Cyber Core, Chapter 64, "Through Smoke And Wolves To Safety... And Containment"
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#Log Entry: Project Day 0019 ##Addendum 61:
It begins with Scinjir laying down a line of four smoke-bursts along the forest-edge: white, grey, black and then an unexpectedly vibrant yellow, landing right next to the Fuin-Braetehl who had been resting against a tree-trunk. He jumps to his feet with a yelp, eyes wide and spinning in place while he tries to determine what's going on.
The other five do the same, with varying degrees of speed and grace. Their shouts blast in every direction, presumably at their 'attackers' as well as each other and possibly their missing friends I think of as 'Fancy Hat' and 'Big Hands'.
"How are we going to get them to come inside the foyer?" Scinjir asks. "It looks like all six of them want to run in different directions..."
"... And they're trying to wrestle everyone else into following their lead," Snatdrure finishes, shaking her head. "Hammer and Tongs, protect me from adolescent boys..." she mutters under her breath.
"Joachim," Jilalyn asks over the radio. "... You recorded our voices inside the 'main suite', as you called it. Can you record my voice and play it back somewhere up there, in the foyer? Over."
"Yes, Jilalyn," I answer. "I don't have exterior speakers yet, but I can open the front doors so that it sounds like your voice is coming from in there. What do you plan to say? Over."
"I'm torn between giving official-sounding instructions from a Hoeffschtaeder official, ordering them to take shelter in the 'guardhouse' to protect themselves from a pack of forest-wolves," Jilalyn answers, her tone thoughtful. "... Or insulting them enough to make them want to chase me down and rip me apart. Over."
Scinjir's head is too far from the cameras for me to perceive with real clarity, but I calculate a roughly 86.928% chance that the frown I can perceive arises from the thought of the Humans laying a single finger on Jilalyn's head. "I wish I could say that they would obey the rational orders, but from what I know of the Fuin-Braetehls I'd have to wager that they'll respond more quickly to insults. Um, over...?"
Snatdrure shifts legs and re-orients herself so that her field of fire angles a bit further southward than before. "Joachim, where are the wolves? Over."
"One due west from your current position," I report. "Almost literally on a line connecting you with the setting moon; call it one Snatdrure-pace north from there. Second one is five Snatdrure-paces north from the first one. I have four... five... six heat-signatures lining up past the foliage-line on a southward-arc... and two... three... Yes, confirmation of three forest-wolf-sized heat-signatures circling northward behind the remaining perimeter... Over."
"They're hemming the boys in," Jilalyn says, audibly trying to keep her voice down and calm. "They'll keep them from the safety of the hut, block off retreat along the ridgeline or over the edge..."
"Jilalyn, whatever you want to say to them, I suggest you begin," I tell her. "Say 'start' before you recite whatever you intend, then repeat 'stop' three times to end the recording. I'll edit those out and then broadcast it once I hear those commands. Over."
"Yes, good, I'll do that," she agrees. "One second, let me figure out what I should say..."
##Addendum 62:
To her credit, the Halfling only takes another 3.28 seconds to come up with her 'lines', and records them following my instructions. I can't make heads or tails of whatever she says, but it seems to absolutely electrify the Fuin-Braetehls. At least two of them howl in outrage, loudly enough to spark a response from one of the forest-wolves in the vicinity. Which, in turn, helps convince the party that a visit to the 'strange hut' would be preferable... and more defensible... than remaining out in the open. They scoop up whatever equipment they can reach, clustering together as they do before making a break for the front door.
"Gnome, smoke the ones to the south!" Snatdrure orders. As she speaks, she loads and then fires a stone at the first forest-wolf to poke its muzzle from the northern arc of the foliage-screen. The resulting 'yip' holds much more surprise than pain, by my estimation, but serves to make the rest of the wolves from that flank wary... and slow.
Scinjir, for his part, makes a bright red plume of smoke bloom on the southern arc of the clearing, provoking even more yips and barks from the 'empty green' and putting wings on the Fuin-Braetehls' feet.
They cover the distance between the center of their little campsite to the interior of the foyer in record time; the double-wide doorway helps minimize the 'scrum' of six healthy young 'farmboy-proportioned' Humans all trying to pass through at once...
##Addendum 63:
The Fuin-Braetehl boys, all six of them, manage to enter the safety of the foyer well before the forest-wolves get over their shock from Scinjir's smoke-bombs and Snatdrure's accuracy with her slingshot-stones.
"Been an age since I last used a bow," she mutters, mostly to herself. “Can't say I miss the shoulder-aches...”
Scinjir hears her... probably more over the radio than directly... and chuckles. "Different criteria, Snatdrure," he answers. "Oh, sure, it would be nice to collect a forest-wolf pelt, but we'd still have to process it all before it goes bad."
"Granted," Snatdrure grunts, sending her eighth stone downrange and provoking a pained yip from its target. "But it's not what I'd call a high priority for us."
"One Human straggler," Jilalyn reports. "Southwest. The only one who thought to grab the rake, shovel, and pitchfork the others abandoned. Over."
Scinjir plants a bright green smoke-plume on the nose of the closest forest-wolf at the heels of the last Fuin-Braetehl boy... Number Four, unless I miss my guess... while Snatdrure discourages the next one. The boy releases a fairly desperate howl but manages to find one last burst of speed and gets to the 'crowd' at the foyer's door before any more forest-wolves put him in danger again.
The six boys tumble into a pile, just inside the foyer's front door; the two upended picnic bench-tables bracketing the door drift into position for barricades while I draw the double-doors shut and seal the edges to lock them in place.
"Joachim, what's happening down there?" Jilalyn asks, beating Scinjir's and Snatdrure's similar questions by a split-second. "I can't see anything from up here, with all the smoke-bombs. Are the others still stuck on the roof? Over."
"Acknowledged," I transmit back. "All six Humans are inside. The front door is locked, the barricades are in place. The members of the forest-wolf pack I can see clearly seem both confused by the noise and smoke, and one or two of them seem to be limping. And Snatdrure and Scinjir remain safe on the roof. Over."
"How long do you think it'll take for the smoke to clear?" This from Scinjir. "Over."
"The wind is heading south-southeast," I answer. "Very slow speed, however. Unless that changes, the smoke may take as many as a hundred breaths or more to disperse. Over."
"Whose breaths, Joachim?" Scinjir, again, a teasing note and other markers that he's talking through a grin very clear in his voice. "We've got at least three to choose from, over."
"Let's say, longer than I would prefer, objectively, but not more than 200 Snatdrure-breaths. Over."
Scinjir crows over the comms, and I can see him jamming a fist into the air.
"All right, so what do we do now?" Snatdrure sends, settling down onto the roof and stretching out onto her back. "Need us to do anything with all this junk up here while we wait? Over."
"Negative, Snatdrure. Rest for a few moments, you've both certainly earned it," I answer. "Jilalyn? Are you still safely out of the wolves' reach? And can you stay in position for a while longer? Over."
"Yes and yes, Joachim. What are the Humans up to, over?"
I consult the interior cameras; the six boys have managed to untangle their limbs from each other and gotten established some 'personal space' around themselves. Only one of the five does not gulp down heaving breaths of air; the one who seems to have regained equilibrium the most... which isn't saying all that much... has made his way to the water-dispenser and begun splashing it all over his face and head.
"They're still recovering from their sprint from camp into the foyer," I report, going on to describe their general condition, wrapping up with, "... Over."
"All right, let's not give them too much time for that," Jilalyn responds after 1.73 seconds. "Is the door to the staircase unlocked and open? And is there a gap in one of the Labyrinth walls we can send our six new friends through without risking either of the other two getting out? Over."
"To coin a phrase, yes and yes..." I answer, synthesizing the sound of a grin in my own voice. "... And 'not yet'. Fancy Hat and Big Hands seem to have not so much 'bedded down for the night' on the second floor as 'battered each other into exhaustion' after exchanging what I'm 83.28% certain are accusations of whose fault it is that they're stuck in the dark. But they're too close to the point where I can most conveniently open a gate to the Labyrinth on the first and second floors, so I'll need your help to guide them down to the third level, Jilalyn. Over..."
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Posted Oct 27, 2023, 3:44 PM UTC