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Fathom's Phantoms A New Day

Victor looked over the implements on the surgical steel tray; they were finely shaped, meticulously crafted, and designed for a very specific purpose... kind of like him. "In the scheme of things there've been worse weeks."

The Gen-3 Fox strapped to his operating table whimpered in response; the Velcro sleeve securing his muzzle shut made it hard for the vulpine to do anything more than that. The cat continued musing as he selected his finest scalpel. "Let's see... there was the week my parents died..."

He put the scalpel down, then selected his SECOND finest scalpel, "the time a particularly unruly mugger beat me to within an inch of my life..."

The Cat set that scalpel down and picked up a much older one he'd had for a number of years, "... yea... that was a bad week... damn mugger ended up getting every last credit I had on me after I got paid for a VERY lucrative job..."

He watched his "patient's" eyes go VERY wide when he put down the scalpel and picked up a bone saw instead. The cat moved back to the strapped-down fox letting the fine, flawless, gleaming surgical steel of the medical instrument reflect the overhead lights into the unruly vulpine's face. "Oh right... there was also the time I got arrested... that was a particularly bad week... very embarrassing..."

Dr Cortez showed some tooth as he hissed, "I DO hate being embarrassed, Virgil."

The Cat reached down to take hold of the lupine wrist at the end of the fox's replacement arm and set the bone saw against the place where the two different furs met at his shoulder. He pressed down lightly, nowhere near hard enough for the instrument to break the skin, but certainly enough to be felt. His patient objected immediately, shaking his head back and forth as tears matted the fur around his eyes. "Mnnf! Mnnf!"

The cat raised the bone saw and let go of the wolf-arm's wrist, giving it a little pat, "Ah... so NOW you want the arm?"

Virgil nodded vigorously, "-eff-eff!"

The cat cocked his head to the side inquisitively and set the bone saw on his instrument stand, "But you went to all the trouble of calling in security and telling them that I did such a poor job. You must understand if I come across as a little confused."

The fox struggled, making numerous sounds as if trying to talk-- he did a decent job of it too, compared to many former patients of Victor's who found themselves in a similar situation. They all discussed the same things regardless, so it wasn't as though the cat actually had to hear what they were saying.

Victor interrupted the fox, "I'm something of an artist, but I am STILL a doctor."

The Fox struggled, continuing to mumble around the gag.

The Cat patted the side of his patient's muzzle, "You don't become a doctor by being bad at what you do, you know."

His patient recoiled at the touch, fresh tears wetting his furry cheeks.

The Cat dragged his claws through the junction point of the Fox's body and the Wolf's arm, "And I have come to loathe it when my finest work is brought to question... ESPECIALLY when the authorities are made involved."

The Fox, still crying, mumbled something through his muzzle restraint... it almost sounded like "I'm sorry", but Victor couldn't be sure... not that it mattered anyway; if there was one thing the Cat hated more than embarrassment, and more than having authorities involved, it was a lack of appreciation... a lack of appreciation for him, his talent, and his artwork. Like his medical tools, Victor was a finely crafted, meticulously honed, precision instrument... and he was VERY good at what he was designed to do.

The Cat took a step back, relenting. "You can keep the arm, Virgil. There are enough lupine parts in reserve that I really don't need to reuse it."

He turned back to offer the Fox a gentle smile, "Besides... it appears you are quickly growing quite attached to it."

With that, the doctor covered his tools back up with all the loving care of a parent putting his child to bed, "I am also loathed to reuse a limb multiple times... it would suggest a lack of pride in one's work to constantly transplant an arm when I have plenty of other perfectly good ones... on hand."

Virgil strained against his bindings anew, not that it would do him any good. The Fox tried talking again but, once more, it was another wasted effort. Despite any of the Cat's reassurances, it was, of course, only natural that his patient would still be fearful that horrible things would be done to him. Victor, however, did not plan on harming Virgil... after all, he had taken an oath.

Victor smiled comfortingly and picked up a clean operating rag, "And, so you know, I do regret that we did not have a suitable vulpine arm in stock... we are rather short on fox pieces. Ah well... I suppose I should go take care of some unfinished business... I will be back in a few minutes, and then we can finish up."

Dr Cortez headed out of the room, wiping his paws off on the rag despite not having made a mess... for once. Cleaning his paws after any time spent in the operating room was something of a habit of his... one of many. Virgil remained on the operating table, ears up, and incredibly still. Victor didn't have to turn around to see the expression of surprise, disbelief, and lingering fear that was most likely splayed across his velcroed muzzle; he'd seen it often enough during his not-so-professional career.

The three 'visitors' waiting for him in the lobby were much less complacent. An imposing-looking Gorumn at the lead of the group spoke up, and it was apparent right away that the large, green woman didn't have the best grasp of language skills. "Where's he?"

Victor held up both of his paws in an attempt to placate her. "Calm yourself. I would not have called you here had I not intended to let you finish what you started."

A particularly scarred-looking, bald, human male grunted. "We didn't start nothin'. He's the one what brought it on himself."

A Gen-2 Armadillo, the smallest of the group snapped at the Human. "Shut up."

Even though the Armadillo was the smallest, he still easily dwarfed Victor. The way the Gen's eyes went to the camera in the waiting room made the cat realize that at least one of the three had some brains, and Victor was suddenly that much more at ease. The Armadillo spoke in a perfectly even tone, obviously for the benefit of the camera. "Frankly, Doctor... we have no idea why you called us here."

Victor motioned with his head toward the camera. "That is for my own personal records. Let me be perfectly frank. I understand that a certain Fox had an 'accident' down in one of the gear rooms, and that the entire affair was a horrible, completely unforeseen tragedy."

The Gorumn woman grunted. "A trad-i-gy he lived, maybe."

The cat took a step back to open the door leading to the operation room, and also to avoid her reek. "I was going to say it was a tragedy that his arm was unable to be salvaged. After all... I am INCREDIBLY short on vulpine parts."

The Gorumn woman and the human man stood there in confusion, but the Armadillo was rather quick on the uptake. "Oh... course."

Victor smiled pleasantly. "Yes... 'of course'."

The smallest of the three bruisers glanced to the other two, grinning wide. "The doc wants a little help."

Victor didn't expect his guests to have a keen eye for proper procedure, but he anticipated being able to salvage MOST of the organs. Letting out a sigh, the cat took a seat in the waiting room; sometimes being a genius was such hard work.

* * * * * *

Jen had left for her shift on the bridge early in what the station clocks referred to as the "morning" but to Theo it felt more like late evening. The Gen-0 Wolf had been up most of the "night" collecting station information and entering it into the Overseer's PCD. He knew it was her first shift aboard Sigma-Echo and he would let her start it with nothing less than complete notes; it made him think back to the late night study sessions they shared in college and how he had insisted that she borrow his notes before all the big tests.

Tail wagging, the wolf hummed softly to himself as he began organizing the station's system specs and operating procedures; if the Overseer needed them then they would be cataloged for easy cross-reference. Theo paused for a moment, tapping his claws on the kitchen table as he attempted to recall the name of the song... it was one of Jen's favorites.

A friendly voice spoke from the hallway. "Le Chateau de Yardus Quatre."

Looking up, Theo saw Carol lingering in the archway that led back toward the bedrooms, "Hmm?"

The Doe moved into the kitchen, taking a seat across from the Wolf at the table. "That song. She was listening to that again last night, wasn't she?"

Theo nodded and sat back in his chair. "She used to listen to it all the time in college. It helps relax her. This is her first official shift on the station and she wanted something calming to go to sleep to."

Finished with moving the physical copies of information around on the table, the Wolf began scanning them into file form with his PCD. Carol assisted him in his work, taking the already scanned pages and re stacking them as she murmured wistfully "Sometimes I'm jealous of you, Theodocious... Growing up--"

The Wolf interjected "We ALL grew up, Carol."

The Doe smiled in reply, but it faded as she spoke. "I grew up in less than four years... Nate and Yancy did it in under six months...it's not exactly the same thing, you know."

Theo realized that, as the newest members of Jen's team the Elephant and the Pony had barely had a chance to assimilate into the group before they were uprooted and dragged across the galaxy. "How are they doing, by the way?"

Her expression returned immediately to business neutral. "They're fine. Jen assigned Jerry to their apartment to help them get situated."

The wolf nodded. "Jeremiah'll do a good job with them... I'm glad to hear it."

The Doe suddenly back stepped in their conversation. "What was college like?"

It was obvious to Theo by that point that she was waxing nostalgic and he wouldn't be able to bypass the topic that often made him feel most uncomfortable; it was no secret among the Gen-0s that Theo had grown up with Jen and, as the only one of the group with an actual "childhood", it was often a point of focus for the others. Theo summed it up in one word, and then elaborated. "Hard. Between the classes, handling the apartment, keeping up with shipments from home office and from Mr Thurstenburger, and keeping an eye out for Jen-- there was this one Voljoi boy who kept--"

Carol lowered her paws and rested them on the table, her thick, black, hoof-like nails creating a soft series of *clicks* as she did so. "I mean learning. Jen said once that the two of you got to choose what you learned..."

Theo paused; out of all of the Gen-0s, Carol was the one from which he least expected to get 'the questions'. He cleared his throat, "Well... like I said... it was hard... I mean... not like the System."

The System... Theo remembered so little about it... usually just snippets of recollection during the deepest of his dreams. It was an LHI proprietary learning program used on pre-genesis Geneticons, feeding them instruction before they were even conscious. The company had just started on the earliest stages of pre-genesis instruction when he had been created.

Having served Jen faithfully for over twenty years he had the first-hand experience of seeing it develop over the decades, so much so that Nate and Yancy, the Overseer's newest Geneticons were fully grown and fully trained, despite being only a little over 12 months old. They were the newest of what LHI called the "DD Models".

The Wolf's thoughts were interrupted when heard Marco, one of the weasel brothers shout emphatically "Evy!"

Robert, the other Weasel countered with "India!"

Theo reminded himself that the two bodyguards were technically only eight, despite looking as though they were in their mid twenties. He flicked an ear as he glanced to Carol. "What is going on with those two?"

Carol sighed, looking displeased. "They're playing 'what if?'."

The Wolf was quite familiar with that game-- most of Jen's Gens played it every now and again, posing questions to one another that always started with 'what if'. He'd even been included on occasion, though most of the group considered him a downer because he was never worried about life being different; he was happy with how things were. "Okay. I'll bite. What's the question?"

Carol leveled her gaze at Theo, "What if you weren't on H.I.D.?"

The wolf's ears both snapped up to full attention immediately. H.I.D. was a chemical cocktail of proprietary hormone supplements and replacements that maintained LHI's guaranteed patent on the Geneticon's genetic code. In addition, it took away cellular degradation common among the most advanced DD models. His words came out flatly. "They would age rapidly over the course of a few years and have to be retired."

The Doe shook her head, ears reddening. "That's not the effect they're talking about."

Theo had been on H.I.D. since before he and Jen had gone to college, but he wasn't a stupid Wolf: he knew what the Weasels meant. H.I.D. also inhibited a Geneticon's sexual response and drive. "They're lucky Jen's not here... I wouldn't stand for that... it's... it's absolutely... vulgar."

Carol nodded, folding her fingers on the table. "Which is why I'm out here with you."

The Weasels shouted in unison "CAROL!"

The following laughter echoed in unison from somewhere down the hall. The doe's ears reddened immensely. "How embarrassing."

The wolf nodded courteously to the deer woman, stood, and carefully pushed in his chair. "Please excuse me."

He went off to have a little talk with the weasel brothers; when it came to keeping order, as with just about anything else, Jen would always be able to depend on him.

* * * * * *

Kamrn stood at the ready by the work detail with his mag-boots locking him into place on the outer hull of the space station. The workers he was stationed with continued their efforts to finish isolating the problem with the... whatever the things were. The Gorumn was not exactly technical savvy and all he knew was that the crew were working on automated systems that would help keep space debris from striking the station and, until they were done, it was his job to handle it manually... with a big fucking gun. Kamrn grinned within his helmet.

The Atmospheric Pulse Projector wasn't the easiest weapon to use and the scientific specifics behind it were mind-blowing, but Kamrn appreciated it nevertheless... mostly for the feel of its kickback when it fired. Generally designed for redirecting small-to-medium sized projectiles in a vacuum the APP was a two-part weapon that worked essentially like any other weapon: the user was supposed to point and shoot.

As far as 'specifics', Kamrn knew that the APP did something with something, and the end effect was very gratifying. Pulling the trigger was followed by a really powerful, hand-numbing, shoulder-impacting *whump* that resulted in the incoming whatever-it-was to be pushed away from the guarded area. Kamrn heard a scientist say once that no sounds traveled in space, and that what he was hearing was his body's reaction to the weapon hurled back against it. All in all, the Gorumn liked the way his body sounded.

A call came from the comm unit in his helmet. It was the team's spotter, and his voice was very pointed. "Hey! Cameron! Wake up!

Humans had a hard time pronouncing his name, and so the Gorumn had become familiar with them using a substitute: Kamrn was Cameron-- just another thing he had to live with around them. "Yea? What?"

The voice announced clearly "Got one for you. Two o clock high."

It had taken the Gorumn some time to understand the direction based on the Human time piece but, once he had it figured out he had to admit that it was a very effective method for indicating where he should look-- a lot easier than pointing. Several of the exterior lights the work crew were using for the repairs had been appropriated for target tracking by the security team; two were focused right on a medium sized hunk of what looked like ice and rock growing rapidly closer to the station.

Kamrn released the magnetic hold his right foot had on the hull and slid it backwards into a solid stance before reengaging the magnets. Bracing himself, and raising the large, cylindrical weapon up to his shoulder, the Gorumn rotated his grip slowly on the APP, waiting patiently as the debris drew closer... closer... closer... tracking its progress as it neared. Despite the power behind the cigar-looking weapon, it did not have the best range, hence the fact that he and the rest of the security detail were spaced evenly around the hundred-meter-plus work area.

Another voice from the comm unit. "Hey! I got this one."

Kamrn recognized the speaker and glanced across the ten plus yards between himself and the Gen-2 Tapir. They locked gazes for a moment before the Gorumn spoke up. "Like liquid fuck you do, Ernie. That's my shot."

A third voice joined their conversation. "Did he say 'liquid fuck'?"

Captain Reynonds, the team's CO interjected. "Yea, Mol... he did. It's a Gorumn expression."

The only member of the detail without an APP, the Human Captain's job was to supervise his team since most humans couldn't use one without suffering bodily harm. He did a relatively decent job of it, especially considering their defense formation had managed a 100% success.

Mol, the large female Cytkus standing on the hull beyond Ernie nodded her head thoughtfully. "Ah. Well he's right, Ern... that's his shot."

Ernie snorted; "Makes me wonder why I'm even out here. I haven't fired at anything since stepping outta that airlock."

Captain Reynolds' comment was very to-the-point without being an overt threat. "I can always have you assigned to the 200s."

Kamrn admired the Human's ability to pull off that kind of thing and hoped he would one day be able to emulate it. He also took a moment to admire how well the Tapir's nose was formed for snorting; it was something Ernie did quite often. The voice that first called his attention to the incoming projectile drew his attention back to the slow-moving 'comet' heading toward him, "Any time, Cam. Shot's yours."

The Gorumn nodded. "Got it."

Bracing himself again, Kamrn took aim and squeezed off the shot. The world around him turned into one solid impact as his vision blurred and his grit teeth shook in their sockets. He felt the shock wave try as hard as it could to take his arm off, but the best it could manage was to send a jolt through his body that reminded the large green security officer why it was he loved space debris detail.

Captain Reynolds was liberal with the praise. "Good shot, Cameron."

It took a few moments for Kamrn's eyesight to clear, and another moment before his stunned diaphragm was able to draw breath, but once his body returned to working order, he appreciated the sight of hundreds of tiny little rocks and clumps of ice cascading down on him and the rest of the team as a slow-moving, gentle rain.

One of the team's Lance Corporals chuckled. "Don't think I'll ever get tired of seein' that!"

The Captain replied flatly. "Then today's your lucky day, Williams... Looks like we have three more incoming."

Kamrn ignored the verbal exchange, choosing to focus on his own actions. Bracing the APP against his shoulder, he pulled hard at the metal lever that ejected the thick charge casing into his waiting hand; if he wasn't wearing a protective suit the Gorumn was sure it would have burned his skin black. He glanced upward toward the stars as the work lights focused in on three more incoming targets. The Gorumn grinned and finished reloading: another one was definitely coming his way.

The spotter was quick to call the targets. One for Williams, and two for you Cameron."

The Gorumn grinned, raising his APP again. "I'm gonna get a few bruises today outta this."

Ernie spoke flatly. "Aww... cry me a river... you and all your liquid fuck."

Kamrn sighted in his newest incoming target, glancing sidelong at the Tapir. "Why would I cry?"

"Ernie..." the Captain spoke the Gen's name with a sigh, "Gorumn LIKE bruises."

The resounding WHUMP of Kamrn's weapon drowned out whatever the Tapir had said... not that the Gorumn minded-- he really DID enjoy that sound.