That evening
“The Playground,” Operator’s Barracks, HMS Sharman, Folctha, Cimbrean
Champion Daar of Stoneback
The truck was large. A full-sized pickup from the original expedition, it still had its British Colombia license plates, a broken windshield, and sadly, would no longer run. Gasoline was horrifyingly expensive to import owing to a host of reasons and the engine had long seized anyway. As it was the truck was of little use beyond sentiment.
Which made it perfect for SOR’s now rapidly growing pile of strongman “toys.” The Protectors had found religion at a training seminar about practical work being just as important as raw strength training and become hooked on it, and now their gravel backlot was filled with tractor tires, alarmingly massive atlas stones, farmer’s yokes, and the like. Daar approved, though he did find the equipment selection could use additions, particularly a harness and sled. Hard work is about much more than picking up rocks and putting them down, after all. Where were the ropes, pulleys, and heavy loads? How else would one toughen paws and strengthen grip? He’d comment on that later.
For now, Daar stood and studied the truck for a moment, walked around, gave it an experimental nudge at a couple of points. He was sussing out it’s relative mass, looking for the ideal lift point. It must be said he wasn’t quite as brave as he was earlier. The heavy Earth-level artificial gravity added considerable weight to the already-massive crew-cab pickup.
Of course, the men couldn’t help but tease. “Getting cold feet?”
Daar furrowed his brow. “No, my footpaws are perfectly warm. Ah,” he found the truck’s center of gravity, right at door seam between the front fender and the driver’s side door. He crouched down, gave an experimental lift, and chirred happily.
“Yes, this will work. Still care to make that bet?”
‘Horse, of course, did not fail to notice how much the truck moved when Daar gave his experimental lift. Nor did ‘Horse miss the moving shapes in Daar’s wide, long back, visible even through his dense fur. But ‘Horse was an amiable fellow and the bet sounded like fun…
“Nah, I wanna see you do this.” He grinned his enthusiastic puppy grin and stood aside.
Daar crouched down and felt around the underside for a good grip. He planted his legs wide and curled into a tight ball, lowering himself as close to the ground as he possibly could. He paused, breathing, then—
He exploded upward in a movement that perfectly illustrated how the Stonebacks got their name. The muscles in his massive legs and back bulged almost obscenely as he simultaneously uncurled his body and rocked the truck off its driver-side wheels. He pivoted his arms up and forward, transferring the load to his triceps and back and practically exploded forward, tipping the truck past its balance point and over.
He didn’t waste any effort. He darted forward to catch the truck on its roll, using momentum to his advantage. Quickly securing his handhold, he pounced down, again curled in a tight ball, and just as the truck was about to stop rolling he growled and exploded upward, and again the truck rolled over. And again, and again. By the end he had managed a half-dozen complete flips. He was about to try for a seventh but a wobble in his left leg and hip convinced him otherwise, and he instead moved safely away, collapsed, and sprawled on the ground, panting heavily and happily.
The truck, meanwhile, fell back on its wheels. It was considerably worse for wear.
It took a quick moment for Daar to recover from the tiring euphoria of heavy exertion, whereupon he noticed some odd noises coming from the humans. Their expressions were strange, too. They “smiled” and gestured vigorously, and presently his translator informed him the sounds were a particularly exuberant cheering.
“Dude! That was fuckin’ awesome!” ‘Horse ran up and hoisted Daar to his feet, hugging and back-slapping with obvious glee. The gesture was both friendly and a little painful; Daar endured it happily.
And Regaari was there, too, ready to seal the deal. “And that is why Daar has sired more cubs than any male in living memory.”
“Haha, really?”
Daar duck-nodded vigorously with a supremely smug expression. “Females like quality!”
“High-quality sales pitches, perhaps.”
“Ha!” Both chittered in amusement while ‘Horse grinned hugely.
“Regardless, our victory is at hand. I believe I shall name you Twilight Sparkle in honor of Daar’s success.” A smiling grumble from Adam conceded the bet.
“I didn’t say nothin’ ‘bout names, bro.” ‘Horse chuckled and shook his head. “Also, how do you know that name?”
“Who cares…I like it!” Daar retorted, still panting slightly and grinning maniacally, the great divots in the gravel showing where he had, with impressive effort, rolled the decrepit red truck over before his legs suddenly gave out. It was a performance on par with the most powerful strongmen of Earth. Though to be fair, Daar had a kinesthetic advantage from his shorter, heavyset legs and his long, broad, strong back. And after all, what good is a labor Clan that doesn’t teach their Brothers how to properly and efficiently perform?
Baseball, not to be outdone, flipped it back to the starting position with an alarming grace and a shit-eating grin. Daar did not fail to notice.
“You can do that so easily? And think I could not?”
“I’m a hell of a lot bigger and stronger, Daar.”
Daar head-ducked agreeably. “I can see!”
“Y’had a lot more in you, too.” ‘Horse looked Daar over with his intensely evaluative eye, the one that made anyone uneasy. “But you wobbled a bit.”
“Yeah! I think it’s the gravity. I lost my momentum, right? I didn’t wanna hurt myself.”
‘Base and ‘Horse looked at each other briefly. “Mhmm, prolly a bit weak in your stabilizing muscles, hip flexors and so on. I bet we could fix that. What’chu think ‘Base?”
Base grinned in a thoroughly worrisome manner. Daar chittered a bit nervously. “Am I gonna regret this?”
“Yes,” chimed Regaari, “But you’ll appreciate the results.” the Whitecrest brothers all chittered darkly. Daar flicked his ears downward quickly, some of his bravado gone.
“Yeah, isolating exercises at first, then lots of practice. Hell, I bet he could teach us all about practical work.”
“Isolating exercises? That’s rehabilitative therapy!”
“Oh yeah, it can be,” ‘Horse nodded agreeably. “We’ve found it’s also useful in high gravity training. Target the weak muscle, strengthen it aggressively, and suddenly your compound lift is a lot better.”
“…Makes sense,” he duck-nodded agreeably. “We mostly train for heavy working endurance. All-out strength isn’t really as important. Just add more ‘Backs!” Agreeable nodding all around.
Meanwhile the men circled the truck and lifted at its corners experimentally. Straightaway Daar could see their technique was either poor or practically nonexistent. Could it be their immense strength had blinded them somewhat to proper technique? Or were they simply not accustomed to shifting heavy loads outside the weight room? Interesting. He would need to share that observation with Regaari later.
They weren’t completely without skill, it must be said; like anyone with serious time in the iron game they had a natural talent for moving and probing weight. They just didn’t think scientifically about the task at hand. There, thought Daar, I bet can teach them wonders.
Murray seemed the most deeply skeptical of the group. He gave one experimental lift in the same place Daar flipped the truck, then backed off with a wry, impressed smile. “I couldn’t do it, Daar, and I’m a bit bigger than you.”
Murray regarded the wreck warily with the other men. Even the massive Rebar, largest of the Defenders and heavy enough to threaten even reinforced furniture, had his doubts. After all the old red truck was an extremely heavy thing, almost double the mass of a small, American-style car. And in the full gravity on base?
Daar would hear none of that. “Sure you could! There’s a trick to it, wanna see? I bet ‘yer all strong enough.”
Murray nodded, “Show us.”
Many minutes later, a totally exhausted and pleased Daar wobbled back to the barracks on fourpaw while the men played with the thoroughly battered truck. He snuffled around, found a bed that smelled uncrowded, crawled on top and passed out.
The men practiced until bedtime. Over and over they rolled, then, with practice, effectively tossed the less and less truck-like object until they had mastered the technique. It was easy, really, with a little muscle and will, once one was in the right frame of mind.
Even a Gaoian could do it.
“Think he has any other tricks to teach us?”
“His Clan has made a science of hard labor for millennia. I suspect there is much he could teach us all, Whitecrest and SOR alike. Oh,” Regaari added, “They also have a warrior tradition, remember? Imagine what you and your men might teach him in return!”
Rebar considered. “Well…he’s claimed my bed as his already.” He chuckled, “Figgers the first Gaoian I get is as big as a goddamned house.”
Regaari chittered in amusement. “I grew up with him. This is all familiar territory for me so excuse my lack of sympathies.”
“Nah, s’all good. I mean he’s still, what, a little smaller than Murray, right? Plenty of room.”
Regaari duck-nodded agreeably. “Do you think it is a good idea, then? It is very short notice, but Stonebacks have much to offer a potential alliance and I guarantee you that Daar is willing and able to participate.”
“Well,” cautioned Vandenberg, “I still gotta get approvals. He’s my guest for now but he can’t officially stay until everyone says yes. Fair?”
“Fair.”
They shook on it, said their good nights, and went to bed. Regaari did not go directly to sleep. He sat at ‘Horse’s desk and began furiously drafting letters and video messages to get ahead of the process, and only stopped when ‘Horse gently but firmly picked him up and pulled him into bed.
“Sleep!”
“…fine, you great oaf.”
A rumbling, sleepy chuckle followed, and a pillow was provided, along with the usual affectionate bearhug. The two fell asleep almost immediately.
Rebar? He learned to sleep with a massive furry hot water bottle, one who insisted on curling upon, around, or on top of the big man. Annoying at first, but as it turns out…
Not bad at all. They too fell asleep in short order.
Morning came with the blaring tones of a horrifying sound-demon situated on Rebar’s night stand. Alarmed, Daar practically exploded out of bed, desperate to stop the awful screaming wail of the sadistic device.
Rebar grunted, slammed his fist down on it with incredible force, and rolled out of bed. Slowly.
“…This is your wake-up sound?”
“…mmm. Yeah.” Rebar then stretched his mouth open very wide and inhaled deeply and slowly. Daar had no idea what the gesture was but he felt strongly compelled to mimic. He resisted the urge.
A knock at the door. Daar answered, still slightly worried about Rebar. Baseball appeared and demonstrated that near-telepathic ability all humans seem to possess and answered Daar’s silent worry with a chuckle. “Oh, don’t worry ‘bout him. Rebar’s a heavy sleeper and he hates mornings. Don’t’cha, sweetie?”
Baseball batted his eyes at Rebar. Rebar shot him a terrifying glare, one filled with promises of painful retribution. “Get me my fuckin’ coffee before I get creative, punk.”
Baseball chuckled, “Yes, sergeant first class. C’mon,” he gestured, and they headed down the hall to the kitchen and prepared breakfast. As promised ‘Base produced coffee (so bitter-smelling!) and brought it to Rebar, who emerged a few minutes later in a far better mood, all slights forgotten. This ’coffee‘ must be a potent drug indeed, thought Daar. He watched as the SOR proceeded through their morning routine, all in various degrees of awareness.
‘Base and ‘Horse had already finished their first morning exercises. Righteous was still at his, judging from the rhythmic banging of weights downstairs. Everyone else was just waking up and preparing for the day, though the time was still so early the sun had not yet risen. It reminded Daar of the many labor Houses he’d been assigned to over the years; orderly, happy, busy and slightly chaotic before the day’s work began.
“Here, eat. Eat as much as you comfortably can.” Warhorse sat a pleasingly large plate of food down in front of Daar. “Then let it settle for a bit. We’ve got a big day planned for you.”
Some trepidation from the previous night returned. “Oh?”
“Yup,” with that evil grin, “It’s Leg Day.”
Somehow, Daar knew his day would be long and painful indeed.
“How is he?”
“Recovering and in a lot of pain. I gave him a human-dose shot of Crude because he’s actually big enough that the small doses won’t help.”
“You know we’re not authorized to do that, lad. Not on a regular basis.”
“I know, sir, but he was hurting and we’ve learned a hell of a lot already.”
“Fair enough. Such as?”
“He has a strong back and legs. He couldn’t hit the same weights as us but he could keep up with us set for set, and he absolutely would not allow himself to give up. It was fuckin’ impressive, sir. Hell, between him and Murray? I’m not entirely sure who’s stronger overall.”
John chimed in. “Eh, Murray I’d say, for now. He always keeps something in reserve. He thinks we don’t see it but we do.” Adam nodded agreeably.
“Still, it’s impressive. At least in a lower body workout, he actually outlifts you by a fair bit, major.” Powell raised his eyebrows. “But Daar’s legs are pretty short, too, so it’s not really a fair comparison.”
“Also, Daar’s got weak stabilizers like we thought. But on the other hand, he can move some seriously impressive poundage without stopping at all. I’m pretty sure he could have lifted all day long with some slightly lighter weight.”
Adam nodded. “Yeah. To be honest, I’m not sure I could do that, sir, at least, not like he can.”
‘Base grinned, “Not yet, anyway. He’s gonna teach us, and we’re gonna teach him!”
Powell chuckled, “Aye, that’s a worrying thought. First Firth, now Daar?” His eyes twinkled, “Y’got designs on me next, lads?”
“Whenever you want, sir.” Adam grinned excitedly. Then, more seriously, “But Firth isn’t fair. He was bigger than both of us when we showed up for SOR training, remember? We’d been on a dedicated Crude regimen for two years and he was still stronger until, uh, just before we moved to Cimbrean? Hell, he didn’t even start the Crude until the second year of training because he was so goddamned strong. He’s a genuine freak.”
The other two men nodded silently in agreement.
“And now you aim to push him as far as he can go?”
“Nah, he plans to do that himself. Gotta be strong to be fast an’ fast is what he does better than anyone. And we’ve got those Red Hunter fucks to worry about, too.”
Baseball seemed thoughtful. “Yeah. Thing is? Having guys like Daar is great. Someone who, I dunno, is, uh, strong like you, and has claws and a nose? Real useful for field work.”
Powell nodded in agreement but sighed, knowing what a problem that statement would become. “An’ that’s too bad, lads, ‘cuz Daar is one of a kind.”
“Wait, really?”
“Aye. I had a chat wi’ Regaari about him a while back, an’ accordin’ to Southpaw our Daar’s a right freak like Firth. A third bigger’n any other Stoneback, and stronger well beyond that, too. Hell, stronger’n me, by your reckoning.”
“Eh, sorta. It’s apples and oranges but, yeah. He’s a beast. But he’s the only one? There’s more dudes out there like Firth,” said Adam. “How can Daar be it?”
“Aye. So far, only one Daar. Why we don’t know, but that’s part of why he’s had so many cubs, lads. Clan Stoneback is tryin’ to fix his bloodline.”
Adam and John contemplated that fresh bit of intel. “So…we better not fuck up, then.”
“The Clan would appreciate that. Back to work, lads.”
The men nodded and left Powell at peace while he contemplated the situation before him. On the one hand, Daar and his Clan were very enthusiastic about any participation in the Partnership Indoctrination Program, and at least theoretically, the benefits were many.
Many, that is, if there were more Gaoians like Daar. With him they had something different and useful; Powell thought it obvious Daar would fit well with a JETS team on long-range exploration or surveillance missions, as he was a hardy and supremely strong being, and quite obviously friendly and intelligent, too. He would be a useful complement to most of the JETS candidates, really, especially since Daar would likely be the “muscle” on any such team.
But there was only one Daar. Other Stonebacks were not nearly so impressive, or so Regaari said. What then was the alternative? Utilize smaller-but-still-rare Clan Brothers who could only keep up instead of excel in a given domain? A good nose was useful, but field work was a much different beast to spaceborne operations. There, Whitecrest and SOR had complimentary interests, technologies, techniques, and approaches to the problem. Fieldwork on the other hand was long, wet, cold, and itchy, frequently slogging through bits of a world that didn’t wish to be disturbed. If one was to have a Gaoian along, that Gaoian needed to bring a distinct advantage to the mission.
Daar already had a few obvious things he added; he was tough, and a good fighter, and of course he was very, very strong. Powell had no doubt they’d learn more he could offer as well, as it was obvious from the beginning that Daar was not a being to be underestimated.
The same could not automatically be said for lesser Stonebacks. A team needed to immediately grasp why a member should be there, after all, and for Daar that was easy; one only needed to look at him, the flow of his body, the way he moved, how he reacted to things. But other Gaoians? With the massive strength advantage eliminated, that made every candidate an individual case to consider. That would greatly complicate recruiting and that would in turn wreak havoc on team morale. It would feel like a political stunt because of course it would be. Powell would be a fool to encourage such a disaster in the making.
Still. If there was one Daar, eventually there would be another. And if Powell had any sense of the Gaoians at all, that second would not be long in the making.
Best to be prepared.