There were undercurrents in the Burrow, layers composed of the various factions, each with their own goals and ideals of how their people should be led. What should have been a joyous celebration of the return of a hunting party that had driven off the deadly Arvo, instead set loose fear and confusion. The hunters, their leader and even the scout that had returned with them had vanished in the Burrow. Families and friends were left confused and looking for answers.
Like ripples from a rock splashing into a pond, these feelings spread throughout the Burrow. As days without a proper answer passed, the ripples spread, bounced and magnified. An official statement from the Matrons was put out, they said that for the safety of the Burrow, those who returned had to be separated, that there was nothing to worry about.
Some accepted this answer, but for many it just left more questions and confusion.
For Indral, it proved that something was wrong, and combining that with the more visible presence of the Watchers, and that he hadn’t been brought into whatever the Matrons were up to, meant something dangerous was happening. He had tried approaching the Eldest Matron, had shared a private meal with her, and watched her lie to his face. It broke his heart watching her make excuse after fake explanation after further excuse as to where his former apprentice and the hunters had gone.
Now, he was done playing the games, he was the Master Scout of the tribe, he would seek answers the way he knew best.
Indral sat once again in the Knotted Tail, seated at a table with several old friends, each nursing a cup of salp. In the corner lay a prone figure, snoring loudly with a puddle of drool forming around their head. If it weren’t for the ropes binding their arms and legs, they could have just been a passed out patron from the night before. Clearing his throat, Indral addressed the males and females sharing the table with him, “Thanks to our little friend, we have we know that Delvik and the Hunters are being held by the Watchers, which means deep in the lower levels”
Cold, flat eyes moved from Rakus to Rakus, “That they are being held by the Watchers and not the Burrow guards is not a good sign my friends. I intend to find out what is going on, and will do so alone if I must.”
An older female snorted loudly, breaking the silence after Indrals words, and shifting all eyes to her. “Somehow, you have managed to get worse at asking for help.” she said with another derisive snort, “Do you think we dragged our tails out at this early hour to bully that poor kid the Watchers put here?”
The serious faces at the table cracked smiles, a few laughs leaked out and the tension in the air faded a bit. Indral dipped his head in acknowledgment, “point taken”, he said. “Then we had best be about it my friends.”
One by one the old monsters of the Burrow, former masters or just exceptionally skilled hunters, scouts and guards filtered out of the bar and vanished into the Burrow.
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Telnir massaged his temples as one of his Senior Watchers reported to him. “..and it seems that they have vanished sir, their families haven’t seen them since the night before last.”
“This is rather distressing news Senior Watcher, there is a reason we kept eyes and ears on that particular group, and now they are loose, and doing shadows know what.” Telnir stated calmly, before standing and walking to a small cabinet and withdrawing a bottle.
Turning back to the Senior Watcher after pouring a drink, “Lock down the lower levels, I want eyes and ears in every tunnel and room down here. They cannot be allowed to interrupt our work.”
The Senior Watcher bowed and departed as Telnir sat back at his desk. This would complicate things, he thought to himself as he sipped at his drink. He turned his attention back to his desk and began issuing orders.
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Litra and Gamir met again, without the other Matrons present to discuss what Delvik had revealed to them days ago. They were at an impasse, they both desired to do something, anything other than the course of action that the Eldest had embarked them all on, but could not agree on what to do.
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Litra favored making what Delvik had found and said public, and letting the Burrow decide as a whole. She thought that such a life changing, and if she was being fully honest, a dangerously risky decision to attempt working with a Human, should be something everyone who would be affected should have a say in. She knew that there would be many who would be against it, but, if it was explained properly, she believed a majority would be open to the possibility. That it was a single Human, and from all reports, a scholar and not a warrior, would make it slightly more acceptable.
Gamir, on the other paw, was all for direct action. She wanted to directly challenge the other Matrons, to free Delvik and those Hunters. While she agreed that they should put the issue before the rest of the Tribe, but only after securing the Humans'' help. That way, she thought, they could do more than just tell the people of the Tribe what benefits they could have from working with the Human, but actually show them.
They both agreed that getting the other three Matrons to stop their madness wouldn''t work. The Eldest had revealed a collection of books that the head of the Watchers had given her. Books on the histories of the Humans, their brutal past and continuous wars. Of the terrible things that they would do to each other, let alone other species. Such was the level of fear sinking into their minds, they had even discussed sending scouts to the nearby settlements to try and poison their water, and failing that, moving the whole tribe to a place a whole moon cycle away that the Eldest knew of.
No, approaching the other Matrons was not a possibility. They both wished it was different, that the others could see past their fear of Humans to at least consider it, but it seemed like their minds were made up. So here they sat, once again, each trying to convince the other to their own preferred course of action.
They were so distracted by their conversation that the food was left untouched, and the extra guests that arrived went unnoticed, until one loudly coughed to interrupt them.
Litra and Gamir both turned in shock, their words ending mid-sentence, to look at the collection of older Rakus who had gathered in their very private room. One figure stepped forward, a graying Rakus wearing the clothing of a scout, “Matron Litra, Matron Gamir, I believe that we have much to discuss,” he said, giving a polite nod to each in turn, “You may begin with what happened to my apprentice”.
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Across the base, a group watched a flurry of activity taking place in one of the ruined buildings. Metal clad figures were scurrying around, seeming to be cleaning up the surface Burrow. Sparks flashed as metal walls were patched, as small metal frames were erected on the corners, reaching above the top of the Burrow and strange objects were placed atop them.
An occasional flash of white cloth could be seen moving about, but it was the metal creatures that attracted the most attention. They were in all shapes and sizes, some even familiar from pictures the watchers had seen. The watchers all agreed, the Human was up to something.
Thomas waved at the Rakus he had noticed standing on the roof of a nearby building, but they vanished back out of view. He had hoped it was Delvik returning, he was excited to show his friend the work he had been doing. He couldn’t get the night of the party out of his mind, it had been the most fun he had had since before coming here. So Thomas had started planning to throw a bigger, better party when Delvik got back.
The day after Delvik had left, while he let the repair bots run wild in the shelter, he had taken a trip back to the Mess hall to take a proper look at things. It was about as bad as he thought it would be, but there were a few silver linings. The base had apparently routed utilities from the shelter to the Mess Hall, so he would have power and water. Aside from the equipment damaged in the recent fighting, most of it was probably repairable. Thomas still wanted grills over the electric stoves that were there, but they could still be used. All in all, he decided, it wasn’t too terrible, but it was a lot of work for one person.
So Thomas returned to the drawing board, and new creations began to trickle out of the shelter. The first ones were simple, boxy robots on treads. Mobile trash compactors, they went forth and gathered up all the broken tables, chairs, and even began disassembling the damaged equipment to break down.
Next came the MechaSpiders. Mobile welders to help cut up the broken equipment and patch the walls. Thomas remembered the incident with the giant mutant birds, he wasn’t going to let them crash the party. Watch towers with home made auto turrets, or in a technical parlance, a Light Machinegun with a motion sensor attached, were assembled on the corners.
As the days passed, more progress was made, and the mess hall was starting to look like a place you could actually get a drink and a meal at. The old tile had been removed, leaving only bare concrete for the floor. Newly assembled tables and chairs filled the space and rope lights had been hung like netting above, filling in the space where half the roof had been torn off. The Robots had done a great job repairing and cleaning up the kitchen equipment, he had even managed to salvage two of the walk-in freezers.
His happiness was, however, tempered by his worry. Thomas hoped it wasn''t an ill omen, but after six days, his little buddies, the Rakus who had been watching and keeping him company, if at a distance, had not shown up today.