MainFrame: A Matter of Transfer- Excerpt

Of all his duties, this was the one Brant hated the most. It was no bother for the general to face the omnipresent press. Dealing with the harsh realities of battle did not derail his day too much. The trivial support dinners and hours spent coordinating the campaign were small blessings. He could almost find enjoyment traveling from base to base, enduring one lavish greeting to the next. All those things passed through his mind this morning as he thought about what he'd rather be doing.

It was meeting with members of the InterTerri Council that brushed Brant's fur the wrong way. Since the war started, the meetings had intensified to a hellacious furor. The bulldog carried himself through the hall of the ITC council building like a grudge. He carried a datapad under one arm, absently picking details from the chatter of his aide as he briefed him on all the details of the campaign to go over in the meeting. Aside from the occasional nod, Brant showed little sign of caring.

There was no love to be found between General Brant and the Council. He rose to his position at a time that would have been difficult for anyone to lead Pellicia's Armed Forces. The previous leader, General Exito, was exceptionally popular, and his untimely death cast a cold shadow over Brant's ascension. At the time, his sterling record and military knowledge eclipsed his lack of what the media called 'charismatic alacrity'. They wanted him to scrape and bow over his every move as homage to his predecessor. He wanted to get down to business. Brant didn't give a damn then. Twelve cycles later, in the midst of the most serious conflict the planet had known in recent years, he couldn't bring himself to give a damn about 'charismatic alacrity' now.

"-And try to avoid talking about MainFrame as much as possible," the aide finished.

"What?" Brant said, snapped from his personal reverie. MainFrame. Even hearing the name caused an uncomfortable electric spasm down his spine. The initial reports seemed innocent enough, but over the last six months, that name had come up more times than Brant liked to admit. With the help of the Gen-network (and more so by the lesser controlled Ikara-net), the public had romanticized MainFrame into the kind of saviors that stole a little more thunder than the general liked to give up.

"It's on your personal notes here, sir. Just reminding you."

"Oh," the bulldog nodded, "right."

"Is there anything you'd like for me to repeat, or go over, sir?"

"No," Brant said in a hasty fashion, "I will try to make this meeting as brief as possible."

"Of course, sir."

Brant left the aide at the ornate metal door and walked down the narrow corridor alone. There was a certain ostentatious air about the whole building. It reeked of country club attitudes and the kind of paternalistic poppycock that screamed 'we know best'. At the end of the hall, he could see three fursons--bull, bear, and albatross by species--waiting for him and reviewing datapads. Their dress uniforms were just as flawlessly worn as his.

"General." They acknowledged him with slight bows of the head, polite smiles on their face.

General Brant returned the gesture but dispensed with formalities between the three of them in the hall. "Everybody ready?"

The albatross was the first to speak. He was medium-sized for avians, barely shorter than General Brant. Grey plumage covered his smooth head all the way up to his black, slightly hooked beak, a streak of rich yellow running along the top and bottom. Coloration around his eyes made them seem permanently angled in an intense squint regardless of relaxation. Despite being clipped, his wingspan was so impressive that he could still fly, an enviable trait amongst most avians. Above his breast pocket, his nametag said 'Procello Diomede- ITC Naval General'. When he spoke, the tip of his curved beak clicked whenever it came together. "As ready as can be expected. I don't enjoy these things anymore than anyone else."

Brant nodded and looked at the bear. "I read through your last report just before I got here, Dimitri."
Dimitri Sauria, a smallish black bear, seemed an unlikely furson to head the aerial forces. He was overweight, somewhat prudish, and had a disturbing tendency to glare when he talked. An avian might baulk at his lack of first-hand flight knowledge, but could not comment against his knowledge of aircraft or aerial tactics. Those subordinate knew his hardcore dedication and that he expected nothing less from everyone else. A tired sounding voice complimented the patches of graying fur that betrayed his age. "We're still spread too thin to affect any real change. But that's a matter we will have to discuss later, after this formality."

The bulldog nodded again, uttering a grunt under his breath. "Yes, I'd like to keep it as brief as possible," he cast a meaningless look at the bull, who remained at moderate attention, "if that's alright with you, Vout?"

"I'll see what I can do about that," the bull replied.

Brant's look lingered, but didn't stay. Of all his staff, subordinates, and soldiers, Dorivar Vout concerned him the most. The bull was older than Brant by a few years, and had worked closely with the late General Exito. His record was nothing less than pristine, and, combined with recommendations from Exito himself, everyone expected Dorivar to be his successor. Vout surprised the world by declining the promotion, and General Brant was quick to pick him up as his second. It was a volatile combination. Brant preferred to act outside of his second's advise, and Vout's years of working with the previous general was a constant reminder of the massive shadow over the bulldog's ascension. When things started to change, Brant was forced to keep Vout in his position to allay suspicion and doubt, but he always had the suspicion that the bull knew more than he was telling.

"Let's get this thing going," Brant said, continuing along the hall.

At the end, a single armed guard waited to open the door for them. After the customary salute and a quick MHC scan for security purposes, they entered the meeting room.

Walking through the highly secretive portions of the council building numbed General Brant's mind to the details of the room. Angular decorations, designed to give a sense of power and importance, only added to the gross superficiality. It emanated from every strand of synthetic carpet, every glint off the golden light fixtures. Even the silent whir of the security and computer technology around him seemed far too much. All he cared about was the one empty seat pressed against the ovular table designated for him. The council members rose as he and his small contingent entered.

"Greetings, Representatives," Brant said. He took stock of the members in a cursory manner as his staff filed in to their seats. Mitthaw Tyler, male badger. He recognized the slick features, and eager eyes of youth in him and saw no problem. Camora Crozley, female goat. From a long line of politicos, Brant recalled. Zios Fern, female deer. Another politico, adept at the kind of charismatic alacrity that the media loved to watch. Kwan Del'holm, female heron. The 'winged wonder', she'd been called, ever since she managed to push a few reform bills through the council process about the dissemination of information, though most of them were never spoken of again. And the last one, Terry Andari, a male gray squirrel he recognized. Quickly moving up in the political world due to his aggressive style, and easy availability to the media whenever something happened. The natural choice for spokesperson of the group.

"Ah, General," Andari said, "It is good to see you."

"I wish it were under better circumstances, of course," Brant said.

"Of course."

Brant took his seat. "All of our schedules are tight to the tooth, so I think we should proceed with this campaign briefing as quickly and efficiently as possible."

"I am inclined to agree," Andari said, motioning to the others around him as he sat once again, "are you familiar with everyone here?"

"Thoroughly," Brant said, placing his datapad on the table. "I'd like to introduce my staff for this meeting. Naval Commander Diomede, Stratosfleet Commander Sauria, and you're all familiar with Lieutenant General Vout."

Polite smiles and nods were passed all around.

"Now then," the bulldog said, "I cede the floor to Lt. General Vout, who will provide you all with a campaign update."

Brant sat, and Vout waited until he was settled to rise. "We've got a lot of ground to cover, so I'll try to make this as brief as possible," the bull said.

Using a holographic projection at the center of the table, he outlined the campaign situation for a solid twenty minutes without interruption. He drew the lines of the current battlefield, showing trends and movements. Each known Celestite mine was given quick, though particular attention. He outlined the location of their forces while making brief mention to as to their strategic advantages. On occasion, he called on Commander Diomede or Sauria to add division-specific details. To sum, he reviewed the current battles, losses, and some of the day's frag list. The ITC Representatives watched and listened with such attentive expressions that General Brant thought they actually understood. It was not until Vout finished that the General realized they had come to this meeting with a purpose.

"I'll now cede the floor to General Brant for specific questions on the campaign." The bull sat once again.

"General," Andari said, laboring the word, "could you give us an estimate on how much Celestite is in each place?"

Brant didn't like the question from the start. "Could you be more specific on what 'place' you are referring to?"

"Your report mentioned that the ITC is spending substantial resources holding down some of the Celestite mines you mentioned. How much Celestite is left in them?"

"That remains to be seen," Brant waffled, "several of the mines were preparing to undergo expansions, new lines are discovered at times, and there is of course the matter of the surveys that the teams are still trying to complete."

"How much, General?" Andari pressed.

Brant looked at Vout, "Do we have an estimate?"

"It averages to around thirteen percent left," the bull replied, "with all the locations that we hold."

"Averages?" Fern asked. "How was this average calculated?"

"The same way averages generally are calculated, Miss," Brant said, "add 'em up, divide by the number."

Representative Fern didn't appreciate his humor. "I meant whether you'd adjusted the average for outlying data points. You've told us the mean, but what about the median and mode?"

"I don't think we have-" Brant hesitated as he noticed Vout nodding his head as if to say 'yes, we do have them'. Instinct told him to gloss over the motion, but the council members had already seen the bull's head nod. "Lt. General?"

The bull spoke up again, just as sharp. "The median number is three percent, the mode is less than one."

"Then how in the world did the average happen to get so high?" The doe asked through her nose, a most annoying sound to the bulldog.

"We do hold a few substantial claims that have very high concentrations of Celestite left," Brant answered. "The rest are primarily staging grounds."

"But there's a more important question than that," Andari said, a frown on his face. "If these sites have so little Celestite, then why the hell are we wasting resources and precious military power defending them?"

"As I said before," Brant said, trying to diffuse the direct question, "staging grounds are very important in this campaign, and those Celestite mines are necessary for that reason."

"Forgive my sarcasm, General," Crozley, the goat said, "but it seems to me that the Naiko Powers are sweeping in, taking what they want, and then letting us stand over useless lands while they move onward. You call this progress toward victory?"

Brant frowned. "I assure you that our current situation is still in line with the campaign's strategic goals."

"Perhaps those goals need reevaluation, General," Andari said, taking on the aggressive tone that he made himself famous with. "This landmass cannot support itself without stores of Celestite. Several regions have already been forced to depend on rations from others because of the impending shortage. The price index for Celestite has almost tripled. I shouldn't even begin on what that does to manufacturing and commerce. How is a furson to power their home? If we don't get enough Celestite, then we're not only going to be at the losing end of this war, but we're going to face total economic collapse."

"I'm sure the council was made aware of the need for conservation from the address I gave in Emberes?"

"That bill is still undergoing review by fast track committee," Tyler said, "until then, there can be no progress."

"That bill was submitted six months ago." Brant had to work to keep his voice down. "How is it possible that the council can drag its collective feet over matters that are so essential to its own well being?"

"Due process takes its time," Tyler said, "rushing into ill-planned legislation is just unadvisable. We must see to it that all aspects are acknowledged and properly parsed before signing into any agreement."

Brant shook his head, not bothering to hide the disdain that he held for these processes.

"General," Andari said, laboring the word again. Brant tried not to find the squirrel's cocky veneer frustrating. "Regardless of your, how shall we say, insistent belief that the ITC is nothing but a bunch of slow moving fursons, you must understand that we are responsible for a great deal more than just dealing with the war effort."

"I would not deign to question the authority of the ITC on any public ground," General Brant said.

"Well, that's good," Andari said, "because your handling of these situations has reflected poorly on us as well as you. We need to see results."

The demand to see results coupled with the slowness of action was like a slowly twisting knife in the bulldog's spine. "Of course, Representative Andari," he said.

"General Brant." Del'holm's silence seemed all the more noticeable as her silken heron voice took the room. "I have a small - quibble - to raise."

"That seems to be the measure of the day, Miss." Brant said without remorse.

The fleshy corners of Del'holm's beak turned upward in a slight smile. "You tell us that the majority of the ITC controlled mines have little Celestite in them. Yet, the numbers quoted by the media consistently seem higher. Why is that?"

"Well, Miss," Brant said, "I'm sure that you and the rest of the representatives here know the importance of keeping public speculation down and opinions positive."

"General," Del'holm's voice became cold and accusatory, "what you are doing is unauthorized censorship of information that the public has a right to know. Their taxes pay for the military, and as such they have a right to know the definitive progress of their monetary investment."

Brant couldn't believe his ears. "With all due respect, Representative Del'holm, you can't be serious if you expect me to allow the uncontrolled release of military information to the public. It would be simply infeasible."

"I see no need to give people false hope behind erroneous numbers, General." Del'holm clicked her beak. "By giving falsely high numbers, you encourage the public to treat the Celestite crisis as if it were menial and set them up for future disbelief of council statements when the truth comes out."

"But the truth will not come out-"

"But it might," the heron retorted, "and the mere fact that you represent both the armed forces, and bear an ITC title gives the possibility for aspersion to be cast on us. What are we to do if the public can't trust their own Representatives?"

Brant thought about telling them to go back to their luxury courses and tea parties, but decided that might be a little over the top. "It is enough that we compromised on-site censorship by superior officers. Let the news crews gather what they can from those in the field. They don't need access to top level facts and figures." The bulldog sat back in his chair, eyeing the heron with a serious expression. "Representative Del'holm, this is still a war. For us to be successful we not only have to have control over the enemy, but control over ourselves."

"A direct quote from General Valoran," Del'holm said, not without some appreciation. "One can only hope for such an effective leader."

Brant did not miss the underlying implications of the statement. "General Valoran did not have the kind of liberalist idealism to obscure the importance of his duties."

"You seem to forget," Del'holm said, "that he also was responsible for that rather unseemly Araki warrior business?"

Brant scoffed. His position had given him unique insight as to the nature of Araki warriors, insight that directly opposed the popular 'movie monsters' view. "If the public would look past urban legend and a revisionist media, Araki warriors would be considered the ultimate in military efficiency."

"Even ten barely controlled killing machines would be ten moral mistakes on the heads of their creators," Del'holm said.

"Regardless of what you think, Representative, if we had ten Araki warriors on our side this campaign would be over," Brant retorted.

"That is aside from the subject," came the tart reply from the heron, "my point is that the public has a right to know what's going on in the grand scheme."

"Forgive me for interjecting," Commander Diomede said with caution, "how can we possibly expect the public to understand the intricacies of military logic without having the kind of in-depth education that it takes to plan such a campaign."

Brant backed him up with a firm nod. "What has been done has been done for a good reason. I do believe it is within my powers to make that decision."

"We shall see what the council thinks of it," Del'holm said, her feathers puffing out, "after all, there are several pieces of legislation that forbid this very thing that I am quite familiar with."

"I propose that we table this until it can be adequately discussed in council," Tyler offered.

Brant said nothing as the representatives discussed the issue. Should it go to council, he knew that policies and protocol would keep it tied for months at least. At the rate the campaign was progressing, no amount of censorship would matter by that point. As if to signal an end to the inane chatter, Lt. General Vout's datapad beeped several times to indicate an incoming message. The bull quickly pulled it up and read, apologizing for the interruption.

"Is that a campaign update, Lieutenant General?" Andari asked.

Vout scanned the information with his eyes, and nodded his head. "Indeed it is."

"Well, let's have it," Andari said, looking at General Brant, "unless the General feels there's some reason not to?"

Brant knew this game. 'Talk, or be accused of trying to hide things from the Council. It was the kind of juvenile attitude that kept him at odds between telling them what they needed to know versus letting them determine what they need to know. When Vout gave him a meaningful look as if to indicate good news, the bulldog nodded. "Go right ahead."

Vout summed up from the datapad. "We have breached the final defenses at Forest Line, Aeri-Agula. Initial field reports indicate it will be ours by the end of the day."

"Ah, progress!" Tyler exclaimed, clasping his handpaws together with an audible sound.

"Casualties were high," Vout continued, "and there's been an enhanced media presence. Apparently, the Task Forces were assisted by MainFrame."

"Ah yes," Del'holm clucked, "a subject which we had decided to save for last."

Brant tightened his jaw, now wishing he had reviewed the material before being goaded into presenting it. He growled a soft explicative under his breath.

"I don't suppose you follow the Gen-network's rumor mills, General?"

"I'm sorry," Brant said, "I've been busy fighting a war."

His subtle insult was not lost on the heron, and she rustled her feathers at the verbal assault.

Vout was quick to step in. "What the General means is that the current campaign situation requires more authoritative sources than the Gen-network."

Del'holm still seemed put off, though the bull's quick thinking saved the moment. She continued on. "Well, I'm sure that you know just about everyone has heard of this 'MainFrame' by now. Outlying speculations aside, most seem to think that they are consistently saving your hide."

"What the public thinks and what is actually going on are two different things, Representative," Brant said.

"Then what is going on, General?" Crozley, the goat, asked, "the Council deserves to have the record straight."

"We have no concrete information regarding this MainFrame entity right now."

"None, whatsoever?" Tyler asked. "Seems that they've come into contact with you enough times that you'd have learned something by now?"

Brant looked at the otter in a slightly sour manner. "They seem to drop in on missions almost at will, and their track record indicates that they have some knowledge of what we consider major encounters. They are quick, and very deadly to anything dressed in Naiko green."

"But who or what are they?"

"All I know is that they are not ITC. Based on their targets and the fury with which they strike, they certainly aren't Naiko."

"Let's not jump to conclusions," Andari said, "they could still be a Naiko scheme to lower our defenses."

"I'm not a fan of them," Brant admitted, "but the public seems to have embraced them far beyond our ability to do anything about it - short of claiming them as our own, of course."

"More lies, General?" Del'holm cast a look down her beak at him.

"Simple misdirection," Brant replied, "their existence is a unique opportunity to remove some of the heat and pressure from the military and place it on something the public can't see. Make'em heroes, make 'em villians. Whichever way you go, the bloodsucking media out there will scramble over each other to find out more, leaving time for the armed forces to deal with the issues of this war without constant distraction."

"And what happens when they find out that MainFrame is not under your control? Or if they do something contrary to your alleged campaign goals?"

"A suggestion only, Representative," Brant said in a low voice.

"Everything I've heard points to them being on our side," Representative Fern said, "if I were you, General, I'd be trying to find ways to keep them as opposed to trying to run them off."

Brant didn't like her tone. "Are you saying I should attempt to ally myself with some unknown - thing - that only seems to be helping us out?"

"I would not deem to suggest anything without the approval of the council," Fern said with deference.

The military representatives in the room all sat upright in surprise. Brant felt the fur on the back of his neck rise. "No - they didn't?"

"I'm afraid so," Andari frowned. "It's against my personal opinion, but the council has suggested that you seek out this MainFrame, ally yourself for success, or destroy it if deemed dangerous."

"Why was I not consulted on this?" Brant demanded.

"I'm sorry," Del'holm said, "we thought you'd been busy fighting a war?"

That was the last straw. Brant sat back in his chair and slipped into the cold veneer of formality to hide his boiling insides. He had been avoiding council summons for a reason, though he felt no obligation to reveal his rationale to these five. "And how do you intend for me to make contact with these vigilantes?"

"You say they have a track record of keying in on major offensives," Fern said, "perhaps your next one could include making contact as a mission priority?"

"Where do you anticipate the next big action?" Andari asked.

Brant frowned. "We have been holding the Jua Manufacturing Plant in Lirona since early on in the war. Intelligence dictates that the Naikos have been building up forces there of late, and we expect that will be their next goal, considering the decline of other planetary Celestite stores. I'll be making a visit there soon to ensure that all is in readiness. If MainFrame is going to show up anywhere, then that'd probably be the place."

"Good," Fern said, a modest smile on her face, "and remember, General, we want them to see us as friends. Having such a positive influence under our flags will probably do wonders for troop morale."

"Wonders." Brant repeated without thought.

"Now then, General," Andari said, "on to the next subject. We've been concerned about the performance of the Stratosfleet lately and would like some answers."

"Of course," Brant said, pushing formality forward to prevent his anger from showing. "I'd like to cede the floor to Commander Sauria to discuss the issue."

As the bear rose to speak, Brant leaned back in his chair and pretended to pay attention. The Stratosfleet situation paled in comparison to the problems MainFrame presented. Nothing could placate his mind from the knowledge that he would be required to seek help from the one place that could send the entire plan awry.