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Family Matters
© 2022 by M. Mitch Marmel
Thumbnail art by
tegerio, color by 
marmelmm
Rossweisse courtesy of
shep (RIP)
Part Fourteen.
Tali:
“Hello, you beauty, you,” I purred, running my paws over the trailing edge of one wing while practically nuzzling the fuselage. “Did you miss me?”
Rossweisse, of course, said nothing.
Hey, there are some folks who give their weapons names. I know this guy who named his pistol Wilhelmina and his knife Hugo. He had another weapon, Pierre, but he never would tell me where he had that hidden.
Rossweisse, or Rose White, is the name I gave a stock Focke-Wulf Fw190 A-5 after I acquired it and flew it once. It’s even autographed by the designer, but you’d have to search for that. She’s light gray over light blue, with yellow flaps and wingtips, engine cowling and prop spinner. In addition to her name, there’s a bust of a white-furred wolf in full Valkyrie drag on the fuselage, just forward of the cockpit.
Who was the model? Ain’t telling.
Oh, and it’s not completely stock. The plane’s fitted with a Libby-Burroughs Continuacraft module, so if I need to bug out, I can go anywhere and anywhen. Even to the Bolthole, but that’s for real emergencies.
As soon as I stabled the VF-1 and changed out into a lighter and less-equipped flight suit, I went back out into the hangar and found Rose White waiting for me. Being a good pilot, I preflighted her before getting into the cockpit. She had a full load of fuel and oil, and all four cannon (two in the wing roots, two in the middle of the wings) and the two machine guns up front over the engine and synched to fire through the propeller were fully loaded with ammunition.
No matter what alternity you go to, and I’ve been to quite a few, you need to be prepared for trouble.
The big BMW engine roared to life, and I taxied to the Musashi’s deck catapult at the direction of the flight control officer. I had to wait my turn, as Matt and Low had refueled their VF-1s and were first in the takeoff queue. Low nodded and Matt saluted as they circled the ship and flew off to the northwest.
Me? After taking off, I headed southwest, just me and my baby girl (and, yes, the little baby girl currently nestled safe and snug in my womb) and a high, wide, and clear sky.
I flew for a while, humming, until finally I couldn’t stand it any longer and I started singing.
“Off we go
Into the time-stream yonder
Flying high
Forward and back
Sailing across
All the dimensions bounder
Swooping down
To the attack!
From patrols
In the Mes-zo-zoic
To the edge
Of ga-lac-tic war
From longship proud
To mushroom cloud
Yes! Nothing can beat
The Tem-po-ral Corps!”
Sure, it’s probably not the official Corps anthem, but all the pilots know it.
I was a couple of hundred klicks from the ship when a coastline presented itself. Looked sort of marshy, and – wait a damned minute.
What the hell is that?
***
Winterbough:
The day after Ambassador Yawunce crossed the [Stranger’s River], I was at the [Sheaf]. Tessie had contacted me during the night via Elf-mind to keep me informed about her progress with Mrs. Fletcher. I was pleased with how she was getting on, and told her so. Of course, I also chided her gently about her sharing her affections with my buck-fawn. Shared enough, in fact, to enable him to transmogrify into a raccoon boar and get her with child.
Tessie apologized, and we let the matter drop for the moment. I had known that she wanted a kit of her own, and was a bit saddened that I would transmogrify only in order to please Anastasia. Still, what’s done is done, and it’s all in the Lady’s paws.
I was sitting at the [Sheaf] with the remnants of a pint of porter in my paw, thinking about this and that, when the door burst open to reveal a roebuck, who was gripping the frame with one paw as he panted. “M-Master?!” he gasped out.
“What is it?” I recognized him, vaguely; he was from one of the settlements south of the [Stranger’s River]. Not necessarily part of my demesne as Master, but close enough.
I was also mentally bracing for everything from a Manifestation of the Lady to Windimere having an attack of flatulence. Yes, we had that happen once, and fortunately not anywhere that was inhabited. No one is prepared for a dragon with a dicky tummy.
The buck, who I now recalled as part of the Granger Family, finally got his breathing under control and said, “Come quick, before he kills someone!”
That, coupled with his dramatic entrance, got everyone’s attention. Me and several of the younger roebucks in the [Sheaf] headed for the door and I barked, “Where?”
“[The Leaping Trout]!” Granger replied, and we all took to our hooves.
Now, it’s not a long trek from the [Sheaf] down the road to the inn on the Great North Road, but it’s shorter to go across the countryside, so off we went. There’s a bit of a problem with this, though: if an Elf sees a group of Elves running somewhere, he’s very likely to down tools or leave his flocks to their own devices and join the charge.
So it transpired that there were about fifty of us, about equally divided between roebucks and wolves, who came to a stop by the back garden of the [Leaping Trout] to find Granger Senior sharpening an axe.
I want to take a moment to talk about Theobald Granger. For a roebuck, he’s huge; nearly as tall as a whitetail and built like a bull who goes all in for physical culture. After the debacle surrounding Antecor and The Leaping Trout, Theobald and his family, consisting of his wife and six fawns (four bucks and two does), showed up from some city in the south, where he just retired from the Imperial & Royal Constabulary.
The Grangers run the place now, as I was happy to sign a lease with Red. Yes, that’s his nickname; it describes both his fur color and his at times volcanic temper. Iron Brew, the inn’s trademark beer, has improved its quality since his oldest buck-fawn took over the brewing. Despite being an ex-Red Cap, Theobald’s a fairly easygoing sort as long as he isn’t crossed.
Seeing him whetting the blade of an axe, when there was already enough firewood ready to paw, was slightly worrying.
“Mr. Granger,” I said, stepping forward.
“Master,” Theobald Granger replied. The whetstone in his paw hissed as he ran it over the axe’s curved edge.
“Nice day, isn’t it?” I asked as the silence after his reply lengthened.
“That it is.”
“I see that you’re sharpening your axe.”
“That I am.”
“Is there anything I need to know about?” I asked, dropping a broad hint that, as the Trout’s owner, if anything was going on it was my business as well as his.
“Yes,” and he turned to look at me. “I’m going to kill him.”
***
Matt:
"Um. . . Tali?"
"Yes?" my mate beamed at me, smiling widely.
"Why are you painting a giant cockroach on your Focke-Wulf?"
An innocent smile. "Well . . ."
Lowchan arched an eyebrow. "Would this have something to do with the fresh scorch marks?"
The innocent smile got innocenter. "Mmmmaybe . . ."
Commodore Low-chan Mason-Hartoh glared at Commander Tali Hartoh-Mason. "Right, darling. Let's have it . . ."
Tali shrugged. "I was taking Rossweisse out for a spin like you suggested, while you two were off mecha-ing around. I was just doing a low-level approach to some swampland, when WHAP! Fireballs started hitting the plane. Naturally, I climbed up out of range and started looking for whoever started the argument.
"A couple hundred meters away, some skunk lady was riding, of all things, a giant cockroach, and hurling more fireballs at me. I did an Immelman, banked over, got on her six and let her have it!"
I looked thoughtful. "You got her?"
Tali shook her head. "I don't think so. She popped out of sight just before the cannon shells hit. I think they call it 'pooking'."
Lowchan nodded. "And the roach?"
"Waal," Tali mock drawled, "I reckon I just plain RUINED that big bug's day."
"Mmm-hmm," Lowchan said. "Well you're OK, though?"
Tali nodded. "Right as rain!"
The Commodore nodded back. "Very good. Since your qualification scores are near perfect, and you obviously can handle combat, I'm declaring you qualified . . . and you are off combat flying duty until after your child is born."
Tali didn't like this one little bit, but she knew our co-wife was right. "Yes'm."
"Carry on," Lowchan ordered. "Make sure your White Rose is in tip-top shape, and then report to Sickbay for another workup. Can't be too careful, after all."
Tali saluted cheerfully. "Yes, MA'AM!"
<NEXT>
<PREVIOUS>
<FIRST>
© 2022 by M. Mitch Marmel
Thumbnail art by
tegerio, color by 
marmelmmRossweisse courtesy of
shep (RIP)Part Fourteen.
Tali:
“Hello, you beauty, you,” I purred, running my paws over the trailing edge of one wing while practically nuzzling the fuselage. “Did you miss me?”
Rossweisse, of course, said nothing.
Hey, there are some folks who give their weapons names. I know this guy who named his pistol Wilhelmina and his knife Hugo. He had another weapon, Pierre, but he never would tell me where he had that hidden.
Rossweisse, or Rose White, is the name I gave a stock Focke-Wulf Fw190 A-5 after I acquired it and flew it once. It’s even autographed by the designer, but you’d have to search for that. She’s light gray over light blue, with yellow flaps and wingtips, engine cowling and prop spinner. In addition to her name, there’s a bust of a white-furred wolf in full Valkyrie drag on the fuselage, just forward of the cockpit.
Who was the model? Ain’t telling.
Oh, and it’s not completely stock. The plane’s fitted with a Libby-Burroughs Continuacraft module, so if I need to bug out, I can go anywhere and anywhen. Even to the Bolthole, but that’s for real emergencies.
As soon as I stabled the VF-1 and changed out into a lighter and less-equipped flight suit, I went back out into the hangar and found Rose White waiting for me. Being a good pilot, I preflighted her before getting into the cockpit. She had a full load of fuel and oil, and all four cannon (two in the wing roots, two in the middle of the wings) and the two machine guns up front over the engine and synched to fire through the propeller were fully loaded with ammunition.
No matter what alternity you go to, and I’ve been to quite a few, you need to be prepared for trouble.
The big BMW engine roared to life, and I taxied to the Musashi’s deck catapult at the direction of the flight control officer. I had to wait my turn, as Matt and Low had refueled their VF-1s and were first in the takeoff queue. Low nodded and Matt saluted as they circled the ship and flew off to the northwest.
Me? After taking off, I headed southwest, just me and my baby girl (and, yes, the little baby girl currently nestled safe and snug in my womb) and a high, wide, and clear sky.
I flew for a while, humming, until finally I couldn’t stand it any longer and I started singing.
“Off we go
Into the time-stream yonder
Flying high
Forward and back
Sailing across
All the dimensions bounder
Swooping down
To the attack!
From patrols
In the Mes-zo-zoic
To the edge
Of ga-lac-tic war
From longship proud
To mushroom cloud
Yes! Nothing can beat
The Tem-po-ral Corps!”
Sure, it’s probably not the official Corps anthem, but all the pilots know it.
I was a couple of hundred klicks from the ship when a coastline presented itself. Looked sort of marshy, and – wait a damned minute.
What the hell is that?
***
Winterbough:
The day after Ambassador Yawunce crossed the [Stranger’s River], I was at the [Sheaf]. Tessie had contacted me during the night via Elf-mind to keep me informed about her progress with Mrs. Fletcher. I was pleased with how she was getting on, and told her so. Of course, I also chided her gently about her sharing her affections with my buck-fawn. Shared enough, in fact, to enable him to transmogrify into a raccoon boar and get her with child.
Tessie apologized, and we let the matter drop for the moment. I had known that she wanted a kit of her own, and was a bit saddened that I would transmogrify only in order to please Anastasia. Still, what’s done is done, and it’s all in the Lady’s paws.
I was sitting at the [Sheaf] with the remnants of a pint of porter in my paw, thinking about this and that, when the door burst open to reveal a roebuck, who was gripping the frame with one paw as he panted. “M-Master?!” he gasped out.
“What is it?” I recognized him, vaguely; he was from one of the settlements south of the [Stranger’s River]. Not necessarily part of my demesne as Master, but close enough.
I was also mentally bracing for everything from a Manifestation of the Lady to Windimere having an attack of flatulence. Yes, we had that happen once, and fortunately not anywhere that was inhabited. No one is prepared for a dragon with a dicky tummy.
The buck, who I now recalled as part of the Granger Family, finally got his breathing under control and said, “Come quick, before he kills someone!”
That, coupled with his dramatic entrance, got everyone’s attention. Me and several of the younger roebucks in the [Sheaf] headed for the door and I barked, “Where?”
“[The Leaping Trout]!” Granger replied, and we all took to our hooves.
Now, it’s not a long trek from the [Sheaf] down the road to the inn on the Great North Road, but it’s shorter to go across the countryside, so off we went. There’s a bit of a problem with this, though: if an Elf sees a group of Elves running somewhere, he’s very likely to down tools or leave his flocks to their own devices and join the charge.
So it transpired that there were about fifty of us, about equally divided between roebucks and wolves, who came to a stop by the back garden of the [Leaping Trout] to find Granger Senior sharpening an axe.
I want to take a moment to talk about Theobald Granger. For a roebuck, he’s huge; nearly as tall as a whitetail and built like a bull who goes all in for physical culture. After the debacle surrounding Antecor and The Leaping Trout, Theobald and his family, consisting of his wife and six fawns (four bucks and two does), showed up from some city in the south, where he just retired from the Imperial & Royal Constabulary.
The Grangers run the place now, as I was happy to sign a lease with Red. Yes, that’s his nickname; it describes both his fur color and his at times volcanic temper. Iron Brew, the inn’s trademark beer, has improved its quality since his oldest buck-fawn took over the brewing. Despite being an ex-Red Cap, Theobald’s a fairly easygoing sort as long as he isn’t crossed.
Seeing him whetting the blade of an axe, when there was already enough firewood ready to paw, was slightly worrying.
“Mr. Granger,” I said, stepping forward.
“Master,” Theobald Granger replied. The whetstone in his paw hissed as he ran it over the axe’s curved edge.
“Nice day, isn’t it?” I asked as the silence after his reply lengthened.
“That it is.”
“I see that you’re sharpening your axe.”
“That I am.”
“Is there anything I need to know about?” I asked, dropping a broad hint that, as the Trout’s owner, if anything was going on it was my business as well as his.
“Yes,” and he turned to look at me. “I’m going to kill him.”
***
Matt:
"Um. . . Tali?"
"Yes?" my mate beamed at me, smiling widely.
"Why are you painting a giant cockroach on your Focke-Wulf?"
An innocent smile. "Well . . ."
Lowchan arched an eyebrow. "Would this have something to do with the fresh scorch marks?"
The innocent smile got innocenter. "Mmmmaybe . . ."
Commodore Low-chan Mason-Hartoh glared at Commander Tali Hartoh-Mason. "Right, darling. Let's have it . . ."
Tali shrugged. "I was taking Rossweisse out for a spin like you suggested, while you two were off mecha-ing around. I was just doing a low-level approach to some swampland, when WHAP! Fireballs started hitting the plane. Naturally, I climbed up out of range and started looking for whoever started the argument.
"A couple hundred meters away, some skunk lady was riding, of all things, a giant cockroach, and hurling more fireballs at me. I did an Immelman, banked over, got on her six and let her have it!"
I looked thoughtful. "You got her?"
Tali shook her head. "I don't think so. She popped out of sight just before the cannon shells hit. I think they call it 'pooking'."
Lowchan nodded. "And the roach?"
"Waal," Tali mock drawled, "I reckon I just plain RUINED that big bug's day."
"Mmm-hmm," Lowchan said. "Well you're OK, though?"
Tali nodded. "Right as rain!"
The Commodore nodded back. "Very good. Since your qualification scores are near perfect, and you obviously can handle combat, I'm declaring you qualified . . . and you are off combat flying duty until after your child is born."
Tali didn't like this one little bit, but she knew our co-wife was right. "Yes'm."
"Carry on," Lowchan ordered. "Make sure your White Rose is in tip-top shape, and then report to Sickbay for another workup. Can't be too careful, after all."
Tali saluted cheerfully. "Yes, MA'AM!"
<NEXT>
<PREVIOUS>
<FIRST>
Category Story / General Furry Art
Species Deer
Size 1080 x 722px
File Size 630.1 kB
Listed in Folders
...I'm surprised that incident, like so many others, didn't start WWIII. Then again, I shouldn't be all that surprised, because I wouldn't exist and my parents would, in all likelihood, be nuclear ash, but still!
I know this guy who named his pistol Wilhelmina and his knife
Quincy Morris. He had another weapon, Abraham Van Helsing, whom many assert stole the show. He once had a twin pistol by the name of Jonathan Harker, but I never learned what happened to that one.
{...}The Tem-po-ral Corps!” Sure, it’s probably not the official Corps anthem, but all the pilots know it.
The other top candidate ended in a similar way but more like "The... Te~mp'ral Cor~ps!"
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rz263xIQmvo
Columbia Gem of the Ocean was a third candidate but most pilots and REMFs alike recognized that'n as a contrived non-sequitur sack o' shit of a song, anyway.
[quote]{...}Tali? Why are you painting a giant cockroach on your Focke-Wulf?"
"This one crossed my path. 'Had the soul of a Krazy Kat character but the unfortunate body of a Keebler Elf for some reason."
"Right, darling. Let's have it . . ."
"This was all on the ground, but I was lucky enough to nail 'im anyway with my first trigger-squeeze. So that still counts, right? Within the No Bounce Rule, even? His mess, all mixed up in the torn turf, was so satisfying. Confirmed!"
"Because he...?"
"Kept pining loudly about this other female cat in his life. Then he started comparing me to her. Then[i] he told me my tail is 'too high' on my back, whatever [i]that anatomy's supposed to mean, and how I should take off my g-suit for him 'cause it wasn't showing off my ass enough for his tastes."
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-2zBrGoweOM
(especially half a minute into that clip the uploader chose, representative of a great many other prominent shots throughout the movie)
(This 'ere post's got a twin of its own at https://www.furaffinity.net/view/49.....#cid:168157793 .)
Quincy Morris. He had another weapon, Abraham Van Helsing, whom many assert stole the show. He once had a twin pistol by the name of Jonathan Harker, but I never learned what happened to that one.
{...}The Tem-po-ral Corps!” Sure, it’s probably not the official Corps anthem, but all the pilots know it.
The other top candidate ended in a similar way but more like "The... Te~mp'ral Cor~ps!"
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rz263xIQmvo
Columbia Gem of the Ocean was a third candidate but most pilots and REMFs alike recognized that'n as a contrived non-sequitur sack o' shit of a song, anyway.
[quote]{...}Tali? Why are you painting a giant cockroach on your Focke-Wulf?"
"This one crossed my path. 'Had the soul of a Krazy Kat character but the unfortunate body of a Keebler Elf for some reason."
"Right, darling. Let's have it . . ."
"This was all on the ground, but I was lucky enough to nail 'im anyway with my first trigger-squeeze. So that still counts, right? Within the No Bounce Rule, even? His mess, all mixed up in the torn turf, was so satisfying. Confirmed!"
"Because he...?"
"Kept pining loudly about this other female cat in his life. Then he started comparing me to her. Then[i] he told me my tail is 'too high' on my back, whatever [i]that anatomy's supposed to mean, and how I should take off my g-suit for him 'cause it wasn't showing off my ass enough for his tastes."
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-2zBrGoweOM
(especially half a minute into that clip the uploader chose, representative of a great many other prominent shots throughout the movie)
(This 'ere post's got a twin of its own at https://www.furaffinity.net/view/49.....#cid:168157793 .)
”I know this guy who named his pistol Wilhelmina and his knife”
Quincy Morris. He had another weapon, Abraham Van Helsing, whom many assert stole the show. He once had a twin pistol by the name of Jonathan Harker, but I never learned what happened to that one.
Did he also have an axe named John Seward and a whip named Lord Godalming?
Quincy Morris. He had another weapon, Abraham Van Helsing, whom many assert stole the show. He once had a twin pistol by the name of Jonathan Harker, but I never learned what happened to that one.
Did he also have an axe named John Seward and a whip named Lord Godalming?
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