A black helicopter flew through the sky towards Beaver Falls. Inside sat Boomer, Poncho, Poo Poo, and the squad. A human medic sat nearby, waiting for any potential casualties.
"NOW REMEMBER!" shouted Boomer, just barely audible above the roar of the helicopter's rotors. "WE HAVE NO IDEA WHAT HAPPENED AT THIS OUTPOST."
"Uh, we kinda do." said Poncho. "The sergeant contacted us and we saw the whole thing.
"Shut up Ponddcho." said Boomer, glaring at his friend and second in command. He turned towards the human pilot, and nodded, the pilot lowering the helicopter down, landing it on an empty lot, save what appeared to be a run-down shack, and a Porta-Potty. Boomer lead his team towards the shack, as the helicopter lifted back up into the openness of the sky. They entered the run-down building, and gasped at the destruction. Usually upon entering, they would flip a hidden switch revealing an access panel, but instead they found devastation. Boxes were torn aside, and had clearly been set on fire. Were the secret door to the base was, they found a gaping hole, with several razor-sharp bills and chain letters embedded in the wall behind it. The elevator was barley working, and gave a little lurch when Boomer stepped on it. "You first." he said to Poncho. Poncho glared at his friend, and stepped in, expecting the cable to snap, and to plummet to his death. He was lucky, and nodded at his freinds, signaling them that it was safe. He opened the hatch to the cable. Two soldiers jumped down the cord, then two more. Poncho and Boomer followed, and they in turn were followed by Major Poo Poo and the final two soldiers.
Hudson was in charge of the pack in Boomer's absence. Ordinarily he would be happy to take command of the group, but during a level seven crisis, let alone one where he would have to deal with Canine Security, he was apprehensive. At this moment he was authorizing deployments of platoons in defensive positions across the city.
"Move group four to Main Street." he shouted. "Stage a false gas leak to evacuate the section from Forth Strdeet to Palm Ave.". His orders were quickly carried out.
"Sir!" Said the young lieutenant. "Major Jim, of the Canine Security Force to see you, sir.". Hudson nodded, and the young officer initiated a sharp salute, and walked over to supervise troop deployments.
"Hudson, am I right?" Jim said calmly, flanked by two human agents. Hudson nodded, unsure how to deal with the C.S.F. official.
"If you will follow me into our conference room, I can give you an update on the situation." Hudson said testily. Jim nodded, and they turned towards the room.
Once they had all reached the bottom of the elevator shaft, they headed through the charred remains of the door frame into the Beaver Falls outpost. The small team rained cautious and on edge, as most of them had been hear before; Poncho, Boomer, and Poo Poo on a regular inspection, and the squad on a tour of duty the previous month.
"I had lunch right here ." whispered the corporal sadly, not daring to breathe as he looked at the scorched remnants of the mess hall. Tables were overturned, and food supplies were scattered everywhere. Poncho and Poo Poo immediately rushed into the ruined cafeteria and started eating the food.
"Stop it, you two!" Shouted Boomer. The two smaller dogs froze, Poncho holding a half-empty bag of dog treats to his mouth, Poo Poo in mid-bite while eating a pickle. "We're on a mission, and all you two can think of is food?"
"Hey, we're dogs." retorted Poncho. "It's what we do."
"Sigh". said Boomer, "I can't argue with that." He turned to the squad. "Go ahead." The words were hardly out of his mouth before the six dogs rushed forward, joining the two dogs already there. Boomer sighed again, and joined them. All nine canines ate, unaware of the fact that they were not alone in the ruins of the base.
Hudson was having trouble with Jim: The Canine Security representative was proving difficult to please.
"So, as you can see," Hudson was saying, "we've deployed groups in defensive formations throughout the city." A map of the city appeared on the screen. It showed the location of four different platoons positioned around the city. "Gus." he nodded at the Scottish terrier.
"We're quite certain that the defensive construct we have at the moment will hold, should they try a frontal assault on our city." said Gus. "However, should they try an aerial assault, well..." his voice trailed off, the meaning of the silence quite obvious.
"What we are hoping you can do is provide us with some of the aircraft docked in Dyer Bay, near the Petit Manan National Wildlife Refuge in Maine." said Hudson, picking up after Gus. The screen switched to a defensive plan. Two eight-plane squadrons from Dyer Bay would land at a private airstrip near the outskirts of the city. They would assume a defensive formation in the event of a mailman assault from the air. Jim's brow furrowed.
"We only have six squadrons at Dyer." said the officer. "If I consider your plan, and that's a big if, I'd have to talk it over with my superiors." Jim's superiors were likely to approve it, seeing as they would want to contain the convention in Beaver Falls. However, Jim would have to okay it to be passed to his superiors, and Jim was not likely to do that. Hudson sighed. "Now," said Jim, "Tell me where Boomer is."
"I already told you. He's in the rural areas, shoring up our defenses out there." Hudson said. Boomer had given him strict orders to misdirect Jim for as long as possible.
"No, I think not." said Jim. "If you had defenses in the rural areas, and if Boomer cared about them, (two very big if's, let me remind you), he would have sent you." He pointed at Hudson. "Or you." he pointed at Gus. The two dogs looked at each other. They both knew their luck had run out.
"Fine." Hudson finally said. "We received a transmission from our outpost in Beaver Falls saying they were under attack. Boomer took Poncho, Poo Poo, and a squad to investigate."
"I would like to see this transmission." said Jim. Hudson nodded at the technician operating the projector. He pressed a few buttons, and a recorded playback of the transmission appeared on the screen. Jim's eyes widened. "Oh my god." he whispered. After thirty seconds of silence, he finally said: "Did Boomer order you to take it up to level seven?"
"Yes." Hudson nodded. At that moment a human aide burst through the door. "Sir!" he saluted at Hudson, before handing him a clipboard. Hudson's tail drooped between his two back legs. "Thank you Wendell." he whispered. The aide saluted again and walked back out the door. "You better see this." the beagle said to Gus. Gus took the clipboard and read it over. His eyes widened, and his tail initiated the same response, drooping between his legs.
"What is on that clipboard." Jim demanded. "In my acting capacity as representative of Canine Security, I respectfully demand to know the contents of that clipboard." Wordlessly, Hudson handed it to him. His eyes widenwyed for the second time in as many minutes. "If you'll excuse me, I have to authorize three squadrons of planes to come in from Dyer." He put down the clipboard, showing that a group of mailmen had hit the base on the outermost outskirts of the city, and had (barely) been repelled. Jim and the two human agents left to contact Dyer.
"We're in trouble now." Gus said to Hudson.
Having finished off the remains of the food, the small team's morale dropped to a somber mood again quickly. They hurried through the base, searching for evidence. The bodies of both mailmen and BoomerLand operatives littered the floor of the hallway leading to the command center. The door of the command center was torn off it's hinges, and the technicians and officers were strew across the room.
"Look," said Poncho. ""The sergeant is still breathing."
"Barely." said Poo Poo. "Contact the helicopter." he said to the corporal. Get this man to the surface." The corporal nodded and tapped a few codes into his communicator.
"Get back here!" he shouted at the pilot, who nodded, and turned his aircraft back towards the drop site. Two soldiers rushed forward with a stretcher salvaged from the base's medBay, and another three lifted the barley conscious officer onto the stretcher.
"I... failed you." he said to Boomer. "They took our catapult." The outpost in Beaver Falls housed the largest catapult of the Catapult all cat's into the sun organization. "They took it. I'm...sorry." His eyes rolled into his head, and his body went slack.
"He's unconscious." said the corporal. "We need to get him to a medical facility stat!"
"You're not going anywhere." came a voice. All nine dogs turned and found themselves face to face with a mailman.
The Canine Empire had been around for over 1,000 years. Made up of various dog packs that signed treaties in early medieval times to combat the threats following the chaos surrounding the fall of the Roman Empire, it was at first a chaotic and mostly undisciplined organization. In the 1500's, the ruling council had formed Canine Protect Agency (literacy rates among dogs were low in the middle ages) to combat threats to the empire's existence, such as the rats carrying the plague. By 1776, the empire employed several "human traitors" who believed the world would be better off under the control of the dog species. Using the "traitors", the ruling families, packs, and organizations that made up the highest levels of the empire began to manipulate world events. In 1805, following the bloody French Revolution, and the Louisiana Purchase, they formalized the chain of command, leaving regions (such as the area surrounding Poncho's city and Beaver Falls under the command of one Alpha (like Boomer). These Alpha's in turn, answered to officials from Canine Security, who answered to the Empire Department of State and Taxes, who answered directly to the ruling council. In 1908, Canine Protection Agency was renamed 'Canine Security Force' or just simply, Canine Security
By 1963, Canine Security had taken on a more intelligence organization sort of role, leaving threats to the regional pack leaders. In 2004, a young and ambitious cadet from the C.S.F. academy joined with the name "Jim". He hoped to become a great officer, like his father, Colonel Ajax, before him. However, his father was killed in a shootout with a rouge cat faction, and any trace of optimism quickly abandoned Jim's mind. He became more focused, more dedicated. His superiors were dully impressed, and he rose through the ranks, until he reached Major in 2007. He had a clean record, with one hundred percent success. One hundred percent success, that is, until September 2009, when he encountered Poncho Perry Palmer.
It was a routine mission. He and another dog were seeking out potential cat staging sites. They knew that a dog in the area lived with a few cats (thanks to Boomer's less-than-detailed reports), but they had no idea who it was, or how many cats. They were surprised to learn that the dog was actually the Beta for the nearby pack, and he lived in a house with nine cats. Poncho was subsequently arrested, but he later escaped, becoming a black mark on Jim's permanent record. This led to Jim being punished by handing all matters with BoomerLand, and a few other local packs. He encountered Poncho again when they sent him tho gather intel on the same brood of cats that caused Poncho to get arrested in the first place. Poncho gathered little intel, claiming they did nothing. During a heated debate, another dog named Poo Poo was suggested for the role, and the two dogs argued over who should go. Jim later left, and was mildly reprimanded for failing to get any Intel on the cats.
By 2017, Jim hated the insolent group of ne'er-do-wells made up of moronic humans and dogs that called themselves 'BoomerLand' and wished the would just merge with another pack. Yet here he was, still working as the liaison to that God -awful pack.
"Jim. JIM!" someone was shouting. The Major was jolted back to the present to find Hudson standing in front of him. "Did your superiors say yes?"
"Huh? Oh, yeah." Jim said blearily. He regained his composure " They said yes. Three squadrons of F-16's are on their way to our location."
Hudson breathed a sigh of relief. "Oh, good. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to shore up our defenses." The beagle walked away, leaving Jim to his thoughts.
"We have the planes." Hudson said calmly to Gus in the midst of the chaotic war room. Gus only nodded, too distracted by status reports.
"Tell him no. We can't spare any troops to his position." He told the young lieutenant. The officer saluted and walked away to carry out this new task. "You're worried." He said, turning to his friend.
Hudson nodded. "Don't tell Boomer I said this, but I don't think he's not the best leader during tense situations. And Poncho's mentally unstable, and no matter how brilliant of a tactician he may be, Poo Poo's just not that intimidating in a combat situation." Gus nodded again, not at all surprised by his friend's opinion of their associates and long-time friends.
"Let's just hope they make it back alive." Gus said, tapping a few commands into his tablet, even as he spoke.
Boomer, Poncho, Poo Poo, and the squad were having trouble making it back alive. They all stood there, numb with shock as the mailman stepped into the chamber. His hair was slicked back, greasy brown, with streaks of grey. His cap was missing, and he had a scar on his right cheek. His muscles bulged as if he'ed just come back from working out. All in all, he made a pretty intimidating mailman. He laughed, a harsh sound, as though his throat was made of rusted metal and filled with gravel.
"So, who talks first?" Boomer said. "You talk first? I talk first?" The mailman laughed again. Boomer shot him.
"That was too easy." said the Corporal.
"Disturbingly easy." agreed Poncho.
"Ah, who cares?" said Boomer "He's out of the picture, we can get out of here." The other dogs nodded and followed their leader and alpha out of the ruined command center.
"CLICK" Poncho turned.
"I heard something." Poncho said, growing nervous.
"Ah, It's just your nerves playin' tricks on you." reassured Boomer.
"CLICK. CLICK."
"I had that too said Poo Poo, and Poncho nodded.
"NOTHING!" Boomer shouted, now trying to reassure himself, everyone else already a lost cause.
"CLICK!CLICK!CLICK!CLICK!"
"RUUNNN!" Boomer shouted, giving up all pretense of a fearless leader. His loyal followers eagerly followed this new command, and one at a time, they scurried back up the rope to the burned-out shack, and into the helicopter, which lifted away.
Deep inside the bowels of the base, one mailman remarked to his comrades:
"Man, i knew we shouldn't have worn these things.", referring to the tap shoes they wore.
That chapter took me a while to write, partly because I was on vacation. Please favorite and review!