OPERATION: RAGIN’ MOUSE

In the quiet hum of the Tactical Operations Center (TOC), Corporal Shara Stoneclaw sipped her coffee as she performed her checks on the main communications relay. As the last of the checks were finished, she stretched out her back. She could see a bus leaving the base, off to wait for more returning soldiers. She glanced at the fading taillights and listened as the drunken revelry of returning soldiers was cut short by an irate Sergeant that was jarred awake by their noise. She smiled, thinking about how those soldiers were going to feel in the morning. As she looked out, she remembered the last three months of grueling work on the new comms array, from setting it up to linking it to the new command operations center in the Capital. The new system was tough to construct and a pain to program but now, just a few simple checks and the system works flawlessly. She and a team from the Capital set up the Joint Communications Audio, Video and Intelligence Link, or JCVAILs for short, in record time. She was rewarded for her efforts as she devised a faster way to program and to set up, which cut down the installation time. With a medal given to her by the King himself and a promotion she smiled remembering the awards ceremony and the proud look on her mother’s face. The memories of those days brought a smile to her face as she stretched back into the large comfortable office chair.

Sergeant First Class Yamunin Gray, the Senior Non-Commissioned Officer in Charge (SNCOIC), approached, holding a steaming cup of black coffee. As the SNCOIC, he oversaw the watch and wanted to check up on the new JCVAILs.

SFC Grey looked over her shoulder at the screen and stated, "Another quiet night, huh Stoneclaw?” The cold desert breeze blew sand slowly across the metal building that housed the TOC. ” As cold and unforgiving as ever,” he stated while looking out the window that faced towards the Desertum Maris. ” I remember when I first arrived here, it was makeshift tents as far as the eye could see."

Shara nodded, taking a sip of her coffee as she scrolled through the various screens. "Hard to believe what Yasumin has become in such a short time."

Yamunin Grey smiled, his eyes reflecting the gratitude and wonder he felt. "True. Who would have thought that our lives could change so drastically in just a year? It all began with a fated day, and now our place in this world has turned completely around. I never imagined we'd have warm meals, warm homes, and warm family and friends. It wasn't long ago that the mere idea of a warm meal, a straw-filled pillow, and a ragged blanket were dreams of luxury."

Their conversation delved into the miraculous transformation of Yasumin under the enigmatic Kyle Thompson's leadership. The Desert Savior and the Friend of the Outcast Guardian, figures spoken of only in legends, were not only present but actively building their shared future. The nightmares of exposure, starvation, and hardship that once plagued the formerly enslaved people seemed like distant, bitter echoes compared to the thriving modern city they now called home. Yasumin had blossomed into a beacon of hope, and with it, the entire future of the Beastkin peoples shifted.

" Everything changed so fast, it feels like a different world," Grey murmured, his voice low and thoughtful. "Just a year ago, my family was barely surviving. We traveled on foot, desperate and hungry, across these unforgiving rocks. We lived hand-to-mouth, with starvation always lurking over our shoulders. Even when the capital tried to help, it was all they could do to send a few scraps. It wasn't enough—not for anyone."

He paused, his eyes distant, remembering the harsh days. "I lost my infant son back then… he didn’t make it through the cold season. There just wasn't enough food, not enough of anything. My wife… she cried every night for months. I thought I'd never see her smile again."

Grey's expression softened as he continued. "But then… the Guardian’s family came. They brought technology, relief food, and medicine. It was like they were pulling us out of the grave. My family… we started to grow again. We had enough to eat, and a real roof over our heads. Now, we have a daughter… and two more on the way." He smiled, a rare and genuine smile. "I never thought we’d see the day."

He looked around and then to Shara, his voice gaining strength. "This isn’t just about survival anymore. We’ve got a chance to build something. To live, not just exist." His smile pushed away his dark thoughts.

Shara clenched her fists, her breath hitching as she fought back the tears threatening to spill. "I know," she whispered, her voice taut with emotion. "My family wasn’t much better off. We risked everything to run into the desert. It was that or stay and wither away on those work farms... or face something even worse—the Houses."

A visible shudder ran through her at the mention of the word. The "Houses"—dark, wretched places—were slave brothels scattered near the Austorian Empire's largest cities and across Lord Nymus Trulane's fiefdom. Trulane, a notorious slaver lord, was so ruthless and vile that even the King of the Austorian Empire had been forced—unwillingly, she had heard—to publicly rebuke him. It was all for show; the King later assured Trulane that he "meant nothing by it" and encouraged him to continue supplying slaves to the capital, keeping the Houses full.

Shara's older and younger sisters were taken when Trulane's men came knocking. She had been spared only because she lay bedridden with a high fever, her body wracked with a dangerous flu. The memory was as clear as if it had happened yesterday—her sisters' terrified faces, their screams echoing down the narrow street as they were dragged away.

She closed her eyes, trying to block out the images that followed—the broken figures who returned, mere shadows of who they once were. Her sisters' hollow stares, the bruises that painted their bodies, and the silence that hung between them like a curse. What they had endured was beyond words, beyond repair. The things they had whispered to her, late at night when nightmares tore them from restless sleep, haunted her still.

Shara’s voice was tight, almost a growl. "What came back from those Houses… it was nightmarish. It broke something in me, too, just to see them like that." Her eyes flickered with a mix of anger and pain. "Since then, I couldn’t look at people the same way. I was cold to everyone I didn’t know, couldn't trust humans... or any man, for that matter."

For years, Shara carried herself like a street fighter, tough and ready to defend herself at a moment's notice. She didn’t let anyone close—how could she? Every kind gesture seemed like a trap, every friendly face just another mask hiding cruel intentions. But when her family finally fled into the desert, leaving the ashes of their old life behind, she felt something begin to shift inside her.

Out there, in the harsh sun and sand, she saw other survivors—Beastkin, like Grey, who had suffered, lost, and yet still managed to find some spark of hope. Slowly, her walls began to crack. She allowed herself to trust again, little by little, her demeanor softening, her heart thawing. Though the scars remained, she no longer flinched at every male voice, nor kept her distance with such fierce determination.

Now, there was warmth in her again, a cautious warmth that grew stronger each day. She had come far, but the shadows of those Houses still loomed over her, a reminder of what she had escaped and what others still suffered. She shifted in her seat to clear her mind as she looked back over the JCVAILs, trying to hide her wiping tears away.

As they were lost in emotion and pondering the future, an incoming transmission alarm disrupted the tranquility. An Alert from the Capital had been sent which was followed by the attached printer spitting out a massive document. SFC Grey looked at Shara with worried eyes after seeing the alert, grabbed the nearest telephone and with practiced dialing, contacted the Base commanders’ quarters.

“Sir this is the TOC. We have a red alert order that just came through”

The Base commander, Major Rijion Merryclaw, a large, grizzled former guerrilla fighter turned Officer, running, exploded into the TOC moments later, responding to the alert. He retrieved the orders from the printer and after inserting a plastic card into the JCVAIL, he contacted the Capital Command office.

An older Beastkin with four stars on his dress uniform lapels appeared on the screen, his face marked by deep lines of fatigue and determination. He rubbed his eyes briefly, then straightened, exuding an air of authority that commanded immediate respect.

"Major Merryclaw," the general greeted, his voice gravelly but firm. "What an expected honor!” the general smiled at the phrase. “I see that you got the orders?"

Major Merryclaw, standing stiffly in the Tactical Operations Center (TOC), nodded crisply. "Yes, General. I have them in my hands and just read them. Is…is this correct?"

The general gave a weary nod, glancing down at the papers cluttering his desk. "Yes Major, this is correct. Sorry for the late notice. I know your units are just coming online but this mission is beyond critical. You will have to use what you have. Due to the secrecy of this mission, you’ll have limited support going into this mission. I wish we could provide more support but we simply do not have the time to provide anymore. Here is what we do know, the enemy is active in that region. From what our intel reports state they are mostly gathering helpless civilians to be turned into slaves and sold. However, most of their heavy units are still there and active, which pose a grave threat to us." He paused, his eyes narrowing with the weight of what he was about to say. "I need you to understand, Major: this mission is critical. We can't afford mistakes."

He gestured to a thick printout beside him. "The details are in the orders I’ve just transmitted. You’ll find the objectives and contingency plans in there. But there’s more…" His voice lowered, almost as if he were wary of unseen listeners. "We've had reports of a possible new enemy acting alongside of the Austorians. Something unusual and dangerous. After the Austorians attacked the Elves, they have been moving faster than what we expected. Have your people keep their eyes open, and their wits sharper."

“This mission could put us on a war footing, Major. Your people need to be locked and loaded, no safe or round not in the chamber, LOCKED AND LOADED. The King has authorized any participating units to engage any active belligerents in the zone named “Ragin Mouse”. I will state this again, Ragin Mouse is a free fire zone.” The General stated with a determined stare.

“Understood sir.” Rijion stated “the Zone called Ragin Mouse is a free fire zone.”

The screen flickered slightly, and the general leaned closer, his gaze piercing. "Contact me immediately when the mission is underway. This will set everything in motion. The timing is crucial, Major. No delays, or we stand to lose everything."

Major Merryclaw felt a chill run down his spine, sensing the gravity of the situation. "Understood, General. We’ll move swiftly."

The general's tired eyes softened just a fraction, a hint of trust in his voice. "I know you will, Rijion. And if things go wrong… remember, you are authorized to make whatever call you need to. Anything in the area is at your disposal."

There was a brief pause, then the general sighed, looking older than his years. "We’re counting on you, Major. I won’t lie to you; the stakes are high. But I’ve seen your mettle with the Resistance. Now, prove it to us again."

The screen darkened for a moment, then brightened as the general gave a final nod. "I’ll be here when you’re ready. Good luck, and may the Guardians watch over you and your men."

The connection cut, and the room was filled with a tense silence. Major Merryclaw stood motionless for a second, then turned sharply to SFC Grey. "Get the officers of the 3rd Logistics company in here and get 1st Infantry’s officers in here as well. We’ve got work to do."

SFC Grey saluted. "Yes, sir. Right away." He moved swiftly, dialing up the necessary numbers, his face set in concentration.

The urgency of the moment hung in the air, and Major Merryclaw could feel the weight of the responsibility settling on his shoulders. He glanced down at the printout, the general’s words echoing in his mind. This was no ordinary mission. It was a turning point—a chance to strike a blow that could change everything.

He exhaled deeply, steeling himself. "We’ll make it count," he muttered, almost to himself, before moving to prepare his team.

SFC Grey contacted the 3rd logistics company commander, 1st Lieutenant Rader Tarfire. As Tarfire answered the phone, Merryclaw took the receiver from Grey.

“Rader, this is Major Merryclaw”

1st Lieutenant Rader Tarfire, a newly minted 1st lieutenant fresh out of logistics command school, answered with a sharp “Yes, Sir!”

It was almost as if he was saluting through the telephone, Rijion thought.

“Rader” The Major continued, “I need you for a new mission, so I want you in my office in 5 minutes.”

“Yes, Sir” He stated as Rijion hung up the phone.

Rijion smiled to himself and then looked around.

“Sergeant First Class Grey!” He stated without seeing him.

“Yes sir!” SFC Grey stated.

Major Merryclaw faced him and lightened his tone. “Yamunin, get the men from the 3rd Logistics company around, we have a mission that requires their abilities, and we need them now! Get them up and moving!”

SFC Grey, understanding the urgency, swiftly dialed the supply company’s barracks to rouse the sleeping soldiers. He knew that Corporal Ironclaw of the 3rd logistics company was on duty.

SFC Grey barked into the telephone as it picked up "Corporal Ironclaw, get everyone in the company up!” He heard the reply and stated, “We have a mission, briefing in 10 minutes."