Six Pack

Chapter 17 - The Big Dogs (Michael Let The Dogs Out)

Once home and settled into the apartment, Michael and Linnet were soon joined by Bel’a, Harley, Fala and Bill. Bill was the last to come into the house and didn’t seem all that pleased to have his couch covered, but his mood soon changed. He was welcomed by the pair of Harley and Fala, who took him into their bosoms on the couch. They’d all settled into a cozy pile when there was a knock at the door.

Michael looked at Bill. Bill’s eyes had been dozing comfortably and he tried to ignore the knock; he reluctantly met Michael’s eyes. Michael gave Bill a disappointed lip puff. When the second knock came, which was steady and deliberate, Bill widened his eyes and gave Michael a point with his chin to go get the door. Michael rolled his eyes and got up with a grunt. Bill closed his eyes dreamily and nuzzled himself into Fala’s chest.

By the time Michael had mosied down to the bottom of the steps to the door, the knocking had begun a third time. “Hold your horses!” Michael griped on his way down. Opening the door, he welcomed a pair of strangers. He wasn’t sure how to react, but he felt like he was supposed to stand at attention and salute. Since that wasn’t programmed into his muscle memory, he instead greeted them with as formal a stance as he could in shorts and an undershirt, “Hello! How can I help you?”

At the door stood a stout Rakiri who wore green fatigues, his fur was a fascinating mixture of black, white and grey. If given enough time, Michael might describe it as looking like an oreo blizzard from Dairy Queen. Quivering behind him was a much smaller Rakiri whose coloring might follow Michael’s food theme by being compared to a Ritz cracker, a gradient of browns. They both were more formally dressed than any of the Rakiri he’d encountered so far. That said, he’d only met the four upstairs so far and they were distinctly feminine; these two however were not.

The stout Rakiri regarded Michael first, “Good evening, sir. I am Staff Sergeant Remmington with the Imperium. It has come to my attention that some of my officers may be quartering in your residence. I have come to gather my pack.” From behind him, the shaking subordinate gripped an odd iPad-looking device; he looked between Michael, Ssgt Remington and the device with a nervousness that was infecting Michael.

This bug eyed Rakiri spoke in a faltering, high pitched tone, “Hmm, yes. We’re looking for Lance Corporal Fala, Corporal Linnet, and Privates First Class Bel’a and Harley.”

Michael, and no doubt these men-wolf newcomers, heard shuffling upstairs.

The Staff Sergeant shuffled a bit, then prompted the shorter Rakiri with him, “And your name, Private?”

“Oh, uh,” the smaller Rakiri lowered the device and fiddled their fingers along the edges. “Private Finley.”

The Staff Sergeant seemed to chew something. It seemed to be a sign of irritation to Michael. The large Rakiri took a half step forward, “May we come in?”

Michael was still unsure what to do. He didn’t understand what was happening exactly, but it didn’t seem good. Ssgt. Remington stood patiently, but his nose was working in overdrive. If Michael could assume that a Rakiri nose was as powerful an inspection device as any other canine he’d encountered on Earth, he knew it was probably too late to hide the women in the closet or under Bill’s bed. He grumbled inwardly. “Uh, yeah. Drop your shoes down here before you head up the stairs.” It was a house rule that he rarely enforced, but it was still his house and he had the authority to tell guests what they needed to do to be welcome in his home.

“Yessir” the Staff Sergeant replied to Michael before stepping inside. Michael went up a few steps to make way for his new ‘guests’. To the private, Ssgt. Remington ordered, “Untie my boots.” Michael thought this was unusual, but he had almost no military experience.

Finley’s ears drew back, but he did kneel down to untie his superior’s boots and hold them in place so that the Staff Sergeant could remove his feet with minimal effort. He then untied his own while he was already kneeling.

“Mmm, that’s nice.” The Staff Sergeant commented when his plodding had gotten him to the top of the stairs.

“Oh?” Michael asked, having made way for the two Rakiri at the top of the stairs. He glanced up to what he remembered to be a comfortable pairing of Rakiri lounging on the sectional. Now, instead, he saw them all standing in full gear in a row, as if anticipating an inspection once the Staff Sergeant caught his breath.

Between huffs, the Staff Sergeant replied, “It’s so much cooler in here than outside.” He took a final deep inhale before putting on a facade of authority. “Marines!”

The women snapped to attention.

“I assume you all know why I’ve been sent here.” The Staff Sergeant asked rhetorically.

“We are not on base.” Harley replied.

“Indeed.” He confirmed. Beside him, Finley shakily took attendance on the device. “And why is that?”

“The base is suited to the Shil’vati, not for Rakiri.” Fala chimed.

Bela piggybacked that comment, “Staff, the base is too hot.”

The Staff Sergeant shook himself as he paced in front of the soldiers. His whole body shook, rattling metal that Michael assumed was part of the uniform. Perhaps medals or chevrons, are chevrons metal? Michael asked himself.

“That it is, private.” The Staff Sergeant acknowledged Bel’a’s comment. He stepped forward to the end of the line where, beside Linnet, Bill was comically small. The Staff Sergeant leaned down and squinted at the Human. “And who are you?”

Bill stood at attention with the Rakiri women. The stance was costing him considerable effort as the last time he’d done it, his muscles were used to balancing less weight. “Lieutenant Bill Zornosa. US Army. Silver Tigers.”

Staff Sergeant Remington’s jaw dropped. He stood to attention at once. There was a slight hesitation from the ladies, but they too saluted and made an about face toward Bill. Finley nearly dropped his device snapping to attention and saluting so quickly; he was clearly following what the other male Rakiri was doing and was caught as unaware as the Staff Sergeant. Even Michael stood a little taller given the situation. Did I ever know Bill’s actual rank? I guess he was a big deal--er, seems like he’s still a big deal.

Bill saluted back. “At ease, officer. I’m retired.” They all relaxed a bit.

Ssgt. Remington replied,“We studied Earth’s war tactics for a long time before we--arrived here.” He broke eye contact with Bill for a second and smiled before looking at him again. “Your actions in Desert Shield are a required part of our studies. You disobeyed orders of your superior officers in light of what you knew in the field. You showed discipline and honor that saved a lot of lives, sir.”

Michael interpreted, “But those were Human lives. I mean, wouldn’t that have made it easier: to have less of us for you to fight?”

Ssgt. Remington glared at Michael, “This man took care of his brothers when he was told not to. That means something to everyone.” He looked back to Bill with respect. “Everywhere.” He looked back at Michael shamefully. “It’s a shame you don’t acknowledge that.”

Michael stuttered, “I-I-I didn’t know! He doesn’t talk about that stuff!” He waved his hands toward Bill, who stood beside Ssgt. Remington bashfully. The women all seemed to regard him more highly.

“Of course,” Ssgt. Remington replied. “Such a warrior would also be exceedingly humble.” Admiration shone on Bill from everyone but Michael.

What a bunch of bullshit, Michael thought angrily. Wait a second! They’re speaking English! Michael thought before interjecting, “How do you know such formal English?! Why aren’t you speaking Shil?”

Not taken aback, Ssgt. Remington said, “I am a guest in your house. I have no authority over you or the Lt. Bill Zornosa.” He looked at Bill admiringly again. “Why would I speak a language foreign to you in your presence where you have dominion?”

“Good, uh, good point. Where’d you learn to talk so good?” Michael replied, himself taken aback by this distinguished response.

“Your internet has commingled with our datanet. Languages are of interest to me.” The Staff Sergeant replied.

“Now,” Ssgt. Remington resituated himself toward the female Rakiri. “I’ve gotten…reports that you soldiers have abandoned your posts every night for a while now.” He looked around the apartment.

“We have completed our duties everyday. We have requested similar accommodations in the past. The Shil’vati have refused them.” Fala protested. “Here we have comfortable sleeping arrangements—“

“I’m sure.” Ssgt. Remington interrupted. “And it seems some of you have better taste in bedfellows than others.” His eyes flickered accusingly at Linnet.

“Serca was killed in front of him!” Linnet clamored in defense.

“I'm sure he is as heartbroken as you are about her death.” Ssgt. Remington chided. “And I’m sure you came to comfort him—a new stranger to ease the pain of the loss of the first one night stand.”

“Oh, fuck you,” Harley jabbed then hesitated.

Bel’a had her back, “If you can have respect for Bill, a Human warrior, the least you can do is recognize how much Serca meant to Linnet and therefore the rest of us.” She stuck a furry finger at him, “Even you would want to know her state of mind before she was killed.”

“I suppose, if he would know.” The Staff sargeant and the rest of the company turned to Michael. “Did she have any last words?”

Michael searched for anything to say. He’d avoided it thus far, but there was no escaping it now. He had to talk. “Well, she didn’t know they were her last words.” As if that would be enough to say. It clearly wasn’t. He addressed the group, but he looked at Linnet. “I-I don’t know. I don’t actually speak Shil.”

“Then how did you make it on base?” Ssgt. Remington asked knowingly. “Oh, because you got picked up for a fling like so many other Humans?”

“No! I mean, yes, probably, but I can speak Shil when I’m drunk.” Michael rebutted unsuccessfully. “But no, I don’t know what she said the morning after.”

The whole crowd seemed dejected by this admission.

Michael continued, “I should say that she was sympathetic and supportive of me after what happened with Gwen? Penn?”

“Pennar’dun. Yes, we’re all familiar with her.” Harley groaned.

“Watch your tone!” Finley scolded aggressively. “Staff Sergeant Remington is a superior officer! He was met with doubtful, punishing faces.

“At ease, Private.” Ssgt. Remington commanded the private. When he looked away from Finley and at the rest of the apartment, he had calmed down. “I suppose I can understand the need for more appealing accommodations. Being away from certain members of the Shil’vati Imperium has its perks. But believe me when I say, they have eyes and ears, even here.”

Fala frowned and looked at Harley. Bel’a also shared a look between them before saying, “The drones.”

“Affirmative,” the Staff Sergeant confirmed.

Bill let out a breath, “Fuuuck.” He sat down in a heap on the couch, staring at the floor.

“‘Fuck’ indeed, sir,” the Staff Sergeant agreed. “Heat vision, the same silent void engines as the Shil’vati ships; it seems they initially tracked you by scent. Then they caught up to your heat signatures and have been monitoring activities here since.” He let them think about what that meant for each of them. “So if it’s all the same to you, we need to return to the base. Perhaps having seen the place now, I might be able to vouch for your reasoning for coming here.”

“Now?” Michael whined. “When do you think you’ll come back?”

Ssgt. Remington corrected, “‘If’ is a more present concern than ‘when’.” He took a deep breath of the cool air. “But as I said, I could make a case for the benefits of environmental adjustments on base--if not there, then, perhaps, this arrangement may still be acceptable.” He spun back to the Marines. “Now gather your belongings, if you have any here, and let’s go. Our ride’s outside.”

Deflated, the ladies grabbed what they needed and left without protest. They gave longing, mournful looks to Bill and Michael before they departed. Michael watched through the window as all six of the Rakiri piled into a large transport vehicle.

Michael joined Bill on separate segments of the sectional. Michael blew a lungful of air out in sadness.

“Strange fucking day, huh, Bill?” Bill had scarcely moved his eyes from the floor. “What’s up, Dude?” Michael followed up. “How was work? I’ve gotta tell you about my day. I was on a boat.”

“Dude, there’s thermal video of me getting blown by a dog-lady.” His eyes were still on the floor. “I let Fala put me in the hucklebuck.”

“Goddamn dude...I mean, me too.” Michael, too, looked at the floor.

“Welp,” Bill slapped his legs with his hands, “shall we go get a drink?” He stood up and walked toward his end of the apartment, Michael assumed to go change clothes.

“Fuck it. I guess so.” Michael shook his head. I’m not going to get any sleep tonight: alone, bed on the floor, sober. Fuck that.