I had read and thoroughly enjoyed Meaghan Brunner's Mooncrystal series, but was perplexed by the abrupt conclusion, which seemed to completely ignore the effect this turn of events would have on Chip's life. I searched the web for other authors who shared my concern, to come across the writings of Andy Bell. While he did share my willingness to continue the story, his continuation soon came to interest me much more than Ms. Brunner's eloquence. However, due to his untimely and tragic death, I now found myself in my previous condition once again, but with even more determination to see this plot line to it's just end.
While I have been told that I had an author's touch, I haven't actually written any fiction of particular merit in many years, and as such, I am not sure that I still "got it". Yet, I will still try to continue on about where Andy Bell left off, with the story being cohesive in plot, if not in style. If you have any words of encouragement and/or vitriol at my ineptitude as far as writing is concerned, please email me at campisi@u.washington.edu. Please try to keep your comments constructive, at least.
All characters are copyright their respective owners, used without expressed permission (as if any of them really cared).
Another day, another obstacle course run. Chip found himself once again clambering over rocks and around assorted forest floor debris. And, once again, to his left was Grimbold, and to his right was Fenton. While he and Fenton were lagging somewhat behind Grimbold, the larger squirrel's method of running had allowed the two smaller troops to keep up with him much longer than in previous outings.
Chip was still reeling from the "demonstration" during active combat practice the following day. The main point of his frustration was also what should have been the simplest to ascertain: what was the point of Captain Mendoza beating the hell out of him? For a bit, he thought that it was some sort of lesson for the other troops, with his lackluster combat skills singling him out as the unwilling patsy. However, the Captain's words at the end, and the low, stern quality of her voice, seemed to rule this conclusion out. This of course meant that the message was meant for him; but what did it mean?
"Do ya think you understand what were about now?"
Chip's contemplations engrossed his mind to the point of distraction. Noticing this with a sideways glance, Fenton prodded him in the shoulder. "You with us, (pant) Chip? Pay attention (pant) to where you're running (pant)!" This outside stimulus brought Chip back to the here and now, with all of the exhaustion and lack of oxygen that entails. Almost as if he had been holding his breath, Chip suddenly began panting in a fashion similar to his mouse comrade. Of course, Grimbold seemed to be doing fine, his physical endurance outshining that of most of the other recruits. "Come on, Chip! What'd I say about gettin' with the program?"
*That's true...* Chip began to slip back in to contemplation, his breath becoming less ragged. *Ever since I got here, I haven't been on top of things. Ever since I left...* As if realizing what he was doing, he stepped out of his cadence in order to bonk himself on the head. *Stop it! I've moved on now. I have to start thinking in the here and now!* Chip's breathing changed abruptly once again, but this time had more of a determined quality to it where sheer exhaustion once was. As he straightened up his posture and picked up speed, Fenton looked on in wonder. "How (pant) are you guys (pant) DOING that (pant)? Come on, (pant) we've already (pant) passed everyone else!"
Chip and Grimbold slowed their respective paces a tick, as if surprised at this revelation. They took a look around them, only to find that they were alone on the course. Chip, seeing the familiar course markers on either side of them, responded: "Well, I can still see the markers, so we couldn't have gotten lost or anything. Wow, maybe we are ahead!" "That doesn't mean we should slow down, though! Come on, git with the program! Maybe we'll get some lunch for once!" Grimbold had once again displayed his eternal grasp of the here and now. With one last frivilous thought (*I swear, that must be his catchphrase or something.*), Chip resumed his new, determined pace. As the minutes and meters passed, so did his thoughts of his former life, unaware of the onlooker watching their progress.
*Damn, I didn't think he was going to be one of the three! He hasn't realized his folly yet.* Captain Mendoza's countenance then formed a rare smile, as a strange thought occurred. *Perhaps this is a good thing... real combat experience could be just what that Ranger needs!* Captain Mendoza had found out long before arriving at base camp that there was a former Rescue Ranger in the ranks, and had specifically chosen him for her training group. While his performance so far was less than stellar, she knew he was familiar with dire situations, and with a little work, could become an excellent soldier. *Well, I guess I have my three troops...*
Back at mess hall, Chip, Fenton, and Grimbold sat at a table. In front of each of them was a square tin full of what looked like shriveled carrots in wallpaper paste. To the three of them, however, it was a blessing from the gods above. They tore into the slop, with no worries of whether the food was palatible or even edible. Besides, who knew what horrors could befall them before their next meal?
At the other end of the mess hall, the captains whose training groups were not out on the course or at weapons training discussed their choices for the covert operation as they ate their food (which wasn't much better, by the way). "I've got one trooper who could handle it, but nobody else would even be of use." "None of my soldiers could be expected to pull off anything close to covert ops yet." And so the conversation went on, until the natural flow around the taple reached Captain Mendoza. "I have one soldier in my ranks that I think could handle it. He goes by the name of Grimbold, and the squirrel has twelve years of military experience under his belt, along with excellent combat skills. Personally, I would choose him, and then just let him choose his two compatriots. After all, it would be best for him to work with two people he at least feels comfortable with, since none of the other troops could provide much benefit skill wise."
"Excellent idea, Captain Mendoza. I expect a report on this Grimbold and his two picks by tomorrow at 1800 hours." The unexpected arrival of Coloniel Mathias caused everyone at the table to quickly stand at attention. "At ease, gentlemen, you my resume eating. Captain Mendoza," the colonel said, with the slightest edge to his words, "I hope this Grimbold picks some fine soldiers. This mission is vital, and a bad choice of compatriots could cause... difficulties." "Don't worry, Colonel. I have full confidence in his abilities as a leader." As her commanding officer walked away, Captain Mendoza smiled inwardly. *That Ranger will soon find out what real service entails...*
As if on cue, the squirrel in question passed the captain's table, with Chip and Fenton at his sides. The three appeared to be conversing. "I didn't realize how hungry I was!" "I don't see why you were, you two were taking it so easy on that obstacle course." "Are you kidding? You and Chip ran like mad! My legs are still on fire!"
Captain Mendoza quickly stood as they passed, causing the three to snap to attention. "Private Grimbold, you are to report to my quarters immediately! The rest of you," eyeing Chip and Fenton, "are to report to weapons training. Since the rest of training group two took so long out on the course, they chose to forgo lunch in order to practice sparring." Chip and Fenton each understood the nature of their comrade's "choice," letting it show through their stone-faced expressions for a bit. Captain Mendoza's expression then changed as well. *Crap, she saw!* "Did you HEAR me, soldiers? I said MOVE!" "YES SIR!"
Moments later, Grimbold found himself standing at attention in front of Captain Mendoza's desk. The Captain herself sat in her chair, opposite Grimbold. "At ease, soldier. You are not being disciplined." Grimbold's eyes told of his relief, as he shifted his feet and put his hands behind his back in the classic fashion. Captain Mendoza continued, "An enemy unit, designated "regiment X," has chosen to make trouble in our sector. In addition to the main attack group, a small advance unit will be sent ahead for reconnaisance/espionage purposes. You, Private, have been chosen to lead this advance group. Any questions?" Grimbold stood there for a moment, seemingly stunned.
In typical Grimbold fashion, however, he quickly rallied. "Sir, may I ask why I was chosen for this mission?"
"Coloniel Mathias wanted us to choose a senior member of the troops to lead the unit, and due to your twelve years of experience, you fit the bill perfectly. Anything else?""Sir, who will accompany me on this mission? You mentioned three troops."
"I know what I said, Private Grimbold." Her voice was sharp but controlled. Grimbold almost winced anyway. "You will be allowed to choose the remainder of your team. You have until 600 hours tomorrow to make your decision, at which point you are to report to me. Coloniel Mathias will take over from there." Standing from her chair, Captain Mendoza turned to face the window behind her desk. "You are dismissed, Private Grimbold." As he moved toward the door, the Captain made one final addition. "Choose your teammates wisely, Private. Their lives will be in your hands, as yours will be in theirs; be sure to remember that."
Grimbold left the office, inwardly shaken at these final words. After he had left, Captain Mendoza returned to her seat, continuing to look out the window. Training Group Two was visible at active weapons training. Her gaze drifted over the groups to where Chip was dueling with yet another soldier. Today, the chosen weapons were wooden swords, their one-paw hilts and smaller size and weight calling for different motions from the heavy javelins used in yesterday's sessions. While this change should have benefitted smaller creatures such as Chip, she watched as he still struggled, his halfhearted attacks and slow blocks adding up to a thoroughly clumsy and unremarkable display. *He will soon learn... at least, if he wants to survive!*
Well, that's it for now. A bit short, but I want to get something posted, so I can hopefully get some much-needed feedback. The next Episode should be longer, with a bit more plot development. As I said before, if you have any comments/criticisms, please email me at campisi@u.washington.edu. Once again, please keep the criticisms constructive.
Rest in peace, Andy Bell.