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Description
02Mar2016 Pt-2

Flikka waited several hours before sticking her nose outside the little ship. After landing she'd spent the remainder of the day alternately listening in on local communications and napping. She knew exactly when the retreating Navy fighters had taken out the local ground surveillance and communications satellite, leaving the local combatants partially deaf and, hopefully, completely blind to Flikka's activities. She also knew that all the Navy ships had successfully left the system in good order.

Now, sticking her pretty nose outside Bitey's hatch for the first time her first thought was, "Why did they not tell me it would be winter? A really, really -cold- winter. Brrrr..!" Flikka gave herself a shake, fluffing her fur against the cold, then stepped out into the night.

It was more than three klicks through rugged terrain to the pickup point; even farther by the route Flikka took, scouting the territory as she went. Her dark grey ship-suit coupled with her natural fur coloring, where it was exposed, to camouflage her well against the rocky mountainsides. She was careful to never skyline herself and tried to stay away from snowfields. When forced to cross a snowy area Flikka looked for the tracks of animals in which to lose her own.

By dawn Flikka had circumnavigated the enemy base and was once again looking down on the pick-up point. She was well concealed under the edge of a boulder part-way up a slope with a good view from a couple of hundred meters away. From her vantage point Flikka was close enough to see her target clearly through the binoculars, and also, from her elevated position, reasonably well beyond to the base located out in a valley. Sheltered from both observation and the bitter wind by her boulder, Flikka settled in to watch and...wait.

"This has got to be one of the most boring assignments I've ever accepted," thought Flikka with a yawn; a yawn revealing plenty of very sharp and gleaming teeth. She'd been lying up under the boulder for over two hours without a sign of outdoor activity from the base. Another hour and she pulled a concentrated ration pack from her pocket and popped the heat tab. Seconds later Flikka opened the packet, sniffed, and drew back sharply. Another, more cautious, sniff and she decided the Syntha-meat contents had not gone bad after all. "Krrkkt! These people can -not- cook!" she grumbled. Flikka was only half joking when she wondered if she might run down one of the native beasts and make it look to any patrols as if it was done by one of their natural predators.

It was near noon before anything happened to break the monotony for Flikka. It was then she spotted a patrol approaching in the distance, alternately walking and trotting. Occasionally the patrol would pause on a slight rise and take a look around before resuming their march. Eventually they reached the upthrust of rock that marked their nooning stop. Here was a large alcove that both blocked the prevailing, cold, wind and provided a heat trap for the weak, winter sunshine. This was where Flikka expected to meet her passenger.

Watching through her 'scope Flikka could see that the patrol was made up of all canids. "Probably short-haired breeds," she thought, for they all wore heat-suits with hoods and sun-goggles. She could determine little else about them, but she licked her lips hungrily when she realized they were eating "real food" while she was reduced to synthetic rations while on this mission planetside. "One of the few good things about being a grounder." With a low growl Flikka ripped off another bite of her Sytha-meat ration as she watched enviously.

"Okay; so much for military discipline," grinned Flikka as she watched the patrol's leader try to get them going again after lunch. Apparently some of the patrol weren't having any of it and she could watch their officer's futile attempts to get them on their feet. Eventually he threw up his hands and stalked off in disgust to examine the landscape from the top of the rocks.

It was the last dog that really interested Flikka though. At first she, or he, ate lunch and socialized with the others; but, once the group broke up, she sort of drifted off and sat in a sheltered corner idly tossing pebbles and occasionally looking around.

Over a half hour later the main group apparently decided they'd made their point with the officer and condescended to continue the patrol. They all stood up and casually stretched, stumbling into a vague formation that made it clear they were continuing because -they- were ready to. With a last minute call to the pebble-tosser off by herself they started on their way without waiting. The pebble-tosser's next move got Flikka's attention. The dog looked around quickly and, with the patrol safely out of sight, she stacked three flattish stone's one atop the other and then hurried away to catch up.

"Son of a biscuit! One of the guards??" Flikka just shook her head. The stacked stones were a signal to Flikka to let her know her passenger was ready and awaiting pick-up. The target knew the raid was a trick to get Flikka through the planet's defenses, but she had no way of knowing if Flikka had actually made it in. She'd just have to return to the pick-up point after dark for the next few days and hope.

Once the patrol had passed out of sight Flikka settled down again. There were no more patrols at all before dark and Flikka spent time musing on the enemy's lack of vigilance towards base security. "Do they really think a spaceport will only ever be attacked from space?" she wondered.

For whatever reason there were no more patrols that day, and not much else to look at except rocks and snow. There were tree-like things on some of the less precipitous slopes, and patches of a reddish-brown moss but no birds. Either they'd all followed the warmer weather when winter came along or this planet didn't have any. Flikka did see a couple of small herds of a white and black furred beast about the size of a goat. These wandered out of a copse of 'trees' and moved across the valley in front of her, occasionally stopping to nibble at a patch of the moss or to paw at the base of a rock upthrust before moving on and disappearing into the 'trees' atop another slope farther down the valley.

Late in the day the breeze picked up and turned even colder as the local star slipped down the sky. Secure under her boulder, Flikka carefully moved some rocks around to give herself even more of a windbreak, walling herself in while leaving small windows so she could observe up, down, and across the valley. Then she found a patch of dirt and dug a hole in which to curl herself up for warmth. A passive sensor watched the pickup point and the trail while she napped away the rest of the afternoon, getting up regularly to check things out with her own eyes, ears, and nose. When evening came and still no patrol, Flikka tried to make the time pass by only taking one small bite of her supper ration every ten minutes. It didn't really help, either with the time or the taste.
***

Description
02Mar2016 Pt-2

Flikka waited several hours before sticking her nose outside the little ship. After landing she'd spent the remainder of the day alternately listening in on local communications and napping. She knew exactly when the retreating Navy fighters had taken out the local ground surveillance and communications satellite, leaving the local combatants partially deaf and, hopefully, completely blind to Flikka's activities. She also knew that all the Navy ships had successfully left the system in good order.

Now, sticking her pretty nose outside Bitey's hatch for the first time her first thought was, "Why did they not tell me it would be winter? A really, really -cold- winter. Brrrr..!" Flikka gave herself a shake, fluffing her fur against the cold, then stepped out into the night.

It was more than three klicks through rugged terrain to the pickup point; even farther by the route Flikka took, scouting the territory as she went. Her dark grey ship-suit coupled with her natural fur coloring, where it was exposed, to camouflage her well against the rocky mountainsides. She was careful to never skyline herself and tried to stay away from snowfields. When forced to cross a snowy area Flikka looked for the tracks of animals in which to lose her own.

By dawn Flikka had circumnavigated the enemy base and was once again looking down on the pick-up point. She was well concealed under the edge of a boulder part-way up a slope with a good view from a couple of hundred meters away. From her vantage point Flikka was close enough to see her target clearly through the binoculars, and also, from her elevated position, reasonably well beyond to the base located out in a valley. Sheltered from both observation and the bitter wind by her boulder, Flikka settled in to watch and...wait.

"This has got to be one of the most boring assignments I've ever accepted," thought Flikka with a yawn; a yawn revealing plenty of very sharp and gleaming teeth. She'd been lying up under the boulder for over two hours without a sign of outdoor activity from the base. Another hour and she pulled a concentrated ration pack from her pocket and popped the heat tab. Seconds later Flikka opened the packet, sniffed, and drew back sharply. Another, more cautious, sniff and she decided the Syntha-meat contents had not gone bad after all. "Krrkkt! These people can -not- cook!" she grumbled. Flikka was only half joking when she wondered if she might run down one of the native beasts and make it look to any patrols as if it was done by one of their natural predators.

It was near noon before anything happened to break the monotony for Flikka. It was then she spotted a patrol approaching in the distance, alternately walking and trotting. Occasionally the patrol would pause on a slight rise and take a look around before resuming their march. Eventually they reached the upthrust of rock that marked their nooning stop. Here was a large alcove that both blocked the prevailing, cold, wind and provided a heat trap for the weak, winter sunshine. This was where Flikka expected to meet her passenger.

Watching through her 'scope Flikka could see that the patrol was made up of all canids. "Probably short-haired breeds," she thought, for they all wore heat-suits with hoods and sun-goggles. She could determine little else about them, but she licked her lips hungrily when she realized they were eating "real food" while she was reduced to synthetic rations while on this mission planetside. "One of the few good things about being a grounder." With a low growl Flikka ripped off another bite of her Sytha-meat ration as she watched enviously.

"Okay; so much for military discipline," grinned Flikka as she watched the patrol's leader try to get them going again after lunch. Apparently some of the patrol weren't having any of it and she could watch their officer's futile attempts to get them on their feet. Eventually he threw up his hands and stalked off in disgust to examine the landscape from the top of the rocks.

It was the last dog that really interested Flikka though. At first she, or he, ate lunch and socialized with the others; but, once the group broke up, she sort of drifted off and sat in a sheltered corner idly tossing pebbles and occasionally looking around.

Over a half hour later the main group apparently decided they'd made their point with the officer and condescended to continue the patrol. They all stood up and casually stretched, stumbling into a vague formation that made it clear they were continuing because -they- were ready to. With a last minute call to the pebble-tosser off by herself they started on their way without waiting. The pebble-tosser's next move got Flikka's attention. The dog looked around quickly and, with the patrol safely out of sight, she stacked three flattish stone's one atop the other and then hurried away to catch up.

"Son of a biscuit! One of the guards??" Flikka just shook her head. The stacked stones were a signal to Flikka to let her know her passenger was ready and awaiting pick-up. The target knew the raid was a trick to get Flikka through the planet's defenses, but she had no way of knowing if Flikka had actually made it in. She'd just have to return to the pick-up point after dark for the next few days and hope.

Once the patrol had passed out of sight Flikka settled down again. There were no more patrols at all before dark and Flikka spent time musing on the enemy's lack of vigilance towards base security. "Do they really think a spaceport will only ever be attacked from space?" she wondered.

For whatever reason there were no more patrols that day, and not much else to look at except rocks and snow. There were tree-like things on some of the less precipitous slopes, and patches of a reddish-brown moss but no birds. Either they'd all followed the warmer weather when winter came along or this planet didn't have any. Flikka did see a couple of small herds of a white and black furred beast about the size of a goat. These wandered out of a copse of 'trees' and moved across the valley in front of her, occasionally stopping to nibble at a patch of the moss or to paw at the base of a rock upthrust before moving on and disappearing into the 'trees' atop another slope farther down the valley.

Late in the day the breeze picked up and turned even colder as the local star slipped down the sky. Secure under her boulder, Flikka carefully moved some rocks around to give herself even more of a windbreak, walling herself in while leaving small windows so she could observe up, down, and across the valley. Then she found a patch of dirt and dug a hole in which to curl herself up for warmth. A passive sensor watched the pickup point and the trail while she napped away the rest of the afternoon, getting up regularly to check things out with her own eyes, ears, and nose. When evening came and still no patrol, Flikka tried to make the time pass by only taking one small bite of her supper ration every ten minutes. It didn't really help, either with the time or the taste.
***