Underbunny
04-13-14, 12:40 PM
Thick cables in red and blue hung from the metal rafters like forgotten festival decorations. They appeared limp and lifeless, but Binky was certain that he could hear them humming. Electricity normally didn't make a sound, but when it did... He gulped and flattened his long ears as best he could, lest he become one with that quiet torrent as he and his superior walked down the dimly lit hall.
“Buck up, Binky Boy!” guffawed Commander Puddles Butterworth, apparently mistaking the ear bob for apprehension (not that Binky wasn't very very apprehensive). “This is a big day! An old battlefield. Our triumphant return. Some science-y future-ish wot wot.”
“You could take someone else along. Maybe,” Binky offered in a not-so-subtle plea. He couldn't bring himself to look his commander in the eye, or even the chest. Butterworth was in full ceremonial attire; long coat of the royalest blue, blocky raised epaulettes, and a smorgasbord of medals stretching from just below his fuzzy chin to the middle of the coat where his stoutness strained the buttons. The rabbit head crest of the Commander of Her Majesty's Royal Hare Forces was prominent, and arrayed around it were the trappings of every station one conquered on their way to that lofty peak. There were other medals as well, little spoken of but just as immaculately shined, such as the Most Royal Sharpshooter award, a decade old and formed like a bolt taking out a bird in flight... right through the eye. A large letter “S” was pinned next to it, a prize that his granddaughter won in her first spelling bee and bid him to take on his travels. That one always made Binky smile. As well, the one that featured a pair of very un-rabbitly sharp teeth tearing into something that dripped a single polished drop of red. Many believed it was in recognition of some bloody business that he had gone on at the behest of Her Majesty; some horrible but necessary deed that he never spoke of. It was only during the drunken celebration for their last campaign that Binky -and Binky alone- had learned the truth. Fufuberry pie eating contest, first place, age eight.
“You want to know why I chose you?” Butterworth asked in a calmer voice. Binky looked at him directly. It was rare that the commander let slip that special 'oomph' he used to stir the world's largest military to action. “After everything we've been through, my boy,” he removed his monocle and wiped it against an unadorned section of his coat, “After our victories in that very place, after all that you have done since to prove yourself, there's no hare I'd rather have at my side in the serpent's jaws.”
“Serpents?” Binky asked, wide-eyed, “That wasn't in the briefing.”
Butterworth's ears twitched once. They would have grazed the wires above if the hall hadn't deposited them onto a wide stairwell. “Hypothetical. But, who knows what we'll face. I need you on your toes, boy. Back straight. Ears up. Eyes... like... a... hawk.” He got very close as Binky stood with back straight, ears up, eyes unblinking, and only the faintest of twitches under the left one. “Good!” Butterworth bellowed at a modest decibel, “Go on down the stairs, quick hop. There's someone you'll no doubt be surprised to meet.”
Binky was about to ask when a sickly-looking guard approached them. “Commander,” he said weakly with an awkward salute, “Someone is... uh... here to see you.” He looked very queasy, which didn't help Binky's butterfly-stomach in the slightest.
“Right-ho. Back to your post, then,” the larger-than-life (and marginally larger than his coat) commander said as he marched up the stairs from which the guard had come.
With a deep breath, Binky descended the few steps to a door that was braced open. He crossed the threshold like a hare willingly and begrudgingly entering a nightmare. But, his fear suddenly took a tea break as he took the strange sights in. The ceiling high above was still a nest of cables. Some hung limply down like jungle vines, then connected to the workstations of at least twenty hares and bunnies in lab coats and spectacles. He could feel the collective might of Leporidae Academia radiating off of them. Their equipment, however, seemed unfit. Few had chairs. Half of the desks were just rejiggered camp tables. A few were actually sitting on the floor with consoles and controllers strewn about them like toys in a genius kit's playpen. All of it was connected by the thick cables as if spiders of silicone had left trails on their way to... something. The far side of the room to Binky's right was dedicated to a large raised platform with a huge metal ring laying horizontally on it. It wasn't much to look it. It didn't have sharp edges or red, creepy lights or anything that marked it as a doorway to horrors. Still, Binky made a conscious choice to look at the other side of the room.
There, near the ceiling, was a raised catwalk and a windowed room beyond. The commander's distinctive shape moved against the glare of monitors, and there was a patch of whiteness near him.
Binky let his eyes drift down, then sucked in a breath before his brain even comprehended what he was seeing. “TAR!” he called loudly.
The rabbit scientists all looked up, some surprised, some annoyed. The lone human at the back of the room (no, the lone human on the planet) also looked up. Even across the room, Binky recognized that distinctive glare, as it so happened to be cranked to maximum at this particular moment. Unmindful of anyone's reaction, Binky bounded across the room until his tummy was pressed to the back of the human's bulky desktop monitor. “You! Why are you- I never thought-” Words failed him against the torrent of rising emotion. It wasn't joy. “You bloody bastard! You teleported me into that bloody river with those females and wolves and- and- I still have sodding nightmares!”
The human reclined in what seemed to be a very plush chair, given the circumstances, and reached through greasy hair to massage his temples. “Splendid,” he drawled like a teacher with a failed test sitting on his desk. “Bonk, was it?”
“Binky,” the hare said as proudly as he could. “You owe me an apology for what happened on Althanas, the Gisela, those... banshees.” He shivered. “I swear, I don't know how they trust you with students.”
The man, on the verge of saying something, became very still. He looked down to his monitor, then to his knees. “I lost tenure,” he said coldly.
Binky blinked. “You lost ten years? You don't look that much older.”
“What?” the man said, brows climbing. Again his hands went to his head. “Father Brain, give me patience,” he muttered, then put on his teaching voice. “I lost my job, rabbit.”
Binky frowned, then steeled his furry jaw and sniffed. “Good. You brought students into a war zone.”
“Simulated war zone,” he corrected. “I'm not responsible for the madness that those Ai'Brone neanderthals turned it into. Regardless, I won't need them now. Not with this.” He gestured grandly to the device across the room. “Unimpeded, two-directional travel between worlds. I've been trying for so long. But, now...” He drifted off, tenting his fingers and already seeing all the worlds beyond.
Binky didn't look. He had already seen enough of it. “Well, you got here, didn't you?” he asked.
Again, the man looked down. “One-way trip. Hardly safe. But, there was nothing left for me there.”
The angry steam coming from Binky's ears finally puttered out. “How are TAR's minions these days?” he asked, if only to change the topic.
A very heavy and very defeated sigh answered him. “Just stop. My title of 'The Astounding Relativologist' is no more. And it was never meant to be shortened to... 'TAR'.” He almost choked on the word. Binky just wiggled his nose. “My name is Davium. If we could pretend that we met just now,” he suggested with a hand held forth. “Binky,” he said as respectfully as he could manage.
Binky sucked on his teeth and turned his head as he pondered. In doing so, he caught the eye-rolling glances of some of the rabbits who were so much smarter than him. “Davium,” he said with a sudden bought of sheepishness as he shook the man's small hand.
“Buck up, Binky Boy!” guffawed Commander Puddles Butterworth, apparently mistaking the ear bob for apprehension (not that Binky wasn't very very apprehensive). “This is a big day! An old battlefield. Our triumphant return. Some science-y future-ish wot wot.”
“You could take someone else along. Maybe,” Binky offered in a not-so-subtle plea. He couldn't bring himself to look his commander in the eye, or even the chest. Butterworth was in full ceremonial attire; long coat of the royalest blue, blocky raised epaulettes, and a smorgasbord of medals stretching from just below his fuzzy chin to the middle of the coat where his stoutness strained the buttons. The rabbit head crest of the Commander of Her Majesty's Royal Hare Forces was prominent, and arrayed around it were the trappings of every station one conquered on their way to that lofty peak. There were other medals as well, little spoken of but just as immaculately shined, such as the Most Royal Sharpshooter award, a decade old and formed like a bolt taking out a bird in flight... right through the eye. A large letter “S” was pinned next to it, a prize that his granddaughter won in her first spelling bee and bid him to take on his travels. That one always made Binky smile. As well, the one that featured a pair of very un-rabbitly sharp teeth tearing into something that dripped a single polished drop of red. Many believed it was in recognition of some bloody business that he had gone on at the behest of Her Majesty; some horrible but necessary deed that he never spoke of. It was only during the drunken celebration for their last campaign that Binky -and Binky alone- had learned the truth. Fufuberry pie eating contest, first place, age eight.
“You want to know why I chose you?” Butterworth asked in a calmer voice. Binky looked at him directly. It was rare that the commander let slip that special 'oomph' he used to stir the world's largest military to action. “After everything we've been through, my boy,” he removed his monocle and wiped it against an unadorned section of his coat, “After our victories in that very place, after all that you have done since to prove yourself, there's no hare I'd rather have at my side in the serpent's jaws.”
“Serpents?” Binky asked, wide-eyed, “That wasn't in the briefing.”
Butterworth's ears twitched once. They would have grazed the wires above if the hall hadn't deposited them onto a wide stairwell. “Hypothetical. But, who knows what we'll face. I need you on your toes, boy. Back straight. Ears up. Eyes... like... a... hawk.” He got very close as Binky stood with back straight, ears up, eyes unblinking, and only the faintest of twitches under the left one. “Good!” Butterworth bellowed at a modest decibel, “Go on down the stairs, quick hop. There's someone you'll no doubt be surprised to meet.”
Binky was about to ask when a sickly-looking guard approached them. “Commander,” he said weakly with an awkward salute, “Someone is... uh... here to see you.” He looked very queasy, which didn't help Binky's butterfly-stomach in the slightest.
“Right-ho. Back to your post, then,” the larger-than-life (and marginally larger than his coat) commander said as he marched up the stairs from which the guard had come.
With a deep breath, Binky descended the few steps to a door that was braced open. He crossed the threshold like a hare willingly and begrudgingly entering a nightmare. But, his fear suddenly took a tea break as he took the strange sights in. The ceiling high above was still a nest of cables. Some hung limply down like jungle vines, then connected to the workstations of at least twenty hares and bunnies in lab coats and spectacles. He could feel the collective might of Leporidae Academia radiating off of them. Their equipment, however, seemed unfit. Few had chairs. Half of the desks were just rejiggered camp tables. A few were actually sitting on the floor with consoles and controllers strewn about them like toys in a genius kit's playpen. All of it was connected by the thick cables as if spiders of silicone had left trails on their way to... something. The far side of the room to Binky's right was dedicated to a large raised platform with a huge metal ring laying horizontally on it. It wasn't much to look it. It didn't have sharp edges or red, creepy lights or anything that marked it as a doorway to horrors. Still, Binky made a conscious choice to look at the other side of the room.
There, near the ceiling, was a raised catwalk and a windowed room beyond. The commander's distinctive shape moved against the glare of monitors, and there was a patch of whiteness near him.
Binky let his eyes drift down, then sucked in a breath before his brain even comprehended what he was seeing. “TAR!” he called loudly.
The rabbit scientists all looked up, some surprised, some annoyed. The lone human at the back of the room (no, the lone human on the planet) also looked up. Even across the room, Binky recognized that distinctive glare, as it so happened to be cranked to maximum at this particular moment. Unmindful of anyone's reaction, Binky bounded across the room until his tummy was pressed to the back of the human's bulky desktop monitor. “You! Why are you- I never thought-” Words failed him against the torrent of rising emotion. It wasn't joy. “You bloody bastard! You teleported me into that bloody river with those females and wolves and- and- I still have sodding nightmares!”
The human reclined in what seemed to be a very plush chair, given the circumstances, and reached through greasy hair to massage his temples. “Splendid,” he drawled like a teacher with a failed test sitting on his desk. “Bonk, was it?”
“Binky,” the hare said as proudly as he could. “You owe me an apology for what happened on Althanas, the Gisela, those... banshees.” He shivered. “I swear, I don't know how they trust you with students.”
The man, on the verge of saying something, became very still. He looked down to his monitor, then to his knees. “I lost tenure,” he said coldly.
Binky blinked. “You lost ten years? You don't look that much older.”
“What?” the man said, brows climbing. Again his hands went to his head. “Father Brain, give me patience,” he muttered, then put on his teaching voice. “I lost my job, rabbit.”
Binky frowned, then steeled his furry jaw and sniffed. “Good. You brought students into a war zone.”
“Simulated war zone,” he corrected. “I'm not responsible for the madness that those Ai'Brone neanderthals turned it into. Regardless, I won't need them now. Not with this.” He gestured grandly to the device across the room. “Unimpeded, two-directional travel between worlds. I've been trying for so long. But, now...” He drifted off, tenting his fingers and already seeing all the worlds beyond.
Binky didn't look. He had already seen enough of it. “Well, you got here, didn't you?” he asked.
Again, the man looked down. “One-way trip. Hardly safe. But, there was nothing left for me there.”
The angry steam coming from Binky's ears finally puttered out. “How are TAR's minions these days?” he asked, if only to change the topic.
A very heavy and very defeated sigh answered him. “Just stop. My title of 'The Astounding Relativologist' is no more. And it was never meant to be shortened to... 'TAR'.” He almost choked on the word. Binky just wiggled his nose. “My name is Davium. If we could pretend that we met just now,” he suggested with a hand held forth. “Binky,” he said as respectfully as he could manage.
Binky sucked on his teeth and turned his head as he pondered. In doing so, he caught the eye-rolling glances of some of the rabbits who were so much smarter than him. “Davium,” he said with a sudden bought of sheepishness as he shook the man's small hand.