em. See if you can figure out how close they are to finishing it."

"Will do."

After another fifteen minutes or so, the Ranger got back to them. "I'm guessing thirty minutes from now, tops. They're putting a canopy on. It looks like a single-seater." Rockatansky paused. "You know, I could try to take out the pilot when it lifts off. That canopy might not be armored enough for a fifty-cal."

Cal sagged a bit. Rockatansky had already survived one beam attack. If he fired again, they might just cut the whole building down to make sure they got him. On the other hand, crashing their aircraft would certainly slow the enemy down.