Fast Food Furries Book 1

Chapter 9b: The Traitor

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Combine

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I was sitting on the couch when there was a knock at the door. "Come in," I said.

Jude walked in and proffered me a USB drive. "What," I asked flatly.

"A terabyte of confidential files," said Jude. "Stolen from my Captain's laptop."

My eyebrows shot up. "Crazy how much data storage has progressed. When I was young, these measured in tens of gigabytes."

Jude shrugged. "I don't care, man. We need a way to actually access the stuff on here."

"Print it out," I suggested.

"Are you one hundred?" asked Jude, incredulous. "And—wh—it's a terabyte of data."

I pinched my fingers close together. "Small font."

Jude rolled her eyes and tossed the USB stick to me. "And I guess we can just only print what we need. Probably easier than finding a working computer and having to share a screen, and whatever. Fine. Then go print."

"I'm not going!" I protested. "My leg hurts. And—ooh! Right, I didn't tell you—" I sat up and fiddled with the radio. "I've been listening in on transmissions and steering Big City Mouse's forces away from Mach. I have to stay here to do that."

"If I'm gone for too long I'll be in serious shit. And all due respect, ambassador," Jude said in a way that made me think she didn't really intend any due respect, "I don't give a shit about Mach. He can die for all I care. Guy's a traitor."

I cocked my head and stood. "What. exactly, do you think you're doing right now? This?" I held up the USB stick. "This?" I motioned to myself and the room. "This is trait."

"Not a word," Jude said quickly.

"Traitor? 'One who traits?' " I asked rhetorically.

"Nope not at all," said Jude with a shake of her head.

I fell quiet. "It is a word... I just used it wrong," I defended myself meekly.

Jude's expression was blank.

"That's not the point," I dismissed with a shake of my head. "Look, I hate to be the one to tell you this, because I can tell your entire identity and sense of self is tied inextricably to your military service, but you betrayed Furville today." Jude's face fell into a mixture of sadness and anger. I felt a stab of guilt for being so harsh. "And in doing so, you did the right thing," I amended.

"I don't even know what that means anymore," she said quietly. She sat down on the couch and stared off into space.

"I think," I said slowly, "that doing the right thing means sticking by the people you care about. Genuine connections can be few and far between. And these days, they're... dwindling. You respect Dorothy. You care about Dorothy. And you should—she's a wonderful person. If you don't stick by her now, what do you stand for?"

After a long and slightly awkward moment, Jude held out her hand. I gently placed the USB stick in her palm and she gripped it tight. "I'm a soldier. I don't stand for anything except my duty. But... what's the purpose of duty without honour? I'll stand for Dorothy."

She stood and left.

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